cd/lp/tape etc. REVIEWS

Started by FreakAnimalFinland, December 03, 2009, 11:22:57 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Unruhe

#90
First Pavement Memoirs review


Pavement Memoirs is a relatively unknown Belgian ambient/noise project, but it has no single reason to be so, for this has the potential to become as qualified as the more famed projects out there.

“Methadonismes” is Pavement Memoirs’ new album and just proofs for me that it can cope with the big players in the field. I can already classify it as one of my favorite albums of 2010.

The first five minutes bring you to a familiar realm, namely the modern industrial realm. The cracking and clanging sounds of machinery, the rustling of debris fills your speakers. Immediately images loom up of vast plains filled with rotting metropolises and the degenerate outlets it harbors. Laborers who head to their congregations to perform a job from which they are as alienated as from the cities they inhabit. Barren landscapes with lifeless faces. To be honest, I feel sick every time I listen to these first few minutes, but it’s part of the catharsis. Still, one cannot but desire a way out of this mundane hell.

An escape offers itself near the end of this sickening experience and stretches for a few minutes to liberate you from the diseased place you just experienced on a profound level. But there is something not quite at ease in this ‘transcending’. A desire for more, a thirst for a continuation of this ecstasy is omnipresent in here, and it destroys the essence of transcending, it is ruined.

This is where “Methadonismes” reveals itself as an album title. Escapism, be it through anesthetics, alcohol or hedonism as a whole, is not the way out, but another way of the labyrinth that will inevitably lead you back to the place you wanted to leave in the first place. And thus it happens, you start to descent once more in that devilish realm, this time it’s more choking, more suffocating than before. The urban carcass you call ‘home’ lays prey to the cold existential winds that blow right through it. The restlessness fills your being. The rust of the machinery cling on your skin, the void around you is filled only by the echoes of factories hard at work to enhance their hold on.

But suddenly, after all this suffering, realization. It stops. You deafen for this maya, the mass produced illusions mass that once blinded you melt like snow. Tranquility. Nothing of this underworld reached as high as you are now. The false empire withers away and only surrendering to infinity gives solace.
This album has so much to say and yet only brings soundscapes. Truly an experience that touches so many fields. I cannot but recommend to download this and give it a try, you won’t be disappointed. - einheit

Free download: http://www.mediafire.com/?th22mjhweyj


dddonkey

Quote from: FreakAnimalFinland on January 11, 2010, 12:30:59 PM
RAMLEH "valediction" CD
Second Layer, slr004
This was waited in kind of horror. After atrocious Kleistwahr LP, I couldn't really imagine how would be Ramleh PE comeback album. But I'm glad to say, it is actually good. It is also pretty unusual in context of PE today. It is recorded in studio, which gives it different atmosphere than many others have. It doesn't have the "in your face" blown up tape saturation. Neither the totally maximized computer atmopshere. It has sense of space, and certain amount of characteristics what studio has.
Even if it conquers new territories, it has certain elements of Ramleh. Droning guitar feedbacks, massively delay in vocals, making it almost like layer of noise instead of brutal attack. It fits pretty well to bleak and hopeless lyrics. Approach Ramleh has in writing lyrics differ from .. well, one could say everybody else in PE. I like the most the track #4. All the tracks are untitled. This has the heaviest bass noise together with piercing high pitched feedback. When second layer (hah) of feedback slowly fades in and atmosphere is very dark. Completely instrumental track manages to override many vocal tracks by better definition of sound.
Most certainly the last track is the thing what will most likely go to love it or hate it category. After 30 minutes of kind of "expected" atmospheric PE sound, band suddenly starts the very last track with fast paced bass synth (?) electro beat and fast paced almost melodic vocals. It's all buried in layers of guitar feedback and fuzz and vocals are distorted too, but the overall atmosphere goes very much into fast paced... hmm.. what it is? gothic-electro? Post-punk? I don't know. It is nevertheless something very much unexpected and new. When I first heard it, I was taken by suprice, but it's perhaps just 10% of playing time afterall. And we've heard nearly similar leanings towards music in later days Sutcliffe Jugend too.
CD is packaged in cd size gatefold cover, with 8 page booklet with lyrics. I'm pretty surpriced that quality of many images is pretty low resolution and blurry. Especially visible in inside artwork of booklet. I'd hope this "trend" on blurry www images would go over soon and bands and labels perhaps value not only content of image, but also it's technical quality. (MA)

these images are well known photos of contemporary Pripyat', Chernobyl electroplant workers town. There are a lot of sites, where these photos are doubled and doubled and doubled again. Well, Chernobyl is a big fetish, but it is enough maybe? There were a lot of nuclear issues in USSR.

Bloated Slutbag

#92
Via noisefanatics, courtesy Sodomy Non Sapiens- apparently irritated that three years after release only one review could be found online. (A very good one, though, worth quoting for its very sincere anti-attempt to characterize the sound: "To discuss what happens musically is irrelevant, not to mention totally impossble - all seven members operate as one, like a Hydra attacking with numerous heads, and you're the unarmed Hercules at its mercy." While I can't entirely agree, Senior Non Sapiens appears to reach similar conclusions, below.)


[re- Borbetomagus & Hijokaidan - Both Noises End Burning]

Good grief, that's it?  Thirteen measly - and I mean measly - posts? Dudes! Noisepervs R Us dropped the ball here.

I guess we're seeing one of Soddy's pet penile-extensions borne deep: that truly great noise is beyond words, and would only be diminished by words of any coherent form in the same way the infinite is diminished by any attempt to re-present in terms comprehensible to the syntax of subject-verb agreement.

Nevertheless, I feel the self abusing zombie has submitted word adequate to the task. "Holy fuck" is the word.

Or, more correctly, HOLY FUCK!

Somehow, when the names Mikawa and Borbetomagus come together, I tend to think of Borbeto's seminal "Live In Tokyo". Least representative of the Borbeto back catalog, it is (or was) also the heaviest slab of auricular suffocation on offer under that conglomeration. Less harsh in terms of earhole scorchification per dB, and less of that patented piercing snuffsax-squeal, but so dense and multitextured in its slowly billowing elaborations.

Both Noises score their delights under the influence of similar perv-visions. Not overtly brutal by the enregalled standards enshrined in the respective Hijo-Borbeto canons, but almost gentle, pliable, yielding an inverted harsh curve that saturates via remarkably wide-ranging folds of blushing color, wet-lipped warmth, and slithering, spermatozoan, starspace. Individual elements crowd the periphery, leaving a giant gaping howl that just sucks the enraptured worshipper straight into the hole-liest of char-blackened gasp and shiver, bathing the proceedings with other-wordly, bung-tingling, saxdrone-slather. A dizzying, near phantasmagorical miasma of constantly evolving, errupting, fading, flowing; of deformation and deviation, of shade and shadow, of puke and splooge, skullfuck and sphinct-suct. Words beyond the aforementioned Hallowed Fornication scarcely seem to be worth the bother of writing let alone reading.

But if I had to break it down in terms for the layperv, I'd say that the overall sound palate is not unlike late eighties early nineties Hijokaidan live recordings at Antiknock, the continuous, severely pitched, shriek-screech backdrop enlivened by periodic flashes of brilliance wherein the already blistering intensity seems to shred itself a new one. I'd say the overall progression is not unlike live Incapacitants, burgeoning layers somehow finding ever more ferocious plateaus and finally brimming in  the closing quarter with utterly jaw-dropping, show-stopping, shit-eat-grinning overmass of auricular overbilge. And I'd say the deft sense of wide-open space and bottomless texture giving birth to something palpable yet unworldly, all amid the cacaphonous shitstorm of the seasoned blowhard, well, that's pure Borbetomagus.


ANALysis:

Primal screechery diffuses across a broadened, mult-tiered, swathe, ceding Harshness to near ambiance, nicely separated, crystalline, textural elements pushing Rawness gradations down through smooth, grit-filtered flavorings that one mainly tastes in passing. Craftsmanship might be scored high on the basis of sustained interest, micromovements as readily entered as expunged, attempts to sanitize macrofornicated by the sheer beastly size of this mother. Savaged sensibilities then entertain a Spasticity most subtle: few surprises proper await, yes, yet yeti-like footsies stomp all over yer dong-pronged nethermosts, the insistent incoherencies anti-heretical as ill-articulated verbiage discharges diarhettic, starbursts flashing wet and wild through roasted channel pan. Sheer numbers - Mikawa Jojo Junko Shibata Sauter Dietrich Miller - would doubtless dictate the Densities desired, at least on paper, but mixmaster-san's zeal to represent each component particle serves mainly to confuse or displace rather than inundate. No complaints, just sayin'. But just try following bansheed Junko shriek through Jojo'd jet engine wheeze through Miller-tinged sputterfuzz sewage funnels through alternately droning and squawking drainland sax-or-not overtones, all seemingly under control of The Mikawa. Fuck it, I'm through with this shit. Anybody helps me now! Harmonicaness wins the day.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag

Bloated Slutbag

#93
Incapacitants - 73 cd (Alchemy)
What is it about Incapacitants, I often ask myself, that inspires rhetoric bordering on the religious? Their sacred place in the Noise Canon, the grandpappies, the spiritual leaders of harsh brutality(tm)? The oft-cited zen-like, trance-inducing, quality of the listening experience? The simple fact that The Shit is Good? I am, in any case, hardly immune from them religio tendencies. To this day, the thought of Incaps entering  my earholes fills my noiseheart with fear, dread, uncontainable anticipation. I look forward to each new pronouncement like it's the very last. I obsess over its teeniest minutiae, for hours, days, months, years. And in the warm afterglow of all that harsh earhole penetration, I pretend, hard, like I know what I'm talking about, when the only coherent thought I can muster is a vague amalgam of "FUCK YEAH!"

"What A Stupid Bureaucrat!!!"
Well, he'd have to be, wouldn' he? One does not with The Mikawa mess and escape intact with all one's capacities. Incapacitants make short work of this refugee from the Ministry Of Foolishness, blubbering bleat-squeals for mercy falling into progressively deafened earholes. Classic opening: mangled feedback hack sawing and ripping at jabbering, rubbernecked, squeegee-wielding, pipsqueaky. Fucker stands not a chance, so incisive this attack, so pointed its jagged rip-cisions. Such unusually heavy-handed  precisions suggest a mostly single-minded affair, and it wouldn't surprise me if Kosakai chose to sit things out, ceding the floor to his obviously unhinged banker pal. As campaigns to clear the proverbial red tape go, this one quite scorches, The Mikawa sparing no savagery in administering the soundest of righteous redzone rupturings, our unfortunate bureaucratic bungler beyond hope, beyond help, beyond the pale. It takes all of seven minutes, not a second wasted in laying waste to stupidities apparent. Talk to Mikawa about breathing room? TALK TO MIKAWA ABOUT BREATHING ROOM? Er, ahem. Characterization of the gibbering public servant abovementioned does admittedly manifest, briefly, in thereminesque R2D2-wheedlings so hated by so many. And complaints over this indulgence have been duly registered by the Sewer Electorate. But you miss the point, Mr Johansson. The brutalities wielded by The Mikawa are too pointed, too barbed, too perfect in their execution-style mutilation of ozone-belching speaker cone, rabid, raw, rusted-out harmonics bristling with a barely restrained non-fidelity that saturates less and damages more.
This contrasts considerably with the fuller bodied flavorings falling into "Fund Trap", the second studio brevity. Even more classically-minded in its distribution of upper register tweakings, I'm tempted to call the work a multitracked "Libra was dead. Since then he has gon to Morgan Stanley" (from No Progress), or a fleshed out "Long Awaited" (also from No Progress), intellectually challenged bureaucrat chucked into the raging inferno for good measure, severely reduced theremin-squeegee and all. My classicist leanings make me wish the whole album sounded like this, but even the three minutes and fifty-seven seconds proferred are worth full-length investment. When, at 01:19, the full harshness kicks in, I want to start shouting and punching things in razor-raped bliss. I'm captivated, awe-struck, chasing one promising fracture-line after another. But nothing lasts, the possibilies wink out, each and every divergence consumed by massed combatitive layerings of incandescent, spasmotic, fury.
The two studio submissions are dwarfed by the two properly extended live tracks comprising the bulk of the disc. Which is really how things ought to be. For the better part of a decade,Incapacitants haven't had much of a studio presence to speak of, even as their live Incarnation has grown to one of inhuman, gargantuan, proportion. These live tracks, both from 2006, are excellent summations of Incapacitants from that period, a towering, sky-blotting-type behemoth at the top of its game: confident, assured, unhurried. And, always, all-consuming. Incaps have lately pursued a less puritannically punishing presentation, allowing once microscopic movements to mellow out and expand outward to embrace more meaty, macrophonic, layerings. Surface tensions enjoy a dynamic interplay once reserved for the most tightly constricted of screech-shackled elements. Things have loosened up. Breathing room is permitted. A diverse array of trajectories may now readily occupy the attentive worshipper.
"Don't Try This At Home", recorded at the No Music Festival (not to be confused with No Fun Fest) starts in an unassuming manner, free of catchy "harsh hooks". Instead, the first movement borders on boredom, vocal-fueled near psych-drone seemingly going nowhere. The dedicated perv will of course rise to the occasion, and as by increments an assortment of auricular tasties attaches itself to the proceedings, she will find herself, by incrememts, entranced, enslaved even, by increasingly unwieldly, constantly shape-shifting, multi-gasmic mutant overlord emergence, all splattering and spasticating through multidimensional rift in spasmic colonic fabric. If your humble writer appears here to be losing the plot, blame The Mikawa, an entity which can never be relied upon in the best of times to stick to the common story. When words cease to matter they just cease to matter. Nothing I can write, or even coherently tink, could ever begin to apprehend that cataclysmic, synapse-shattering, moment when Incaps rip the brainhole a new one. What I can say is that something happens - the brain shuts down, memory departs, a few more braincells for the trashbin. Don't ask me to explain it, but please do try this at home, again and again.
We close now with a note of pathos. A twenty-five minute ditty recorded live at Lush, Tokyo, and Dedicated To Koji Tano. That event I had the extreme pleasure of attending, lovely Lush soundsystem bringing home that lovely lush sound. What I say next may sound retarded, or more retarded than usual, but the material on disc is just as I recall from that evening - bar the odd cataclysmic moment or two. A ridiculously long, boringarse, drone-in kicks things off. Yet without quite realizing how, the brain finds itself completely absorbed, earholes gravitating toward optimum absorbtion entry points. The recording reveals relatively uncomplicated surface dynamics, progressing through a mainly midrange of fuzzywuzzzy undertones, few individual particles smashing through the overarching, rumble-heavy, grit-layers. Here invocation of Ministry Of Foolishness is more literal, the soft-edged monstrosity of MOF opener "Stone River" echoed in its hints at cruel, bottomless depths and organic, slow-rushing, currents, the brutality and horror oddly beautiful and sublimated under fathoms-thick glass. A nice salvo then for the earhole follicle thingies, and a fitting memorial for a noisist whose own sonic palate often enjoyed the same soft-edged-yet-threatening dynamic.

ANALysis:
Incapacitants, FUCK YEAH!
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


Bloated Slutbag

#95
Vivenza - Modes Reels Collectifs cd (Rotorelief)
Woke up this morning immersed in a garden of earthly delights. Sweet, industrial strength, gamelon. Metal wanging on metal. Massed mess of mechanical bellowing, hammering, pumping, thumping. The odd bit of shlumping. Fragments of voice occasionally float through the steaming mechanized horde, and, gloriously, it's not the wife telling me to shut the shit the fuck up. Another absolutely essential Vivenza reissue, but I say that about all Vivenza reissues. Of course, I wouldn't say it if it weren't true. Hard to imagine Jean-Marc in disagreement, either. The mind's eye sees him thence, a wee lad dressed up like Count Dracula wandering around wide-eyed in a gargantuan steelworks mill, stopped in his tracks at intervals to gape in wonderment at the mysterieuse force creatrice humaine, only occasionally remembering to engage the "pause" button on the portable recording device smuggled inside for the occasion. This feels, in other words, less "composed" than later works. Less godbeastman in the machine. More concrete representatiodn of heavy industrial machinery. Where do the machines end and the humans begin? Hard to tell. Loops aplenty; or possibly just mechanized repetition. Primitive tape splicings; or a kid lost in the competitive, contemplative, percussive, clamor. Very hard to tell. The details come to life via generous application of the volume knob, if mostly as background ambiance. And what sublime ambiance! The sheer thunderous density of the whole, as it passes through its many and varied deformations, is... vivenzational. Yes, Vivenza has yet to develop his craft for compositional layering or bric-a-brac arrangement. But considering the antiquity of the initial recording - no release date is given for the original tape, but the stated recording date is 1981(!) - I'm frankly shocked at how supremely good this sounds. This is the kind of shit I can listen to all day, and in fact I think I'll do just that. Pardon me while I re-immerse myself...
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag

Andrew McIntosh

#96
PIMP AKTION SLUTGUN, Body Scrap, 12" vynal
Trash Ritual, 2010
It's an eleven year old recording but at least it shows Xane's back in the game. I'm hard pressed to figure whether the very muted sound is a matter of the mastering or the original recording; I have to turn it up pretty high on my system at least to get even any detail, let alone grunt. But what the fuck - two sides of pure, hate driven trash Noise. Side one, book ended by some odd sounding voice noise, is the very basic sounds of crumble and crunch, a continuous stream of what can only be described as crunch. At first I thought it was metal banging but after a few listens I wasn't so sure; here's where the production/mastering/whatever is responsible for the ultra dull sound becomes an issue. It could be electronically generated. I'm not concerned, though, the Noise itself is wonderfully grating but I can't help wondering what it could have been with a more generous mix. Side two sounds more like a series of explosions, very Haters-esque although without the loop-ish repetition, with the moaning voice scattered over the top. Again, hard to tell what the source is, and again, hard to care. It's more dynamic and has more mid-range than side one. I'm inclined to believe, due to the title and various hints given on the two inserts in the album, this is pure trash wreckage smashed and crashed for the greater glory of Noise, with the occasional moan of pleasure/disgust to really get the message across. While I'd much rather a more up-front sound, this is still an album I can listen to on more than one occasion, and one I intend to return to in the future.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

BLOD, Red Light Companion, 3x12" lp
Sergehuva, 2008
Along with Nod and Proiekt Hat, Blod was the project that stood out for me most from the celebrated CMI 50 compilation; the pure, nasty, rawness of those two pieces could not put aside, but above all the complete lack of pretension to anything other than just pure Noise was most appealing. In an era of glut, standing out as "just" a Total Noise project takes some serious doing. As most of you know, this is a collection of early cassette releases and compilation tracks (the previous mentioned included). The main focus seems to be for a serious piece to be recorded, then edited into smaller sections, each given a rather cheeky sounding title more often than not relating to sexual "deviation" of some kind (usually involving piss). In a way, this is a good and annoying release; good for the quality of Noise, annoying for the fact that there are constant pauses in what are clearly single spirals that have been chopped up. One does get used to it, though, and it's the filthy, hissing, ultra-distorted quality of the Noise that wins out. The over-burdened distortion is just on the right side of almost pure white noise, with enough grainy detail within the rush to be distinguished and to keep things moving at the right pace. The distortion itself is detailed enough as well. In short, this is just perfect, pure Total Noise. Nothing to add to or subtract from, just the Noise itself.  
With the box comes a rather interesting staged photograph and a letter in a sweet pink envelope that's attributed to Taint; a litany of complaints about the dissatisfactions of sex, paid for or otherwise. While an obvious gambit to add to the seaminess of the release I just found it un-involving. But love letters aside, the box itself is sturdy and well printed, the cut of the albums strong and the package as a whole is just right. Not only a decent and attractive object in it's own right but something to come back to for repeated listens. In fact, I was surprised (and pleased) this was still available; more people should be getting this.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

DOG AS MASTER, Brash Pussy, download
Also available as a cassette from Haltapes

Released originally on French label 3AP/Le Syndicat in 1985 (and by Sound Of Pig a year later), this nearly thirty minute opus (side two is basically the same track reversed) is said to be a "satire of sorts of power electronics and its concomitant obsessions of perversion, hard sex and sodomy". The thing with satire, though, is it is in the ears of the listener. To mine, this is a fulsome, well structured and nicely paced rage of early Harsh Noise, composed of distorted synths, tapes, and vocals - a repeated phrase that's difficult to hear but is apparently "an aural ejaculation of lust" to McGee's one time partner and collaborator Debbie Jaffe. Considering this pre-dates a lot of Harsh Noise by at least half a decade it's amazing how full and layered it sounds. Certainly, the sound is not the kind of up-front, crisp harshness many are used to by now, but nor is it totally mired in low fidelity (contrived or otherwise). There are variations of hissing, gurgling, squawking, moaning and roaring sounds that chase each other and yet give each other space. Interestingly, around the twenty minute mark the volume fades down - not sure if that's deliberate but it sounds as if it is - before fading back up again. The last few minutes towards the end generate some very satisfying grinding electronic harshness. Hal's mood, seemingly a combination of lust and hate, is a timeless theme with Power Electronics, and thus this "satire" is closer to the core than perhaps intended. Certainly there's no attempt to be "Power Electronics" with this, that I hear. It's more a serious attempt to really let out some certain aggression, and it's that realistic honesty that comes forward as the main current. But even leaving that aside, this is grandiose, synthesised Noise that can be appreciated and enjoyed on it's own audial level.

(It's possible to download in uncompressed wave format, so please spare me any whinging about "loss of quality".)
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

REGOSPHERE, Like Surgical Steel, cassette
Husk Records, 2010
Not quite "dead" enough to be Death Industrial, certainly not flamboyant enough to be Harsh Noise, in a time when sub-sub-sub categories rule Regosphere sits uneasily. Here, though, Andrew Quitter does lean more to the former than usual. This album, released for a US tour, features the title track, a one-sitting home recording without overdubs of material played live on the tour. The theme of the album being the now legendary BP oil spill in the Gulf Of Mexico. The titular track on side one blending carefully modulated hissing layers of white noise with slow pulsing synth tracks together before relaxing down, then building up again to the sounds of more synth pulses and background siren sounds, which themselves fade out to make room for a soft, clunking metallic rhythm and yet more hissing, grainy static. It's the second part of this I think works the best; the first part is evocative but the second works more aesthetically. Throughout the whole, though, there is a precise pacing and a nice, relaxed under-use of sounds as opposed to flogging things to death. In fact, it sounds very much like a live piece, in that the various elements are introduced, used and then faded out more robustly then one normally would with the luxury of time at home. However it's not cluttered with a million ideas, rather it's a specific, conceptual spiral. Side two continues the imagery with "Bottom Kill", based on sickly sounding synth pulses and muggy rushing sounds which are difficult to determine; the mix is somewhat more one dimensional but the end effect is more psychedelic and suggestive, yet more immediate. To me it sounds more like a prehistoric swamp than a modern ocean floor ruined by crude oil. It's a somewhat hypnotic listen. The rhythmic pulsing of the static sounds, which suggest shortwave radio rather than synth white noises, come in later in the track after their sedimental surrounding of the whole. A more defined keyboard chord heralds "Tar On The Beach", a sinister, movie-soundtrack anti-melody backing the scratching hiss and odd chiming sound that all feels covered with a mucky film of scum. The rushing ocean sound is dominant here. The distracting, psychedelic hypnotism of the former piece is carried on here. Both these spirals have an odd "not quite there" quality which, if listened to softly in the right light, could well replace drugs.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

REGOSPHERE/COMPOUNDEAD, split, cassette
Sincope, 2010
First release for Sincope, it seems, in a limited edition of the rather arbitrary number of fourty three (how do people come up with these figures)? Regosphere sounds even murkier on this release, the piece "Socialised Into Extinction" like some bizarre landscape of humming drones, gritting buzzing, regular soft spurts of white sound, everything oozing and melting into each other. The composure is slow and hypnotic; I swear Quitter is trying to alter perceptions here. The vocals, though; I'm not convinced they're a good idea. Harshly distorted, they are like blots of pure black on the melded colours of the landscape. It's not that they don't fit or don't work, but I just personally would have preferred the sounds without them. They sound too "PE" over a piece that just doesn't fit into the PE norms, although comparisons with The Grey Wolves slower, darker pieces could be apt. The sounds change after a while to something like a church bell looped in the background with electronic sounds lacing it subtly, and here the harsh barking of the heavily effected voice does seem to fit better. And still the overall head-heavy sensation of being on some kind of drug pervades and prevails.
  My first experience with Compoundead on side two and the selected piece could not have complimented side one any better. "Bleeding on The Carpet" seems sparser, with dark, echoed thuds and a rising, grimey electronic tone that grinds slowly throughout. It's a well chosen sound, modulating slowly as layers become more apparent, a mood of rising anxiety maintained with the minimalist composition and tone. A higher tone of pure feedback added at some point, like a distant alarm, raising the anxious mood even more, which then becomes dominant like tinnitus. It's a simple formula made very effective by the right choice of sounds. Is this Compoundead's usual form? I'll be seeking out more of their work if so.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

HAL HUTCHINSON, Removing Aesthetics, download
self released, 2011
Ambient Metal. The scraping of scrap that Hal's starting to make a signature move for his own, self titled project takes a rather soft and laid-back approach here. Derived from sources recorded for one of RRR's recycled tapes, it's given an interesting backing of a throbbing, pulsing sound like a perpetually driven engine, over which the pieces of metal are moved. The impression I get is more of a large sculpture made of scrap metal that's being shaken or moved by the wind; this is not aggressive metal banging or crashing, but soft, confusing layers of sound that as a whole tread a very thin line between relaxing and irritating. There's none of the immediacy I personally look for in Noise, but as a more ambient piece of sound it works better. There's some lovely scraping sounds like patches of feedback on occasion, although they're a tad rarer than I would have preferred. It reminds me more of an art space than a warehouse. The overall feel is one of indeterminacy, and I've experienced this with Hal's work before; his side of the split tape with The Haters having a somewhat "held back" feel, with a tinge of bitterness. This piece is even more relaxed (in sound if not in effort) and as a result a bit more resolved to my ears, but there's little to gasp onto, little to demand immediate attention. It's more for when one wants a total sound in the air, rather than something ripping your brain to shreds. Not all Noise has to be harsh.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

VRILNOISE Stream Of Conscience, cdr
SkullNoise Records (website currently under construction), 2010
A strong, powerful mix and mastering brings forth the carefully recorded and edited Noise to a very full potential. While my tastes are usually for lower fidelity this album stands out for me mainly for it's effective use of sounds – full, rich, abrasive and aggressive – and their well layered composition within the pieces. Most sounds are electronically generated and I imagine a lot of computer editing and addition has gone into this so it's not quite clear where the sounds are coming from apart from synthesisers, probably both soft and hard, but there is plenty of acoustic sounding material as well (the strange water sounds and crackling on "Echoes Of NDA"). The main method is a darker, slower, more developed style of work, suitably ominous and with a slight hint of science fiction sound effect (think huge space ships and machines and planet dominating computer systems), and the main aim seems to be invoking a kind of drama with each piece (the heavy, built up breathing on "Pulse Sequence" for example). The effort gone into recording and mixing these pieces is well matched by the imagination behind them, not a common thing to my ears. The conventional, jewel case packaging is complimented by excellent computer generated artwork (by one Seldon Hunt), abstract yet sharply defined swirls and spheres in dark shades of green, blue and grey that compliment, excellently, the sounds on the album. Making this, all up, a lovely package. Would hate to see this album disappear into obscurity.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

#103
CONTROLLED BLEEDING, Shanked And Slithering, cd
Hospital, 2005
As an exercise in total Harsh Noise purity, this album sets standards. Although a collection of various spirals recorded between 1985 and 2002, there is a cohesion between the pieces that is maintained throughout the album. For the most part, this is Harsh Noise - distorted electronics, aggressive shouted voices, crashing and bashing, feedback stretched to capacity, distortion that sometimes just takes over and rushes like a wall of filthy black water - all with an intense sound. The production is marvellous, allowing everything to be upfront and aggressive without sacrificing filth. There is a real sense of energy to these pieces, a genuine love of pure intensity that is brought through to the listener. Occasional more linear pieces, like the excellent "Vole" (which I would have appreciated going for a lot longer) and the distant, murky "Hymn #1" present excellent contrast to the usual destruction of which Bladder Bags #1 and #2 are sterling examples and together are worth the price of the whole album. The Noise changes and chops throughout the pieces but there's a natural flow to the turns and twists; nothing sounds forced or contrived. All up, there is not a shit track on this (except for the boogie wonderland of "Hymn #2", right at the end, which can be safely discounted). It's just one of those brilliant Harsh Noise albums that really should be among those referred to when describing this genre.
Shikata ga nai.

Andrew McIntosh

FRANCISCO LOPEZ, Untitled (2006-2009), double cd
Monochrome Vision, 2008
Travelling and recording has provided Mr Lopez with the field recordings (occasionally from other individuals) he uses for his compositions. The sound and subsequent mood is very dark. Sounds are not layered onto each other but allowed to extend and breath for whatever duration is deemed necessary. Silence is an important part of some of these pieces, long bouts of no sound required to run into steamy, black bursts of solid sound. The pristine production brings out grain and detail. The first album, "2006", seems the more manipulated compared to "2007" where sound sources are allowed to exist in somewhat more original form. The pieces are slow and considered and require the listener's attention, and have enough force to demand it. This album came as a surprise to me - I got it in a trade, having never heard the man's work before - and has been a regular now. Powerful, impressive and imposing dark works.
Shikata ga nai.