Music Journal #013

A lot of people have reservations about electronic music albums, and I still fail to see why. Comfort, the debut album from Maya Jane Coles only stands to further prove the attitude wrong. What I like about Coles the most, is that she embraces her intuition and moves towards whatever feels right for her, something that comes through in the words she sings, art she creates, and of course the music she makes. That seems to be what glues Comfort together so well - it's completely, utterly Coles, despite the numerous guest vocalists. On the other hand, the fact that it fits too neatly into that Coles-shaped hole is the only criticism I hold, as there aren't any real surprised or revelations. What there is, however, is a set of beautifully constructed deep house movements filled with compelling emotion as well as innate danceability. There's a nice mixture of catchier tracks - Blame, Strange, Easier to Hide - unsettling and engrossing material, such as Tricky's murmurs on the bubbling Wait For You and lead single Everything, plus songs even more intimate than the rest, such as Come Home, perfectly summing up Coles' few years travelling the world having become such a huge, in-demand DJ in such a short space of time. Maya Jane Coles comprehensively documents and explores her sound on Comfort, which feels familiar enough with some sensual variation too, and it shall be interesting to see where she goes next as a producer.

El Mahdy Jr. is an Algerian-born beatmaker living in Istanbul, channelling his surroundings into music forward-thinking enough to fit right in on a label such as Brainfeeder, as it draws the slightest of parallels with The Gaslamp Killer's productions. El Mahdy Jr. works with more hazy, blurred layers, meshing together raw, rebellious attitudes of hip-hop beats and Turkish and Algerian folk music on The Spirit of Fucked Up Places. It's a record that never stands still, always translating onto something new - on Coins & Diamonds the hustle and bustle of the bazaar obscures pseudo-Burial 2-step and two tracks later the sounds of Mala and Kode9 seem to be thrown in the mixer on the initially brooding, later grandiose Zalim Delay. I don't think El Mahdy Jr. is taking particular cues from these artists - it feels as if he has organically stumbled into the same headspace as them, trying to make sense of the urban dysfunction and cultural confusion surrounding his home. The Spirit of Fucked Up Places is energetic and befuddling, and certainly makes well as a beacon for the growing Turkish beats scene.

Helix’s Club Constructions Vol. 4 entry into the esteemed Night Slugs series is typically explosive and suitably havoc-wreaking. Starting with a rush of hi-hats, Whoosh Ice Dispenser develops a killer bassline beneath chiselling, drilling and sculpturing percussion work before turning into something more abstract, unscrewing at the top in the latter part. It’s followed by characteristic Night Slugs metallic juke on Track Titled 1, which falls flat for something supposedly intended for building things up. Linn Jam is a bonkers journey through footwork with burst-fire kicks that turns into a whole new beast, taking a turn for techno on the cut that includes the synth, softening the hard drums of the raw version. Helix rounds things off on the head-scratching Damnson, a track that’s all about the claps with a dose of shuffle too. Night Slugs continue their growing tradition of high quality DJ-friendly EPs on Club Constructions Vol. 4.

The nature of Twelve Reasons to Die seems obvious in retrospect – Ghostface Killah is one of the masters of storytelling hip-hop, his conversational flow complemented by Adrian Younge’s throwback 70s Blaxploitation-b-movie soundtracking. Together they tell the tale of Ghostface Killah’s alias Tony Starks, and how he came to be the Ghostface Killah – one highlight being the moment the transformation is discussed, on The Rise of the Ghostface Killah. Visceral lyricism conjures vivid images, usually of an outrageously violent nature, backed by Younge’s gritty production that sounds natural to the Wu-Tang style, even if nothing near the style of the RZA’s music. Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa and others appearing on the album frequently quote lines, in-jokes and anecdotes from the Clan’s story with nods that don’t feel out of place, always remembering they’re telling a story. The story itself isn’t particularly surprising. In fact, nothing about the album is, it’s all about the execution. Their focus pays off as the artists hit a sweet spot during the middle of the album with really engrossing songs such as Enemies All Around Me and An Unexpected Call (The Set Up). Despite the relatively short length, it’s a particularly exhaustive listen, and I’m unsure how often I’ll come back to it, seeing as it doesn’t really bring much new to the table. Regardless, it does a magnificent job of cementing and solidifying the works of a talent like Ghostface Killah, riveting as ever, and promoting Adrian Younge’s production ability, which shines on the instrumental title track that closes the story.

Small Change sees Tom Waits near his most-deranged, struggling with alcoholicism and acknowledging his drinking problem with intimacy and black humour. This style manifests itself quite clearly in Bad Liver And A Broken Heart [in Lowell], where Waits bemoans his problems in signature gruff whaling, claiming, "What's your story? Well, I don't even care, 'cause I got my own double-cross to bear." This harks to how he's been kidding himself about his addiction for so long, as on The Piano Has Been Drinking [Not Me], another cry over stumbling piano, during which Waits carries on as a drunk does, relentlessly pouring his heart out about his own problems which he misplaces in others, juxtaposed with hilarious songwriting - "You can't find your waitress, with a Geiger counter, and she hates you and your friends, and you just can't get served without her." Waits explores a more classical avenue on the opening ballad, Tom Traubert's Blues [Four Sheets To The Wind In Copenhagen], followed by speakeasy jazz on the delightful, too-good-to-be-true teleshopping tribute, Step Right Up. The song that led me to the album is called Pasties And A G-String [At The Two O'Clock Club], in which Waits paints the most vivid picture of a gentleman's club via a stream-of-consciousness style soliloquy from a client's perspective, proving to be dirty and descriptive, and both insightful and tremendously amusing. Small Change is comprehensively fantastic album that reveals a lot about the Waits of that time, with heavy influences from the likes of Howlin' Wolf channeled into something uniquely Tom Waits.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is a voice and face I distinctly recognise from my childhood, my roots, yet know virtually nothing about. Mustt Mustt is an album that fuses the guitar of Michael Brook with Khan's pioneering Qawwali talents. Qawwali is a vocally-driven, spiritually-infused Sufi style of folk from the Indian subcontinent. The title track kicks off the record, gradually probing deeper and deeper into the folk music over ambling, downtempo percussion as if to introduce the listener without intimidating. The song that follows allows Khan to express his astonishing harmonics over something more grand, while wind and string tease with their own little moments. Tracks such as Tracery and Sea Of Vapours manage to hit an exotic sweet spot, led by a gently unfurling guitar progression with no words, only sounds. It's as if both musicians are stepping away from their own comfort zones to try and convey something that isn't Eastern nor Western, yet is universal. Some of the more upbeat songs were highlights on the album for me, with the rushing tabla on Taa Deem and Tana Dery Na only matched by Khan's vocal prowess, expressions that I want to describe as similar to scatting though that gives it little justice. The main stream of the record ends with Avenue, a surprisingly paced affair emanating ecstacy and joy and finishing off on a high. A bonus track is included too - a remix of Mustt Mustt by Massive Attack, and thankfully is as good as it sounds, the UK trip-hop group retaining the spirit of the original in their rework.

Abandon begins with a scream. It might be more of a screech, or a cry, but either way Pharmakon sets the scene as the voice is lost beneath white noise and an industrial sampling nightmare, accompanied by eerie, unintelligible mutters just to tip things over the edge. Ache contains drawn-out roars over ringing drills - as if a grenade has exploded nearby and as you try to recover from the fallout, your friend is angrily screaming at you for something you've done. And it's stretched into seven minutes. Another highlight on the experimental drone release is Crawling on Bruised Knees, where synths rattle with warbound intent, as a drone repeatedly fades in and out like a helicopter overhead. Then Pharmakon delivers her sermon with contorted passion, twisted into something sinister, smothering listeners with confusion. The final sound might actually be the nail in the coffin - it's hard to see down here. Sour Sap, which may be a previous EP, is included as a bonus track as Pharmakon doesn't seem to be concerned by overkill - it's just as harrowing as Abandon though much more messy and undirected too.

I'm a little disappointed with Baths' Obsidian, I have to admit. Aesthetically, some of the songs are really pleasing, especially on the first half of the album. Unfortunately I can't harmonise with the various bards about death or sex, which feel a bit lacking in depth and slightly dishonest to me - "It is not a matter of if you mean it, but it is only a matter of come and fuck me," on No Eyes is particularly grating and feels forced. I enjoy the meandering, wispy close, Inter, which mixes the ethereal with the bittersweet just right. The chimes on Ironworks and melodies on the sprawling Miasma Sky are also special moments, though overall there isn't enough on here to stick with me.

On listening to Björk's second solo album, Debut, I immediately felt ashamed and cheated by the fact that I'd gone twenty years and some without hearing it. Her songwriting and general attitude towards things is simply refreshing. Her music spends a lot of time dabbling with the alternative and unconventional, thus it's normal for her, while more traditional ways are alien to here - conveyed in the first track, Human Behaviour, which analyses the human race from the outside, not from within. Its riffy, playful beat leads into DFA-style house on Crying and Björk bellows over light strings after that. There Is More to Life Than This brought a smile to my face that I couldn't get rid of no matter how hard I tried; With a jacking house instrumental and an irresistible pop hook, the singer begins to really have fun as she seduces over the beat. There's a delightful moment where she audibly leaves the dancefloor and sings from what is presumably a cubicle in the women's restroom, shaking up any idea of predictability listeners might have. Often, the delirious passion has an edge of uncertainty, some sort of intangible omen, acting as a spice to the servings on tracks such as the studious Violently Happy. Debut is an intellectually-exhausting, satisfaction-filling album that shimmers with adventure and daring, certainly a new entry into my favourite pop albums.

There are two moments during A Love Supreme, two moments where everything clicks together. The first moment I refer to happens during the first part of the suite, Acknowledgement. A gong, a rush of the cymbals, a foundation of bass and piano and John Coltrane is off! It becomes clear that Coltrane is shaking free of the reigns that once guided him. The four-note bass progression through the introduction grows and changes, culminating in the chanted mantra, "A Love Supreme," that says so much for so few words. On Resolution, Coltrane's saxophone becomes freer, more expressive than before, leaving little time to take it all in before the piano solo takes over part-way through. Pursuance, as the name suggests, gains momentum and finds joy in the chase. The final movement Psalm, feels separate to the main proceedings, an epilogue of sorts where Coltrane delivers a stoic sermon backed by the deepest of drums. The second moment I mentioned near the start, it happens at any point throughout the suite. A moment where everything becomes transparent, and things that natter move into focus. A Love Supreme is not just a musical tale, it's a mirror to direct us to the tale inside of us all, and a guide too: Acknowledgement, Resolution, Pursuance, and a Psalm to underline all we may learn.

Everything on These New Puritans' classical-flavoured post-rock album Field of Reeds feels meticulously planned and carefully thought through. The piano-rock, strings and brass on Fragment Two sounds brooding as opposed to cheesy, and is very rigidly structured. In fact the first part of the album feels deliberately light, up until the crash at the end of the third track, and the pounding drum rhythm on the fourth. The nine-minute long V (Island Song), was perhaps a highlight for me, not just because of the build up to the heavier use of percussion, as the eerie hymn-like vocal shifts and woozy synths over the piano are strangely enticing. Organ Eternal would fit perfectly accompanying a title-screen to a video game, put together as a largely-instrumental arpeggio-driven traverse through dreamier spaces. Each song comes with heavy baggage, somehow adding depth instead of pushing the tracks over the edge, helping to transform the album into a notably positive receptacle of heavy meditations.

When a league of West African folk musicians failed to reach their Cuban counterparts, the unfortunate missed chance resulted in an astonishingly good piece of music in the form of Buena Vista Social Club. Fourteen years later, the cultures finally combined to put out AfroCubism, and answer the question of what could have been. There is plenty of both influences on the record, though it does seem to give off an overall African vibe. At times one side is more reserved, and more subtle than the other, such as the predominantly Cuban cheeky tune of La culebra, while at other times the balance is struck with jaw-dropping harmony. Certainly, the two opening tracks feel all natural, adhering to the musicians' folk with the lightest layers of the exotic unknown. A lot of the time it does feel like the songs are a Cuban take on Mali, for example, or a Malian take on Cuban music. Still, these tunes are far from harsh on the ear but the pinnacles are reached too, such as the pacey percussion of Dakan licked with light acoustic guitar from across the Atlantic. It's a shame the vocal styles rarely collaborate as much as one might like, however there is such a barrier between the cultures already that it's magnificently inspiring for them to have traversed the bridges they have done on AfroCubism, which does of course make for a highly enjoyable listen.

Have Queens of the Stone Age managed to retain the art of keeping secrets such as how to exist for a long time with consistent quality? They make a solid case for it on ...Like Clockwork, that's for sure. It's astonishing how they sound completely Queens of the Stone Age, yet nothing like Queens of the Stone Age at all. Meshing their blues-tinged stoner rock with menacing provocation, they start the proceedings with Keep Your Eyes Peeled, riffs aplenty beside the typically unsettling lullaby of Josh Homme. There are so many fantastic moments on the record, the opening shreds on My God Is The Sun among the best. Combining quirky lyrics and a sing-a-long melody with boot-stomping anthemic panache, If I Had A Tail also impresses. Things get a bit weirder for the better on Kalopsia and Fairweather Friends, the former oozing with bipolarity and the latter touching on deranged desire and wonder. Queens of the Stone Age round the LP off with the more mellow namesake track, zipping between styles to surprise listeners once again on a commendably strong full-length effort.

Well of course Wanda Group's album out on Opal Tapes is called Piss Fell Out Like Sunlight. Characteristic penchant for interesting, challengingly honest titles aside, Wanda Group has apparently been making music for a long time now, under many a moniker, though has become a relatively recent revelation on the UK electronic scene. The first four minutes of Her Stomach on Terror manages to make interesting despite it's minimal ticking and drawn-out concept - seemingly sampling the sound of pissing - before the song hits a wall of noise and submerges itself in ambience down the drain. The artist takes cues from many elements in his experimental explorations, whether its instrumental moods or more space-like noises. The second track, Pans Out in the Afterlife, is a less scary affair than its predecessor, though it benefits from the luxury of the scene already being set. One synth loop battles through fuzz and crackles, disappearing and reappearing at the end, with all sorts of madness in between. Somewhere in the middle of Andy Stott and Lee Gamble, Wanda Group's Piss Fell Out Like Sunlight is just as incredible.

It doesn't matter that I can't understand the Arabic on Jerusalem In My Heart's Mo7it Al-Mo7it. Founded by a Lebanse-born, Canadian-by-way-of Oman technical engineer, the trio traverse numerous genres, transcending any clear categories. Vocals on the opening track come across arch-typically Middle Eastern, though it's followed by a song that lacks any harsh harmonies, favouring guitar from the same region or perhaps North or West Africa. On Yudaghdegh El-ra3ey Walal-Ghanam, styles from the Arab world are dropped for scaling synths and daunting drones. They don't progress substantially so new elements are always brought in, though the track somehow avoids feeling claustrophobic. 3anzah Jarbanah explores the vocal style even further, translating pain and desperation unhidden, in as much as a single note. The track Dam3et El-3ein 3 is led by the simultaneously rough and regal strings of the buzuk, followed by a punk-influenced ascension of riffs on the penultimate song. The eclectic mix of things going on in the record is staggering, and the detail begs for repeat listens, as of course do potential interpretations. Thankfully it's more than good enough to deserve more time, and the work of Jerusalem In My Heart is definitely something to be excited about.