Music Journal #010

Ravedeath, 1972 is an album from Tim Hecker that speaks volumes conceptually and emotionally. Hecker became fascinated by the idea that technology was killing music, or at least music as we once knew it. And so, he took to Iceland and translated a day of recordings, largely on an organ, into this release. The Piano Drop, which begins the album, parallels the cover art, of students pushing a piano off of a building's rooftop for traditional, ritualistic reasons. If this track touches on the moment the piano teeters off the edge, then the three-part In The Fog is what happens next - or rather what we think is happening next. The distance the piano can fall is unknown, resulting in false fears of the worst, over and over, as seemingly random keys and chords spring off in different directions. There is a mournful menace present throughout the album, with organ samples and droning invasiveness conflicting to dominate most songs. It's as if the music starts to implode and tear itself apart - sawing off its own limbs during the ripping screeches present in Hatred of Music. In the Air chronicles an aftermath of sorts, aspects of the album returning to their respective corners to collect their selves and regain identity. Perhaps they have come to terms with each other's existence, or perhaps they are gearing up for another bout. Hecker leaves us amidst an uncertainty of forking roads and possible futures, little answers and insightful questions. One thing is for certain, which is that Ravedeath, 1972 is very real, and very much demands to be paid attention to - and the journey is worth it, too.

Giuseppe Ielasi's (third) Stunt concerns itself with the nature of sound itself. Littered with strange samples and field recordings, the composer layers loops of the clips over each other in a manner reminiscent of standard contemporary house music production. It comes together to sound little like house however, with tracks stumbling ahead, naturally ambling or wobbling to and fro as delays become as important as samples. It's evident great care has been taken to delicately build the songs. Thankfully it's far from boring as between the glitches and droning, there is plenty of fun to be hand trying to picture and isolate the sounds heard. On the first track, for example, a sharp inhalation, disjointed brass and the sound of trainers on a basketball court can be heard before exotic hand-drums and other unconventional clips. The middle part of the record seems more familiar with it's textured, warm ambience and the last track somehow finds itself in the realms of 'world music'.

One of the better experiences I've had in terms of discovering new artists in recent times would be coming across The Child of LOV. There is a bit of mystery about the artist at first, with a name harking to sense receptors in proteins, no face and no other information about him but for the fact his album would feature Damon Albarn production with DOOM and Thundercat - despite interviews and features in the more down-to-Earth music magazines. On hearing the unabashed, relentless funk of Heal and the gritty, intrepid take on D'Angelo's One Mo'Gin, I was eager to hear the full release. Thankfully it didn't disappoint. It turned out that the artist was a Zlatan Ibrohimovic look-a-like whose time was split between London and the Netherlands, who'd answered a Gumtree ad from Albarn. There is no secret, ulterior motive, no catch - just the drive to bring uncompromising soul that is so lacking in much of modern music. At times, synths are seeping from the speakers and other times both bass and drums are stomping and storming as the artist meandering, impossibly eclectic croon fills the music with life. There is a Jai Paul-esque rustiness to the album, swaggering without care for consequence. There is a mix of eccentricity and accessibility - perhaps too much on the final track yet the mix is perfected on single Give Me. Owl allows DOOM to be delightfully odd, while Call Me Up's lazy summer attitude strikes gold. I'm worried by some of the tracks' memorability but on the whole, the self-titled debut from The Child of LOV is daring and brimming with personality. Feels so good to live that funk again.

Germany and Japan combine on Insen, in the form of Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto. The former provides electronic beats that cushion the latter's pianist industry. Track names describe the experimental compositions succinctly, as on the ticking inevitability and pensiveness on Logic Moon and the comforting wisdom of Aurora. For the most part it's less of a battle between the 'natural' and 'machinistic' elements, and more of a yin-yang coexistence that is constantly flowing and sparring, pushing each other's boundaries. Throughout, the sounds are pure in their minimalistic isolation and impact, acoustic or digital essence notwithstanding. Different avenues are granted exploration as Logic Moon strips back yet ventures forth onto Moon, and hearing the progression of Iano before it all peels back distils beauty. At the end of it all, during Avaol, the two sides to the music embrace each other as one, fizzling away into nothing as if becoming one with the winds. This album was a wonderful listen, spanning countless moments of unspeakable awe.

The first piece of music I'd heard from Madteo was the wonderfully titled Rugrats Don't Techno for an Answer, which proved to be a surreal Drake-sampling weave of spaced-out synths and rolling percussion. The depth and texture of the track intrigued me and when I listened to Noi No in full, I was very impressed. The album shares more than just a title pun with Rugrats, as it hones innocent curiosity and exploration in its own world of electronic music. Madteo seems unafraid to dare on Vox Your Nu Yr Resolution, where he utilises a vocal loop to mess with the listener's sensibilities. Building a track around a vocal loop can easily lead a producer to a dancefloor-destroying anthem these days, yet what Madteo does is create his own narrative cutting up the same phrase, "Staying out of trouble" over and over and over. Instead of creating something inherently infectious, he opts to drill the chant into our skulls. The stuttering atmospheric opener Rut-a-Round is followed by Dead Drop (When I Saw You That Nite), a track ripe for playing in some dark, dinky techno basement in the early hours of the morning. The crackling interval of Bugged in Gaza, littered with chattering samples induces an unnerving experience and I had to pinch myself when Il Capoline closed with, "What are you reading? The Wall Street Urinal?" Vitruvian Nightmare is a menacing wasp-like cut that uses its slower pace to set its scene in its own time while the last track tears the idea of 'genres' apart at the seams, channelling a dizzying take on jazz percussion with hip-hop sampling styles to a haunting industrialist ambience. Noi No somehow managed to attack the boundaries with fierce confidence, yet with a sense of playfulness, bewildering structure and paralysis-inducing panache.

I feel like I was lucky to survive the beginning of HEALTH's self-titled album. The first ten to fifteen seconds are silent and then you notice the approach. Contact! A couple of warning shots later, you're into the thick of it: the refreshingly percussion-heavy thrash mixed with melodic keys and hums. Girl Attorney doesn't need to be longer than the half-minute or so it occupies, perfectly showcasing the seismic grooves the group are capable of. HEALTH skip back and forth between styles, never gentle and never still. I actually think their heavier material, such as the track Courtship, translates better and is far more memorable than the lighter offerings such as //M\\ - this comes as a surprise to myself but I guess it just goes to show what the band are capable of when they hit the high points. The rambunctious drumming can genuinely be felt through the speakers, which was the salient positive attribute of the record. The band flirts with different ideas, with Glitter Pills' electro-rock synths and claps being the most obvious example. It was an interesting angle, however they didn't manage to portray enough depth in their ideas at times. The final track Lost Time, embraced the barbaric simplicity that HEALTH pulled off so well for the most part, on what was overall a most enjoyable, surprise-filled experimental debut.

When a best friend recommends a favourite album of theirs to me, I become nervous and reluctant to listen to it. This isn't about why, though - this is about being grateful that I listened to Andrew Jackson Jihad's Knife Man. In perhaps one of the most surprising opening tracks of all time, Knife Man starts with a brief ballad telling the tale of 'The Michael Jordan of Drunk Driving'. In a touch over twenty seconds, Andrew Jackson Jihad have set the tone of the album - surreal, witty and self-aware humour carrying the weight of deadly serious social commentary on its back. During American Tune, the vocalist sings about a protagonist's experiences as a "straight white male in America", implicitly challenging the outlook on the 'social minorities' so to speak. Hopping along the horizon of folk-punk, Knife Man can sometimes be easy to listen to and sometimes hard - but always worthwhile. Distance is one of the heavier tracks, where song style and structure doesn't force a compromise on the humour, as the middle of the track develops: "I hate whiny fucking songs like this, but I can't afford a therapist. Sorry guys, here's a solo". The amusingly-titled Zombies By the Cranberries By Andrew Jackson Jihad muses a lifetime of possibilities and thoughts in a moment never spoken, in this case ways to help a street beggar in lieu of giving spare change from guilt or something insincere. Knife Man documents the philosophies and considerings of the average hero, the person on the street just getting by in life with undeniable conviction and wistful irony. Although the music itself is not something I connected with, the overall package is one to savour.

Having released two astonishingly good indie-afro-baroque pop albums, it seems unfair to me that Vampire Weekend were treated with scepticism by so many in the build up to their third release. I'm of the opinion that if one looks past the young, preppy (and by an assumed extension, naive) visage, you get a band with a sound innately joyous and accessible, with rare chemistry and cohesiveness and with insightful, tongue-in-cheek lyricism. Fortunately the same can be said having heard Modern Vampires of the City - named after Junior Reed's celebrated song imbuing the record with threads of uneasiness. The first track, Obvious Bicycle, requires some patience in spite of Ezra's plead, "Don't wait," and keyboardist Rostam's supporting vocals are what tie it together. Vampire Weekend seem to do a fair bit differently on their third LP outing, as if the writing and recording processes had changed completely. Unbelievers almost sounds Mumford and Sons-ish with its pop-folk acoustics (just an observation!) while Diane Young bubbles with eccentric electronic distortions. The drastic pitch-shifting of the vocals on the song that dares to humanise an abstract, anthropomorphic deity, Ya Hey, as well as the hyper pace and general indecisiveness of Finger Back demonstrate this. This new, surprising energy allows the drummer to really make his presence felt on many of the tracks, while Ezra knows when to give vocals of the old style too, such as on Step and Everlasting Arms. Vampire Weekend seem to work in extremes on this album - Hannah Hunt's ponderous development is interesting while the high, skittering piano notes gift us with that familiar Vampire Weekend texture. The lyricism on the album touches on themes like death and religion more than often, adding a more sinister edge to what used to be such a summery band; This is more like by the fire during the winter nights. It's as if the band have matured (though I maintain they already had) with a new-found perspective and ideology. They are much older now, and seemingly more wiser as the updated direction reaffirms the quality of their refined craft and showcases recent additions to their repertoire with admirable prowess.

Madlib's Yessir Whatever release under the alias/guise of Quasimoto seems to essentially be a collection of unreleased and unused material. The material on here isn't the best I've heard from Lord Quas at all, though it was well worth a listen. The beats are both playful and pensive, and Quas' antagonistic wordplay spars with Madlib's verses over more careful and cautious instrumentals than on The Unseen. What stands out to me is how easy Madlib makes it all feel; Whether rapping as his own self or as Quasimoto, over any kind of beat with lyrics straightforward or clever, it's evident how in his element he is. While there isn't too much in the way of daring ventures, there is no compromise either - there doesn't have to be as it all fits quite comfortably. It's always good to heard Madlib's knack for quality obscure, entertaining samples - contorted on The Front, cut up on Green Power and closing out tracks like Seasons Change in a unique manner. The best songs on here are Planned Attack, Am I Confused? and Broad Factor - they really stand tall as potential singles and are really solid cuts on a consistently good album. Broad Factor also demonstrates Madlib's ability to produce beats with outstanding depth and texture, looping the most subtle of samples - not that he needed to, but it's always good to see the best of musicians doing what they do best.

Savages' initial full-length offering, Silence Yourself, is a torrent of post-punk intensity. There has been a bit of discourse about the quartet, with their mission statement to shatter the life some have become lazily comfortable with, and drive to settle for more. I think that their music does all the talking necessary, really. From the offset, Silence Yourself pounds and pulverises with a passion that made me genuinely feel the music. City's Full holds an infectious bassline which carries the urgent drumming and raw, near-psychedelic riffs, while vocalist Jehnny Beth describes her rollercoaster of emotion and interaction up-front, honest and raw. The storytelling on the album is often done this way, relentless without holding back - She Will being another highlight, where melodious lead guitar leads the procession into noise and croaks and screams. I don't normally listen to this type of music, so the album struck the right chords with me. Its thunderous attitude mixed with powerful yet harmonious grooves paved the way for desperation to hear even more of their music and experience the renowned potency of their live sets. Marshal Dear closed the album wondrously, with the breath-taking lament of a saxophone.