experimental music

Pink Noises: Women on Electronic Music and Sound

admin — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

I was about fifteen years old when PinkNoises.com started up. I was very involved in riot grrrl music, so perhaps it's no surprise that I liked a website specifically dedicated to women in electronic music. The writer of this content—as well as the rest of the Pink Noises website—was Tara Rodgers. After years of performing and researching, she came out with a book by the same name.

Much like her website, Pink Noises encourages the creativity and capabilities of women in electronic music. Tara interviewed twenty-four different female artists; a diverse collection of electronic musicians, sound artists, composers, DJs, remixers, and performance artists. The end result is a book heavily, wonderfully saturated with facts, ideas, and experiences.

The DIY section was my particular favorite because it was the first time I had seen a music tutorial specifically written for amateur female artists. This section was full of information and resources, while being simple and direct. Creativity and experimentation were emphasized. Not only was I capable of creating my own music, but was also encouraged to.

On the flip side, I wish this book came with a CD featuring one song from each artist interviewed. However, there are lists of female artists and websites at the end of the book. Also, I felt my eyes glazing over some of the interviews. Though I admired women who were rich with technical knowledge and musical theory, I need to revisit their ideas when I have more musical experience. There is a helpful glossary of terms in the back of the book for those of us still learning.

Other interviews struck chords in me that had never been validated before. For instance, noticing that I shared a similar, basic upbringing of music as they did; we loved music growing up, took a few years of an instrument in school, joined a band, quit the band. Many of these women experienced sexism and unreliability of other performers while in rock bands. I kept seeing interviewees mention that electronic music is a great way to be creative without having to suffer misogyny or flakiness of others.

Creativity without bad attitudes? Sounds like a dream come true! Well, it is for the most part. Unfortunately, we still have the sexism of the electronic music industry to deal with. For example, most people probably envision a man wearing headphones and a hooded sweatshirt when they hear the phrase "electronic musician." This is a shame; Pink Noises clearly demonstrates women of all stripes as electronic musicians, many of whom have been creating for decades.

While some of the interviewed musicians reported positive community and good resources, others felt the blow of not having their work taken seriously or being excluded from electronic music magazines, events, and other outlets. It's no wonder that many female electronic musicians take up androgynous names or wear masks while performing. Both of these factors help demonstrate the artist's personal identity to their audience. However, I feel as though some female artists may also be conjuring Joan of Arc in order to be taken seriously.

In the book's introduction, Rodgers touches base on the history of electronic music. She notes that electronic music's beginnings stem from war. She writes that "amplification and recording technologies emerged directly from wartime expenditures or were funded for their potential military applications." The earliest electronic music piece, "The Art of Noises" (1913), is a "bold celebration" of "machines, modern industry, and war." Even the terminology of electronic music refers to war; "executes" a programming "command," DJs "battle," computer "crash."

Considering an industry with early war associations and plagued with sexism today, it's no wonder that there are so few women involved. Pink Noises succeeds in immortalizing a talented, diverse collection of female artists, as well as encouraging women to get involved in creating for themselves.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, June 7th 2010

Newborn Slime/White Light Split

admin — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Castle Oldchair, Kid Primitive Family

Graymalkin Productions

According to the Musical Family Tree website, musician Kid Primitive was so “enchanted” by the album Newborn Slime, by Castle Oldchair, that he felt the need to “create a sister album for it.” So, here we have the two albums together, like peanut butter and jelly smashed at the bottom of your book bag. Could this be a match made in heaven? Or will this double album make you wish you had brought money for the lunch lady special?

Let me describe it this way: you know that guy at the party who everyone tries to avoid because he’s rolling on E, or has taken a fistful of psilocybin mushrooms, or both? You know the one: his eyes are like cartoon swirls and he will somehow manage to corner you and talk for two hours about mystical fortresses, tiger princesses, aliens, and bizarre Greek philosophies you’re pretty sure never existed? Put that guy in a room with a karaoke machine and two adolescent boys making farting noises with their armpits, and what you get is Newborn Slime/White Light.

I suppose you could call the album essentially a cappella, since there are really only two tracks with instruments. Some a cappella albums, like Björk’s Medúlla, are excellent. Newborn Slime/White Light sounds roughly like an Andre the Giant or Sloth from The Goonies flatulence celebration. There are a few passable attempts at beatboxing on tracks like "Thanks with an X," but generally those disintegrate rapidly into moaning, bleating, lip farting/raspberry making, and spoken word-esque vocals that sound like they are being squeezed out of a pinched balloon.

Nearly every track on the album is physically difficult to endure. Frankly, I’m fairly certain there were only two songs that kept the headphones in my ears throughout the whole experience: “Innerlewd” and “Outerlewd,” the only guitar tracks on the album. Both have some pleasant and even interestingly technical guitar picking, and effectively kept me hoping that there was light at the end of a very bleak tunnel.

“Innerlewd” and “Outerlewd” show that these guys do have some talent for writing interesting stuff. A quick peek at their respective MySpace pages also reveals that they are capable of creating listenable-even likable-music. Perhaps, however, these are simply fleeting moments of clarity in an otherwise viscous heap of unpleasant detritus that I would rather not have to wade through. For me, music has to be an experience that I enjoy or somehow get something out of. It can be painful, cathartic, or abrasive, as long as there is some link to some kind of worthwhile experience. I just can't seem to find that here, in a mountain of noises that sound essentially like "horny cats getting hit by cars" or the "annoying yet tortured ghost of Wallace Shawn" (those were actual notes I wrote in my notebook as I listened to the album for the first time). Unfortunately, I’m fairly certain a true appreciation of this album is only accessible through a large quantity of illicit substances, which is also the best argument against drug use I’ve ever heard.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, June 5th 2010

Evelyn Evelyn

admin — Fri, 07 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Evelyn Evelyn

Eleven Records

“Real art has the capacity to make us nervous.” —Susan Sontag

Evelyn Evelyn is the creation of Amanda Palmer (of the Dresden Dolls and lately a successful solo artist) and musician Jason Webley. Palmer and Webley have built a layered piece of art rather than simply a collaborative musical effort or side project. It includes an intricate back story in addition to its musical content: Evelyn Evelyn are conjoined twins, each one named Evelyn Neville (since neither they nor anyone else could keep straight their given names “Eva” and “Lyn”) who were purportedly discovered via MySpace by Palmer and Webley. Between them they have three legs, two arms, two hearts, three lungs, and a single liver. Born in 1985, there is little information known about the twins until 1996, when they appeared at Dillard and Fullerton's Traveling Circus. In 2007, Palmer and Webley “made contact” with Evelyn and Evelyn and encouraged them to make a studio record.

I first heard about this project at an Amanda Palmer show and thought it was creative, interesting, and different. However, the feminist blogosphere went supernova with rage after the Evelyn Evelyn project became more widely known, claiming Palmer engaged in “crip drag,” and objecting to the idea that conjoined twins “need help” from two able-bodied people. To complicate matters more, the twins' background (as stated on the record) involves a history of sexual exploitation and abuse, which was further fuel for feminist media laser-sights. Afterward, Palmer seemed not to be able to do anything right in the eyes of Internet feminism, and a quick Google search will reveal headlines like “3 Reasons We're Over Amanda Palmer,” “Amanda Palmer Behaves Like An Asshole Part 37,” and “How Amanda Palmer Lost a Fan or, My Own Private Backlash.” (Interestingly, Jason Webley seemed largely spared from the backlash for a project he helped create.)

As for the music itself, the twelve songs on Evelyn Evelyn are catchy, almost jingle-like tunes that rely heavily on piano, accordion, ukulele, and violin, and Palmer and Webley harmonize wonderfully. “The Tragic Events of September” parts one, two, and three are spoken word over a spooky piano background in which the twins tell of their woe-filled life while speaking of themselves in the third person. Each one is punctuated with sound effects and lines spoken by the “characters” in the song. Other songs on the record, including “Sandy Fishnets,” “Elephant Elephant,” and “Chicken Man,” further detail events in the twins' lives.

“My Space,” which is a tribute to the social networking site on which the twins were supposedly discovered, was heralded as the singing debut of Frances Bean Cobain; her voice is layered over many other guest singers, however, and is impossible to distinguish. This song sounds like a parody of every bombastic '80s power ballad in memory, and includes drums and a lengthy guitar solo. The album ends with a very pretty ukulele cover of Joy Division's “Love Will Tear Us Apart.”

This record is of interest to fans of show tunes, noir, cabaret, and Tin Pan Alley. The theatricality and operatic nature of the music and storyline will appeal to ex-drama students, and current fans of Amanda Palmer and Jason Webley will appreciate the interesting tangent in their respective current careers that still maintains the level of cleverness and originality fans have come to expect from each.

Written by: Natalie Ballard, May 7th 2010

Sing Along to Songs You Don’t Know

admin — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 00:59:00 +0000

By Múm

Euphono Records

I have never been one to accept iTunes’ genre classifications of the music I purchase. Yes, the categories can be useful, but they never quite fit with my personal interests. As soon as the tracks are downloaded, I quickly listen to the album and decide where it fits amongst my feisty feminist punk rock, hipster late-night sing-alongs, or classical acoustic sleep inducers (to name a few). Admittedly, I am a little bit of a control freak and perhaps a tad obsessive.

On the other hand, the reductionist labeling of ‘indie’ or ‘pop’ is nowhere near as maddening as the genre given to Múm’s recently-released fifth studio album Sing Along to Songs You Don't Know: “unclassifiable.” What does that mean? Is it insulting, or perhaps, empowering by the very lack of constraints? The queer equivalent of music labeling?

Either way, the group’s new album has clearly demonstrated their ability to evolve with their effortless intermixing of guitar, rhythmic percussion, bizarre electronic grooves and eerie, smooth vocals that produces something within and above the genres of pop, folk and electronica. Arguably their most accessible album, Múm has moved away from their original pure, electronic sound to a more folksy-experimental style. Reading some of the reviews, it is clear that some fans of the original ethereal vocals of the Valtýsdóttir twins (replaced in 2007) have been resistant to the change and the group’s new whimsical, romantic sound. However, while the album definitely has a childish element, the lyrics and vocals are far from cute, with repetitive lines like: “You are so beautiful to us. We want to keep you as our pet.”

Definitely listen to the album and decide for yourself. If you are interested in exploring their earlier albums, you can stream some of the tracks on their MySpace page. While you are online, also check out their webpage to find out about tour dates, watch the music video of their track “Sing Along,” and more. Their new album has something refreshing for both new listeners and old fans alike, especially for those that are willing to grow with the group in their constantly evolving, “unclassifiable” experimental sound.

Written by: Abigail Chance, December 19th 2009

The Snake

admin — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 01:03:00 +0000

By Wildbirds & Peacedrums

Leaf Spain

Access to a wide variety of musicians and bands has recently become widespread with the proliferation of the Internet. Though this gives inquisitive music lovers vast seas of artists to explore, this also presents the predicament of originality. Like any other art, only so many ideas can be looked at from so many points of view before they begin to blend together. It is difficult to find a sound that is original and surprising without being on the fringes of what is acceptable as music. However, Wildbirds and Peacedrums deliver just that—a unique listening experience while retaining an essential rhythm and harmony.

Putting Wildbirds & Peacedrums into a genre is almost impossible. Though many suggestions have been put on the table, ranging from psych folk to straightforward experimental, their music refuses to be placed in a box. Mariam Wallentin and Andreas Werliin, a husband and wife duo from Sweden, are the band’s only members. It is interesting that this band’s unique sound consists of mere drums and vocals, which Mariam considers her “instrument.”

The Snake is the band’s second album and it does not disappointment. The combination of Andreas’s spirited percussion with Mariam’s earthy vocals conjures an image of the mundane world, but colored with the most basic of emotions and instincts. There is something very primal about the music of Wildbirds & Peacedrums.

Mariam’s vocal work is very natural, to the point where sometimes she is simply making sounds rather than singing lyrics, much like a deeper toned Bjork. Andreas’s basic but somehow overwhelming drumming makes up for the lack of instruments accompanying his wife’s voice.

These two elements are best united in the track “There is No Light,” which is perhaps the best track on the entire album. Andreas’s drums are the only literal instrument used and the remainder is dominated by Mariam’s voice, which is almost guttural in nature. It is difficult to imagine such a thing to be pleasant but the pair does not only succeed. “There is No Light” evokes an overwhelming feeling of movement. It makes you want to dance, but more in a primitive jumping and undulating sense. This atmosphere is all created through smart drumming, primal voice, and raw lyrics about failure and triumph. In short, this is a very powerful track.

The album is perfectly structured for the attention span of an average listener. The first track is mysterious, haunting, and a hook in every sense of the word. There is a balance between shorter and lengthier songs. Every track on The Snake has its own individuality. The innovation that they use to give each track its own stand-alone sound with only two mediums of sound is interesting enough, without considering the quality of each track itself.

Almost every track on The Snake seems to overwhelm the listener with one emotion or another, conveyed more through rhythm and sound than through the lyrics themselves. It is definitely an album that can be listened to more than once without boredom entering the picture. Those who are new to Wildbirds & Peacedrums will receive an open armed welcome into this sweet, emotional, and, at its core, primordial world that The Snake creates.

Written by: Jacquelyn White, December 7th 2009

Malaikat dan Singa

admin — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 01:00:00 +0000

By Arrington de Dionyso

K Records

The music of Arrington de Dionyso (also of the band Old Time Relijun) lies somewhere in a crazy Venn Diagram where Sonic Youth, Nick Cave (circa The Birthday Party), Miles Davis (circa Bitches Brew), and Jerry Lee Lewis intersect. (Yes, I said Jerry Lee Lewis. If you don’t believe me, check out a live version of Arrington de Dionyso’s “Kedalaman Air,” where he dances around the stage with the same squirrelly eyes and reckless rock-n-roll abandon that Jerry Lee Lewis has when he performs “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On.”) Heck, there is even a little bit of the Melvins in there; think “Bar-X the Rocking M” and you would be heading in the right direction. (Arrington uses a bass clarinet rather than a trombone, but I think you get the idea.)

Arrington de Dionyso isn’t exactly rock, and he isn’t exactly jazz. I’m not sure all of it even would fit in the category of “music”—at least, not the kind of music that utilizes the traditional, catchy, verse-chorus-verse format. Listening to de Dionyso, there are many times when it sounds like a band of gypsies and a group of Tibetan monks fell down a flight of stairs, and the sounds they emitted as they tumbled were recorded on a scratchy eight-track.

Perhaps, though, this last analogy doesn’t give enough creative props to the man and his troupe of noise-artists. de Dionyso and his band somehow manage to make cohesive music while also making their instruments sound like they are being jerked into life by Dr. Frankenstein and about three million volts of electricity. It’s as if they created the musical version of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Rats in the Walls.”

Sure, call it a bit pretentious if you want (Sonic Youth and Nick Cave have both been accused of the same), but how can anyone really claim that this music is pompous when it jangles around like a massive Sasquatch orgasm? I can only hope Arrington de Dionyso will be around for a very long time—if only because I am curious to see what he will come up with next.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, December 5th 2009

Bitte Orca

admin — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 23:07:00 +0000

By Dirty Projectors

Domino

At times the catchy melodies and ironically jarring harmonies found on Dirty Projectors’ latest album, Bitte Orca, seem surprising, and at other times, perfectly in place. From the very first listen the Dirty Projectors certainly project something interesting. It’s the sort of sound that makes you ask, “Do you know who this is?” And for the first time in months you genuinely consider paying for the music that has somehow found its way into your head.

Bitte Orca is yet another disc from the collective’s leader, Dave Longstreth, who formerly put together an alt-rock version of Black Flag’s famed Damaged EP. Longstreth is known for masterfully grinding pleasant chords into more experimental songs, and this album is no exception. Equal parts fresh, glowing pop and adult musical genius, Bitte Orca fits well in the ringleader’s reservoir of music.

While the members of Dirty Projectors are in a state of flux from record to record, Bitte Orca was put together by a spectacular cluster of musicians in addition to the single constant member, Longstreth: Amber Coffman (guitar and vocals), Angel Deradoorian (bass and vocals), and Brian McComber (drums). Sometimes sing-songy, sometimes haunting, and just as frequently introspective, the group’s collaboration has resulted in an album easily described as a success. The two women (Coffman and Deradoorian) who support the music with their wistful voices also act as the cover of the album for the new release. Longstreth poses solo on the back.

Currently on tour, Dirty Projectors are playing the last of their sold out shows around the US and moving on to Europe through September. If given the opportunity to catch the band live, you might want to jump at it. Or, if you just want to see what you might be missing out on, give the band a listen on their Myspace page.

As a whole Bitte Orca seems fitting for a warm day with a light breeze—nothing too heavy, and though there’s no promise you’ll dance, there’s a very good chance you’ll feel good about what you’re listening to.

Written by: Tatiana Ryckman, September 9th 2009

Nests Of Waves And Wire

admin — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 23:17:00 +0000

By Tartufi

Southern Records

In case you were wondering, tartufi name means truffle in Italian. According to this San Francisco duo, it's a moniker left behind by a former member, rather than one either would have willfully applied. They just sorta stumbled into it. Luckily, it's a name that fit them well enough to keep. Since the term can refer to either a rare, edible fungi or a confection (in Italy it's an elaborate dessert involving ice cream), and since the band has a similarly dirty-hidden-underground-but-still-tantalizingly-sweet-treasure feeling, Tartufi makes sense, and so does the title of their latest album, Nests Of Waves And Wire, as the experimental duo's music resembles an knotty interwoven bundle.

When it comes to Tartufi, the one point most music journalists revisit time and again is their ability to produce an orchestrated mass of music that seems like it should be coming from a whole tribe of people, instead of just two. Both Lynne Angel and band mate Brian Gorman are multi-instrumentalists. Vocal duties fall square in the lap of Lynne Angel (whose voice sounds an awful lot like that of indie music luminary Kim Deal), and in addition to singing, Angel plays the guitar and percussion. Gorman is on drums, glockenspiel, and megaphone, while both play bass and keyboards. Before I continue, please know that I have weighed and measured my words carefully throughout this review. In this next instance, however, there really is no other way to convey my meaning: the tune “Dot Dash” doesn't fuck around. It is a song that, with its stops and starts, sustained by a short-long undercurrent, honestly adheres to its name—and does so with great joy. The opening track, “Fear of Tall Giraffes, Fear Of Some Birds,” exemplifies their primal harmonious qualities; think Polyphonic Spree meets Erase Errata. At times their symphonic whorl can be a bit dizzying, but it makes listening to Tartufi that much more grand.

Discerning listeners will pick up on the diversity of influences from which Tartufi has built their sound. Some are apparent (Explosions In The Sky, Animal Collective) while others could easily go unnoticed, even after several listens (Fairport Convention, Wu Tang Clan, and Metallica). That last one was especially jarring, yet a lone electric guitar noodling its way through the halfway mark of “Engineering” does indeed hearken back to Black Album-era, sounding remarkably similar to the opening notes of “Nothing Else Matters.”

Not content to work hard for their benefit alone, Tartufi also generously devote as much time as possible to support other bands from their community. Thread Productions is a collective started in 2006 by Angel and Gorman in conjunction with fellow Bay Area bands. Theirs is a simple credo: help each other. Share resources, go to each other's shows, and talk up Thread Productions and its constituents to the media. The instinct to deviate from the often vicious pissing contests perpetuated in emerging music scenes is refreshing—and apparently quite effective, as all bands involved have seen an increase in interest, CD sales, and audience attendance at live performances.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, August 3rd 2009

Morning Music

admin — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 23:05:00 +0000

By Mia Doi Todd

City Zen Records

I'm one of those music nerds who, because of my incredibly broad tastes, finds herself taunted by other more self-conscious music nerds. I will give anything a chance. Anything. For example, I have no shame in admitting that I like those slightly contentious sub-genres known as free and avant-garde jazz. I especially love the music of Alice Coltrane, the late composer/multi-instrumentalist/wife of John Coltrane. Heavily reliant on harp and piano, and influenced by Indian mysticism, Coltrane's music is just as likely to be reviled as it is to be emulated. In the years following her death in 2007, a variety of artists have paid musical tribute to this underrated innovator, including English rocker Paul Weller (The Jam, Style Council) and American drone-metal duo Sunn O))). Although never mentioned directly, it is clear to me that Alice Coltrane's body of work also had an influence on Mia Doi Todd's latest album, the all-instrumental Morning Music.

Since 1997, Todd has released eight studio albums, a remix collection and an EP, three of which were Todd put out on her own label, City Zen Records; Morning Music is her latest self-released title. From the warm worn early-1970s look of the front cover to the inside close-up picture of Todd's fingers caressing a keyboard against a psychedelic backdrop, and right on to the beatific back cover image of she and album collaborator, percussionist Andres Renteria, the album seemed a dead giveaway to what lay in store upon listening. I was neither incorrect nor disappointed. This is not just “morning music” however.

This is Sun Salute yoga music. This is hot tea music. This is languorous stretching like a cat music. This is caftan and sandals music. This is soaking in the tub for an hour until you melt music.

The brief presence of background bird tweets and motorcycle engines toward the end of the fourth track, “Electrafficbirds One,” not only jostles awake those listeners previously enmeshed in a soothing drone of sound, but also serves as foreshadowing of the (ever-so-slightly) more lively music to come. It never gets raucous, but things at least pick up a little.

The innocent melody of “Emotion” conjures fond memories in me of a favorite song from my childhood, the Joe Raposo-penned “Sesame Street” classic “Sing.” The tunes have nothing in common, and yet to my ear certain notes in the latter recall the former. Perhaps it's how the piano, acoustic guitar and tin whistle all lope gently around each other.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, August 1st 2009

Meridians

admin — Mon, 25 May 2009 00:55:00 +0000

By Valerie Mih

Meridians is a very “new age” title for an album. You may hear the word “meridians” all the time without knowing what it means, and when you look it up, you still don’t. You know it’s about circles and zeniths and acupuncture references to the body’s pathways to energy—but can you use it in a sentence?

When I worked at a record store (yes, a record store) in the '90s, we had an entire new age section. Vangelis, Yanni, John Tesh—there was a studied blandness to their music. New age fans were just as serious about blandness—serious about their wool socks, scented candles, and herbal tea music. So I didn’t expect to like Meridians—but I did.

Have I become the demographic of wool socks? Maybe I’m more open to this kind of music. I’m not dancing on tables to Lady Gaga (not every night anyway). I want to relax. I want to “de-stress.” I want candles and herbal teas.

Mih’s first note on the album is her body—she exhales and breathes life into the title song. This exhale lasts two seconds, but it sets the tone of emotional connection and presence throughout her work. I know, I know—how new age. Yet most new age music has a forced sense of completion, and the emotional complexity of a pod-person. It is one with the universe, end of story. But Mih’s breathing is not I-am-one-with-the-universe. Instead it is more I-am-a-woman-tired-at-the-end-of-her-day. Let-me-be-saved-by-my-music.

The experimental arrangements of Mih’s piano, vocals, keyboard, and accordion also add to the emotional depth, and reflect the not always beatific path to tranquility. Her voice is reminiscent of an English chorus in “Meridians,” “Flow,” and the end track, “Circular Dreaming.” The accordion and the bell sounds of keyboard add subtle tension to “Meridians.” However, the same bells are overdone in “Interwoven” where they take a melodramatic turn of suspense that would be at home in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

Mih’s experimental best is “Saturn’s Rings,” where I’m not sure if she is breathing again as music or if the keyboards are replicating the sound. The keyboard could also be evoking a computer as it runs a program—the sound of a computer breathing. Whichever the case, this interplay of sounds provide an interesting juxtaposition of music, nature and technology. The plaintive accordion of this song is one of the most memorable sections of this album.

Yet some of Mih’s works are less experimental and more direct. “Little One,” “Reflections” and “Sacred Sound” are impassioned selections with the piano as the only instrument. “Autumn” is also centered on the piano, but the repetitive chords get in the way of this song. Although they could be a statement about the cyclical nature of seasons, the repetition can be excessive. Yet it’s the dissonant chords at the end of “Autumn” that conversely provide closure.

Meridians may share aspects of new age music, but I wouldn’t call Valerie Mih new age. She could be an instrumental version of Enya or the Cocteau Twins. Where those artists used their voices to create a surreal auditory landscape, Mih uses her piano, keyboard and accordion. There could even be a classical parallel with the French composer Claude Debussy.

So, yes, not what I expected. Valerie Mih’s album reconnects the listener to the emotional experience of music and leaves you elevated. No blandness here. Except for those wool socks.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, May 24th 2009

Phratry EP

admin — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 23:51:00 +0000

By LKN (Lauren K. Newman)

Phratry Records

Most people can’t play an instrument, but Lauren K. Newman (also known as LKN) can play at least five. And she plays them all on the same album. This one-woman band has released her fourth album through Greyday Productions. Her most recent, Postulate II, was also reissued on vinyl by Phratry Records complete with a bonus eight track EP to the first two-hundred lucky buyers.

LKN stays true to her punk roots on Phratry EP by reflecting the sounds of her four previous albums. The popular music scene always seem to be lacking in strong women that rock as hard as boy bands do. LKN chalks-up a point for the ladies’ because her self-made hardcore music is experimental and edgy. Highlights include the piano dominated final track appropriately titled “Piano” as well as the more feedback heavy “Premonition,” which is worthy to be on the list of the selections for the first edition of Guitar Heroine if it ever comes out.

However, LKN still has some room to grow. Luckily, what she lacks in scope she makes up for with talent and ambition. A quick search for her on the internet yields a lot of information and reviews about her. This is a good sign that she’s hungry and putting herself out there as much as possible. She gives concerts frequently and when she takes the stage, she calls herself LKN and dubs her playing as both solo and with accompaniment. Let’s hope her progress is as aggressive as her sound.

Written by: Sara Custer, April 15th 2009

High Places

admin — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 17:33:00 +0000

By High Places

Thrill Jockey

The experimental, lo-fi, Brooklyn-based duo High Places could be considered an acquired taste. The vocals are whimsically distorted and much of the percussion sounds as though it were made in someone’s kitchen by rattling a silverware drawer (since their self-titled album was made in their home studio, this may actually be the case). High Places starts off awkwardly slow, and on first listen, the short tunes and chanting rhythms may fail to draw you in. Only by track five, "Gold Coins," a standout gem, do you start to understand this band’s maddening method. The constant feedback of vocalist Mary Pearson’s voice is one part haunting and one part hypnotic.

By the second spin of this album, I got the hang of what was happening and relaxed enough to enjoy the disjointed melodies. I found my foot unconsciously tapping and realized that the succinct songs were quite memorable. High Places began to sound more like a record my artist friends would make over several weekends and heavily edit with ProTools. High Places goes one better and makes their music with authentically weird instruments and improvised live recordings. "Gold Coins," a nod to Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, explains, "Part of you is man/Part of you is god-self," and the High Places duo walk a similar tightrope. The mix of ethereal and clunky calls to mind a fusion of The Blow and Pole, or maybe the more recognizable Au Revoir Simone meets Animal Collective. Heaven and Earth. High places and low ones.

The High Places blog is full of beautiful concert photos from around the globe. Like other experimental bands, I can grow to love their dreary, dreamy music, which I suspect it is best experienced live.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, February 3rd 2009

Ropechain

admin — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 11:49:00 +0000

By Grampall Jookabox

Asthmatic Kitty

Grampall Jookabox, nee David Adamson, is as strange as his stage name would suggest. Adamson is from Indianapolis, Indiana, which is also my childhood stomping ground, give or take thirty minutes (in those parts, we count in minutes to be traveled, not miles). With an affinity for home that grows the longer I stay away, Ropechain fills a need in my life, a record that sounds clumsy and aimless when it is anything but. It is exactly as I once was, and if I hadn’t left, would I be making incomprehensible music in an insane asylum somewhere in the suburbs? It is completely plausible, and after surveying the options, I’d rather my moniker be Jookabox than Mellencamp.

Extremes are a favorite theme on this record, along with anxiety and the occasional dose of the paranormal. Loving on another fellow Hoosier, Grampall Jookabox sings about the King of Pop on “I Will Save Young Michael,” sympathizing with superstar burnout. Calling Jackson his brother because they’re both from Indiana, I wonder if that makes me their sister. One can only hope. On “Black Girls,” he sings about all of the things Black women can do that he cannot, often in cartoonish superhero(ine) language. I can’t decide if this is some sort of backwards compliment or wildly insulting.

“The Girl Ain’t Preggers” is perhaps the most bizarrely appealing track, on which GJ explores the complicated feelings that go with a pregnancy scare. “I need some money right now/I ain’t got no money/Can’t pay for no baby” is an honest take on an unexpected accident, and he goes on to lament his lack of health insurance and solid footwear. Yet, Adamson circles back, admitting his sadness that in fact, the girl is not preggers. He loves babies, even if his bank account would not smile on such an addition to his life. These things are always more complicated than money would imply.

Ropechain will probably bewilder conservative ears and confuse those who love straightforward lyrics and concrete ideas, but sensibility never made a good record.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 27th 2009

The Hotel Café Tour (11/1/2008)

admin — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Music Hall of Williamsburg

Brooklyn, New York

The Hotel Café began as a tiny coffee shop in Hollywood, California. Since then, it has developed into a twenty-one-and-older venue. In its initial cozy environs, the performers created a warm, collaborative environment, sharing the stage and watching each other perform. Four years ago, the Hotel Café began to tour with some of its most promising acts. The particular show that I attended in Williamsburg, Brooklyn was an eclectic collection of indie-folk festivities. The night started off with a penis made of tin foil being tossed around the stage by the performers. Meiko explained that she'd given it to the guitarist on the tour bus the night before for "the biggest cock" award. Rachel Yamagata later clarified that it was actually “the biggest dick" award.

For the person looking to see a show with various and odd instruments, the show had some highlights. During one of her songs, Thao whipped out a toothbrush, and strummed along with it. This allowed the notes to ring out a little longer, and the beginnings of each chord to sound more compelling. Another featured artist who plays instruments beyond the guitar was Emily Wells. Emily has her own collection of toy pianos that she uses when she performs.

The inside jokes shared between the artists and audience contributed in making the night entertaining on multiple levels. Lacking a steady line-up, the artists provided a more spontaneous feel for the night. Taking turns playing about three songs, the girls of The Hotel Café Tour are grounded in the Hotel Café’s roots. They remained on stage while each artist played their songs in order to give each other support while joking along with the audience and sharing stories about what led to the creation of the songs. Diverse as all of the acts were, they shared the common bond of being strong women.

Written by: Elyssa Lovelyss, January 6th 2009

Offend Maggie

admin — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 00:29:00 +0000

By Deerhoof

Kill Rock Stars

Some people find Deerhoof unlistenable, with sometimes manic, screeching vocals over strange instrumentation. Some critics think they're twee, and some think they’re the best of noise rock. Most cannot slap a genre label on this expectation-bending band. There is occasional yelling and human-made sound effects, "Beep beep!" You have no idea where the songs will go, or when they will end. The lyrics may not sound like English, and while they are, it is not guaranteed that they will make sense.

On Offend Maggie, Deerhoof are in their typical bizarre, hyperactive form. The production quality is through the roof, making this album perhaps more accessible than their earlier releases, though the madness of their style is retained. “Fresh Born” is a series of words associated with baby animals, repeated. "Basket Ball Get Your Groove Back" also has a repetitive chorus of, "Rebound! Rebound!" "This Is God Speaking," which can hardly be classified as a song, is a series of distorted, Charlie Brown adult-type sounds with some clanky piano notes covering the incomprehensible groans. Only one of the fourteen songs clocks in over four minutes, and the album artwork—a cover image of a faceless man wearing headphones, parallel black and white lines inside—is disturbing and wonderful.

Yet some of the tracks here are almost ballads, melodic at times, consistently beautiful if consistently weird. Opener "The Tears of Music and Love" lives somewhere in between avant-garde awkwardness and loving harmonies. "Purple Past" sounds like it could be found on any number of other indie rock records, save the stylings of Deerhoof's signature vocalist, Satomi Matsuzaki. "Family Of Others" is reminiscent of Animal Collective with its woodsy appeal and quick switches between crooning and staccato onomatopoeia. The title track is perhaps the most appealing song and even amid its goofy lyrics of "Ring ring! I hang up!" it remains almost quaint, switching between something lyre-like tinkling and heavy electric guitar.

If you suffer from migraines, hate strobe lights, and think noise rock is for annoying hipsters, you will likely hate Deerhoof. Offend Maggie is nevertheless their most enjoyable record to date, and it is some of the most approachable noise pop on the scene.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 1st 2009