Goldmund: Occasus (LP, Western Vinyl, April 2018)

It’s sort of hard to know what to say about a new Goldmund record. Delicate piano, close-miked recording by Taylor Dupree, ambient fuzz: check, check, check. It basically follows in the footsteps of 2015’s Sometimes, even down to the moody black-and-white cover art. (Of all the Goldmund albums I have, only 2011’s stunning guitar-based American Civil War album All Will Prosper breaks from that pattern.) I would say that this has some of his most heavily processed sounds to date (which again continues the pattern of the years), and I think the final track What Lasts, with its strings and woodwind and glockenspiel (?), is about the most fulsomely orchestrated… but these are things of fractions.

Absolutely none of which matters when the music sounds as wonderful as this. Honestly, if you get past the achingly tender As You Know (the 5th of 15 short tracks) without melting a little bit, you’re made of sterner stuff than I am. There’s melancholy here, and occasionally a sinister note, as on the gently rumbling No Story. But the feeling that remains after the last notes have faded away is one of calm.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Modern Classical / Ambient.

Clarice Jensen: For This From That Will Be Filled (LP, Miasmah, March 2018)

It’s no secret that I’m a sucker for some cello-based drone music, and Clarice Jensen has provided four rather dreamy examples of it here. The first track, bc, was composed in collaboration with the late and sorely lamented Jóhann Jóhannsson, and sounds very much like a tribute to William Basinski, so that’s ticking a whole bunch of boxes for me already. Cello Constellations was written for her by composer, theoretician, and inventor Michael Harrison, and does some uncanny things with harmonics and tunings and multi-tracking. On the flip side are the two parts of the title track, which are Jensen’s own compositions: the first is a spiky little number made of staccato and feedback; the second is a slow-burner that is straight up drone for about its first four minutes, before gradually a melody starts to emerge, and somewhere around the ten-minute mark it briefly and miraculously achieves a sort of Lark-Ascending-style lightness. I must admit that, on my first listen, I wondered whether this album might be a little… academic, maybe? But since then it’s really gotten under my skin. Perhaps not essential listening for all, but for connoisseurs of the sub-genre, one to treasure.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Modern Classical / Ambient.

Erik K Skodvin & Rauelsson: A Score For Darling (Sonic Pieces, March 2018)

Is it weird to buy soundtracks for films you’ve never seen and basically have no interest in seeing? I dunno. Anyway, I kind of impulse-purchased this, what with it being limited edition and all. I’ve never met an Erik K Skodvin (Svarte Greiner, Deaf Center) record I didn’t like, and Raúl Pastor Medall aka Rauelsson has good pedigree (solo album also on Sonic Pieces, collaboration with Peter Broderick). Oh, and it’s got Anne Müller playing cello on it, and the final track has Otto A Totland aka the less prolific half of Deaf Center playing piano. This is 15 short pieces (most of them are under two minutes, and the longest under four), mostly for strings with occasional ominous bassy rumblings, very much the drone end of the modern classical spectrum, although much of it does have a kind of insistent rhythmic pulse pushing it along. It is, of course, impeccably produced (sound design is by Skodvin and mixing mostly by Medall). And, although I have to admit there’s nothing revolutionary here, it is rather lovely.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Modern Classical / Ambient.

Atom™ & Lisokot: Walzerzyklus (CD, Raster, January 2018)

Curious story. I was listening to the Atom™ album Leidgut in my kitchen in 2009 and the bit where it incorporates the effect of audio interference from a GSM mobile phone (remember that? the little morse-cody blip pattern?) and just then my partner walked in, checked the wiring, realized what was going on, and laughed at me for the sheer pretension of it. Clearly this stung, because I’ve not listened to the album very much since, even though I do like it, and I skipped 2011’s follow-up Winterreisse entirely. I had recovered by 2013 when HD came out.

Anyway, that’s all ancient history now, and I’m happy to say that this (the third in the sequence started by Leidgut and Winterreisse) is the best so far. Uwe Schmidt does the electronics and Lisokot does most of the vocals and in 18 minutes they manage to incorporate elements of ambient, minimal techno, Kraftwerk (come on, the track Transhuman Melody was a bit of a giveaway), lieder, Weimar cabaret, and abstract early electronic… without it sounding at all overcrowded or chaotic. The structure is elegant (three 2-minute parts of a Leitmotif around four 3-minute ‘proper songs’, mostly in waltz time) and it’s somehow all so natural that by the second listen you feel like you’ve known it for years. Basically, the combination of proper tunes with defiantly experimental production is just smashing. Oh, and the cover version of Be Bop A Lula is worth the entry fee by itself: calling this otherworldly sounds like a cliché, but this is the real deal, the 100% genuine dying-alien-race-in-distant-galaxy-intercepted-faint-signal-of-1950s-rock-n-roll-radio-station-and-programmed-space-exploration-robots-based-on-it-and-sent-them-out-and-they-crashlanded-on-earth-just-as-everything-here-is-turning-to-shit-and-they-robots-want-to-help article.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Electronic.

Alva Noto: Unieqav (2LP, Noton, March 2018)

Ah, lovely Alva Noto. This record is a follow-up to 2008’s Unitxt and 2011’s Univrs and very much a continuation of those works, although with elements of the Xerrox sequence in there too — it’s considerably less surprising than Glass, his latest collaboration with Ryuichi Sakamoto. There are those skittering glitchy clicky beats that I just love, there are those warm humming sounds (more so than on the previous Uni- material, hence the Xerrox reference), there’s the occasional buzzing melody (Uni Blue), there’s Anne-James Chaton reading out DNA sequences in his best sexy-French-robot voice (Uni Dna). And it’s it’s just crammed full of tiny moments of genius. You probably know already whether you like this type of thing or not, but if you do, this is a master at the peak of his powers.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Electronic.

Alva Noto & Ryuichi Sakamoto: Glass (CD, Noton, February 2018)

You’ll think I’m silly, but I almost didn’t want to listen this: I love Alva Noto, I love Ryuichi Sakamoto, I love Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto, Sakamoto’s latest album was almost heartbreakingly perfect, and I didn’t want to be disappointed.

Well, I’m glad I got over myself, because this is a magical and wondrous thing. It’s not what you’ll be expecting if you’ve heard their previous collaborations like Insen and Summvs. It’s a single 37-minute piece, recorded live at Philip Johnson’s modernist (and self-explanatory) masterpiece Glass House, and a lot of the sounds here are from playing the house itself, with gong mallets, fingertips, and contact microphones. Other instruments are singing bowls, crotales, and keyboards. The effect is out of this world, in every sense of the phrase. I’m not sure I can think of anything to compare it to except — and this is going to sound idiotic, but bear with me — there’s one segment that’s a tiny bit like Brian Eno’s Prophecy Theme from the Dune soundtrack… which is a good thing, honestly! Other than that… There are sounds that just hang in the air, delicate crystalline things, and then tiny moments that are surprising in exactly the right way. Alva Noto does a thing to the crotales that somehow makes them sound like a cross between windchimes and firecrackers: I don’t think there’s any way you’ll know what I mean by that without listening to it, but it’s brilliant. I don’t want to over-egg this or anything, but OMG YOU GUYS this is awesome. It’s the kind of thing that, when it finishes, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath for the last half an hour.

Oh, and if you don’t believe me, check out the 26-minute video version for free (although it deserves a quiet room and some proper headphones).

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Electronic.

Anna von Hausswolff: Dead Magic (LP, City Slang, March 2018)

Anna von Hausswolf’s 2016 Touch 12″ Källan (Betatype) was an awesome bit of drone-rock’n’pipe-organ. It turns out that Hausswolf is quite handy as a vocalist and songwriter, too. I guess this album is a bunch more mainstream, but it’s none the worse for that. Hausswolf sings — I’m not good on vocal styles, but if you think somewhere in the general ballpark of PJ Harvey and Patti Smith I don’t think you’ll be a million miles away — and plays the pipe organ and mellotron. Her band and guests play synths, guitars, percussion, on one track some strings, and producer Randall Dunn (who has also worked with Sunn O))) and the like) does some clever stuff with the sound design. It’s all big melodramatic doom-laden stuff with track titles like The Mysterious Vanishing Of Electra (video) — but it manages to avoid the trap of straying into the camp, and it has plenty of proper hooks, in what almost seems like a kind of a dream pop type way. It’s got an epic power and also some great tunes and all-in-all it’s a cracking good listen.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Indie / Alternative.

Thomas Strønen / Time Is A Blind Guide: Lucus (LP, ECM, January 2018)

This may be a foolish thing to say — I am far from an expert — but this strikes me as a very ECM-ish record. The line-up is strings, piano, and drums (Time Is A Blind Guide are the band; Thomas Strønen takes the writing and percussion credits). It is, for the most part, relentlessly sparse and brittle, triangulating a point somewhere between a highly abstracted strain of modern classical, what I’m choosing to call minimal jazz although I still don’t know whether that’s actually a thing, and the plangeant tones of early music. At times it even sounds like it’s already been through Villalobos & Loderbauer’s Re: ECM treatment. If that makes it sound terribly po-faced then I apologize, because this has a real lightness of touch and even a playfulness in places. I must admit that there a few of the more full-on moments which strain my jazz-tolerance, and one track (Wednesday) that exceeds it (this is my problem, not the records; but this is my blog, so I get to complain about it anyway). But it’s mostly a very pleasant listen, and there’s some real magic in the quieter moments.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Jazz / Fusion.

IVVVO: Prince Of Grunge (LP, Nyx Unchained, January 2018)

I’m not quite sure what genre this little 18-minute beauty from Portuguese producer  Ivo Pacheco is, except that it certainly isn’t grunge. A lot of the sounds are basically rave: rhodesy keyboards, synths so fuzzy you reckon he must have scraped them out from the back of the sofa, even those heavily-filtered pseudo-operatic vocals at a push. But the song structures sure aren’t rave. I’m not at all sure what the song structures are. I guess that, if I had to compare it to anything, it would be Tim Hecker’s Ravedeath, 1972, just for being a knight’s move away from the genre… but where Hecker gives maxed-out drone, this has a real stuttering aggression. Oh, and it has a great line in disturbing samples, starting with Born’s crying baby which quickly develops a worryingly Eraserhead-ish gurgle to a kind-of call-and-response of a seductive “what is your… ultimate fantasy” against a panicky desperate “I am lost” in I Don’t Know. Well, whatever genre it is (and frankly, for blogging purposes, I’m just going to make some shit up), this is certainly a very worthwhile addition to it.

I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Electronic.

Aclds: Fuadain Liesmas (CD, Entr’acte, January 2018)

I want you to imagine a giant robot, lost in a world it does not understand, holding a more aleatoric Morton Subotnick in one hand and a noisier Autechre in the other hand and trying to figure out how they work, while the mad scientist who built this poor creature plays fragments of The Caretaker and Stars Of The Lid to try to sooth it. That’s not what this record sounds like, but it’s the best I’ve got, so let’s go with it. There are walls of buzzing noises, torrents of blips and pops, and echoes of sad, droning melodies. There are also surprising moments of subtle beauty. Can a perfectly positioned and executed click be beautiful? I don’t know what weird mind tricks it’s playing, but this album makes me think the answer is yes.

I bought this from the label.