Tuesday, 25 April 2017

The Nag's Head - Gluud Und Scruud / Live From Concrete Island



Catching up with a release from 2016, it's good to hear that Stephen Maskell's keeping the spirit of eclecticism alive on Gluud Und Scruud for Kit Records - a road rage tape and other samples litter the album, along with all manner of beats and approaches to sound from noise to ambient, no easy feat to manage without sounding 'all over the place' - but then - perhaps there's nothing wrong with that either. As with visual artists, musical ones tend to find a style and stick with it either through lack of exploratory thinking or having hit on a popular formula. Maskell as The Nag's Head is obviously interested in many different types of sound, so we get pounding beat minimalism on Tar and heavy distortion on Road. At times rave seems to leak through, but getting hold of every influence is devilishly hard on an album packed with them.
 

His Live From Concrete Island, Kit's first release, has just been reissued. It's as wide-ranging and successful as Gluud Und Scruud. It also features, on You Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking a Few Eggs, the melody of John Coltrane's A Love Supreme, coincidentally or not I have no idea. Lastly, if you're British, you've got to enjoy and appreciate anyone who name's themselves after a pub.



Maskell has a new album out soon. Keep an eye on Kit Records.

Monday, 24 April 2017

Salford Electronics - Communique 2


I feel the same way about Bananarama reforming as you probably do about Donald Trump. At least if he starts WW3 and it escalates to nuclear proportions they won't survive either - a thought I shall carry with me to my (non-existent) grave should The End happen that way...


Getting The Fear - don't you feel it? Because the world's in such a terrible state, unlike previous times when it has been stable/peaceful/reassuring politically and culturally (remember those good ol' days? No?) there's no better time than to indulge in more sonic darkness/grunge/doom catastrofuck musik than now so here are Salford Electronics, reassuring those who enjoy their ears being filled with intense mood atmospheres that someone else feels the same way although, one must acknowledge the possibility that Salford Electronics are incredibly content with their lives (or life, I don't know how many of them there are), employed, decently paid, housed well enough and can afford Sainsbury's Taste The Difference range in biscuits. Communique 2 is a perfect Interzone eternal night noise or neon rain-soaked stalker science fiction vibrations for would-be blade runners.

Thursday, 20 April 2017

Sun Ra - Thunder Of The Gods



'Another world, another world, another w-o-o-o-r-r-ld!' cries June Tyson. Abstract dreams are what Sun Ra's music comprises of, mostly, those and concrete manifestations of the big band tradition; yet it is the abstract that defines him and although his synth solo on Calling Planet Earth - We'll Wait For You may be the stuff of nightmares for the sensitive stupid cloth-eared less open-minded listener it is stunning to behold - truly - in fact the whole track is a masterpiece of prime Sun Ra 'live', this solo alone sets the heart racing, such is it's ferocity - Ra's total velocity - to the planet Venus and beyond! Everything is here - brilliant horn solos, that synth, June Tyson...and as it tails off with in a sombre mode it's as if the earth weeps at the prospect of his inevitable departure. Thanks to Modern Harmonic we can hear previously unreleased evidence of the Arkestra's full creative force. 

The two remaining tracks from the Strange Strings session, which Sun Ra called 'a study in ignorance' because none of the band knew how to play what was handed to them. The original record has since become legendary, almost defying belief whilst exemplifying the outward bound approach of The Man. I can't help thinking of Ornette Coleman's approach to violin-playing whenever I listen - this idea of 'I will play it my way, not the 'proper way' - so there is much string-scraping and plucking, as we hear the players finding out what sounds they can make. Mingus said Jazz was the sound of surprise, well, if it's long-since ceased to be that, in Sun Ra it is, at least, the sound of an ongoing journey of discovery.


Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Album: Early Hominids - "040117"


'The immediate ancestors of humans were members of the genus Australopithecus. The australopithecines (or australopiths) were intermediate between apes and people. Both australopithecines and humans are biologically similar enough to be classified as members of the same biological tribe--the Hominini. All people, past and present, along with the australopithecines are hominins. We share in common not only the fact that we evolved from the same ape ancestors in Africa but that both genera are habitually bipedal, or two-footed, upright walkers. By comparison, chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas are primarily quadrupedal, or four-footed.'

Hominins Neil Campbell and Paul Walsh may be people, but on 040117 it is quite possible to imagine they are machines, tormented machines. What troubles the machines? We can only guess. Small electronic generators + fx transmit 'messages' from Campbell and Walsh in a darkened room, for around three hours, but who is controlling who and to what extent does the 'third mind' play a part? If these transmissions actually reflect the mental states of the duo, they should be examined. Thankfully, I don't think they do. In this purely improvisational zone anything can happen; at times, it's as if three minds and the machines have synced briefly before shooting off into each other's private realm, to connect, disconnect. If it is 'uneasy' listening it is because Early Hominids have no inclination toward making concessions. In this sense, it is a pure sound. Indulgent, you might say, but what is special about any creative act if it is not one of sheer indulgence by the artist? This very limited release is available here for just £4 and as a bonus you get exceptional, randomly chosen, artwork by Paul Walsh on the cover.

A taste of them 'live'...

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Album: NOCHEXXX- Planet Bangs


As tensions mount on the macho my-weapons-are-bigger-than-yours world stage it's fitting that I should present Planet Bangs by Nochexx. Better late than never since this came out in February and has been idling in my bookmarks since, but playing it today I realised (again) what a storming album it is by Dave Henson. Despite what the main title suggests the tracks aren't of a cosmo-interplanetary-sci-nature in name; instead, there are two called Lewisham. Yes, Lewisham. Perhaps Henson lives there and simply wishes/dreams it was as futuristic as the music suggests. Or it's a joke. The music's no joke. As before Henson maintains a superior standard when it comes to sensory derangement in rhythmic machinations. Lewisham part one alone is a magnificent feat of collaged explosions but bombs in the forms of either bass lines or beats detonate everywhere on this turbulent, brutal but deftly designed collection.



Thursday, 6 April 2017

Old-Skool USB Transmission & Vintage Futurist Techno



I've gone back in time to being plugged-in - yeah - that's me, old skool - the wireless keyboard was so crap it put me off writing but now here I am singing, yes, singing through the keys of this cheap (£14.99) USB lead muthafucking keyboard - ha! ha! Take that progressives!
(which is not to say I'm so dumb as to think there are no great wireless keyboards available, which I will probably have to get when LJ comes home and says "Ugh! What's that big black thing?!")

I went in the cafe the other day and says to the lady in there "Tuesdays, eh?" It was quiet in there, it always is, she said. We silently acknowledged the deadness of this particular Tuesday on which we both felt subdued. "Tuesdays..." I went on. "They're not Mondays...or Wednesdays." At which point she looked at me as if I was mad before taking the money for the cappuccino. I sensed she didn't understand me. I don't understand me half the time, so I went outside to a table.

Two days later and, surprise-surprise, it's Thursday. I'd love to tell you all the exciting things that have happened since Tuesday...so let me think...

.........................(me..............thinking...........)..............

Some kids threw an egg at the window on Tuesday afternoon - scared the life out of me. I sat transfixed by the sight of the yolk running down the pane before jumping up, grabbing the keys and going out onto the street, which was devoid of kids. But what would I have done if I'd have caught them? I'd like to have cracked eggs over their heads but they would probably have beaten me up, so it was for the best, really.

If not exactly exciting, there's a great new/old EP I found yesterday by Der Zyklus called Renormalon, which has that super-clean techno-perfect sound which seems at odds with what is current about electronic music in the sense that so much of it likes to roll around in filth and get dragged along a dirt road before being presented. What I like about this is that it reminds me of old sci-fi films in which the future was always shiny (usually silver) and spotless. Whatever, this is great stuff...




Tuesday, 4 April 2017

Album: FRANCISCO MEIRINO & MIGUEL A. GARCÍA - Nonmenabsorbium


First classic electro-derangement from Swiss composer Francisco Meirino (Misantropic Agenda, Entr'acte, Antifrost) the Basque country’s Miguel A. Garcia aka Xedh (Crónica, Idealstate) - the perfect accompaniment for some picture-making this afternoon...an ideal soundtrack to images I've been working with, such as this...


More pictures over here

Noise often plain annoys me but Nonmenabsorbium permeates my lugholes in a pleasing manner and as fans of the genre will tell you there's much more to 'it' than you think, than I think, than one may think when first repulsed by the apparently pointless torturing of machines and, more to the point, listeners such as myself who, in a terribly old-fashioned way ultimately prefers some refinement and sophistication in their non-melodic/rhythmic sounds as provided by legends such as the you-know-whos of great historical significance from France, Germany the USA and elsewhere although, I admit, it's unfair to compare all contemporary electronic sound to The Classics therefore I shan't, in this case especially since it speaks for itself, can stand up for itself in a fight against Them, probably, such is the sublime aesthetic of this album and as I speak, listening to Abholicater, the astute use of what sounds like the ghost of Pierre Schaeffer's train being shunted from the 40s into the present is but one of the joys of this particular collection of noise-not-noises.

Saturday, 1 April 2017

The Classics, Old-Time Jazz Religion and New Victuals





I only listen to old stuff

Currently, on this morning of April 1st, Andres Lewin-Richter's Space Electronics album for CAM...


...it's sublimely austere electronic sounds still resonate as prime examples of how less can be more; the joy of electro-primitivism.

I don't only listen to old stuff, as regular visitors will know, but the Old Stuff question came to mind as I cycled home from Work the other day, contemplating Jazz, specifically. It's not unusual for me to contemplate Jazz but it was a subject of speculation principally because of jokes exchanged on Facebook with a friend who can't stand it....

...I'm not here today to defend Jazz. For my thoughts on the genre from the post-WW2 to mid-70s period, there's my book. Yes, currently at a ridiculous price, I know, but it does crop up for much less than that now and again.

Gimme That Old-Time Religion

The Art Ensemble of Chicago playfully referenced religion and the 'old-time' tradition on their 1969 album, Message To Our Folks...


...I confess that Jazz was a religion once upon a time in my life. I enjoyed seeing new 'live' bands, but even after the learning stage (which lasted a good three or four years, being pre-internet days when research took longer) that old-time religious Jazz canon was always what excited me the most. 

I cannot say that it's impossible to compete with the 'classics' of any art form. I may have said that once upon a time. I may have said a lot of stupid things. Haven't you? The arts are not a competition, despite the pressures to make them just that as applied by the capitalist marketplace model of consumerism and 'success'. Within the wide parameters of any creative mode the most an artist can hope to do is make her/his own version which contains enough of themselves, their vision, to add distinction to a piece.

Apologies for stating the obvious. We need to remind ourselves of these things sometimes.



Talking of old/new dreams, contemporary and classic forms, from an example of great library music via Space Electronics, let's move to Leyden Jars' Victuals album for Mordant Music. My initial response was lukewarm, but now I feel a glow of satisfaction with each listen. What makes something work? We may ponder this, even when the answers are obvious. In some cases, a radical new approach, in others, the application of skill or natural talent. Victuals is all understatement in the manner of H****ology, with few of the cliches. Natalie Williams and Mark Courtney are smart enough to have created an interesting sonic climate throughout, one of muted patterns and engaging detail. As happens these days, the idea of nostalgia for past dance areas is alluded to on Where The Dancehall Used To Be, except in that title there could be other references; dancehalls of old in the mode of The Caretaker? Dancehalls in villages where local discos were held? Either way, Leyden Jars blend the hushed electric tones with enough subtle sub-bass to form a brilliantly suggestive echo-chamber of whatever memory you choose. There's much that's of interest on Victuals, not least the inclusion of a baritone saxophone on Sawn Off, played naively, as if tentatively practising a simple riff, yet it's totally effective in adding an extra dimension.

Friday, 31 March 2017

Is Your Mind Your Own?



'My own I am at all times and under all circumstances, if I know how to possess myself and do not throw myself away on others.' - Max Stirner, The Ego and His Own

When I say I'm tired of Brexit do I really mean it?
Yes.
"But surely you can't be 'tired' of something so important? Something that will alter the shape of Britain economically, socially and politically?"
I can.

Does an ant have a mind? I should Google that. Google answers everything. What's more, it weakens our belief in knowledge accumulated long ago to the point where we Google what we think we already know but need the machine to reassure us, just to be on the safe side.

I mention ants in relation to considering the idea that all or most other creatures, like me, inhabit the universe of their minds first and foremost. This strand of thought lead me to contemplate the mole rat too...


...does it have a mind? Surely not. I am stupid to even contemplate such things, I know.

'HE HAS A MIND OF HIS OWN'

A common expression, yes? Yet one with negative connotations, the suggestion being that to have a mind of one's own is to be stubborn, resistant to influence. The implication being that to not have a mind of one's own is to be well-behaved, perhaps; a good person who is open to...what? Suggestion? Propaganda? 

We were a few days into the news embargo when I started wondering what I had missed. LJ has never been bothered about watching the news on TV. I used to think that was not wise. Now I believe she was right all along. Yet I cannot escape the news. I have, instead, reduced it to a minimum, namely; headlines on the internet when I visit sites such as the BBC or The Guardian. That is quite enough. In this respect, perhaps I have become the kind of modern person I never want to be. That is, the rapid surfer of information, seeing only signals without reading the messages in any depth.

It is almost impossible to avoid the news. I am old enough to remember a time when the news was watched, or read and not seen again. Today, the news is all day every day and users of the internet cannot help but see it, if not through their own choosing, then via shared broadcasts by friends on the social network. 

We are all broadcasters now.

Information is power that has replaced the brawn or brain that ensured survival and respect gained by our ancient ancestors. They used brute strength or knowledge of good hunting grounds. Today we pass on packets of information in order to prove our worth. Someone was early in spreading the news that David Bowie had died. That scored points, even if only on his or her personal card. Someone else was early in posting a news report, either political or tragic. More points. 

To be British and declare a lack of interest in Brexit is sinful in the eyes of many. How can that be possible? It's akin to not voting in the general election! More than that, it suggests a form of...stupidity? One must be politically aware. Knowledge is power! But is it? If I know what the government is doing, will that affect who I vote for next? In other words, if I should disagree with new laws must I vote for another party despite not believing in their ideology either? Should I, in other words, simply swap one set of laws for an equally distasteful one? Let us count the sins of all parties then, weigh them against each other and then decide, shall we? Must we?

I had no intention of discussing party politics. Soon, when the TV news embargo has run for months, I shall be even more unqualified to comment than I am already, except to make general declarations relating to my overriding cynicism. Still, it is said that 'experts' are out of favour. In this respect, I am riding the wave of popular ignorance.

Bees have a 'hive mind'. People do too, it seems. They have several types of hive mind, all battling for supremacy, unlike the bees, whose collective 'thinking' ensures their survival. We, meanwhile, deploy our thinking as a weapon. The news people spoke of a 'divided nation' after the Brexit vote and Trump's election. This is typical media-speak. It wilfully denies reality in favour attention-grabbing, sensationalist headlines. America and Britain have always been divided, between black and white, rich and poor, Democrat, Republican, Left and Right. 

  
'My own I am at all times'...not an easy claim to make or maintain. We are pressured to conform, even by supposed non-conformists. What could be more sickening than the sight and sound of a 'rebel' or 'radical' browbeating others into thinking the same way? Yet to try to be 'your own person' (as opposed to somebody else's) does rile some people. It strikes them as arrogant, perhaps. Worse still, arrogant and ignorant of the all-important facts as delivered by either fellow hive members or the media.

With that, I shall sign-off,
Yours, In Blissful Ignorance

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

The Case Against Satan / Beyond The Black Crack



Nine years before William Peter Blatty's novel, The Excorcist there was this, Ray Russell's The Case Against Satan. The latter will be less well-known, which is a shame because it's a damned good book. I'd be surprised if Russell didn't try suing Blatty; perhaps he did. His novel does, after all, feature a young girl possessed by Satan, exorcism by two priests and some extreme vomiting. There's also the conflicted younger priest who does not really doubt his belief in God but has trouble taking the idea of his horned nemesis seriously which, as the older priest points out, inherently raises questions about his faith in God. So the theological battle plays out. Possible incest, anti-Catholicism, the Freudian aspect of post-confessional behaviour by a priest and suspicion of murder are all features of Russell's lean but deep forerunner to it's big hit offspring (and film). I've not read Blatty's novel but I highly recommend this one.



From a fictional priest to Reverend Dwight Frizzell, musician, film maker, Doctor of Metaphysics and minister in the Universal Church of Life. Just what kind of 'church' that was I don't know, but from the sounds on Beyond The Black Crack I'd guess it was the kind of crazy alternative religion that sprung up in the 60s as a result of the need for belief of some kind, perhaps in UFOs, LSD a guru from India...or all three under one roof.

These tracks were recorded between 1974 and 1976 and they all display a bonkers attitude towards music-making, but a healthy one (to these ears) as opposed to the excess of drug-addled indulgence that plagued the late-60 into the 70s. There's no easy way to describe the opener, Black Crack And The Sole Survivors...so I'll just say it's something like a bizarre tribal ritual of whip-cracking, horn-squalling, drone...and vocal telling us 'No, man, we gotta go through the black crack'. Is the black crack a metaphor for some gateway to cosmic consciousness...'the crack of perception'? Who knows. Get It Out Of Your System starts as a jaunty, off-kilter marching band number before whirling off into barely organised chaos. There's a section devoted to turtles, featuring Nocturnal, a particularly effective, atmospheric piece in which the bubbling liquid may well be that of a mad sound professor in his lab. A freewheeling, daft, diverse and anarchic romp through the outer limits.



Wednesday, 22 March 2017

More shit, Bre**t, Punk/New Wave & Sleaford Mods' English Tapas

The bigger the headache, the bigger the pill...

...............................not only was I almost physically sick at the sight of so much shit in the form of CDs and books (I was actually puking in my mind! - a torrent of vomit flooding my neurons) yesterday I'm now sick to death of the B-word (Br***t) (and the silly fucking snowflakes bleating on about boo-hoo it shouldn't have happened not-in-our-name blah, blah GET OVER IT AND STOP WHINGING!) which gets mentioned every night on the news on the telly and so I've boycotted the news, or at least will always mute it until I think it's safe and more entertaining subjects are covered such as what Donald Trump has been up to.........

..........this morning I felt sick again flicking through the forthcoming supposed musical highlights of the year according to the London listings mag Time Out, which used to actually contain a lot of listings until the internet killed off that idea, although City Limits was a better listings mag, NOW Time Out IS A PERFECT FIT FOR SOCIETY AND LONDON BRAIN-LITE TWATS WHO WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH THE TICKETS ARE AND WHEN SOME USELESS CRETIN IS WARBLING ALONG WITH WHERE'S THE BEST PLACE TO EAT PERUVIAN FUCKING FOOD OR WHICH SHIT NIGHTCLUB PLAYING MUSIC FOR MORONS THEY CAN GO TO AND WAVE THEIR HANDS IN THE AIR PRETENDING LONDON'S STILL GOT A 'COOL' CLUB SCENE. 

"But, Robin, you're into music so why don't you admit that just because you've never heard of an act doesn't mean to say they're shit", you say.
First: FUCK OFF.
Second: I'm awaiting the Second Coming of His Holiness John Coltrane, all right? And not going to a gig until then.
Third: the contemporary music I listen to is mostly made by blokes twiddling knobs in their rooms, or staring at screens and I've no intention of going to watch them doing the latter 'live'.

I haven't seen bands regularly since the Punk/New Wave thing so, for instance, I saw Stiff Little Fingers at their best and you probably didn't - SO THERE. I saw a lot of bands and they were all brilliant because I was young and drunk. That's what middle-aged men of the future will be saying about this era only they'll be lying, obviously - not subjectively, objectively, because it's impossible to see anything more electrifying than The Ramones, Clash, Jam thrashing out tunes amid showers of phlegm from a pogoing pit of snotty young Punks.

I was reminded of all that when coming across a John Peel broadcast from 1978 this morning and listening to it in the office yes little tears of nostalgia trickled through the alleyways of me noodle, dear reader, even though at the time an underlying terror/dread of my life ensured I was miserable most of the time having not long left school to do factory work from which I could see no possible escape (I was so eager to leave school to do this?!). The Peel show was essential listening (yawn, you've heard all that a million times since he died, I know) and this episode reminded me why what with The Clash, Stiff Little Fingers, Gang Of Four and great reggae tunes (including a dub which reminded me that door chimes were once the fashion in dub tunes - crazy times).


If, I said if the spirit of all that is at all alive to day it surely resides in Sleaford Mods, those luvvable scallywags who are old enough to know better and do so they make records to prove it. Jason Williamson's absurdist nonsense verse mixed with social observations and verbal phlegm is still a great thing as their latest, English Tapas, proves. 'Punk's not dead / Well, it is now or does no one care about you?' (Just Like We Do). Since I last spoke to Jason they've got big, as big as they can get, perhaps, but don't worry, I'm not saying that to prove anything just making the point that no matter how popular they get they'll probably always be this, what they are - they've been what they are too long to change and even money can't seem to alter, put a gloss on, the anarchic, haphazard-but-knowingly-crafted image/sound of jumbled lyricism (which still has more actual depth, probably, than what most other lyrical lamebrains can muster). Never too obvious yet unafraid of cliche or even trying to pack too many words into a line, therefore sounding gloriously amateurish. 'Given half the chance you'd walk around like a twat just like we do' - the perfect riposte to anyone who dares criticise them for being successful, the admission that, well, they might be twats whilst they're at it. Still the most basic rhythms, best suited to let Williamson's lyrics shine and amid the abstract mindstream ourpourings poetry like: 'Let's go back to corridors of mine and also yours / Where the dust lays on the shelf in this the quiet hell / Of cigarettes and trains and plastic and bad brains / And heartbreak lays upon the self of this the new born hell, well' (Time Sands). English Tapas isn't the nation's favourite dish by a long stretch but every year since I saw them I've noticed friends discovering Sleaford Mods and that's a good thing.


Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Vispo/Art/Children Of Alice/The Seeds



Where have I been? Nowhere much.
What have I been doing?
This....


...and that...


...you can see some artworks of mine over here

Meanwhile, in the world of music, how about that supergroup of James Cargill, Roj Stevens (Broadcast) and Julian House? Supergroup? What am I talking about? There's not a double-neck guitar or permed hairdo in sight, as far as I know. Still it's a 'super' group, isn't it? Maybe not. Anyway, the pooled talents of Children Of Alice in theory should make a great album...and to my surprise, have. I say 'great', although the common tropes (admittedly mostly created by House) of the haunty thing are well-worn by now. That said, Children Of Alice is still a charming trip down the rabbit hole of magical absurdities that's skillfully stitched together and skips around the toy shop of sounds designed to evoke funfair horror and frolics.

In the Oxfam shop this morning, browsing through the 50p CDs, I thought 'There must be something here' - there had to be something...I wanted some new music...come on (flick-flick)...so much music I cannot bring myself to pay even 50p for...it seemed ridiculous, but there it was, proof that of all the hours of recorded sound packaged up and presented (having been rejected) before me it was all useless...nothing but a parade of has-beens, never-beens and never-should-have-beens...not even albums I once owned but lost enthusiasm for....and there are plenty of those. Anyway, here are The Seeds...

Thursday, 9 March 2017

Satanica: Demonic Electronic Music




If Dennis Wheatley made electronic music...or a video about how electronic music can be either the tool of the Devil, or become possessed by Him...it might look like this superb film by People Like Us...

Album: REVBJELDE by REVBJELDE


Fusing Folk, Jazz and Rock without sounding like a Canterbury Folk scene revivalist band is no mean feat but Revbjelde manage admirably on their new album for Buried Treasure....otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it...'cause I ain't too keen on that kind of music; none graces my collection at least. I'm assuming some members of what is really a collective-with-guests band do have extensive Folk-Rock collections, along with some Miles Davis and Muddy Waters? Hear the influences on Buccaboo, for instance, featuring a slowed down version of what sounds like the Baby Please Don't Go riff, topped by trumpet (OK, perhaps more Chet Baker than Miles Davis) and buoyed by up by a nice fat acoustic bass.

So rather than play straight genre games, Revbjelde mix things up, which is their forte, you might say, as on the opener, The Weeping Tree...all so New Folk for a while until the inclusion of a harmonica which lends a totally new feel to what already feels like a 'soul' version of Folk, if you get me. Dolly Dolly adds his poetic magic to Reading Abbey and For Albion, the latter being the longest track and one that sums up the band, sliding as it does from the plaintive to mutant Disco and Folk.

I'd like to hear the band test the experimental twilight zone more because they're clearly capable, as parts of this album prove. As things stand, though, you'd be hard pushed to find a better genre-bending album than this.


Monday, 27 February 2017

Scald Rougish - Idioal Oifrmech


What can I say about Idioal Oifrmech? That question has been plaguing me for the last few weeks. Now I play it again...to try and 'understand'. Understand what? Shouldn't music be easier? It should not be hard work...

...but this album is not hard work...

...unless you choose to write about it, which I did, or rather knew I would as soon as it arrived...

...by now your finger is poised to click the mouse, to get away from my...confused musings...perhaps because you expected a review, a normal review (which suggests you are not a regular reader of Include Me Out). Still...

...something...disturbing...is coming out of my speakers...not just coming out but writhing inside them and erupting...escaping a kind of hell on my hard drive...the track is Id¬“≤iøß–oal, the first on Side B...is that a cello being scraped in amongst the digital storm? Perhaps...

...I listen hard...

...listening hard is a requirement if Idioal Oifrmech is to mean anything...no, not 'mean'...if you are to gain anything....yes, 'gain'...there's a lot to gain...the attention to detail by Chris Douglas is astounding, as usual, although to say 'as usual' of anything he does is a great disservice to his art...

...I fear that no amount of well-chosen words can do this album justice...not from me, at least. To make matters worse, there are no sound clips available, rendering the usual reviewer's get-out clause of 'just listen for yourself' impossible. I suggest you find other examples of his sound art and decide for yourself whether you wish to invest in Idioal Oifrmech. Should you know his work, you will probably do so anyway. It's on the Ge-Stell label. I can say no more. This music speaks louder than words...


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