Good Morning,
This is Beach Sloth. Below are this week’s albums:
· Editor’s Note – Moving forward, anything that is abnormally loud and noisy beyond what a ‘reasonable person**’ would subject themselves to will be prefaced with a *Volume Warning* Thank you.
Naná Vasconcelos – Saudades
If there was a percussive instrument, Naná Vasconcelos not only played it but also played it better than anyone. Throughout his genuinely remarkable career, he had a penchant for simultaneously appearing worldwide on multiple continents. He made people understand that rhythm could convey emotion rather than do that boring time-keeping thing it is typically assigned to it. For all his accomplishments, fewer know of him than of Neil Peart of Rush fame. Harold Weir of Freaks and Geeks fame once said, “Neil Peart couldn’t drum his way out of a paper bag.” I doubt Harold would have said such a thing about Naná Vasconcelos; he wouldn’t dare. He’d also be wrong – Naná virtually invented that paper bag Neil couldn’t drum out of.
Harold introduces the titular Nick Andopolis to Gene Krupa, but Naná’s Saudades came out too recently to process what was happening. For one, this is such a dramatic shift away from the standard approach to percussion. It is a literal symphony supported by a percussionist rather than the other way around. Happy in Germany, home to finely engineered automobiles and BMWs, Naná gathered a fine group of individuals to further flesh out his sound. He chose Stuttgart because good automobiles are made there. Munich never stood a chance. To this day, Munich has yet to apologize for the BMW and continues to manufacture that automobile, charging astronomical sums for unreliable bullshit cars. And no, I’m not just cranky because I can’t afford a BMW; shut up.
From the 70s to the early 80s, he was highly prolific and not with some nonsense either. Everything he participated in more than withstands the test of time, from his solo albums like Amazonas to appearing on the first Jon Hassell albums (the “fourth world” origin story). Yes, he was having a fine old time and honestly could have rested on his laurels. Plenty of musicians from the 70s were more than happy to give up after a hyper-active 70s –look at musical pioneers like Brian Eno and Steely Dan as examples of people eager to relax, putting out sonic drivel. Yes, Steely Dan lost that number, so they implored Ricky not to lose, forever losing the plot of Yuppie Yacht Rock. Thankfully for listeners, Naná was not such a person. Nobody demanded Saudades nor knew they needed it, but Naná knew that this was something that future generations might be able to digest many years later.
By far, the highlight comes from the absolute bliss of the opener O berimbau. It is a bold move to have an eighteen-minute opener. Naná would not have it any other way. After about two decades of people simply fetishizing the otherness of Brazilian music, with Bossa Nova serving as acceptable, polite, and slightly exotic background music, Naná ensures he does not get ignored. Indeed, O berimbau is a beautiful work, and the percussive work done here has reverberations into a fine mixture of percussion experimentation ranging from Beatrice Dillon in the UK to Will Gutherie in Australia (though the latter now lives in France). Even Brazil can point to a current generation of percussionists inspired by Naná, like João Pais Filipe, interestingly born the same year Saudades came out.
Even after the already gigantic (nearly half the album's running time), the rest does not disappoint either. He replicates the Tower of Babel on the following track, and the guitar even gets incorporated into a few pieces. The sense of the surreal and sublime music that draws from tradition and pushes that tradition in unexpected, spontaneous directions is doubly joyous. This exceptionally liberating music challenges not for any misanthropic endeavor but rather to point to a new, better place where history can be respected while transforming that past into the future.
*Volume Warning*
Iueke - Live at Positive Education Festival 2023
Music festivals are built differently outside of the United States. The United States usually has Green Day, Billy Joel, and some other lameness, but beyond those boring, uninspired borders is some maddening stuff. The Positive Education Festival is one such place. Right in Saint Etienne, the only city in France named after a British Pop Band, they engage with a high weirdness. It is appreciated. One of those individuals who graced concert-goers with something sublime is the long-running project of Iueke, whose work has sounded like an alien lifeform since he got on the decks in the 90s. Ever since then, Iueke (aka Gwen Jamois) remained under the radar, emerging every few years from the underground like long-gestating cicada broods ready to unleash their unrelenting shrill yet rave-friendly sound onto an unsuspecting populace. Honestly, remarkably, he’s been at the forefront of such stately oddity for decades, with few managing to catch up with him.
2024 seems to be the year he’s finally released an album, two of them, to be exact. Looking at his discography, a listener may be confused that everything has come out post-2010. He sat on many releases for years, probably waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. The world didn’t, and he got bored, wanting to get a piece of that lucrative post-rave aesthetic pie. He needed a whopping $9.95 for a Jersey Mike’s footlong sandwich. Fortunately for listeners, his work is even more out there than the Jersey Mike’s footlong sandwich. Comparisons are hard to pin down precisely, but there’s the noisy dictation of Florian Hecker’s early aughts output with some of Evol’s noisy rave hooliganism. Beyond that, he incorporates aspects of Autechre at their most extreme and out there, with the sound design drawing prominently from those Manc Heads. It is certainly out there stuff.
His background is on the dancefloor, though this set appears to go for a tribalistic fashion. Nothing here holds anything back. Searing hot, high-pitched gasps for air reside alongside tribal beats, giving the procession a degree of pure chaos. Nothing here is predictable as he shies away from outright melody, riffs, or straightforward rhythms. Yet, there’s something primordial about the sound for all the experimentation, like these are electronics learning to weld almighty clubs before beginning a violent attack against each other. The result feels outright mind-altering, and I can only imagine the audience lucky enough to see this live. Insane, mind-melting stuff brought to you by the Distort Decay Sustain folks (better known as the label Demdike Stare).
*Volume Warning*
REGLER + COURTIS – Regel #13 [Noise Rock]
Searing, hot pain dripped into my eardrums. Yes, please! I appreciate the level of dedication in showing exactly what noise rock is. The fact that this album has two massive, unruly slabs of ungodly terror is an additional bonus. At least, this loudness brings me to an almost meditative world, where I can finally block out the rest of what is around me and entirely focus on the noise. I have several people to thank for this beautiful exploratory experience.
The level of avant-garde royalty included in these two extended cuts is simply outstanding, a testament to what noise rock should be. On the Regler side, there’s Anders Byrngelsson, of Brainbombs fame. If you don’t know what Brainbombs is, you must catch up on noise rock bands created in Sweden in the mid-80s. However, Brainbombs is not for the faint of heart, but neither is this, so honestly, if you can handle this, you’ll be good with Brainbombs. Unlike Brainbombs, this does not have all their wholesome lyricism about stabbing somebody to death, so if you’re into that, sorry, these are purely instrumentals. Besides Brainbombs, there are also two other favorites of mine I feel like mentioned. No Balls is another exceptional group; I may even cover them later (I almost did this time). Orchestra Of Constant Distress is another slice of joy, and by pleasure, I mean a group that slams one singular riff into your brain for almost ten minutes straight. I did not even know he partook in such a project, but I’m ever thankful that group exists, as they’ve brought some happiness through escape.
Mattin does way, way too many things to count. Honestly, the dude needs to take a nap at some point. Besides the beloved Billy Bao project, which I’m most familiar with, he does Al Karpenter and a handful of other things. I think he teaches, which is good because future generations need to know how to bring the noise. Fortunately for his student, Mattin brings the noise and then some. In a way, Mattin’s the midpoint of this musical Venn diagram, as he’s in Regler and has collaborated with Regler quite a bit.
Going for a whole other continent, Courtis is Argentina’s main export of tripped-out sounds. He’s a venerable institution that probably has never gotten a shout-out from its chainsaw-wielding maniac of a President Javier Milei. Oh well, Courtis is going to outlast any Argentine head of state. For literal decades, Regler has been involved in a whole slew of projects. I’ll be sincere here – I am the least familiar with this trio member, but I will bookmark him here for future exploration if he’s alongside all these fine folks.
Sound, though, the sound. The sound is vicious. For almost forty minutes, they unrelentingly assault the senses. While listening to this, I am strongly reminded of the painfully short-lived group Belong. Much like that group, searing feedback becomes psychedelic simply due to the highly extended cuts of the riffs. A lot is happening within the sound, and they keep things interesting by constantly delving into an endless cascade of different approaches. I am reminded of a prism taking a single light strand and reflecting it into various colors. The sound becomes beautiful, from the steady hit of the drums to how the guitars are woven into this thick ooze. They even submerge the sound into the deepest depths a few times, going Mariana Trench for all listeners.
Best of all, Nashazphone, an Egyptian/Algerian label specializing in this level of freaked-out, released this. So there, you have three continents involved in this endeavor, four if you count the person writing this review (and I hope you do). It is a wild journey representing exactly what noise rock should be – brutal, unrelenting, and endless.
Ka Baird – Bearings: Soundtracks for the Bardos
Straight out of the Midwest (Madison, Wisconsin, to be precise), Ka Baird teaches the old New York avant-garde new tricks with the absolute black hole of sound that is Bearings: Soundtracks for the Bardos. These are organisms, not just songs. She has them breathe (breathing techniques are one of the features of the atmosphere), and the inclusion of classical instruments adds to the disorientation. Nothing here is straightforward. Rare is the artist that ultimately comes out at me from left field, but I went into this album blind, unaware of what lay in wait for me. Not that it is random – far from it, she carefully organizes these sounds, makes sure they bounce off each other and result in this seemingly endless array of textures that never ends.
The album ties together extreme ancient practices with futuristic ones. Extended vocal techniques bridge this gap. Remember that many drones existed far before the term came about, from the organ church music to throat-singing to the very sounds of nature. It has always existed, but it is only recently that the language has developed to try and capture what this entails. The word's origins aren’t long ago, dating to the 15th century. Initially, the drone concept was static, which sounded but did not accomplish anything. The idea of the idler, a bee that makes no honey, was used in the earliest usage of the word. Something about Ka Baird’s approach has a primal aspect. She’s close to a particular wave of jazz that blends in sonic experiments and pushes boundaries well past the normal. As a reference point, she’s currently performing alongside Colin Stetson and Andreas Tilliander, if that helps suggest where she resides on the musical spectrum.
Darting noises adorn the album as if they were trying to escape. Suddenly, out of the ether, a discernible instrument appears, only for it to just as quickly disappear into the vast space. The sound is spacious, and there is a precise geography there. Besides her vocal experiments, she also plays the flute intermittently, which does appear on the album. Aspects of it touch upon the earliest phase of the avant-garde, where anything seemed possible, while other moments would be in the right place on a Raster Noton album (especially on the heavy bass that anchors most of the pieces.) While no definitive beat is used, it is rhythmic. These are pulses more than discernible grooves. The abstraction is nice and tastefully done as if it would not necessarily become stale in the next decade, which is particularly surprising for something this digital. She hides precisely what is happening, and the whole thing is shadowy. It feels almost hallucinatory at times as if there are melodies that are just beyond the listener’s perception.
Production-wise, it feels beautiful. Every single shift and texture is there in beautiful hi-fi. Good luck making out what produced said textures, but it is undoubtedly luxurious. Her voice is a unifying force, one of the few constants in this otherwise large sea of flux. No lyrics exist. These are all wordless vocals that soar up into the sky. She lets the expansiveness get shot down for a few moments, resulting in moments that are as if arrows have hit the piece, letting all the air out. It is a bizarre experience, and for this reason, headphones are recommended, as several true “what the fuck” moments take hold of the album. It does not surprise me to learn that before engaging in this distinctive language, Ka Baird worked heavily within the folk, neo-folk, and psychedelic genres, as moments within the album allude to her past life without necessarily repeating them. It also helps that Rvng Intl released this in a vinyl format because it reflects a certain physicality that would lend itself well to that approach. These are strange, beautiful pieces, and some truly profoundly moving moments emerge out of nowhere that defy easy categorization.
If you are wondering what kind of music you should play for the end of the world, you could do no better than Ka Baird’s Mysterious Bearings: Soundtracks for the Bardos.
Hi Tech – Détwat
America does not deserve Detroit. We take it for granted. Canada’s practically drooling over taking such a culturally and industrially relevant city. Poor Canada, which only exports maple syrup and half of whose population has been in Godspeed You! Black Emperor at some point. Yes, Detroit may have its problems, and that Detroit homage to the Hollywood sign was a tad embarrassing, but it is the motor city, Motown, and perhaps the finest strain of techno that the United States has ever produced. I think many reasons for the soulfulness of Detroit techno must do heavily with the Motown influence, as it ends up being considerably less robotic. I’d argue that techno needs a soul; even with machines, that’s possible. While America may be content to fall behind in the international techno arms race, I am livid at the mediocrity that the US exports regarding dance-worthy content. The United States needs better electronica, and a lot is severely lacking.
Hi Tech has so many strains within it that it’s awe-inspiring. A trio does that. I have heard they are fantastic live, and I can see that. King Milo, Milf Melly (who, fascinatingly, is not a MILF but rather, a regular guy) and 47chops. How they came up with their names, I don’t know, and, to a large degree, I do not care. They have bigger things to do than explain themselves to me, and they’ve only realized less than an hour of music in two years, so I'm hoping for more releases at some point. Everything here is just perfect – the footwork is flawless and reaches the echelons of Jlin and RP Boo. Yet, for whatever reason, they remain criminally slept on despite the extreme accessibility of the sound and outright addictive grooves.
Influences abound. Parts of this have the crystal clarity of Tyler, the Creator’s production efforts, especially on SHRIMP & GRITS. I want to add, as an aside here, that Shrimp & Grits is delicious, and I implore all of you to try it out. That’s some life-changing food, and the textures complement each other so well it is not funny. Outside of that, the more precise percussive elements could have come from a long-lost Autechre track from the early 2000s. On the inquisitive WHYYOUFUGGMYOPPS, they ask why they decided to fuck somebody’s apps. It’s a little mournful to know someone’s opps were fucked, and it feels like there’s some real depth behind that loaded question. So, their range is extensive, and they craft these gems in three minutes or less repeatedly.
FXHE Records thus far has put out both of their albums, both of which clock in at under thirty minutes. Run by Omar-S, best known for his righteous stance against Resident Advisor with his cleverly titled Simply (Fuck Resident Advisor), FXHE Records puts out incredible stuff, and Hi Tech point a little towards where the label might go in the future.
*Volume Warning*
Obskuritatem - Vampirska Kakofonija
Coming out of Bosnia and Herzegovina is an excellent, blackened to their core Obskuritatem. Their Vampirska Kakofonija, which translates to Vampire Cacophony in English, is aptly named. While technically black metal, this leans heavily into the noise territory of black metal, which I’m partial to. Nor do I apologize for this – I like metal to be closer to noise than anything else. Far beyond the average noise rock band, they lay in on very thick, with shrill, high-pitched feedback, various trash cans for drums, and a lumbering bass that serves as the only instrument in the band that’s at least somewhat discernible. With normalcy, a loose term within the album, they have gnarled vocals and agonizing screams, which is what the sound should be about. I appreciate the extreme devotion to nihilism. It is like they are virtually married to the concept. For the distortion and lo-fi love, the songs have a distinctive mysteriousness that feels downright refreshing. Nobody could accuse these guys of any form of production outside of a tape recorder that’s almost been sucked dry of all life yet continues to operate only out of spite.
One of the members of the Black Plague Circle is a collective of other similarly minded groups. Like Obskuritatem, these different groups incorporate aspects of noise and ambiance into the mix in ways that many bands would not do to nearly the same degree. Everything about the sound has a haunted, eerie presence. The circle helps to add to a sense of community within the Bosnian Herzegovinian black metal scene. Given how small the country is, it makes sense that they’d want to create a sense of community to work within, given the extremity of Circle's music. Noise is typically assorted within black metal, but this group and the circle generally take that approach and push it much further than what most deem safe. Fortunately for listeners, Obskuritatem does not mind playing it somewhat unsafe, making the whole thing well beyond any reasonable limitation.
I particularly enjoy the yelps and pleas for relief. To their credit, they present no relief to the listener. This is not an easy listen. Everything about the album goes for the horrific, and the noise is so dense at times that you almost forget there’s a drummer. No matter what that drummer does, they seem doomed to be consumed by the rest of the writhing mass of tangled chords and dying amplifiers. For all the bleakness, they present different angles to their approach, and, thanks to their devotion to craft over everything else, they remain fiercely independent, adhering to a vision of extreme darkness that, even amongst black metal, is a relative rarity. Fun times.
*Volume Warning*
Hvide Sejl – The Nude
Beauty in greyscale is the best way to put Hvide Sejl’s The Nude. This is noise but of a distinctly older caliber. Rather than bludgeon the listener, Loke Rahbek lets the subtle nuances of the sound drift into the mix. Due to it technically being noisy, watch the volume, but many albums are much louder than this. The best moments of the tape come from the drone-like aspects that are almost romantic. Within the many sheets of sound, melodies emerge, and texture helps to emphasize the melancholy that the nearly twenty minutes evoke further. Given that many of Loke’s other aliases veer into the drone/ambient side of things, it is unsurprising that the most vital elements of this tape come from precisely that background.
Loke Rahbek is best known as the Danish ambient synth experimental musician Thirst Trap. He might have modeled high-end clothing if he had not decided on a music career. Fortunately, though, he chose the far more lucrative career path, as synth experimental musicians are where the money is in Denmark, hence why it scores so highly as being one of the consistently happiest countries in the world. Other places tend not to reward art so highly, and he’s fortunate to have grown up there rather than the brutal hell that is most of the United States, specifically Idaho. Beyond his exceedingly prolific career, he also works as the cofounder of the Posh Isolation record label, which has a high-quality control output. Sure, it may be easy to accuse him of a degree of favoritism, releasing his work on his cofounded label, but the quality is very much there. Besides, plenty of musicians create labels explicitly for their releases, so why should he be any different?
For the opening track, he takes on a noticeably harsh tact. The song resides on the higher end of the pitch spectrum, with the screeching noise floating in and out of the mix. Underneath this is an elegantly executed drone that serves as the anchor for the sonic exploration. By far, the highlight of the two-sided tape is the B side. A melody fragment emerges out of the ebb and flow of the work. It is nearly classical; that’s how stately it comes across. It is a solid beginning to the piece and only elaborates on that initial spark to build and build. Out in the far distance are additional elements helping to give it an almost shoegaze-like quality, and this mysteriousness helps to guide the piece along. When he reaches the finale, it gets achingly beautiful and is one of the most gorgeous moments in Posh Isolation’s tape releases, equally emotional and experimental.
Only 99 of these tapes were ever released to the public, which is a darned shame given the quality contained. Fortunately, they are still relatively cheap. This release was overlooked, which is a pity as the music is beautiful. This is noise with soul.
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** Your idea of a reasonable person, music-wise, I am sure, differs from my idea. Still, if you’re already here, you’re already unreasonable by sheer virtue of your attendance, and I thank you for that!
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