06.09.2024
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.
Andrés Krause – Move Ground
I love field recordings. Let me clarify – I love good field recordings. While they have expanded in popularity thanks to better recording equipment and editing programs, capturing the level of mystery that the best ones inspire is hard. Just because you can record something in nature does not necessarily make it impactful. Prolific is not another word for good (told you, Francisco López); it is a word that means many, which is an overabundance. There is a massive overabundance of field recordings, some riveting, and many more on the mellower, pleasant background music side. Since field recordings generally are the recordings of one’s surroundings, they are mostly successful, if not overly ambitious. Among the greats, like Luc Ferrari, taking John Cage’s “Music is everywhere” philosophy to its extreme, there is additional editing; those slight changes help the sound transcend its origin to become something more significant. Before Luc Ferrari, this idea existed with Halim El-Dabh’s The Expression of Zaar, which arguably can be considered either tape music, musique concrete, or a field recording. Sadly, that original twenty to twenty-five-minute piece is lost to time, with only a two-minute fragment able to be found. “Greater than the sum of its parts” comes to mind, and while many shoot for it, most miss.
Andrés Krause does not miss with Move Ground. It has the perfect intersection between the found and the composed. He blurs the line between both sides. You never know exactly which piece is found and which is formed. Sometimes, it feels obvious, but he makes sure to vary his methods enough to ensure that it is impossible to take the two apart. Everything here has a level of crystal clarity that is maddening. He dedicates this album to the German film director Rolf Hädrich. How precisely his movies inspired this piece is somewhat unclear, though it may have to do with how he adapted to the world around him. Most of Rolf’s films deal with some level of escapism, from one place to another (East Germany to West Germany) and from situations (like the death of a friend). Like those movies, there’s a degree of escapism to be found here. When it feels like Andrés is about to play it straight, he throws in sudden, unexpected changes. Some of these changes are small, like the echoes of the vast spaces Cologne, Germany, apparently has (I would not know; I have never been). Others have a more universal feeling (like sneezing or coughing in the distance). In some parts of Central Asia, blowing your nose in public is considered a sign of disrespect; you’re supposed to go to the bathroom for that. At least one individual in the recording could have taken this advice because the sudden volume increase is startling, depending on how loudly you play this.
The drone work, too, is exquisite – rich, good low-end, unexpected reverb in all the right places. You get the sense of space he’s working with, too. Although there’s no straightforward melody, there is a sense of natural rhythm, a progression of things that feels all-consuming. Unfortunately for all involved, Andrés does not have a lot of music to his name. However, it seems that quality is of the essence as this single album was recorded and mixed over several years, with assistance from Christopher Heeman on the second piece. Andrés is an individual who takes his time to get things right; there is nothing slapdash about this; it is a genuinely riveting transformative work.
Vril – Anima Mundi
This German dub techno release is imbued with mysticism and earns it. Compositions here aim for that hypnotic trance-like state that can be hard to achieve, and Ulli Hammann does so with flair. Ulli reflects fondly on the rave era of yore, with the project name taken from Sumerian, translating (roughly) to “the power that holds the universe together.” Very Temporary Autonomous Zone (TAZ) of him, at the very least, showing a level of adherence to some of what rave and dance music was founded on – this spirit of simply getting lost in the atmosphere. The album goes for a classic Basic Channel quality, and I do not throw that comparison around lightly – it is that good. Sometimes, in its finest moments, the album even touches upon the sunburnt psychedelic leanings of the finale of Basic Channel – that of the mythical status Radiance. Yes, there’s that level of experimentation mixed with accessibility. Beats are far more prevalent here, and the grooves are even thicker.
Some of these previously appeared elsewhere in different formats (like the rework of Haus and Riese), but most of the experience is unique. Besides, the reworks are such dramatic departures from the originals that they count as separate. He reconfigures the sounds, and there is an apparent adherence to minimalism. Yet, this minimalism is somewhat deceptive, with a lot going on underneath the surface. Only with additional listening does this become immediately apparent, as the bars shift, the tempos change, and the bass levels are flawless. Even by the admittedly high standards set by dub techno, this is a next-level kind of dub. He infuses the melody into the groove, and the skeletal way that those small fragments come together to change is outright joyous. Much of the album has this ecosystem approach to the design, and the album title is The Soul of the World, roughly translated from the original Latin. While that might get some eyes rolling, and Anima was the title of Vladislav Delay’s best piece, a single slab of an hour of machine poetry, it still feels very appropriate. Given the album's duration, it is remarkable how Ulli stays true to the late-night, after-party mood, which comes down from the club high.
It is so lovely that they released it twice, first on the Giegling Label in Germany, a good techno juggernaut, and then later, the even more intense Delsin Label in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, which shows the level of care. Considering that Giegling first released it as a cassette of all things, it does make sense that it eventually would make its way to vinyl status, given the seriousness of the sound and the obsessive nature the Dutch have with all things electronic. It is a beautiful release, the sort of thing to lull the listener into vivid dreams of lovely pitch-black noir hues.
DJ Ordeal – John
“Don’t do it that way. You’ll never make a dime.” – James Murphy on his debut EP “Losing My Edge” from the title track.
DJ Ordeal sings to John, dear, poor boy John, without saying words. He manipulates various sounds without using a computer. These are tape manipulations and cut-ups, through and through. Given that fact, it is remarkable how trippy the whole journey is. Unlike many samplers who try to hide the origin of their sounds, DJ Ordeal places it prominently within the vinyl fold, letting you know where they all came from. The thematic consistency of the journey stems in part from the general period of the samples, most of which originate from the 50s, giving it a nostalgic twist as well. No money was made from this recording either – it was all a fundraiser for Cancer Research UK. Interestingly, this remains his most immediately available recording, or at least the most popular. Unlike some of his other recordings, where an attempt is made to incorporate more straightforward beats into the mix to give the music an anchor, he does not do this here. Instead, what results feels akin to an optimistic approach that the Caretaker might have taken if he was a happy guy. Leyland Kirby is not a happy guy, but Leyland Kirby is from Northern England, and that place is so sad. Dementia seems like a welcome change of pace compared to living in Northern England, a place that has been in a downward decline since the end of the UK’s Victorian Era. DJ Ordeal (aka Ian Cordell) has a level of happiness since he’s from Brighton in Southern England, all of which shines through, even in the journey's most acidic, psychedelic tones.
The melodies are warbled, warped, and done with a degree of respect to the original. He changes things and makes them ever so slightly askew. By going down this path, he helps to give the listener something to hold onto, at least a little bit. Since he gives up his more beat-laden work, he needs at least an emotional connection with the listener, and the flow between each track is quite lovely. Very clearly, he knows what he is doing, and he does it well. This is a relatively brief affair, with only one song extending beyond three minutes. Interestingly, he does not take from one genre but multiple. Strange film soundtracks, jazz, guitar, and vocalists are all brought into the fray, resulting in something that sometimes feels quite perplexing. However dense things get, you can distinguish amongst the many different pieces, thanks to the map set forth by Ian.
A level of loopy joy shines through. Ian’s a bit of an oddball; even in his more beat-centric works, the approach has a genuine outsider quality. That’s probably due to the live tape slices he does rather than just plugging some stuff into a computer. You lose things with the transfer of technology and flexibility that the analog provides. Though there’s greater fidelity with the digital, there’s a slight sense of the unknown by placing things into a state where their safety is more in question, resulting in this sort of sound. Things melt away, get reconstructed, and generally confuse the listener. None of this is easy to do, but listening to it is shockingly pleasurable, thanks to his deliberate limitations on his work, the period being an essential part.
Outside of this, he runs the label Sparticus Stargazer. He also participated as a member of The Vitamin B12, an equally perplexing ambient project based out of Brighton. DJ Ordeal is probably his best-known project, with the remainder of his solo work being essentially a few one-off releases. Still, by experimental and even when including a more pop-friendly format of experimentation, this works on multiple levels.
*Volume Warning*
MAZK – Untitled
Released amid Merzbow’s laptop era, MAZK’s Untitled is so laptop music that it got released on Tigerbeat6, America’s preeminent punk laptop era label. The sound here stuns. I find it interesting how many collaborative releases Masami Akita (MA) has with Zbigniew Karkowski (ZK). Zbigniew Karkowski did live in Japan at the time, so perhaps part of it could be attributed to geographic proximity. Yet, even with this explanation, it would not be clear why Masami would not take this approach and collaborate alongside the buzzing noise scene (get it, buzzing, because noise feedback distortion dying amplifiers?) All of this seems secondary to the fact that they share a strong aesthetic vision. Zbigniew transitioned from his industrial origins into more digital, painful varieties during this time. With the number of releases, one thing is clear – the two work flawlessly as a duo, complimenting each other’s strengths.
The attention the project got was on the academic side of things, with one of their releases, Metabolic Speed Perception getting an honorable mention from Ars Electronica. On this one, they go for a heavy, heavy sound. It is clear who contributed what and when their two visions collide to become one. Like the great philosophers, the Spice Girls said, “When two become one,” They were referring to a Polish and a Japanese noise artist coming together to create this massive slab. I think they do each other an excellent service, and they seem to amplify each other’s strengths. Neither one is a slouch regarding their output (though Masami, aka Merzbow, beats Zbigniew in terms of sheer discographic heft), but they appear exceptional editors of each other’s ideas. This, alongside the editing process done at Masami’s little bunker, adds to the sense of enormity that the singular piece inevitably covers.
Zbigniew does exceptionally great work with the low end on his pieces, and this one is no different. I have not heard heavier bass frequencies from anybody else. I usually refuse to play Zbigniew in my car as I worry about speakers getting blown out. Do not believe me? Listen to the first few seconds of the sound. Even the slower pace of the buildup speaks volumes of Zbigniew’s more patient approach to sheer audio terror, though Masami possesses a similar level of patience. With Masami’s background in jazz/psychedelic/drumming and Zbigniew’s classical training, they feel adept at moving the rest of the piece forward. Eventually, more caustic elements emerge from the droning morass, especially the high-end side. This is on the more structured side of things for their work, allowing various movements to occur within the sprawling expanse.
I like the slow shift in frequencies, too. They start on the almost inaudible yet physical drone and end with harsh feedback that would not be out of place for a Yasunao Tone composition. They present an exceptional narrative that speaks volumes to how many decades they spent in the noise space. By paying attention to each other’s movements, they craft this stylish, sleek sound with a heaviness, an intensity that highlights their strengths—a great collaboration, and hopefully, one day, to be pressed on vinyl. Given Tigerbeat6’s somewhat dormant status and general DIY aesthetic, that seems unlikely, but one can certainly hope.
Surprieze – Zeer Oude Klanken En Heel Nieuwe Geluiden
Maybe I’m misunderstanding something, but I do not know why a Dutch guy would be singing an outsider blues album. The Dutch are the tallest people on Earth on average, enjoy a high standard of living, and legalize a shockingly large number of drugs. Eddie van der Meer founded this extraordinary project in the early 70s. The title translates to Very Old Tones and Very New Sounds, which is poetic given the music contained within. He does everything himself – this is primarily a one-person show, with a handful of collaborators on critical tracks.
Rooted in the psychedelic so heavily, this might as well be LSD blotter; Eddy did not begin with this record. He started in the relatively obscure Dutch group Slack Gang, an underground psychedelic rock group. Interestingly, that band is still far, far more normal than this. Eventually, that group got too poppy for his tastes, and he switched to whatever this could be classified as. Reverb, noise, delay, and some highly unique stuff going on within the system. Vocals have a high-pitched oddity as if a more significant force partly possesses him. It is a strange methodology, and he makes it work. You’d be hard-pressed to decipher whatever he is singing about, as it is mainly for texture as much as anything else. To say he’s a good singer would not be accurate; he’s more unusual than anything else.
Some of the instruments he plays he’s skilled at, especially the guitar work on the finale and album highlight Lazarus. Here, he lets loose for twenty minutes and the flute work of Périg Mahet. Périg Mahet is best known for being the flute-playing guy on this track, as his name has no other credits. Likewise, with the few others who helped bring this album to fruition. They do not compromise, and there’s no universe or alternate dimension where this would be considered poppy or accessible. By the standards of psychedelic rock, this is strange stuff, and the outsider aesthetic is the focal point of its charms. Interestingly, the fact that the twenty-minute guitar solo, complete with various effects, is the most accessible thing on here should clue the listener into what they are about to get involved in. Aspects of this feel like they were recorded live in one single take, and honestly, they might have been. Some of the effects he includes are inspired and genuinely result in eerie, mysterious moments, like they are beyond the point of feeling wasted, almost veering into enlightenment.
People were not ready for this in 1973; the first review was unrelentingly harsh. Even now, decades later, most people probably will not be into it. Yet, with time, listeners could sort out some of what Eddy was trying to do: create a mixture of avant-garde, blues, and psychedelic into an uncompromising sound.
Kredits – Kredits 01
A two-off of Larry Da Kat, Kredits goes deep into some disco-edit lore. One of the fun things about disco edits is to see how far down the rabbit hole you can go. Yes, I know one of the songs sampled is not disco, but technically, Zouk. It is still doubly impressive how he found these records in the first place. He goes heavy with the grooves on these two pieces, which have great vibes. The repetition is the point, and he manages to tweak each loop until it becomes stunningly beautiful. Nor does he overstay with the EP under fifteen minutes, honestly, perfect given the way it seems ideally suited for the dance floor. Both tracks possess this hypnotic flavor, adding to how you can put them on and get lost.
New Love Ltd and Interstate 95’s Love Slave from their 1978 So Much To Talk About (Tudo Bem) anchors the first track. This one is near and dear to my heart. Maybe it is because it is from Brazil; I don’t know, but there’s something gorgeous about it, the edit and the original. I love the vocals on this track, and unlike many disco edits, this one starts with the vocals. Sometimes, they get stripped out, which would have been a massive disservice to this piece. I’m unsure why Larry picked this song, but this is a big crate dig. If you investigate the piece of this rare Brazilian disco, you’ll see the going rate is around four hundred dollars, and it is challenging to find. Yes, there is a YouTube rip of the track. Larry took the vocals, pitched them down, and slowed the tempo. Her original voice and the energy of the track are entirely different. Bass is also mixed more prominently in Larry’s version versus the original. He has it go for a deeper, heavier funk, whereas New Love Ltd and Interstate 95 whips through it.
Much easier to spot is Milton’s Mizik Nou. Larry’s touch on this one feels gentler. Bass and drums are brought more into the mix than the original. Otherwise, this edit and its origin story have a lot more similarities. The Zouk is strong here and originates from the West Indies. While it is from the late 80s (the original release), it does not sound dated in the edit or the original. He drenches the whole thing in sunshine, and a glee runs through it. Like the previous one, this is a rarity, with prices over $100 for just the two songs. It is hard to find, and again, the good people on YouTube were kind enough to upload this so anybody could check it out.
This was one of two releases on the short-lived Kredits label, which differed from Larry’s main Katnip label (he likes cats, another plus in my book). I would be interested to see this little label resurrected for future edits, but as it has not been active since 2017, I consider that extremely unlikely. This is a real shame, as the quality of these two edits is fine, playing to the strengths of each genre.
Mark Fell and Peter Rehberg – Kubu/Zikir
Mark Fell and Peter Rehberg capture something simultaneously ancient yet modern on Kubu/Zikir. The two meet each other halfway here, and the result works. Rhythm is essential to Mark Fell; that’s his bread and butter. Everything else is secondary to him; the beat is of the essence. Unlike many of his other works, this is very, very jazz-based. Peter Rehberg has a different tact – far more concerned with making noise, having little glitch symphonies. Yet, when you take this entire recording together, the two participants have an unusual degree of restraint.
First, let me state how similar this feels in spirit to AMM’s AMMMusic. The free improvisation, jazz, and noise components play an essential role. Including radio transmissions, no doubt, adds to that spirit. It feels highly improvised in some ways, like the two let go of whatever constraints they would typically have. Mark is a lot less digital here, and so is Peter. A lot of it is organic, which certainly adds to the overall appeal. Nor is the drumming overly showy – they do have a purpose, and a general sense of playfulness runs through the two extended cuts. When it seems that one is about to take over, they pull back, giving an excellent give-and-take that feels doubly refreshing. In many ways, this appears to be the perfect blend, a nice mix.
The foreshadowing in this recording was followed up on by Mark much, much later. This was released in 2011, and the collaborations with Will Guthrie (a drummer) took place in 2020, essentially an extension of this recording, a follow-up, and an expansion of those ideas. So this can be seen as the origins of what Mark is currently exploring– the intersection of the raw and the digital, as if he’s spent too much time in the artificial, desiring to return to the tactile. I adore those Will Guthrie recordings with Mark and am glad there’s at least a place to trace them back.
Peter Rehberg does not need an introduction, but I’ll give him one since everyone says what an infinitely charming feller he was. The founder of the Mego Label and later the Editions Mego label, this British bloke devoted his life to pursuing noise in all forms. He released dozens of highly regarded recordings, some of which are my favorites, such as Desert Island albums/EPs/compilations. Unlike many of his works, this one is unusually polite and dignified. He shows a different side than the usual blasts of noise that he’s accustomed to, and it is genuinely refreshing to hear him take on a different tact. Sadly, Peter passed away in 2022, and that happens to be one of the harder hits my psyche has taken, artist-wise, at least. I greatly admired him and what he stood for and did, and there’s a massive loss by not having him here with all of us. Fortunately, as he seemed to be a planner, the Editions Mego and related sublabels have continued releasing music, following his initial vision.
Since this was a recording between Mark and Peter, Peter released this thing on his Editions Mego label. It is one of the quieter, more restrained, and even luxurious releases on that label. This is a fine starting point for those interested in getting introduced to the vast and wild array of stuff on that label, as the jazz references help to make it less intimidating. It is a kinder, gentler release while maintaining the high levels of experimentation Editions is known for. Mysterious in a good way, this is a soothing experience.
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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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