08.10.2025
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.
Laura Cocks – FATHM
Laura Cocks is going to fuck your ear holes with that big flute of hers in FATHM.
By avant-garde standards, this is the embodiment of difficult listening. The instrument choice (solo flute) and the techniques make it challenging. The flute used to be a gorgeous instrument, featured prominently in jazz and as a significant part of hip-hop culture, with weird little flute samples everywhere, inspiring an SNL sketch. No longer. We are in 2025. Music needs to match the mood and, with that in mind, Laura Cocks engages in a unique conversation. These are unusual approaches to the instrument, and she has no problem bringing things to the extremity of where the instrument will take her. You could consider this anxiety-inducing. You could consider this relaxing. It depends on your mindset and stress levels. For me, someone who is constantly on edge, this was soothing to feel like I was not the only one who enjoyed silence in between sounds. People complain that silence between sounds leads to tension, notably that Jaws theme you’ve no doubt heard, because the theme has been around for over 40 years. Her tactics on this album are downright unexpected, and this is one of the least predictable things I have heard in 2025. Legitimately, you will have no idea where Laura Cocks is going with this one. Yes, this is free improvisation, but usually such a unique approach and instrument is not taken.
You can hear her breath on the recording. Some of the noises remind me of the sounds other musicians would make during their solos – Bill Orcutt’s guttural yelps as he plays the guitar, and Glenn Gould as he played Bach. Bach surprises me – you know what you are getting into with Bach; his music has only been around for a couple of centuries, yet it is more about passion. Bill’s work lends itself well to yelps, as there’s an animalistic fury that’s always been there, even from his Harry Pussy phase. Such as with Laura Cocks – her work has this living, breathing connotation. It showed itself in her solo debut on Field Anatomies, with the sounds of nature bleeding into the recording. Here it is fully perfected and changed in some small ways. Nods to her background, of Lake Michigan and her current location in New York City, adorn the pieces, sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly. When I see the title, Illinois, for one, I am happy – Illinois is a fine state and deserves lauding. Better she references Illinois rather than America’s Turnpike (Crossroads) in Indiana, the rustiest rust belt state, rivaling even Ohio. I hate the fact that I must pay tolls while driving through Indiana, as if I have seen something awe-inspiring, which, of course, I haven’t and never will. Plus, in a few of the editions, there’s hand-picked sand from beaches to make the emphasis stronger, both from New York and Lake Michigan beaches. I would go so far as to state that some of the highest pitches from the flute suggest the sound the MTA Subway Cars make when they try, in vain, to stop at a station without making noise. They always make noise, and I genuinely consider that high-pitched scree to be part of my childhood.
Sometimes the sounds are brutal. Sometimes they are delicate. I get reminded of absolute abstraction, of the kind of Nobukazu Takamura’s Scope, of the Onkyokei free improvisation movement of Japan, popularized (not sure that’s the right word, but I’m determined) by Sachiko M and Toshimaru Nakamura. Even her attack on the instrument, because she plays that flute fiercely, extends into a variety of techniques. The breathing techniques mean she manages to incorporate lower-end sounds within the performance, which is an admittedly hard thing to do with a flute. Plus, this adds to the conversational quality of the work. We do not know who is speaking at what time within the pieces, and it does give off some J R William Gaddis aspects, leaving it to the listener to become an active participant in the recording, trying to make sense of what is said and left unsaid.
Besides her solo work, Laura Cocks also works in various ensembles, like the TAK Ensemble and Elision Ensemble. Even when compared to those groups, her work stands out as particularly uncompromising. FATHM is the first vinyl release of not only her solo work but also her work amongst various groups. This is challenging music, and it's hard to predict what to expect due to the frequencies and unpredictability, but it's worth the effort. Beautiful, butterfly wing flutter type sort of things, and the squeal of brakes brought together as one.
*Volume Warning*
MMMD & Alem - L’âge de l’absolutisme
What if, instead of rejecting modernity and embracing tradition, we took a third path – accepting the present? This does not indicate that the present is good by any stretch of the imagination. However, by focusing too heavily on either side, we fail to address what is right in front of us, instead choosing to dwell on the past and future, respectively. To wit, MMMD & Alem show what this may sound like – a mixture of the best bits of both on L’Âge De L’Absolutisme. I am scratching my head thinking of when there has been a mixture of two things I love so much (classical music and modern drone) done so thoughtfully. Plus, the production does shine a light on precisely the level of taste on display here – cello, harpsichord, organ, clavichord, and the oft-ignored strength of oscillators. Technically, as modernity can be dated back to the 17th century, these pieces by Bach, Handel, and Marcello would be considered well within that range. Historians vary on the exact cut-off, and some think anything before the end of World War II to be ancient history, making it open to interpretation.
MMMD is a doom drone band’s doom drone band. They are beloved, and for good reason – their low end is unbelievably heavy. Unlike so many doom drone bands, they avoid the guitar entirely. You cannot point to Earth, Black Sabbath, and any of the usual suspects. Instead, there’s something much more ancient, much more eternal about the way they do things, a combination of the natural and distinctly unnatural. Even the way they use oscillators is stunningly original, as the oscillators always feel like a replication of naturally occurring events, despite them being very much electronically crafted. They are understated, and that’s essential to what MMMD does so well – it hides the seams of what created the drone to result in this unbelievable wall of sound. As for the additional inclusion of Alem, a baroque keyboardist, it too has a natural quality.
The sound gets MMMD into new territory, even as all three of these compositions are centuries old. Have you heard these three before? Probably you have, but I doubt you would ever imagine them coming anywhere near this approach. It sounds gorgeous, so smooth and profoundly moving. MMMD includes an emotional heft within their work, and this is by far the most upfront they have been about melody. Do not attribute that to any sappiness, for these avoid anything that would be considered cheesy. If the Earth’s crust were able to cover baroque classical pieces, it would have the same level of enormity. For me, someone who has watched the Greek group grow with each release, this is disarmingly sweet. Sometimes, maybe the most unexpected thing an austere group could do is incorporate a bit of emotion within their work. Alem fits in perfectly within the environment, adding some beauty to the austerity.
I listen to a lot of heavy, bass-laden work, and this might be the best low-end I have heard in a long time. Please, if you're listening, I recommend speakers, as this is a physically demanding experience. Also, if playing it in the car, watch the woofers. The sound is crystal clear, and, given the heaviness of the work, the vinyl itself is a heavy 180g in gold, which again feels fitting. There is a certain wry sense of humor in the way the album art even stares, as the prim and proper chap on the front is hiding all these tattoos underneath a smart-looking suit —a suit I would like but have no reason ever to possess. What can I say, I want to dress up sometimes.
A balance between doom, bass, and drone, all things I never thought would go together, but here, they make it so natural that it makes my heart ache, wishing more groups could do this as well.
Albert Oehlen And Luke Calzonetti - JB Slik In The Mix
Great advertising requires great agitation. How many people are attacked by an endless stream of advertisements every single day? How many people attack back? JB Slik In The Mix explores the concept of assaulting art for the sake of art. Dedicated to the memory of Jörg Schlick, whose alias was JB Slik (unsure why, there is some Austrian joke I am not privy to, despite speaking German), this is the kind of thing I would like created when I pass away (JB passed away in 2005). I hope my friends have the good sense to create a similar mix of random nonsense with dance beats to play at my funeral. Play aggressive, ear-splitting noise at my funeral, too. Just have fun with my funeral, I demand this of all attendees, consider it my last wish or something. Also, Red Lobster’s Cheddar Bay Biscuits must be served at my funeral, too, for reasons that will be explained in my Will, assuming I have anything to leave behind besides a lifetime of laughter.
Albert Oehlen is a German artist who worked with JB Slik. This is his ode to his strange Austrian friend. Music choices make little to no sense, and that is perfectly fine. Not everything needs to be spelled out, especially when dealing with art of this high a level. Luke Calzonetti has a more punk rock background, having been the keyboardist in the Skin Graft punk band Child Abuse from the early 2000s. Honestly, given how many bands would pick the most offensive names possible in the early 2000s (looking at you AIDS Wolf), it makes sense that he, too, would come from such an era. Of course, I imagine it would take about thirteen years to put together assorted snippets of nonsense with occasionally discernible rhythms. Before someone accuses the duo of exploiting JB Slik’s death, know a little about JB Slik’s background in weird art movements, of the Central European variety.
Unsure why Central Europe needs to be so distinctive. Ask the Czechs why they invented defenestration. Ask the Austrians why they have that guy who had a secret basement family, or that other guy who also had a secret basement family, or why they are so fond of marzipan. I can answer that last one – marzipan melts faces off, that’s why. JB was one of the members of the Lord Jim Lodge. It is not related to the Twin Peaks Black Lodge; that’s a different lodge. No, this Lord Jim Lodge was much more nuanced than David Lynch’s Lodge – for one, it has the clever iconography of a hammer on a sun with breasts underneath it. Is this a profound metaphor for the maternal influence of the sun, giving life to all those who live in the world? Or is it some random stuff a couple of drunk Austrian bros scribbled on a piece of paper in 1985, and the idea got taken way, way too far? Honestly, it is challenging to grasp something from the ancient past, such as 1985, because anyone born on or before that specific year is now part of history. Those are the rules. Before Lord Jim Lodge is considered part of the patriarchy, it is worth noting that there is an equivalent Queen Barbie Lodge, founded by an interestingly, not an Austrian but rather a German artist, Lena Braun.
What can be said of the music? This is of the plunderphonics/collage type. Sometimes it can even be occasionally beautiful. Mostly, it is obsessed with low-class techno and pop music, re-configuring it in this tongue-in-cheek way. Individuals who lack a sense of humor and enjoy suffering will be saddened that Germanic artists have moved past this tortured artist phase to go into something much more lighthearted. It is also catchy, and finding all the various parts of pop culture hidden within it is half the fun. The other half is knowing that you are listening to two artists who make mouth noises at random intervals, paying respect to a guy who created an inside joke that eventually made it onto subway stations and Coca-Cola bottles (at least 50,000 of them).
Zèbra - De Limbabwe Tape
Obscurity has a website. Visit it here for the entirety of Zèbra’s De Limbabwe Tape. I appreciate it when people create websites without any other forms of social media, a relatively rare occurrence. Scaruffi’s website scratches a similar itch for me. With more of these sites gradually fading out of view and no longer being paid for, it is doubly refreshing to have something this delightfully off the beaten path —a complete anomaly in corporatized, clean-cut, non-dirty, no-free-downloads places.
The Netherlands is a place known for obscurity to a large degree. Perhaps it's all the Js and Ks that are messing up the otherwise proper-sounding German, a multitude of artists in a small, densely packed area that was reclaimed from the sea. A bizarre place, the place a post-modern novelist might invent to describe what the world could look like after rising sea levels. Unfortunately, most of the world lacks the engineering expertise and resources to prevent erosion on a global scale. Oh well. At least they gave us Zèbra.
What even is Zèbra? A short-lived group documenting an almost equally short-lived musical movement in a small Dutch town. The duration here is the point. With a motto of 'melted pop,' whatever that may mean, it is an experimental pop style with discernible elements of rhythm. Think early-stages of vaporwave, but instead of mining an endless trove of Japanese City Pop it chooses music developed within a Dutch squat in a mid-sized town from the mid-80s all of which was released on cassette (and continues, albeit at a much slower release pace, as they seem to have moved beyond the usual trappings of underground music). It is strange and weird stuff that they sample, and the experimentation ranges from pitch-shifted to completely transformed, impossible-to-decipher work.
The duo behind the sound are two familiar names within the Dutch experimental scene – Frans De Waard and Roel Meelkop. Both are prolific individuals who have crossed so many different disciplines. Labels, performance art, music critiques, magazines, and so many more – for two people, they have accomplished more than entire towns. Both have this seemingly small-scale sense of sound sculpture, making them almost sculptural in output. Even with the avant-garde sensibilities of the two, there is something approachable. Artwork and visuals are beautiful elements that help further round out their art.
Frans de Waard is best known for his work with Goem and Beequeen, but even those two are deep cuts. Outside of those two, whose primary focus is rhythm and drone, respectively, there is a sense of endless possibility occurring within his aural ecosystem. He does a lot, and continues to do so, even after nearly four decades of relentless experimentation. I want to say that he is wealthy, but surprisingly, the experimental underground in Holland does not pay big bucks. So instead, he’s traveled over the entirety of the European continent, Russia, Japan, and North America (to quote LCD Soundsystem).
Roel Meelkop is even further down the artistic rabbit hole. His work occupies a similar space to that of Frans de Waard. It, too, has that ambient bliss about it. Frans de Waard’s work ended up on 12k, Meelkop’s work appeared on the more experimental sister label L-NE (which is now a purely digital-only label, or almost strictly digital). Unlike Waard, his is a bit more austere, a little less warm in terms of the general aesthetics.
When the two come together for Zèbra, they tend to bring out their best selves. The duo listens to each other and brings out the best of Limbabwe Records’ quality (whose output was primarily curated by Matski, who could be considered the unspoken third member, a curator more than a performer). Is this necessarily mind-blowing? No, nor is that the purpose. It feels like an above-average take on a collage recording, almost plunderphonic like in certain moments. Going for a more respectful and playful anniversary release, it feels kind, polite, and a reimagination of reissues.
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