This is part of the Folklore of the Moon Series. The Goslings bring the heavy drone for October! Menacing beauty. track listing: 1• Roman Candle 2• White Kitten 3• No More Ribbon, No More Kite Description from Some Dark Holler.
Dialing In is like a decades old recording of an All Night Flight on the organ from Terry Riley, falling apart in your fingertips like one of Basinski's "Disintegration Loops." Delicate piano and keyboard dirges are filtered through layers of re-recording, leaving a fully saturated spectrum and a glowing, warbly tone. Vocal coos and cries are pulled out of the air from distant numbers stations and processed through the same lo-fi low-pass filters, resulting in everything from a girgling baby in the title track, to something like Chinese opera singers in the album closer "Watch Out for Stalkers." While these thick, overprocessed incantations might lead to one to imagine the Skaters euphoric primitivism, there is nothing brutal or scary here. Dialing In creates a soft and warm space, filling the room with tone so dense, it feels like sounds filtered through the womb. The songs hiding beneath the blissful, comforting cloud of noise take cues from many influences. The simple melodies of songs like "Someone Else's Talking Pictures" and "Building It Down" can bring to mind slow pop songs like Low and Slowdive. Other songs bring in Asian influences, like the stellar "Imperfect Fifths," sounding like an Arab seance as heard from the heavens, bringing to mind Sun City Girls' Torch of the Mystics. All the songs take a heavy cue from minimalism. Some of the best songs on the album have the least going on. "Babel" opens the album with a three chord organ progression that repeats and repeats, but the great tone to the organ and the building noise around it - both from the recording technique and a vocal countermelody - create a wonderful sound to bask in. This wonderful sound that Dialing In creates through her recording technique is the key element to the album, and it is just so gorgeous and soothing. Review from Fake Jazz.
Some real effort has gone into the production of this CD. Apart from the diamond symbolism on the cover - which has been neatly juxtaposed with painter Charles Acethorpe's excellent flora imagery - this 1990 recording includes Z'ev's fourteen-page discussion of the psychiatric processes used to induce altered states of neurological consciousness. Following on from the ground-breaking work carried out by A.M. Ludwig during the 1960's, Z'ev elaborates upon the five different manifestations of the trance state and the categorical denominations within each. Amongst other things, these include the use of stress and deprivation, repetition and hypnosis, boredom and solitary confinement. Z'ev's thoughts on this subject are compelling, taking us on a magickal mystery tour through the complete range of transformative potentialities. Surprisingly, perhaps, many of these factors were explored long ago by the Ancient Greeks. The trance state was depicted by Plato as a form of madness which was highly desirable. This he broke down into four distinct forms: Mantis, Katharsis, Katokoche and Eros. Socrates, meanwhile, remarked that 'so much more glorious, by the testimony of the ancients, is madness than sober sense, the inspiration of Heaven than the creation of men.' The Japanese alternatives of Muchu, Konsui-Jotai, Saimin-Jotai and Mugen no Kyo are also touched upon. In fact the sheer breadth of Z'ev's exegesis is ground from the dust of both science and tradition, weaving together such periods, personages and philosophies as Vedic metaphysics, Timothy Leary, Hopic India, Zosimos, Mayan legend and Buddhism. Genesis, meanwhile, adds his own thoughts on these complicated brain processes and gives a courteous nod to Z'ev for introducing him to such concepts in the first place. But what ov thee Great Work itself? Each of the ten tracks is named after a specific direction, hence the name of the overall project in which these experiments are set. However, to suggest that this is a standard musical affair is way off the mark. 'East I' is a tormented sprinkle of chiming hand cymbals which will introduce your ears to the wonderful world of tinnitus and leave them ringing for several hours. 'East II', meanwhile, offers up a deconstructed swirl of anarchic noise-flux to the gods of aural detachment. The ringing is evident yet again, but is now accompanied by a huge whining spring-effect. 'East III' is an exercise in tribalism. A hollow, rhythmagick odyssey of stick upon wood and the approaching splutter of an industrial generator pitted with discordant sound. 'Southeast' takes us off into yet another direction. Through the psychedelic hallways we go and out across the rolling drumbeats, hand in hand with our own mentally-unbalanced selves. Until, that is, we arrive at 'South I', where the constantly-whirling treatise of mind-feed sounds like a ritualistic dream-sequence at the court of the Ming Dynasty. 'South II' is a yet further helping of African-style drumming, conjuring up images of Johnny Weismuller wrestling frantically with a brain surgeon in crocodile shoes as a mesmeric shaker rustles its way into the fibres and sinews of the old grey matter. This is a very hypnotic track indeed. Another gyratory switch on the compass and we are heading in slow-motion towards 'North I'. This is a lazy shuffle of colliding objects, each of them stopping and starting with no particular direction in mind. Like a giant dragging his furniture across a wooden floor. 'North II' has a certain watery quality. Large, breath-heavy raps against the doors of the soul. This rather eerie trend continues on into 'North III', although one can almost detect the dalek-like buzz of a laser. Lobotomy, anyone? Finally, we hang on to our scalps and head out 'West' for some trepanation, as the echoes and soundwaves of this thirteen-minute showdown drill small holes in mankind's rigid perception of sound. Yes, indeedy. Clothed in leopard skins and Egyptian hieraglyphs, this is pure originality at its finest. Another unique excercise in human experimentation and a stepping stone for the occultic adventurer. And, of course, yet one more notch on the Cold Spring bedpost. Review from Synthesis.
Elemental Music, recorded live in San Francisco in early 1981, finds bald percussionist Z'ev (Stefan Weisser) creating an amorphous and utterly atonal wall of pulsating sound on instruments that are neither identified nor aurally identifiable. Although different from what one usually thinks of in terms of ambient music — this shit gets loud! — as a soundscape for the post-industrial wasteland, it's fine in a numbing sort of way. (Z'ev's pioneering noise work prefigures similar experimental efforts by such metallic heavy hitters as Einstrzende Neubauten and Test Dept.) Review from Trouser Press.
"The Gematria cassette box on Heavy Tapes has proved a wonderful sonic Rosetta Stone for decoding the Leopards’ cosmos. Since listening to those solo transmissions, I can’t help but zone in on the individual strands each member adds to the group sound." From Digitalis.
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65 minutes spread out over 4 sides. Presented as a retrospective, including some previously released select tracks, and some not heard before. The style can vary from track to track, some dominated by small sounds and buzzing loops, to epic and beautiful drone pieces, and electro-acoustic improv fused with noise. Instruments that are audible include saxophone, guitar, and drum machine. Bodyvehicle manages to keep the avant garde classics in mind while still looking forward in a way that few acts can. Presented in a black vinyl album, with color art on blue/gold shimmer vellum cover and color on transparent labels. Tracks listing is printed on blue shimmer paper, which is glued to the inside. Edition of 50 hand stamp #'ed copies on hi-bias chrome tapes. Click here to see more detailed images of the packaging. Description from the label.
The first track(s) is a weird one, starting off with a bit of noodly electric piano, over a thick staticky haze of backgroud whir, segueing quickly into a strange lite prog, like Gentle Giant or Gong maybe, but unlike those bands, Circle's lite prog is buried in effects, the vocals are freaked out and splinter into mad echos, the drums careen wildly into the ether, the whole thing a swirling prog rock acid-drenched freakout. Eventually things settle into that instantly recognizable Circle groove, a throbbing hypnotic krautrocky workout. Then Circle pulls a Skynrd on us by fading out a track on side one and then fading back into it on side two. So awesome. Haven't really noticed anyone pulling that one off in ages.
Most of side two is taken up by a much heavier Circle, with a thick fuzzy serpentine bass line underpinning simple repeated guitar riffs, the drums pounding out a basic, impossible to resist rhythm, everything building in intensity, eventually melting down into a full on low-end freakout, a wall of distortion and splattered drums, super effected wailing vocals all burning bright before drifting back to black. Woah. Review from Aquarius.
Rivers Of and Time-Lag Records are proud to present the Time of Rivers festival, a two-day gathering of some of today’s most talented and intriguing solo instrumentalists. Most of the artists gracing this fest focus on the guitar, respecting the tradition of the steel string while pushing boundaries and exploring possibilities not hitherto heard. While each artist sharing the stage varies stylistically from each other, expect acoustic guitar mastery from almost each and every one (though several acts do, in fact, feature vocalists), with the requisite curveballs thrown in for fortitude. The significance of such a large gathering of top-tier contemporary players should not be lost on anyone paying attention to the modern musical landscape. Time of Rivers is an historic opportunity to witness firsthand this immense pool of talent... in concentrated form. Time of Rivers will be taking place on Saturday, September 8 and Sunday, September 9 of 2007 in Portland, Maine, at both The Soundpost and One Longfellow. Both venues are located in downtown Portland, mere blocks apart, and feature good bars, restaurants, and used record stores nearby -- including Enterprise Records and the new Time-Lag store. The Soundpost allows BYOB, while One Longfellow hosts a cash bar.
A weekend pass to all shows is $20, with separate tickets available for $5 for the afternoon set and $10 for each of the two evening sets. Tickets are currently available by emailing Time-Lag Records at sinewave23@aol.com or by visiting http://www.timeofriversfestival.com/ or timeofriversfestival@gmail.com You can also read more about the festival by visiting Time-Lag Records Additional funding for the Time of Rivers festival was graciously provided by Buckdancer’s Choice Music Co. and Enterprise Records.
ARTISTS PERFORMING: Jack Rose Glenn Jones Micah Blue Smaldone R. Keenan Lawler Fire On Fire (Threads, Cerberus Shoal, Big Blood) Sean Smith Adam Snider Craig Ventresco (“Crumb” Soundtrack) Matt Valentine Christina Carter Ilyas Ahmed Arborea Mike Tamburo Joshua Burkett Marc Orleans (Sunburned Hand of the Man, D. Charles Speer) Eric Carbonara (Soft People) Steve Gunn (GHQ, Magik Markers, Moongang) zaimph (marcia bassett of ghq/double leopards/un/etc) Cursillistas Nonloc (Bright)
Four-track solo cdr album from Marcia Bassett of Double Leopards, Hototogisu, GHQ, Zaika and probably a bunch of other things by now on her own Heavy Blossom label. Bought from a Hototogisu show in 2005, and the vibe is floating but urgent, more similar to Hototogisu than any of the others mentioned above. Out-of-print and very rare - i've not seen this anywhere for a long time. Comes in a flat wraparound sleeve of fried original artwork with textured insert. Description from Ebay.nl.
This EP Is Part Of The Eight-Volume Subscription-Only Purposeful Availment Series. Description from Discogs.
Surface of Eceon (or Surface of Eceyon), is a supergroup of sorts whose music has been described as ambient, space rock. This unit, which has a penchant for the phantasmagoric, includes members of from Landing and Yume Bitsu, two notable psychedelic rock groups. Description from Wikipedia.
What we have here is yet another platter of sonic mayhem issued from the increasingly mighty Ruralfaune camp. This time around, it’s a disc of distraught weed whacking and hardcore-tribal skin desecration from Brooklyn boys Heavy Winged. In three tracks over 45 minutes, this trio of sensitive thugs unleash a massive wall of cathartic heaviness that straddles the line between 700 punches to the ribs and the raw beauty of a black eye. Three dudes (and I say ‘dude’ with utmost respect to the men of Heavy Winged) with only guitar, bass and drums succeed in wrangling a mother load of sonic intensity through sheer improvisation and mastery of instruments that must melt in their hands.
Opening salvo “Concrete Glass” is the superstar here; a 20-minute blowout of ghostly yet intense guitar/bass improvisatory riff and drone with a maddening drum assault courtesy of jackhammer Jed. The fact that all of these songs were improvised live to 4-track leaves me dumbfounded as to how these guys can keep such a high level of intensity going for such a long time. “Concrete Glass” begins and ends with the same brutal force: no slow build-up and no wimpy ending. It’s definitely not for the faint of heart. “Death Instinct” features a bit of a groove, and a taped conversation that invokes the feeling of certain dread. The final track, “Last Forever” is an uplifting romp that is probably the most straightforward thing these guys have ever released. The proverbial weight is lifted from our shoulders as the boys provide us some breathing room.
Unfortunately, I heard through the grapevine that Heavy Winged is no longer, as drummer Jed has moved across the country to Portland, Oregon. It’s a damn shame, but hopefully there’s a ton of archival material waiting to be released. There’s also a heap of other releases available on an assortment of micro-labels worldwide to keep us fixed. That being said, I guess we’ll have to wait a decade or two for a Heavy Winged reunion tour. 9/10 Review from Digitalis.