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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Dust Volume 9, Number 6

Vulture Feather

Perhaps because we left it until the very end of the month, we ended up with a truly massive collection of short reviews this time. Bill Meyer got especially busy with nine entries this time, but lots of writers did more than two, and a few who rarely participate made an exception for June. It’s a diverse collection of musical artists, jazz, metal, folk, pop and indie, something for everyone. Have at it, and enjoy. Contributors include Bill Meyer, Patrick Masterson, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ray Garraty, Ian Mathers, Bryon Hayes, Jim Marks, Christian Carey and Tim Clarke.

Tim Berne / Hank Roberts / Aurora Nealand — Oceans And (Intakt)

Oceans And by TIM BERNE - HANK ROBERTS - AURORA NEALAND

Forty-four years separate the release of Tim Berne’s first LP, The Five Year Plan, and this uncategorizable trio recording. The alto saxophonist has never been shy about mixing classical sounds and shapes into elbows-out jazz pieces of often-epic link, but he’s never done anything quite like Oceans And. One distinguishing factor is the ensemble’s line-up, which includes Hank Roberts on cello and Aurora Nealand on clarinet, accordion and generally wordless voice. These are players who can both inhabit genres and shuttle between them; they also do honor to the specifically scripted progress and illusorily orchestral arrangements of Berne’s elongated, reflective compositions. In particular, Nealand’s squeezebox delivers both the immensity and complexity of a full string section.

Bill Meyer

Blondshell — “Charm You” (Grand Jury)

Charm You (Blondshell Version) by Blondshell

Samia’s big year on the back of January’s bedroom indie staple Honey is about to get a second wind as she’s coaxed artists to cover her songs again, this time for a follow-up singles series called, imaginatively, Honey Reimagined. Maya Hawke, Hovvdy and Ruston Kelly are among the first names due up, but perhaps the biggest of them is another 2023 breakthrough artist: Sabrina Teitelbaum, aka, Blondshell. Teitelbaum’s touch here is pretty light as far as the source material goes, though she sounds a lot less vulnerable than Samia’s original — not just because of her delivery and the subtle addition of backing vocals in spots, but also because she’s plugged the six-string in and has heavier-hitting floor toms. Samia’s raw honesty and unadorned accompaniment is a big reason for her appeal, but even fans of the original will find something to love in a cover that does just enough to merit note.

Patrick Masterson

Devon Church — Strange Strangers (felte)

Strange Strangers by Devon Church

“Slouching Towards Bethlehem” nestles in your ear like a paranoiac whisper, soft but surreal, minimalist but also swelling with strings and gospel choirs. Devon Church murmurs baroque poetry about the end of world, matter of fact, mostly, but with a tinge of wonder. “Surely stranger things have happened,” he confides in the song’s understated chorus, as if he’s trying to make sense of it all on the fly. Strange Strangers is the second solo album from this Brooklyn based songwriter, a hollow-voiced devotee of Leonard Cohen who once made up half of ExitMusic. His songs are beautifully made, pillowy with artful arrangements, but even so very pure and simple. The wordplay is, similarly, plain spoken but twisted. “Jesus was a genius,” croons Church slyly, “but I prefer his early stuff,” and sure, don’t we all? And his voice is exceptional, with the haunted, gothy depths that would make even a laundry list sound apocalyptic. Fans of Mark Lanegan, Duke Garwood and (of course) Leonard Cohen, take note.

Jennifer Kelly

Cut Trio — Pelletron / Dynamitron (Edition Friforma / Inexhaustible Editions)

Pelletron / Dynamitron by CUT Trio: Tanja Feichtmair / Cene Resnik / Urban Kušar

I believe it’s Evan Parker who acknowledged that while free improvisation didn’t exactly change the world, a network has emerged and endured of people who practice it where none existed before. If this album is representative of what happens in Slovenia, the Balkans are doing quite all right in that regard. This trio, which comprises drummer Urban Kušar and saxophonists Tanja Fechtmair and Cene Resnik, doesn’t propose a new concept, but it does what it does exceedingly well. The horns prod and challenge, ceaselessly pressing forward but forever ready to feint and jab; they’re immaculately light on their feet, but heavy enough to make it all feel real. Kušar is an emphatic ornamenter, and a source of focused but never overwhelming energy. While the chances are slight that either they or I will be in each other’s towns anytime soon, if it happened, I’d be there.

Bill Meyer

Erik Friedlander, Ava Mendoza, Stomu Takeishi and Diego Espinosa—She Sees (Skipstone)

Jazz cellist Erik Friedlander meets up with his Sentinel ensemble—guitarist Ava Mendoza, percussionist Diego Espinosa and the bass player Stomu Takeishi—for a genre-blurring romp. Chin-strokers keep out. These 10 compositions are pure fun, whether you start with the swaggering roots-blues of “Baskets, Biscuits, Rain,” the rock-propulsive “Blink” or the simmering groove of “Heatwave.” The cello is, naturally, front and center, leading melodically with clear, vibrant tones, but all other instruments get their spot. Newly added bass player Takeishi sounds particularly fine interlacing plucked lines with Friedlander in the meditative spaces of “Summit,” while Mendoza lances rambling “Ache, Air,” with shocked jolts of guitar rock dissonance. The drums are also very fine, though not in-your-face; these songs swing with easy rhythm. I like gypsy reeling “Sliding,” maybe the best, though this album is a blast all the way through. I thought it might be an “eat your vegetables” kind of good, but it’s a sundae with a cherry on it.

Jennifer Kelly

Gaika — “Lady (Feat. Bbymutha)” (Big Dada)

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Coming off the War Island OST that soundtracked a room at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts in 2022, “perennial internationalist” Gaika returns with a new song on a personal note ahead of his Big Dada debut Drift in September. We covered him some years ago and said then that “a claustrophobic line runs through his production work,” and nothing’s changed his mood in the years since Security; it’s just that now it feels like the world has started to catch up with him. Part of this is because Yves Tumor’s similar David Bowie/Marilyn Manson/TV on the Radio approach to postmodern pop music has popped open an avenue of sound artists like Gaika and Le1f had already been exploring alongside them, and Drift will likely feel familiar to those already on board with such sonics. The trip-hop pace of “Lady” features strung out guitar flourishes and a few percussion fills as delivered by Kidä (from, yes, Yves Tumor), Azekel (Gorillaz) and Max Winter, and as a love letter to a partner, it sure sounds sinister. A promising shot across the bow to anyone that might’ve forgotten he was still out here putting in the good work.

Patrick Masterson

Geld — Currency // Castration (Relapse Records)

Currency // Castration by GELD

Geld doubles down on the groin-clenching characteristics of their band name with the title of this new LP, Currency // Castration. Yipes. Not sure if all the emasculating terminology is ironically intended, but there’s a strongly macho vibe running through Geld’s music. It’s hardcore from Oz, after all. A fair amount of critical chatter about the band stresses the ostensibly “psychedelic” properties of the music, and that was true, to some degree, of Beyond the Floor, the band’s 2020 LP (though for more effective recent demonstrations of what happens when the punks take some acid, see Glittering Insects or that amazing Oily Boys record). Geld’s move to Relapse Records has come with an intensification of big rawk sounds. See “Clock Keeps Crawling,” “Fog of War” and “Hanging from a Rope,” which evoke long-haired thrash as much as the metal-edged hardcore records of the late 1980s. This reviewer likes it when Geld plays fast and feral: “Cut You Down” and “Success” don’t seek to innovate, and the songs succeed by keeping things simple, snarling and frantic. The guitar solo in “Success” has some appealing shreddy intensity, like Dimebag Darrell in an especially hostile state of mind — not a dude who was ever interested in neutering his sound. If you’re going to strut, might as well do it like Darrell. If you can.

Jonathan Shaw

Grindhard E, Rio Da Yung OG, RMC Mike — Ed, Edd n Eddy (Grindhard 4 Money)

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These Flint rappers worked in twos before, but this is the first time they’ve recorded as a trio. It’s quite chaotic and kind of drifts along, perhaps because it didn’t have a clear structure in the first place. Just leftover studio sessions, late-night freestyles slapped together, clearly with no pretensions to be anything more. Only the final track “Heads,” with Louie Ray as a guest, has something resembling the usual verse-chorus structure. And it is the best among six songs, with RMC Mike and Grindhard E coming up with a memorable chorus and Rio and Louie Ray providing funny verses on a switched beat.

Ray Garraty

Jean Luc Guionnet — Dyslexic Harp (Deciphered In The Dark) (Amgen)

DYSLEXIC HARP (DECIPHERED IN THE DARK) by Jean-Luc Guionnet

Dyslexic Harp is a test of memory and mettle. The piece, which was composed by Jean Luc Guionnet for harpist Rhodri Davies, is not a set of notes on staff paper but a set of rules. In short, the musician must sit in darkness so absolute that they cannot see their instrument and, using both hands, play all the possible pitches on the harp. When they make an error, they must play a specific pitch that signals that an error has occurred and then resume. There’s more — a lot more — but that’s enough to give a listener the idea of the sort of memory and concentration that a performer must bring to the task at hand. So, what one hears is a struggle to remember and recover rendered as sound, in which the moments of silence feel more tension-fraught than the purposeful sequences of known notes. Davies’ performance is by turns confident and hesitant, and the spacious recording puts the listener right in the room with him.

Bill Meyer

Hatred Surge — Demo 2004 (Iron Lung)

Demo 2004 (LUNGS-246) by HATRED SURGE

It may take you longer to read this brief review than it will to listen through Demo 2004, a sorta-significant document of heavy music — five songs in three minutes from the salad days of Hatred Surge (which may be the purest name ever devised for the super aggro sort of noise the band has made). Since churning out these formative sounds nearly 20 years ago, the band has made some terrific grind and powerviolence records, also experimenting in death metal and harsh noise. On later recordings, it would be hard to overstate the strong creative productivity of Chris Ulsh, the guitarist and drummer who has cut a merciless path through the 21st Century with a number of great bands, including Mammoth Grinder, Power Trip and (of course) Hatred Surge. For this one, Alex Hughes played everything. This reissued demo is likely most appealing to the historically minded and to collectors. But even in their raw, unproduced forms, tunes like “Invisible Noose” and “Wolf in Idiot’s Clothing” are immediately engaging, forecasting the powerful sounds to come.

Jonathan Shaw

Hypnodrone Ensemble — The Signal in the Signal (Trepanation)

The Signal In The Signal by Hypnodrone Ensemble

It says something about Hypnodrone Ensemble’s last record, 2020’s Gets Polyamorous, that this one feels pretty stripped down in comparison. Boasting a mere six participants (including three drummers) vs. that album’s 15 (six drummers!), The Signal in the Signal still displays plenty of the ensemble’s trademark, well, hypnotic spacerock drone, just more monolithically. The two sides (which split the album title between them) started from a bass/drum pattern that repeats for the whole hour as other members layer guitar, bass, drums, sax, and viola over it. As the sides gradually build towards a swelling storm of noise it’s fascinating to hear how the character of that initial pulse appears to change as its surroundings do. It’s as apt a demonstration of “the more things change the more they stay the same” as you’re likely to find on record.

Ian Mathers

Induced Geometry — S/T (Trouble in Mind)

Induced Geometry by Induced Geometry

Philadelphia duo Writhing Squares produce a prog-inspired psychedelic squall that is pretty darn catchy, so this cassette from bassist Daniel Provenzano is quite a surprise. Stark in comparison to his band’s more visceral sound, Induced Geometry borrows liberally from the oeuvres of Reich and Riley. Short synth patterns build upon each other until they become hypnotic geometric structures, with ever-shifting vertices. The complex and evolving shapes are luminescent, producing a strange aura that seems to morph with a deepening textural quality. There’s a warmth here that belies his initial intent with these songs, which was to create a plain, characterless music. Instead, Provenzano has produced an elegant series of synth tapestries that aren’t necessarily lush but are pleasing to behold.

Bryon Hayes

Aaron Leaney featuring Guy Thouin — Lockdown (Astral Spirits)

Lockdown by Aaron Leaney feat. Guy Thouin

The Astral Spirits release schedule is sufficiently full-on to tempt a body to skip over a title every now and then. If you’re considering such a move, Lockdown might not be the one to pass by. The title tells you when this Montreal duo made their record (at Hotel2tango, if you’re keeping score), but not much else. It turns out that Guy Thouin is a first-generation Canadian free jazzer, on board since the late 1960s. Aaron Leaney, who is much younger, contributes husky but nimble alto and tenor sax melodies, and also plays enough flutes and percussion that it’s tempting to pull the phrase “little instruments” out of your bag. Leave it there; this is more Interstellar Space meets Babi than AACM in sound, albeit not as heavy and full-on as such comparisons might imply. Instead, there’s a floating quality to this music that’s easy to hang with.

Bill Meyer

Fred Lonberg-Holm & Tim Daisy — Current 23 (Relay)

Fred Lonberg-Holm / Tim Daisy "Current 23" (relay 034) by Tim Daisy, Fred Lonberg-Holm

Cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm and drummer Tim Daisy have been recurring partners in improvisation for over two decades, dating back to a time when they both lived in Chicago and they were in a couple of the same combos led by Ken Vandermark. Residence and work locations change, but they still make it a point to play together at least once a year, world health catastrophes permitting. The title of this recording, which was made while Lonberg-Holm was back in town for the Catalytic Sound Festival, suggests that it is a report — “This is how it is at the start of 2023.” At the moment, Daisy seems especially interested in using dynamic aggregations of small and varied sounds to create open fields of possibility. Turn up the music, and you’ll hear tiny strikes and rustles amid his brisk, ever-changing drum kit-work. Lonberg-Holm alternates between acoustic and amplified, electronically set-ups, but either way, he presses the boundaries of convention and instrumental potential. Daisy proves the perfect accompanist for his forays, forever expanding the perimeter in ways that frame and support Lonberg-Holm, but never limit him. Two notes: James Falzone’s long but extremely edifying liner note on the record’s Bandcamp page are well worth reading. And fans of physical products should be aware that this album, unlike other recent Relay releases, is a commercial CDR, not a glass-mastered CD.

Bill Meyer

Andrea Neumann — elletseuef (Thanatosis)

elletsreuef by Andrea Neumann

People who make the transition from classical music to various forms of improvisation sometimes talk about having to divest themselves of various forms of acquired baggage. Few have done so quite as literally as Andrea Neumann, who long ago got rid of the keys and the big, boxy parts of the piano in order to concentrate on the sonic potentialities of the rack of strings inside. She sounds said strings with bows and kitchen implements, and magnifies and distorts them electronically. Elletseuef, a solo performance from 2021, is particularly worthy of attention because she tends to record in collaborative settings. While there are passages whose patient accretion of details brings to mind Keith Rowe’s similarly re-evaluative guitar playing, it’s the quasi-industrial bursts of electricity, and her expert shifts between loudness and silence, that command attention.

Bill Meyer

Night Gestalt — Staring Light (Bigo & Twigetti)

Staring Light by Night Gestalt

Swedish musician Olof Cornéer’s latest release as Night Gestalt takes all the finest qualities of his last album, Thousand Year Waves (covered in last March’s Dust) and distills them into a simpler, more resonant musical statement. The central elements are closely mic’d piano, where the creak of the wood and the swing of the hammers are as much of a sound source as the vibration of the strings, plus some glassy, nocturnal synth tones. There’s plenty of space in the mix, allowing all elements to individually shine, reverberate and fade away. Nothing gets cluttered or sounds out of place. Pop this one on headphones at night, venture outside into the chill air for some star watching and you’ve got your perfect soundtrack: pin pricks of light in an inky expanse, with sufficient breathing room for the mind to wander.

Tim Clarke

Maria Norseth Garli — Morning Light (Sonic Transmissions)

Morning Light by Maria Norseth Garli

Order and entropy do battle for Maria Norseth Garli’s allegiance on Morning Light, which is the Trondheim, Norway-based singer/guitarist’s third LP. You don’t get a Master’s degree from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology in that town without sharing some practice rooms and student combos with free improvisers, and her work evidences an appreciation for dynamic and textural extremities that you don’t usually find in the work of self-confessed singer-songwriters. But it’s not really a fair fight; Garli is too committed to melody and the song form to let things fall apart. Instead, heavy guitar chords (including a few played by the undeniably industrious Nicolas Leirtrø of I Like To Sleep, Dafnie and TEIP Trio) fall like toppling timber into the moody meadows of Garli’s spare, image-oriented writing. It might sound dangerous, but nothing ever lands on her voice. Still, the combination intrigues.

Bill Meyer

Palace, AmaneOG — Drive 2 EP (Noir)

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It was one of those fortuitous occurrences that remind you the algorithms really are listening: There I was on the eve of the hundredth running of the 24 Hours of Le Mans — arguably the most famous motor race aside from maybe the Indianapolis 500 or the Monaco Grand Prix — casually searching for some distraction amid a final push on this work project I had going on when, lo, what should appear in my sidebar but Polish producer Palace’s “Drive” and what looked to be a scene from Lost Highway. What I clicked into and found was an eerie night cruiser akin to Kassem Mosse’s early Workshop releases set to actual onboard footage of a Porsche at Le Mans from 2015. The synchronicity was unsettling. AmaneOG goes uncredited in the above video because it’s not from the unhelpfully named Noir Records, which put out the Drive 2 EP upon which this song appears, but I assure you that won’t matter when you hear it. That the Porsche in question was a 919 and not a 909 feels like the only missed opportunity here.

Patrick Masterson

Nathan Alexander Pape — coat after coat (The Jewel Garden)

coat after coat by Nathan Alexander Pape

This CDR (all respect to Jewel Garden for correctly identifying it on the label’s Bandcamp page; not everyone is so honest these days) documents the solo work of Tulsa, Oklahoma-based guitarist Nathan Alexander Pape. Sometimes titles provide clues, and coat after coat provides a few. If your thoughts drift to paint, it invites you to think of layers, which makes sense of music that is the product of a multi-staged signal chain comprising ideas, fingers, steel-stringed acoustic guitar, amplifier, an overwhelmed recording microphone and an out-of-town space that allows Pape to turn it up and get just the right in-the-red sound. If your associations are more attire-oriented, the direction is towards a series of outer garments. On successive tracks, Pape applies his imagination to Derek Bailey-descended harmonics play, seething timbres and minimalist strategies. And the choice to opt for completely lowercase titling suggests that this stuff is not meant to be momentous. One supposes that, instead of heading for a studio or navigating to some distant city for a gig, Pape has made music-making a part of everyday life.

Bill Meyer

Pylar — Límyte (Cavsas/Cyclic Law)

Límyte by PYLAR

Andalusian doom-drone occultists Pylar are back with another slab of cosmically scaled, weirdo bum-outs that are psychedelic and soul-consuming in equal measure. Límyte isn’t quite as flat-out bananas as Abysmos, the band’s previous LP, but what it lacks in unhinged intensity it gains in relative momentum. This time around, the collective — allegedly formed by musicians in the orbits of metal bands Teitanblood and Orthodox — foregrounds a conventional trap set in its rhythmic structures and even experiments with traditional metal riffage, here and there; see especially “Ruptura-afuera.” Chanted clean vocals and moaning modular synths come and go in extended waves. The songs are still very long, and the rotational suck into a maelstrom of unhappily dense, strangely sticky textures is very strong. This reviewer likes it when the atmosphere gets spacy and the vibe is slightly more playful. The title song could be a soundtrack for a trip into a haunted house decorated by Dali, or it could just be the consequence of those suspect-looking mushrooms you ate an hour ago. Aficionados of music like this might say: Why choose?

Jonathan Shaw

Queens of the Stone Age — In Times New Roman (Matador)

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Longtime listener, first time caller. I’ve been digging QOTSA, on the sly, since Rated R. The last two albums got by me, but this one has the rupturing power, the slithery chill that has always defined this band. The sheer churn and roar of “Paper Machete” is what you come for, all roiling bass, thunderous drums, guitars yelping in electro-shocked outrage, and Josh Homme’s weirdly mannered, baroque falsetto. It’s a gas and a pose, but it also rocks you right to the ground. This is said to be QOTSA’s “angry” album, but man, I don’t know. Did you listen to Songs for the Deaf? They’ve always been pretty pissed. “Emotional Sickness” rides jabbing hook, as precise and violent as a boxer’s punch, then spirals out in swirling, psychedelic melody; QOTSA picks up your machine-gun riddled body and cradles it in gentle currents of song, and then hits you again. It’s obliterating, and smooth, like the best kind of whiskey, and it may remind you of all the records you don’t listen to anymore. At least it did for me. The girl who loved Van Halen 2, the women who went to school pickup with “Monsters of the Parasol” drifting through her head, the old lady who wants to listen to In Times New Roman one more time: all the same person. Hail the rock.

Jennifer Kelly

The Soft Moon — Exister (Sacred Bones)

Exister by The Soft Moon

On June 23rd, Soft Moon dropped remixes for the 2022 LP Exister. It seemed like an opportune time to revisit the 2022 recording. Mostly a one-man show, Luis Vasquez handles the instruments and vocals. Even by the standards of The Soft Moon’s previous polyglot assemblages, Exister is a versatile affair. The singing is post-punk with a tinge of goth. The music itself encompasses these styles, with the addition of industrial electronica to the mix. “Sad Song” and “Answers” lean in to Vasquez’s haunting snarl. “Become the Lies” is altogether different, with a high-lying vocal and an alt-rock hook. There are guest artists, the rapper Fish Narc on “Him” and Alli Logout, who adds scary screams to “Unforgiven.” The title track arrives last, and its edgy yet atmospheric arrangement is well worth the wait.

Christian Carey

Star City Survivor — Orbital Decay (Soul City)

orbital decay by star city survivor

Star City Survivor is an electric guitar and drums duo from Chapel Hill, NC. The name of this album of spontaneously co-created, open-ended encounters suggests an eventual crash to earth, but the sounds they make are sufficiently gravity-defying to avoid any shattering impacts. Instead, Phil Venerable plays inward-turning, fuzz-encrusted lines that alternately surf atop or surge straight through Tommy Jackson’s kickdrum-heavy attack. A historical challenge of jazz-rock summits is the tendency of the musicians to neglect to rock, but that is not the case here.

Bill Meyer

Rowland Taylor — A Righteous Man Falling Down Before the Wicked Is a Troubled Fountain (self-released)

a righteous man falling down before the wicked is a troubled fountain by Rowland Taylor

Virginia-based Rowland Taylor has released a number of singles and EPs of Takoma school guitar music over the past few years. The latest release is the longest yet, nearly half an hour, and it hits all of the sweet spots, from Rose-worthy slide (“boss card,” “hold fast”) to lengthy excursions (“krakow lament,” “the seagull”) and a banjo piece reminiscent of Glenn Jones (“i lost my way home last night”). Taylor can play very fast and forcefully when he wants to, but A Righteous Man is a bit less frenetic than some of his earlier work and even ends with a neat Eastern European-sounding fiddle piece swathed in studio effects. This recording also whets the appetite for a full-length album in which Taylor can develop such ideas more fully and indulge in the kind of experimentation on display in that final track.

Jim Marks

Vasco Trilla — A Constellation of Anomaly (Thanatosis)

A Constellation of Anomaly by Vasco Trilla

Percussionists commonly find themselves either keeping time or unleashing frenetic salvos of beats. Vasco Trilla obliterates both notions, choosing instead to explore and manipulate resonance. Every surface is a potential instrument for him to push to the extremes of its sound-making potential. On A Constellation of Anomaly, he produces a vast array of textures with an eclectic set of resonant bodies. Drones and groans sustain such that they hover like contrails in the air. Metallic shrieks slice through the atmosphere, leaving a vacuum that Trilla fills with microscopic sound particles. Not every track is wildly experimental: the two pieces called “The Shaking Hand That Leaves a Mark” find Trilla straying into territory that borders on melodic. These pleasing sonorities are a rare glimpse into the lighter side of his personality. He’s happier exploring the uncanny sound world of a timpani filled with wind-up music boxes or crafting a cloud of resonance with bowed bells. In his mind, the permutations and combinations of sound-making surfaces are limitless. Merely producing beats is out of the question.

Bryon Hayes

Vulture Feather — Liminal Fields (felte)

Liminal Fields by Vulture Feather

Back in the 2000s, Baltimore post-punk band Wilderness released a handful of decent records then disappeared off the radar. Now, nearly 20 years later, Wilderness guitarist Colin McCann and bassist Brian Gossman are based in California and have regrouped with a new drummer, Eric Fiscus, to form Vulture Feather. The two bands have similar yet distinct DNA, clearly derived from the same lineage but evolving with their own character. Wilderness frontman James Johnson was a more declarative, center-stage singer, repeating his oblique, mantra-like phrases over and over. McCann takes vocal duties here, weaving his higher, wavering voice in the midst of the guitars and bass more discreetly, singing along with the music rather than standing atop it. McCann’s guitar lines are as chiming and anthemic as they were back in the Wilderness days, but more repetitive and driving, sounding as if they’ve sparked aflame in the jam room and the songs took shape from there. The result is an economical, tightly written and energetically performed record that proves there’s a worthwhile next phase underway.

Tim Clarke

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Dust Volume 7, Number 1

Phicus

Another year, another volume of Dust, which means we’ve been collecting these brief, pithy reviews for seven years now. This time around, we sample the usual cornucopia of genres, from ambient death metal to Iranian punk to noisy skree to shoegaze-y lookalikes to polyglot global dj grooves, with the usual stops in free jazz and improvisatory environments. Contributors include Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer, Ian Mathers, Jennifer Kelly, Bryon Hayes and Andrew Forell.

Aberration — S/T (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Aberration by Aberration

Not sure what “ambient dark death metal” is, but recently formed band Aberration claims to play it. The “ambient” bit may be a nod to the drone that sometimes resonates deep in the mix of the three songs on this 10” EP. Other than that, Aberration’s music sounds pretty typical of the death metal created by bands on the primitive, murky end of the genre’s sonic continuum. Some of the musicians are in other, more established projects: John Hancock plays guitar and provides vocals in the widely admired death doom outfit Void Rot, Dylan Haseltine plays bass and sings for the blackened death metal (mostly black metal, it seems to me) band the Suffering Hour. Those bands have much more specific musical identities, and their intense records express the players’ clarity of vision. Perhaps Aberration wants to live up to its name, presenting something unprecedented, an unpleasant mutation — and hence, perhaps, the decision to release the vinyl version of the EP on an unusual format. That’s sort of fun. The music is not. But that’s nothing new in death metal, and to be honest, these songs don’t warrant the announcement of a new sub-subgenre. They are just fine, if you like your death metal atavistic, cavernous and claustrophobic. But an aberration? Nope. Maybe a weeping pustule. In death metal, isn’t that enough?

Jonathan Shaw

Steve Baczkowski / Bill Nace — Success (Notice)

Success by Steve Baczkowski/Bill Nace

Dallas is synonymous with a sort of excess that begs to be perceived as success. Old TV shows, memories of oil, nation-splitting politics, you name it; it’s bigger, badder and gaudier in Dallas. A tape of a free improv show that was recorded at a Dallas bookstore might not fit your preconceptions of longhorn accomplishment, but go ahead and tell that to Steve Baczkowski and Bill Nace. If they answer at all, they might let you gently know that it’s your problem, and then pop in the tape. This 42-minute-long recording will hook you by the belt, take off into the stratosphere, drag you through an asteroid belt, and deposit your cindered remains by the bar (yes, The Wild Detectives serves liquor as well as literature) before the tape reverses. That still leaves plenty of time savor the duo’s mastery of transition, from stout-sounded duel to fading filigree framing the sounds of the cash register opening and closing. Yeah, that’s the sound of Success.

Bill Meyer

Aidan Baker — There/Not There (Consouling Sounds)

There / Not There by Aidan Baker

Unsurprisingly, 2020 doesn’t seem to have slowed Aidan Baker (Nadja, WERL, Caudal, Hypnodrone Ensemble, and many more) much at all. Of the many records released under his own name, the recent There/Not There stands out for being a surprisingly accessible entry to his personal metal/drone/ambient/shoegaze melting pot, even given the opening 20-minute title track. “There/Not There” marries some whispery shoegaze songwriting with a beautifully monomaniacal repeating drone. Over the course of the track, it does slowly transition until we get to a crescendo as intense as any Baker’s done, but even more so than normal the unwary might get lured in by the low key, blissful opening and the frog-boiling slowness with which the tension is ratcheted up. One of the other two tracks is really just a way to section off the real noise-squall coda of “There/Not There” but then “Paris (Lost)” offers a more concise, quieter storm version of the same framework. Like a lot of Baker’s work, it sneaks up on you, but when it hits it hits hard.

Ian Mathers

Ballrogg — Rolling Ball (Clean Feed)

Rolling Ball by Ballrogg

The Scandinavian combo Ballrogg changes direction once again on Rolling Ball. Founders Klaus Ellerhusen Holm (clarinets) and Roger Arntzen (bass), who are both Norwegian, started out reinvestigating the folksy jazz vibe of Jimmy Giuffre, then sought out a new home on the range by adding slide guitarist Ivar Grydeland. Now, incoming Swedish guitarist David Stackenäs and his rack of pedals have redirected the trio into a technology-enhanced future. Not the sci-fi imaginings of Sun Ra, but a future more like 2019 might look if you stepped straight into it from 1959; in some ways quite familiar, but in others, different enough to be disorienting. The Giuffre-esque and country elements are still there, but when punctuated by minimalist-influenced compositional flourishes and illuminated by the diffuse, digital flicker of Stackenäs’ effects, it suddenly becomes clear that those Viking cowboys didn’t put a key in the ignition before they drove out towards the horizon.

Bill Meyer

Bipolar — S-T (Slovenly)

BIPOLAR "Bipolar" EP by Bipolar

For a band named Bipolar, with a single called “Depression,” this EP sure is a lot of fun. Two of the band’s mainstays are apparently Iranian emigres, now seeking the more permissive environs of Brooklyn. (The only hint of that exotic origin is in “Sad Clown,” where there might be an imam exhorting the faithful, but who knows? I don’t speak Farsi.) One of them sometimes plays keyboard with the Spits, and in fact, the Spits are a pretty good reference point for these hard, fast, bratty songs. “Virus” pummels a relentless pogo beat, the one-two of the drums rocketing ever faster, the shouted all-hands chorus in tumbling sync. “Fist Fight” is even more exhilarating, with its blaring, roiling guitar blast and adrenaline-raising refrain, “It’s a fist fight. It’s a fist fight.” There’s nothing profound here, but it’s a good time.

Jennifer Kelly

Bosq — Y Su Descarga Internacional (Bacalao)

Y Su Descarga Internacional by bosq

Bosq, a globally omnivorous DJ formerly based in Boston (real name Benjamin Woods), recently moved to Colombia, perhaps to get closer to his source material. The Colombian influence is certainly strong on Y Su Descarga Internacional, which opens with a scorching “Rumbero,” featuring the Afro-Colombian star Nidia Góngora. Dorkas, another singer from Colombia, follows immediately with “Mi Arizal,” an intricately textured dance track which erupts with fiery bursts of Latin brass. Justo Valdez, whose Son Palenque did much to define the Cartagena sound in the 1960s and 1970s, drops by for two of the album’s best tracks: a rollicking “Mambue” and the hand-drummed, bass-thumping hand-clapping “Onombitamba.” And yet the album doesn’t just document the singers and artists of Bosq’s new home. Kaleta, a Benin-based Afro-beat artist who has worked with Fela Kuti and Eqypt 80, takes the lead on funk psych “Omo Iya” and the stirring, horn squalling “Wake Up.” Bosq knows how to pick collaborators, and there’s not a dud track on the disc, but wouldn’t almost anyone sound like a genius in company like this?

Jennifer Kelly

Deuce Avenue — Death of Natural Light (Crash Symbols)

Death of Natural Light by Deuce Avenue

If you are a lurker of the cassette underground, you may remember a West Virginian outfit called Social Junk appearing in the mid-aughts. This duo offered up crackling melodic scree, blown out murky fuzz and semi-coherent mouth sounds like an industrialized version of The Dead C or a new wave outfit newly recovered post-coma. Noah Anthony, the male half of Social Junk, has since moved on to releasing solo material under both the Profligate and Deuce Avenue monikers. The latter is the more recent project and is quite minimal compared to his other work. With Death of Natural Light, there are no cold wave rhythms and vocals à la Profligate. What’s left is a dank, steamy vapor. Contrails of filter-swept hiss slowly develop into a more enigmatic and darkened tonal palette. The ominousness continues to thread its way into the second half of the cassette, fittingly entitled “Blood Turns Black”. Loops of nocturnal jump scare fodder coalesce into rhythms that provide skeletal forms to foil the menace of the more oblique textures. Those who enjoy their horror in slow motion will latch onto these sounds like a facehugger to… …well, a person’s face.

Bryon Hayes

Fleeting Joys — Despondent Transponder (Only Forever)

Despondent Transponder by Fleeting Joys

Let’s start with the obvious. Despondent Transponder sounds a lot like MBV’s Loveless, with wild sirening guitar tones, waves of noise-y feedback, thunderous drumming and sweet, fragile lyrics engulfed in the swirl. “Go and Come Back” has the same fluttering guitar melody as the great “To Here Knows When,” while “Satellite” blusters with the dopplering, dissonance-addled grandeur as “I Only Said.” Fleeting Joys — that was Rorika Loring singing and playing bass and John Loring on guitar and vox — never made any secret of their love of MBV. Despondent Transponder was an homage right from the start. The album was the debut for this Sacramento-based twosome, released originally in 2006, then as now on Loring’s own Only Forever label. And yet, while no one will ever top Loveless, from an ear-bleeding psych-noise daydream perspective, this one has its own particular beauties. “Magnificent Oblivion” surrounds a lullaby-pure melody with a reeling, caterwauling mesh of inchoate sound; guitar notes stream off in bending contrails as Rorika murmurs sweetly into the mic. “Patron Saint” lurches to motion on a Frankenstein bass riff, but softens the brutality with calming washes of vocal hypnotism. It’s all super beautiful and, anyway, even after the reunion, there aren’t nearly enough MBV albums. Plenty of room for a band that sounds so similar.

Jennifer Kelly

Get Smart! — Oh Yeah No (Capitol Punishment)

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Push play: driving staccato guitars, rubbery bass lines, lockstep drums, declamatory vocals and it’s the mid-1980s all over again. Lawrence, Kansas trio Get Smart! — Marcus Koch (guitar, vocals) Lisa Wertman Crowe (bass, vocals) and Frank Loose (drums, vocals) — have that timeless mixture of English post-punk and American indie down. Then see that 33 years after it was recorded Oh Yeah No finally sees the light of day on the back of the band’s reformation. Time and the cycle of musical fashions are fickle beasts and in this case the wheels turn in Get Smart!’s favor. They sound both of their time and thoroughly in tune with the steady flow of recent guitar bands mining this lode of choppy, melodic indie. The Embarrassment, Big Dipper, Pylon and other regional heroes are being rediscovered and reassessed and, here’s the thing, Get Smart! are really good at what they do and this six-track EP is both a testament and, hopefully, a taste of what the future may hold.

Andrew Forell

Rich Halley / Matthew Shipp / Michael Bisio / Newman Taylor Baker — The Shape Of Things (Pine Eagle Records)

The Shape of Things by Rich Halley

If the bolt strikes twice, it’s probably not lightning. The Shape Of Things is the second successful meeting between Rich Halley, a tenor saxophonist based in the Pacific Northwest, and the current members of the Matthew Shipp Trio. The album is, like its predecessor Terra Incognita, a congress of strengths. Shipp’s trio follows the pianist easily into one of his classic roles, that of supplying sonic foundation and harmonic framing for an extroverted saxophonist. Halley fights right into the spaces that they create, rippling easily over the trio’s turbulent surfaces. He works within the broader jazz tradition, sounding equally at home patiently sketching a lyrical line and blowing raw, acidic cries. This ensemble plays achieves a state of centered abandon which feels wilder than Halley’s recordings with West Coast musicians, but fits right into the spectrum that contains Shipp’s work with the David S. Ware Quartet and Ivo Perelman.

Bill Meyer

A Hutchie — Potion Shop (Cosmic Resonance)

Potion Shop by A Hutchie

Hamilton, Ontario-based producer Aaron Hutchinson has his fingers in many pies. He nimbly dispenses free jazz, hip hop, outré pop and even more enigmatic forms of song. Potion Shop is his debut LP, although he is a long-time fixture in the Steeltown music scene. This immersion in a small, tight-knit domain has led to many fruitful collaborations. Hutchinson features many of his compatriots in these recordings, in which his music snakes alongside their vocal stylings. Mutant 21st century soul singlehandedly played by Hutchinson is a foil for the slam poetry of Benita Whyte and Ian Keteku, the latter of which the producer warps with a vocoder. Sarah Good’s vocals morph into those of a ghostly chanteuse among smeared strings, while the soulful Blankie swims beneath narcotic R&B beats. When imbibing these intoxicating concoctions, you will be immersed in a warmth of familiarity tempered with the unsettling yet exciting sense of the uncanny. Like absinthe, the disquiet is illusory while the intimacy is authentic.

Bryon Hayes

Imha Tarikat — Sternenberster (Prophecy Productions)

STERNENBERSTER by IMHA TARIKAT

Imha Tarikat’s principal member Ruhsuz Cellât (stage name of Kerem Yilmaz) breaks with black metal orthodoxy by musically engaging his family’s Muslim heritage. That’s a provocative move in an artform dominated by glib nihilism, rampant anti-religious sentiment and (somehow sometimes all at the same time) ardent claims of Satanist faith. And that distinction at the symbolic level likely doesn’t come near the intensities of being of Turkish descent, living and recording in Germany, in a scene that flirts (and at its extreme margins actively identifies) with fascism. Beyond those ideological and social dimensions is the music. Imha Tarikat demonstrates facility with tremolo riffs and song forms that twist and snake even as they hammer and pummel. But Cellât’s unusual vocal style cuts against convention’s grain, and it’s immediately apparent as album opener “Ekstase ohne Ende” commences. There’s a lot of grunting and hollering, but rather than contorting his voice, shrieking and croaking in mode of most black metal vocalists, Cellât goes for more straightforward intensity. He often shouts, and the lyrics frequently come in bunches, explosive and punctuated bursts of verbiage, but he makes no attempt to distort the lyrics or his voice. I wish my grasp of German were even halfway close to fluent, in order to report on the lyrics’ thematic content with some coherence — because Cellât clearly wants the words to be heard.

Jonathan Shaw

Jon Irabagon / Mike Pride / Mick Barr / Ava Mendoza — Don’t Hear Nothin’ But The Blues Vol 3 Anatomical Snuffbox (Irrabagast Records)

I Don't Hear Nothin' but the Blues Volume 3: Anatomical Snuffbox by Jon Irabagon

Never mind the blues; if you don’t exercise caution, when you’re done playing this loud-at-any-volume recording, you won’t hear nothin’. The latest installment in tenor saxophonist John Irabagon’s series of one-track, meta-blues recordings starts out with a spray of sound as bracing as Saharan sandstorm, but quickly solidifies into a veritable wall of sound. At the outset, Irabagon and drummer Mike Pride engage in a high-speed dance of charge and countercharge which, if heard without accompaniment, would sit comfortably on the same shelf as your Mars Williams and Mats Gustafsson records. But when you put guitarists Mick Barr and Ava Mendoza on the same stage and tell them both to start shredding, the effect is somewhat akin to putting the pyrotechnic specialists in charge of the circus. Subtlety, dynamics and even the oxygen you breath all disappear as everything catches fire. If any of the participants here have effectively bent your ear, you ought to listen all the way through once. By the time it’s done, you’ll know in your heart whether you ever need to hear it again.

Bill Meyer

John Kolodij — First Fire / At Dawn (Astral Editions)

First Fire • At Dawn by John Kolodij

Where there’s fire, there’s often smoke, and while this tape claims alignment with Hephaestus’ element, it’s more likely to evoke thick clouds. As the capstans turn, the murk of “At Fire” accumulates gradually, filling the room with an increasingly dense atmosphere. By the time you notice flashes of flame, it’s too late. “At Dawn” brings to mind a lesser conflagration — maybe the embers of the previous night’s campfire. John Kolodij (who has, until recently, recorded mainly under the name High Aura’d) pushes his heavily processed guitar sound into the background, where it lurks with a bit of birdsong, and leads with an unamplified banjo and acoustic guitar. Fiddler Anna RG (of Anna & Elizabeth) further bolsters the melody while some sparse percussion played by Sarah Hennies heightens the sense of moment. Once more, a mass of disembodied sound rises up as the piece progresses, but this time the effect is the opposite; instead of getting lost in sound, the listener finds a moment of peace and light.

Bill Meyer

Lytton / Nies / Scott / Wissel — Do They Do Those In Red? (Sound Anatomy)

Do they do those in Red? by Paul Lytton, Joker Nies, Richard Scott, Georg Wissel

“Do they do those in red?” The title may speak to the particular peculiarities of this combo, which is formed from several pre-existing duos, Joker Nies is credited with “electrosapiens,” which seem to be self-constructed electronic instruments, and George Wissel applies various items to his saxophone to modify its sound. Georg Wissel’s synthesizers come with some assembly required, and it would appear that Paul Lytton, best known for playing drum kits and massive percussion assemblages, confines himself in this setting to the stuff he can fit on a tabletop. What, you think your saxophone is prettier because it doesn’t have anything red jammed into a valve?

Moving on to the music, while the sound sources are heavily electronic, the interactive style is rooted in good old-fashioned free improvisation. Lytton’s barrage sounds remarkably similar to what he achieves playing with a full drum kit, and Wissel’s lines may be more fractured, but his alto sound has some of the tonal heft and agility that John Butcher exercises on the tenor. The electronicians’ bristling activity brings to mind a debate between opposite sides of the electrical components aisle at the hardware store, but it’s a lucid one, thoughtfully expressed on both sides.

Bill Meyer

Ikue Mori Satoko Fujii + Natsuki Tamura — Prickly Pear Cactus (Libra)

Prickly Pear Cactus by Ikue Mori, Satoko Fujii, Natsuki Tamura

Pianist Satoko Fujii and trumpeter Natsuki Tamura spent February 2020 touring Europe with their combo Kaze, which they’d augmented with the electronic musician, Ikue Mori. As lockdown wore on, they kept the connection going via Zoom chats between their abodes in Kobe and New York. After Fujii shared her experiences of trying to mic and stream her piano online, Mori suggested that she send some recordings. Mori edited what showed up and added her sounds; Tamura contributed additional elements to nearly half the tracks. Some of them are balanced to sound like live recordings, with Mori’s neon squelches and high-res, bell-like tones gathering and dispelling like real-time reactions. Others feel more overtly constructed, with the piano situated within a maelstrom of sounds like a view of a TV set turned on in a room with a party going on.

Bill Meyer

Phicus — Solid (Astral Spirits)

Solid by Phicus

Phicus is the Barcelona-based assemblage of Ferran Fages (electric guitar), Àlex Reviriego (double bass) and Vasco Trilla (drums). The line-up looks like a power trio, and if you heard them two seconds at a time, you might think that they were. Reviriego and Trilla each play in ways that convey a sense of motion, and Fages’ bent notes and serrated harmonics are just the sort of sounds to cap off a display of guitar heroics. But if you note that each track is named for an element or chemical compound, and that the album is called Solid, you might get a clearer idea of their concerns. This music is all about essential relationships, and its makers are more interested in making things coexist in productive ways than they are in re-enacting rituals borrowed from jazz, fusion or free improvisation. That means that even the sharpest sounds don’t hook you, nor do the fleetest charges carry you away. Phicus isn’t interested in settling for the familiar. But if you’re ready to observe that thing that looks like a duck making sounds that ducks never make, you’ll find plenty to ponder on Solid.

Bill Meyer

Quietus — Volume Five (Ever/Never)

Volume Five by Quietus

Quietus songs unfurl like cream in coffee, spiraling curlicues of light into dark liquid drones amid clanking blocks of percussion. The songs expand in organic ways, picking up purpose in the steady pound of rhythm, strutting even, in a loose-limbed rock-soul-psych way you might recognize from Brian Jonestown Massacre’s “Anemone” or Grinderman’s “I Don’t Need You to Set Me Free,” but quieter, much quieter, and seething with submerged ideas. The words are mumbled, croaked, submerged in surface hum, but when pushed up towards the surface, arresting. “This life can be sunlit hills turned all to their angry sides,” murmurs Quietus proprietor Geoffrey Bankowski in the relatively concise “Reflex of Purpose,” which sprawls anyway, notwithstanding its 2:36 minute duration. The music’s better, though, when it’s allowed to find its slow way forward, unconforming to any pre-existing ideas of how long a pop song should be. I like the closer “Posthemmorrhagic,” the best, as guitars both tortured and prayerful intertwine, and Bankowski breathes slow, moaning poetry into a close mic, and the song revolves in three-time like the last dancer on the floor, not just tonight but forever.

Jennifer Kelly

Ritual Extra — In Luthero (Dinzu Artefacts)

In Luthero by Ritual Extra

In Luthero was performed inside an empty water cistern, and the ensuing reverberations act as microscopic versions of the grander ebb and flow within which French-Finnish trio Ritual Extra operate. Percussionist Julien Chamla’s cymbal scrapes and tom hits form a backdrop of bomb blasts and shrieking, missives from some war-torn locale long since vacated by the populace. Steel structures seem to groan and collapse as they are rattled by percussive ordnance. This bleak setting is given a sense of color by Lauri Hyvärinen’s acoustic guitar. A stew of string scrapes diverges into discrete plucks, which morph into strums. The metronomic chords are enriched as they bounce around the walls of the cistern, folding in on themselves through echo, becoming a mechanical mantra. Tuukka Haapakorpi’s voice rises from the ashes, soaring polysyllabically yet wordlessly. As In Luthero begins to take shape, these vocalizations are almost inhuman: whispers and gurgles that come on in waves. Later, more anthropoid utterances take shape, yet fall just shy of coalescing into a discernable language. Across 24 minutes, Ritual Extra musically narrate the pre-history of humankind, the primordial essence from which everything good — and bad — about us originated.

Bryon Hayes

Subjective Pitch Matching Band — Twenty-One Subjectivities in Six Parts (Remote Works)

Twenty-One Subjectivities in Six Parts by Subjective Pitch Matching Band

Chris Brian Taylor has trod a serpentine path on the journey that culminated in the creation of his first large ensemble electroacoustic composition. His roots are in punk and rave — he still DJs house and techno — but he recently shifted his gaze toward improvised electronics. Rather than stifling his ambition, COVID-19 and the ensuing lockdown encouraged him to think big: he would cast a wide net and compose a piece of music for as many people as he could get to participate. He reached out to friends, relatives, and internet acquaintances to assemble his orchestra, and borrowed the melody and chords from Pet Shop Boys’ “Being Boring” to act as the foundation of the work. Twenty people responded from a variety of musical disciplines, and all agreed to participate remotely. The composer gave each player audio cues to work with and encouraged the performers to respond subjectively. They could either stay true to the pitches provided, harmonize against them, or play ornamentally. Taylor collected the resulting tracks and structured the resulting thirty-minute piece of music based on what the respondents provided. Dense yet graceful, the composition unfolds like a slow-motion blaze. Flames of sonority form a sinuous body from which sparks of discrete sound leap heavenward. There is nary a moment of silence, as Taylor weaves a plethora of long tones together to form an undulating core over which stabs of piano, guitar and percussion materialize momentarily. Naivete didn’t keep Chris Brian Taylor from aiming as high as he could with this piece, and we are the benefactors of this ambition, rewarded with a rich and complex sonic brew to enjoy.

Bryon Hayes

TV Priest — Uppers (Sub Pop)

Uppers by TV Priest

TV Priest works the same corrosive, hyper-verbal furrow as Idles or, in a looser sense, the Sleaford Mods, spatter chanting harsh, literate strings of gutter poetry over a clanking post-punk cadence. The vocalist Charlie Drinkwater snarls and sputters charismatically over the clatter, a brutalist commentator on life and pop culture. The band is sharp and minimalist, drums (Ed Kelland) to the front, guitar (Alex Sprogis) stabbing hard at stripped raw riffs , bass (Nic Bueth) rumbling like mute rage in the back of the bar. And yet, though anger is a primary flavor, these songs surge with triumph as in the wall-shaking cadences of “Press Gang,” the blistering sarcasm of “The Big Curve.” This is a relatively new band, their first and only tour cut short at one gig by the lockdown, but the songs are tight as hell on record and likely to pin you to the back wall live. “Bad news, like buses, comes in twos,” intones Drinkwater on theclearly autobiographical “Journal of a Plague Year” against an irregular post-everything clangor, loose and disdainful and hardly arsed to entertain us; it’s as fitting an anthem as any for our lost 2020. But when band gets moving, as on the chugging, corroscating “Decoration,” it’s unstoppable, a monstrous thing bursting “through to the next round.” Sure, I’ll have another.

Jennifer Kelly

Voice Imitator — Plaza (12XU)

Plaza by Voice Imitator

Voice Imitator, from Melbourne, Australia, rips a hard punk vortex through its songs, ratcheting up the drums to battering ram violence, blistering the guitar sound and scrawling wild metallic vocals over it all, with nods to noisy post-hardcore bands like the Jesus Lizard and McClusky. “A Small Cauliflower” takes things down to a seething, menacing whisper, Mark Groves, the singer, presiding over an uneasy mesh of tamped down dissonance and hustle. “Adult Performer” is faster and more limber, all clicking urgency and sudden bursts of detuned, surging squall. All four members—that’s Per Bystrom, Justin Fuller, Groves and Leon O’Regan—have been in a ton of other bands, and the sounds they make here have the rupturing precision of well-honed violence. If you like Protomartyr but wish it was lots louder and more corrosive, here you go.

Jennifer Kelly

Sam Weinberg / Henry Fraser / Weasel Walter — Grist (Ugexplode)

Grist by Sam Weinberg / Henry Fraser / Weasel Walter

Ornette Coleman once called a record In All Languages; these guys ought call one Any And All Possibilities. Saxophonist Sam Weinberg, bassist Henry Fraser and drummer (this time, anyway) Weasel Walter are scrupulous student of improvisation in all its guises, and they’re ready and able to use what they know. You could call it free jazz, for they certainly know how that stuff works, but they’re under no obligation to swing; that’d be a limit, you see. This music bursts, darts, expands and contracts in a sequence of second by second negotiations of shape and velocity.

Bill Meyer

Chris Weisman — Closer Tuning (Self-Released)

Closer Tuning by Chris Weisman

Chris Weisman is a Brattleboro, VT songwriter, in the general orbit (not a member but seems to know a bunch of them) of the late, great Feathers and one-time member of Kyle Thomas’ other outfit, the fuzz pop band Happy Birthday. A shunner of all sorts of limelight, he is nonetheless very productive. Closer Tuning is one of five albums he home recorded and released in 2020. You might expect a certain lo-fi folksiness and there is, indeed, a dream-y, soft focus rusticity to the tangled acoustic guitar jangle, the blunt down home-i-ness lyrics. And yet, there’s a good deal more than that in Closer Tuning. The chords progress softly, gently but in unexpected ways, a reminder of Weisman’s jazz guitar training, and the sound is warm and enveloping and every so slightly off-kilter, as if filtered through someone else’s memory. Cuts like “Petit Revolution,” with its close shroud of harmonies, its eerie, antic guitar cadence, feel like Beach Boys psychedelia left out in the garden to sprout, or more to the point, like Wendy Eisenberg’s brainy, left-of-center pop puzzles. “My Talent” is hedged in with blooming bent notes and scrambling string scratches, but its center is radiant, weird, astral folk along the lines of Alexander Tucker. “Hey,” says Weisman, in its slow dreaming chorus, “I gave my talent away.” Lucky us.

A.A. Williams — Forever Blue (Bella Union)

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There’s a dim and shadowy corner where heavy music, orchestral music and post-rock all meet, and A.A. Williams’ music resides there as naturally as anyone else’s. That’s what you might expect when you get a professional cellist who fell hard for metal as a teenager and then started writing songs after finding a guitar on the street. After an EP her first LP is the kind of assured, consistently strong debut that balances calmly measured beauty with the kind of crushing peaks that give that sometimes hoary quiet/loud dynamic a good name. At its best, like the opening “All I Asked For (Was to End it All)” and “Dirt” (featuring vocals from Wild Beasts’ Tom Fleming), Forever Blue is as gothically ravishing as you could hope for, and by the time it ends with spectral lament “I’m Fine” it might tempt even those not traditionally inclined that way to don the ceremonial black eyeliner.

Ian Mathers

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