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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust Volume 7, Number 5

Sarah Louise

A week or two before this Dust’s deadline, we got our first tour announcement by email in more than a year. It was the first of deluge, as live music looks to be coming back with a vengeance starting this summer and really picking up steam around September. Meanwhile, we celebrate our newly vaxxed (or for our Canadian correspondents half-vaxxed) status with tentative steps outside. Your editor had her first beer at a brew pub in mid-May, and it was stupendous. Also stupendous, the onslaught of new music, which has, if anything, accelerated. This month, contributors include all the regulars plus a few new people: Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Patrick Masterson, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke, Andrew Forell, Ian Mathers, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw and Chris Liberato. Happy spring, happy normal and happy listening!

Amulets — Blooming (The Flenser)

Blooming by AMULETS

Like a lot of us, Portland-based noise artist Randall Taylor discovered the solace of long walks during the pandemic. His work, which has always used tape degradation to explore the intersection of time, loss and technology, shifted to incorporate another source of decay: the natural world. So, in opening salvo, “Blooming,” alongside blistering onslaughts of eroded guitar sound, it is possible to hear the sounds of a fertile garden — birds, insects, air movement. You can nearly smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on your skin. “The New Normal” explores sounds of creaking, friction-y word and metal, alongside pristine chimes of synthetic tone. It is uneasy, with skittering string-like squeaks and swoops, but also deeply meditative; it shifts from moment to moment from anxiety to provisional acceptance, much as we all did last year, staring out our windows. Overall, the tone is elegiac, gorgeous, but Randall does not hesitate to introduce dissonance. “Heaviest Weight” thunders with frayed bass tones, a weight and a threat in their subliminal pulse. The contrast between that ominous sound and purer, clearer layers of melody, makes for unsettling listening—are we at war or peace, happy or sad, agitated or calm? And yet, perhaps that’s the point, that the past year has been swirl of feelings, boredom alongside anxiety, hope lighting the corners of our listlessness, the smell of flowers pleasing but faintly reminiscent of funerals. Blooming decocts this mix into sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Astute Palate — S-T (Petty Bunco)

Astute Palate by Astute Palate

Astute Palate is a hastily assembled group of rockers summoned to support David Nance in Philly on a date when he couldn’t bring the David Nance Band. Participants included Richie Records proprietor Richie Charles, Lantern’s Emily Robb, Writhing Squares/Purling Hiss/all around Philadelphia regular Daniel Provenzano on bass and, of course, Nance himself, all huddled together in Robb’s recording studio for a weekend together. None of this origin story does justice, however, to the pure liquid fire of this one-off musical collaboration, dominated by Nance’s viscous, distorted blues-inflected guitar wail, but knocked sideways by brute force drumming, wild hypnotic bass lines and the ritual incantation of Nance (and later Robb) singing. The long “Stall Out” does anything but, rampaging free-range in unbridled Crazy Horse/Allmans-style abandon for close to ten minutes without a single sputter. “A Little Proof” is somehow simultaneously heavier and more country, spinning out the soul-blues jams like a younger, unrulier cousin to MC5. “Treadin’ Schuylkill” gives Provenzano the spotlight, opening with a growling bass solo soon joined by heavy psych guitars (a nod, perhaps, to the illustrious locals in Bardo Pond). If Nance et. al. can pull stuff this fine out in a stray road warrior weekend, what are the rest of you doing with your lives?

Jennifer Kelly

Axis: Sova — Fractal (God?)

Fractal - EP by Axis: Sova

Axis: Sova is a combo of three Chicago guys plus one drum machine, which had already been inactive for two or three seasons before the initial COVID lockdown. This digital EP is their way of clearing up some business that could no longer remain undone. The title tune, “Fractal USA,” is a remake of a song from the early days, when the “band” was Brett Sova’s solo project, to full-on, no your pants aren’t tight enough rock band. They just needed you to know about the evolution, you see, so go ahead, do some scissor kicks and gurn while they windmill away; you have enough money saved up from not seeing live music to pay the inevitable chiropractor bill. “Caramel” hypothesizes that a Cluster song that’s played twice as loud and twice as long is twice as good; not sure if I agree, but it’s still not bad at all. Maybe you got a little weird after a few months of putting on your best mask for your daily trip to see if the stimulus check was in the mailbox? The Brenda Ray-meets-Old Black mash up, “(Don’t Wanna Have That) Dream,” is proof that while you were alone, you weren’t alone. If you’ve made it this far, you don’t need to have the fourth track described, so let’s just say that it’s longer.

Bill Meyer

Mattie Barbier — Three Spaces (self-released)

three spaces by mattie barbier

While perhaps best known as half of the trombone-centric new music duo RAGE Thormbones, Mattie Barbier is a member of several other combos and a sonic researcher under their own name. Three Spaces, which is a single, album-length sound file, has the air of experimentation about it. “What do I do,” one can imagine Barbier asking themself, “when I can’t play with other people?” Make music at home, and out of what’s at home, is the obvious answer. But doing isn’t the only point here; the outcome also matters, and while what Barbier has accomplished with Three Spaces sounds quite different from the RAGE Thormbones live experience, it registers quite strongly. Barbier has combined long tones and melodic fragments played on euphonium, trombone and reed organ, that were recorded both inside and outside of their home. Carefully layered, the source material combines into a sound rather like a bell’s toll, which over the course of nearly 39 minutes swells and recedes, but never quite decays; it ends with an imposed rather than natural fade-out. The sound is as deep as it is expansive, inviting the listener to let themselves fall ever father into its realm.

Bill Meyer

Beneath — On Tilt EP (Hemlock Recordings)

On Tilt EP by Beneath

One of the more pleasant surprises this year is the resuscitation of Untold’s Hemlock Recordings imprint. A vital voice in the post-dubstep fracas at the turn of the ‘10s thanks to releases from Hessle Audio’s Pearson Sound (when he was still Ramadanman) and Pangaea, James Blake, FaltyDL and Hodge to name but a handful, the label went dormant following a Ploy 12” in 2017 before the surprise announcement of Londoner Beneath’s On Tilt, which sounds every bit the sensible alliance in practice it looks on paper: These are low-end rumblers with irregular rhythms and spare melodic tics that worm their way into your brain in the best bone-humming fashion (see “Shambling” or “Lesser Circulation” for a good example). Who knows how long the return will last, but for a certain stripe of DMZ-damaged devotee and pretty much no one else, it’ll feel good to have some Hemlock in your life again. Tilt back, pour in.

Patrick Masterson

Black Spirit— El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos (Infinite Night Records)

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More metal comes from South America than Spain, but these Europeans clear the high bar set by Latin America scenesters. The album’s title states that it was inspired by “El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos.” That can testify both to lasting influence of Goya’s art and to the laziness of the current culture which seeks inspiration only from the most popular pictorial art of the past. The track “Ignorance and The Grotesque” perfectly captures the whole mood of the disc: it balances ignorant speeds, undecipherable vocals and grotesque parts with piano interludes and doom-ish atmosphere. It would be better without the grotesque, but that’s probably part of the baggage.

Ray Garraty

Burial + Blackdown — Shock Power of Love EP (Keysound Recordings)

Shock Power of Love EP by Burial

You might worry, occasionally, that Burial was becoming a victim of diminishing returns. Here, as ever, he uses a narrow palette to create tracks that few can emulate. However, even though the music has its rewards, it doesn’t clear the very high bar that his previous work has set. Thus “Dark Gethsemane” rides a 4/4 beat, angelic murmurs, vinyl crackle and a tightly ratcheted build that morphs into a sermon led by the repeated invocation “We must shock this nation with the power of love.” As his vocal samples become more explicit, the mystery of his music fades. This is all promise and no real resolution. “Space Cadet’ likewise sounds both gorgeous and minor with its soul gospel refrain “Take Me Higher” over an old-school jungle beat. At six plus minutes it would have been enough. It continues another three with an almost cartoonish second movement that lacks the subtlety that characterizes Burial’s best work.

Andrew Forell

Colleen — The Tunnel and the Clearing (Thrill Jockey)

The Tunnel and the Clearing by Colleen

While COVID messed with most people’s lives, it was both an endgame and an opportunity for Cécile Schott, the Frenchwoman who records under the name Colleen. She was just coming out of a series of health and personal dislocations, which resulted in her being newly healthy but alone in a new town just as the lockdown came down. Clearly, this was not a time for half measures, so she selected an entirely new instrumental set-up and settled in to make a record that reflected what she’d been through. Out went the viola da gamba and melodica that have figured prominently on her last few albums; in came a Moog synthesizer, a Yamaha organ, a tape echo and a drum machine.

Colleen’s voice, of course, remains the same. Airy and precise, her delivery doesn’t match the gravity of the experiences her songs describe. But that sense of remove is, perhaps, a reflection of one of adversity’s lessons; if you don’t stay stuck, you can wind up somewhere quite different. Between the keyboards’ cycling melodies and the drum machine’s fizzy beats, the music on The Tunnel and the Clearing imparts a sense of motion that carries her light voice along for the ride, dropping painful sentiments and letting them fall behind.

Bill Meyer

Current Joys — Voyager (Secretly Canadian)

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Nick Rattigan has been releasing music under the name Current Joys since 2013, and Voyager is his latest offering. It’s a dramatic and often brilliant collection of songs, bringing to mind the urgent rhythmic drive of Spoon, the dour grandeur of The Cure and the unapologetic emotional heft of Bright Eyes or early Arcade Fire. On Voyager’s standout, “American Honey,” a simple strummed backing and Rattigan’s vocal delivery are potent enough, but it’s the string section that proves devastating, cycling around for multiple punches to the gut. While more stripped-back songs such as “Big Star” and “The Spirit or the Curse” offer some respite along the way, Voyager does prove a little unwieldy. With 16 tracks clocking in at nearly an hour, the album’s execution doesn’t quite live up to its ambition. The wonky tom-tom rhythms of “Breaking the Waves” are more distracting than interesting; a serviceable cover of Rowland S. Howard’s “Shivers” feels more like an acknowledgment of influence than a striking interpretation; and the combined six minutes of the two-part instrumental title track may have worked better as shorter interludes. Nevertheless, plenty of Voyager’s tracks demonstrate Rattigan’s knack for a raw, emotive indie-rock tune.

Tim Clarke

Ducks Ltd — Get Bleak EP (Carpark Records)

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Toronto duo Ducks Ltd celebrates signing to Carpark with an expanded re-release of their 2018 debut EP Get Bleak. The pair — Tom Mcgreevy on vocals, rhythm and bass guitars and Evan Lewis on lead guitar — bonded over a shared love of 1980s indie bands. Their intricately constructed guitar interplay carries the DNA of Postcard and C86 over meaty bass lines that evoke Mighty Mighty as much as Orange Juice and McCarthy. The sprightly music belies the miserablism of the lyrics that focus on FOMO, poor decisions, screen induced isolation, the corrosive impact of gentrification and gig economies. Mcgreevy and Lewis don’t wallow, however. Their jaunty jangle is a paean to the joys of jumping about and singing along with those new favorite songs that suddenly mean everything and will stick with you long after the world’s shit slopes your shoulders.

Andrew Forell

Field Music — Flat White Moon (Memphis Industries)

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It’s easy to take Field Music for granted. Since 2005, the Brewis brothers have been making smartly composed and tightly executed guitar pop with obvious debts to The Beatles and XTC, and all their albums have fallen somewhere along the continuum from good to great (my personal favorites are 2010’s Measure and 2012’s Plumb). Album number eight, Flat White Moon, features the usual balance between Peter’s more pensive, bittersweet numbers with greater focus on piano and strings, such as “Orion From the Street” and “When You Last Heard From Linda,” and David’s funkier, more staccato cuts, such as “No Pressure” and “I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You.” Twelve songs, 40 minutes, tunes for days — what’s not to love? If you’ve yet to get acquainted with Field Music, Flat White Moon is as good an introduction as any.

Tim Clarke

Gabby Fluke-Mogul/Jacob Felix Heule/Kanoko Nishi-Smith — Non-Dweller (Humbler)

non-dweller by gabby fluke-mogul, Jacob Felix Heule, & Kanoko Nishi-Smith

With Non-Dweller, we have a trio of Bay-Area improvisers who certainly do not reside in one place for very long. There is an agitated freneticism about their interactions here, the performers acting like electrons seeking to release energy and break out of orbit. Each player brings a unique collection of timbres to the party with their implement of choice. Heule is a percussionist by trade yet focuses on extended techniques — mainly friction-based — as he wrests an unholy wail from the maw of his bass drum. Fluke-Mogul’s violin sways between tone generator and noise source. Nishi-Smith is a classically trained pianist who here is bowing and plucking the koto, or Japanese zither. The trio spend most of their time in sparring mode, their energies unleashed with synchrony as if in an elaborate dance. It is clear they have collaborated before. Heule and Nishi-Smith have been at it for over a decade; Fluke-Mogul joined the party in 2019. The most gorgeous moments happen when all three players are focused on friction: Heule slides across his drum, Fluke-Mogul soars with their violin and Nishi-Smith gracefully bows her koto. The energy is focused and particles collide, creating waves of tone. The players wrestle intensity into submission, and the ensuing sonorities are unmissable.

Bryon Hayes

FMB DZ — War Zone (Fast Money Boyz \ EMPIRE)

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Ever since FMB DZ got shot and moved out of Detroit, he has continued to release angry music. (He may not be more productive after the assault, but he’s certainly not less so.) War Zone is his latest effort, along with The Gift 3 and Ape Season, and DZ is back in his paranoiac mode and ready for vengeance. That’s hardly unusual in this type of music but DZ stands out because he’s a bit angrier, a bit more pressing and a bit more gifted than the next man. He doesn’t outdo himself in this tape, but rather mostly follows the blueprint of Ape Season. The standout track is “Spin Again.”

Ray Garraty

Ian M Fraser — Berserk (Superpang)

Berserk by Ian M Fraser

Ian M Fraser is kind enough to provide details about how he created and edited Berserk, although relatively few listeners are going to really know what “nonlinear feedback systems and waveset synthesis” are, let alone “sensormonitor primitives auditory perception software”. And fewer still will be able to focus on what that might mean while Berserk is actually playing, because the output of those programs and systems is immediately, viscerally clear. If a computer were actually capable of going rabid, feral, well, berserk, the human mind might imagine it sounds something like this. Over four shorter tracks and the relatively epic 8:26 of “The Cannibal,” Fraser either coaxes or allows (or both) his tools into the equivalent of something like what someone who knew very little about both genres might imagine is like a power electronics act playing free jazz or vice versa. It is absolutely viscerally thrilling (albeit probably easier to repeat at this length of 16 minutes than, say, 50) and will do the track the next time you feel like your brain needs a good hard scrub.

Ian Mathers

Human Failure — Crown on the Head of a King of Mud (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Crown on the Head of a King of Mud by Human Failure

It’s tough to figure out if the band’s name is meant specifically to apply to D. Cornejo (sole member of Human Failure) or to the general field of human failure, which grows ever more capacious. Whatever the intent, Human Failure makes thoroughly unlovable music, pitched somewhere on the continuum that runs from the primitivist death metal to stenchcore to harsh noise. This reviewer is especially fond (yep, somehow that’s the only word for it) of the title track of this 10” record: “Crown on the Head of a King of Mud” sloughs and slogs along for two minutes, sort of like one of the ripest zombies in Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), wandering about and slowly falling to pieces in Florida’s tumid heat. Just as that last bit of flesh is poised to slide from bone, the song unexpectedly breaks into a run. Where is it going? What’s the rush? No one knows. Things eventually bottom out into “Disassembling Morality,” a static-and-distortion laden electronic interlude that might squeak and spark for a bit too long — but then “Your Hope Is a Noose” shambles into the frame. That zombie seems to have found some equally noisome and truculent friends. They djent and pogo around for a while, and the song has a lot more fun than seems called for by the band name. Cornejo might be pissed off by the myriad manmade disasters and outright catastrophes that burden the earthball (he’s sure angry as heck about something…). But the record ends up being sort of successful, if deafening, grinding, growling stench is on the agenda. All things considered, why wouldn’t it be?

Jonathan Shaw

Insub Meta Orchestra — Ten / Sync (Insub)

Ten / Sync by INSUB META ORCHESTRA

Ten / Sync was recorded in September, 2020; not exactly lockdown time, but certainly not out of the pandemic woods. It’s no small task to keep any 50-strong orchestra going, let alone one devoted to experimental music. So, if you already have one, then having it perform during a pandemic is just another challenge among many. So, the Swiss-based orchestra assembled three groups of musicians, numbering 31 in all, and assembled their contributions during post-production. While this did not provide the social experience that IMO’s gatherings usually impart to participants, an outcome that just isn’t the same seems awfully representative of the time, right? And since one Insub Meta Orchestra subspeciality is making music that sounds like it was performed by many fewer players than were actually present, this collection of sustained chords concealing tiny actions and apparently disassembled passages is actually very representative of the ensemble’s music.

Bill Meyer

Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore — Neutral Love (Astral Editions)

Neutral Love by Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore

With her own group, the Elder Ones, and in Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl, singer Amirtha Kidambi shows how far you can take a song while still giving the meanings of words and the boundaries of form their dues. But Neutral Love, like her two tapes with Lea Bertucci, explores the territory outside the tower of song. The main structures for this improvised encounter with electric guitarist Matteo Liberatore seem to be a shared agreement to exclude certain options. Song form and overt displays of chops are right out; the patient manipulation of sounds is where it’s at. Liberatore opts mostly for swelling and subsiding resonations, while Kidambi spends a lot of time finding out what’s hiding at the back of her throat, drawing it out, and then tying it into elaborate shapes. Patient and eerie, these four tracks find a place adjacent to Charalambides at their most abstract, and make it their own.

Bill Meyer

Kosmodemonic — Liminal Light (Transylvanian Recordings)

KOSMODEMONIC - LIMINAL LIGHT by KOSMODEMONIC

NYC outfit Kosmodemonic is among the recent wave of metal bands attempting to effect an organic-sounding synthesis of numerous subgenres: a slurry of sludge, a bit of black metal, a dose of doom, and a hit or two of the lysergic. When it works — as it does on a number of tracks on the band’s long new cassette Liminal Light — it’s an exciting sound. Songs like “Moirai” and “Broken Crown” manage to couple tuneful riffs, dirty tone and a muscular bottom end in ways that feel thumping, groovy and pretty weird. You’ll want to bump your butt around even as you’re looking for something to break. But the tape is pretty long, and the further afield Kosmodemonic gets from that mid-tempo groove, the more middling (and sometimes muddled) the material sounds. “With Majesty” can’t quite find its rhythmic footing in its more technical passages, and the song’s sludgier sections feel like compromises, rather than interesting maneuvers. But the record begins and finishes with really strong songs. Both “Drown in Drone” and “Unnaming Unlearning” embrace scale, letting their big riffs rip. When “Unnaming Unlearning” slips into complex sections of blackened and distorted dissonance, the drama surges. Formal experiment and manipulation of mood fold into each other. The song gets interesting, even as it’s reaching for a peak. And then it ends, suddenly, violently. It’s pretty good. Your impulse is to flip the tape and hear it again, which is just what Kosmodemonic wants you to do. Well played, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

Sarah Louise — Earth Bow (Self-Released)

Earth Bow by Sarah Louise

Asheville-based songwriter Sarah Louise wants to be your personal nature interpreter. The titles of her recordings, from her debut Field Guide through Deeper Woods and Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars are like planetary signposts pointing to a more intimate relationship with our planet as a living organism. With each successive release, her music has also become more and more organic sounding, culminating with Earth Bow, in which Louise herself is arms deep in humus, communing with birds and insects. Recordings of creation feature prominently; katydids, spring peeper frogs, a creek and various birds are credited as providing additional singing, augmenting the artist’s own mellifluous voice. For a recording in which the track titles and lyrics are focused on nature and Louise’s experiences therein, there are a lot of digital elements. Her 12-string guitar is prominent in places, but synths are everywhere: in the background, bouncing around like shooting stars, and mimicking the various fauna that they accompany. Yet the earthly and the machine-made are not juxtaposed, they are blended. The vocals, which center the recordings, tie both elements together nicely. Earth Bow is a tasty concoction, in which a variety of ingredients are married in botanical bliss.

Bryon Hayes

Le Mav — “Supersonic (Feat. Tay Iwar)” (Immaculate Taste)

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Nigeria’s alté scene has been bubbling for a couple of years now on the backs of guys like Odunsi (The Engine) and Santi, and Gabriel Obi bka Le Mav is no stranger to the fray, having produced Santi’s “Sparky,” Aylø and a recurring favorite of his, singer Tay Iwar. The two have already collaborated at length (for songs off Iwar’s debut album Gemini in 2019, as well as the entirety of last year’s Gold EP), so the comfort level here is established. It shows: Iwar’s smooth-as vocals match Le Mav’s breezy piano descent and gentle rhythmic shuffle in an easygoing song that matches anything you might hear coming from Miguel, Frank Ocean or the Sun-El Musician orbit. “If it feels right, touch the sky,” Iwar suggests early on. Well, don’t mind if I do.

Patrick Masterson

Sugar Minott — “I Remember Mama” (Emotional Rescue)

I Remember Mama by Sugar Minott

At some point after Lincoln Barrington Minott had left Kingston and his early dancehall and lovers rock legacy with Studio One and Black Roots behind for cooler climates and the old world of London, he ran into producer Steve Parr at the Wackies offices. Story goes that the two decided to start up Sound Design Studio with the intent to record and mix for ads, film and music — but scant evidence of this idea exists beyond “I Remember Mama,” released on 7” and 12” in 1985 and reissued for the first time since via Stuart Leath and his long-trusted Emotional Rescue imprint. Parr does most of the work on the recording (Andy MacDonald shines on tenor sax and Paul Uden guitar in the original credits), but it’s all about the sweetness Sugar brings to the table: With backing from two accomplished performers in their own right, Janette Sewell and Shola Phillips, Minott’s naturally relaxed delivery shines through on this. “Sound Design” is a dubbier instrumental version that retains Sewell’s and Phillips’ vocals, and Dan Tyler (half of Idjut Boys) provides an even spacier, handclap-laden 11-minute remix, but while both variants are excellent, the boogie of the original is unassailable. Look for the vinyl to hit in July.

Patrick Masterson

Jessica Ackerley — Morning/mourning (Cacophonous Revival)

Morning/mourning by Jessica Ackerley

It makes sense that Wendy Eisenberg wrote the liner notes to Morning/mourning, since they and Jessica Ackerley are bound by a shared commitment to string-craft. Both have a deep idiomatic foundation in jazz guitar, but neither is willing to be confined by what they’ve learned. In the case of Morning/mourning, that means that patiently paced ruminations upon Derek Bailey-like harmonics sit side by side with frantic but rigorously scripted forays that sound a bit like Jim Hall might if he input the contents of his French press intravenously. This album’s nine tracks observe passings and new beginnings, since Ackerley pulled the recording together while in quarantine, shortly before leaving Manhattan for Honolulu, and titled some of them in tribute to a pair of guitar teachers who were taken by 2020. But in their attention to tone, harmony, velocity and structure, these pieces, like Eisenberg’s records, speak as much to intellect as to emotion.

Bill Meyer

Nadja & Disrotted — Split (Roman Numeral Records)

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It makes a certain kind of sense for Nadja and Disrotted to tackle a split together; although both bands traffic in a particularly foreboding strain of doom metal, they also share a weird sort of comfort. There’s a sense more of horrible things happening around you than to you, like you’re in the eye of the storm or maybe in a bathysphere plunged to crushing depths. There is a precision to the menace, a measured quality to the noise. And they get there when they get there; as Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw pointed out in his review of Disrotted’s Cryongenics, “Pace seems to be the point.” This excellent split doesn’t shy away from these commonalities while still highlighting the distinct timbres of each act, with Nadja settling into and then returning to one of their indelibly titanic bass riffs throughout the 19-minute “From the Lips of a Ghost in the Shadow of a Unicorn's Dream” and Disrotted somehow conjuring the feeling of a massive structure corroding and collapsing on the 15-minute “Pastures for the Benighted”. When the latter slams to a half, one last hit echoing away, the listener may find themselves feeling equally relieved the onslaught is over and kind of missing both sides’ pulverizing embrace.

Ian Mathers

Nasimiyu — POTIONS (Figureight)

P O T I O N S by nasimiYu

Nasimiyu’s songs bounce and shimmy with complex rhythms, her background as a dancer and percussionist for Kabells and Sharkmuffin coming through in the intricate interplay of handclaps, breathy beat-boxing, rattling metal implements, all manner of drums and, not least, her lithe, twining vocal lines. “Watercolor” blossoms out of a burst of choral “la”s, each note allowed to flower briefly before behind cut off with a knife-edge; these are organic sounds shaped with mechanical precision. Against this background, Nasimiyu herself enters, her voice fluttery and syncopated, a bit like Neneh Cherry. The mix is full of separate elements, the backing vocals, a synthesizer working as a bass, handclaps, Nasimiyu’s singing, but the song remains light and translucent. “Feelings,” sings Nasimiyu, “I am in my feelings,” and so, for a moment, are we. Nasimiyu is half Kenyan and half Scandinavian-American, and you can hear a bit of East Africa in the surging sweetness of choral singing on “Immigrant Hustle.” But there’s a post-modern gloss over everything, as the singer brings in sonic elements from jazz, electronica, dance, pop and afro-beat. Yet however many layers are added, the sound remains bright and clear, a bead curtain of musical sensation whose elements click faintly as they brush together, but remain essentially separate.

Jennifer Kelly

Carlos Niño & Friends — More Energy Fields, Current (International Anthem)

More Energy Fields, Current by Carlos Niño & Friends

Multi-instrumentalist and producer Carlos Niño latest album which straddles and largely crosses the line between spiritual jazz and new age ambience features friends from both worlds including Shabaka Hutchings, Jamael Dean, Dntel and Laraaji. Niño, who plays percussion and synthesizer, edited, mixed and produced the album from recordings made in 2019 and 2020 in a variety of settings. The results are largely low-key soundscapes designed to assist meditation on the fields and current of the title. Much evocation of the natural world, chiming eastern influenced percussion and layers of acoustic and synthetic keys that are lovely but tend to lull. It is the slightly disruptive reeds that prick the ears here, Aaron Hall’s plangent tenor on “Now the background is foreground,” Devin Daniels’ alto phrasing on “Together” and Hutchings’ expressive duet with Dean on “Please, wake up.”

Andrew Forell

Shane Parish — Disintegrated Satellites (Bandcamp subscription)

Disintegrated Satellites EP by Shane Parish

The normally ultra-productive Shane Parish didn’t put out a lot of music in 2020, and none of what did come out was recorded that year. It turns out that he was busy giving guitar lessons via zoom and moving from North Carolina to Georgia, but we’re well into a new year and he’s back in Bandcamp. This three tune EP doesn’t declare a new direction, of which Parish has had many, so much as an integration of his interests in American folk music and far Eastern tonalities. Simultaneously familiar and alien, but above all propulsive, it serves notice that the time for reflection has passed.

Bill Meyer

Séketxe — “Caixão de Luxo” (Chasing Dreams)

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The thing that gets your attention about Séketxe is… well, everything: how many of them there are (i.e., how you can’t really tell who’s in the group and who isn’t), how they’re all propellant, a musical bottle rocket bursting out of your speakers, confrontationally in your face on camera — and how much fun it looks like they’re having. Somewhere out there beyond the reaches of kuduro and Mystikal lie the Angolan barks and rasps of this youthful sextet, who trade verses (and a soothing harmony drizzled right across the madness at around 1:40) among one another over an Eddy Tussa sample on a beat by producer about town Smash Midas. What are they on about? My Portuguese is nonexistent, let alone my Luandan slang, but even I can tell that title translates to “luxury casket.” Anyway, it’s bonkers and if you’re looking for a jolt your morning joe doesn’t deliver anymore, Séketxe oughta do it. You’ll never catch me thanking an algorithm, but I guess it’s true the maths can serve it up right every once in a while. Séketxe is the proof.

Patrick Masterson

Tōth — You and Me and Everything (Northern Spy)

You And Me And Everything by Tōth

The title of Alex Toth’s solo debut, Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary, alludes to his belief in music as therapy — that there’s an alchemy in the process, yet one that can’t necessarily be depended on to pull you out of an emotional hole when that hole gets too deep. On his new album, You and Me and Everything, all of his recent personal struggles are out in the open. There’s the tale of when he was so fucked up he couldn’t play trumpet at a family funeral (“Turnaround (Cocaine Song)”); there’s leaning on songwriting as a means to process the pain of heartbreak (“Guitars are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times”); and there’s his ongoing battle with anxiety (“Butterflies”). While such heavy emotional terrain could prove hard-going, Toth approaches everything with a playfulness, a lightness of touch and a gentle haze to the production. Plus, he gets a helping hand from Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak, Flock of Dimes), who lends backing vocals to standout “Daffadowndilly,” which taps into the woozy gorgeousness of prime Robert Wyatt.

Tim Clarke

Mara Winter — Rise, follow (Discreet Editions)

Rise, follow by Mara Winter

For people with busy performance schedules, 2020 posed a problem; how do you stay busy and creative when you can’t do what you usually do? Mara Winter, an American-born, Swiss-based flute player who specializes in Renaissance-era repertoire and instruments, used it to forge a new creative identity. In partnership with experimental composer and multi-instrumentalist Clara de Asís, she began exploring the commonalities between early, composed music and contemporary approaches and developed a platform to disseminate documents of that research into the world. Rise, follow, the inaugural release of Discreet Editions, is an hour-long piece for two Renaissance-style bass flutes played by Winter and Johanna Bartz. The two musicians played long, overlapping tones with contrast attacks, pushing on until they grew so tired from hefting those woodwinds that they just couldn’t play anymore. Effectively the performance unit is a trio, since the two musicians had to accommodate or collaborate with the reverberant acoustics of Basel’s Kartäuserkirche. The church’s echo threw sounds back at the player, turning pure tones into blurred timbres. While the instrumentation is antique, the ideas about sound combination and endurance have more to do with Morton Feldman, Phill Niblock and Aíne O’Dwyer. The result is music that is simultaneously meditative and as heavy as a bench-pressing competition.

Bill Meyer

Wurld Series — What’s Growing (Melted Ice Cream)

What's Growing by Wurld Series

Some reviewers of What’s Growing, the second album by New Zealand’s Wurld Series, have managed to avoid making Pavement comparisons, but it’s hard to fathom their restraint. Brief opener “Harvester” feels like you’re being dropped mid-solo into a random Wowee Zowee track; the guitar tone on lead single “Nap Gate,” on the other hand, sounds like it's nicked straight from Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. And while singer/guitarist Luke Towart doesn’t attempt to match Malkmus’ flamboyance in the vocal delivery department, their voices and wry lyrical observations bear a distinct resemblance to one another. “Caught beneath a dull blade / What a mess that would make” he sings on “Distant Business” before the song reaches its finale where guitar solos blast off from atop other guitar solos in an array of complementary textures. But besides being a ridiculously fun guitar pop record, What’s Growing is also threaded through with a British psych folk vibe replete with Mellotron flute — and the two styles blend seamlessly together thanks to Towart’s partner in crime, producer/drummer Brian Feary (Salad Boys, Dance Asthmatics). So, whether you're looking for a great summer indie rock record or you’ve ever wondered what the Fab Five from Stockton might’ve sounded like if they’d stuck to short songs and had more flutes, this one’s for you.

Chris Liberato

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odessii-dragonblade · 4 years

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In Fields of Gold

The wind swept over her, causing her to stir with a light groan, slowly blinking her eyes open. Everything felt like a blur... She could remember Icecrown, could remember the way across the veil reaching her, and the feeling of being pulled through. But beyond that... Darkness, maybe a few flashes of light here and there, and the feeling like she was falling for eternity.

Odessii sat up straight with a gasp of breath, bringing a hand to her chest as consciousness made her heart race once more. Her breathing was still heavy, and she felt confined in her helmet - with deft hands, she reached up to pull her helmet off, letting it drop to the ground beside her as she caught her breath, eyes shut tight again.

Slowly, her breaths became steady... Her heart stopped racing, and she felt a calm wash over her. She’d gotten good at forcing herself to be calm, and that experience served her well. When finally she was passed that lingering panic of being pulled into the darkness, she opened her eyes, peering about. There was a cliff face ahead of her, the sound of running water... Pale, smooth stone beneath her.

And she was alone. “Adi? Adisor, where are you?”

Ode pushed herself to her feet, mind quickly turning to finding her brother. She turned around to look in the other direction - and found herself in stunned silence, unable to move as she marveled at the sight before her.

She was at a loss for words even in her own mind as she stared out at the wide, open sky, and the structures across from her. What looked like portals or gateways of some kind floating above it all, leading to Light knew where. Finally, she tore her gaze away to look down, taking a step back from the cliff’s edge she’d found herself upon. Beyond the cliffs below, there was only sky - the same sky that stretched out ahead of her, with no sign of anything on the horizon, if there could even be a horizon.

Wherever she was, she knew for sure that she was alone - no Adisor, no Ebon Blade... Just her. But the structures in the distance told her that there had to be others in this place. Someone she could find, to get an idea of where she was - of which way to go. So, she collected her gear, pausing a beat as she lifted her helmet, before she placed it back on her head and set off.

Fortunately, there was only one way to go from where she was. She made her way carefully down the rocks, moved across the stream, and climbed back upwards to a point where the deep, dark green grass turned suddenly into a pale gold. Further on she followed this single stretch of land, until finally she came up to a point where she could see something ahead of her. Not a building, really, but a structure that had to have been built by someone. It was her best hope that whoever built it would still be there...

A destination in sight, she took her first steps towards it, before having her attention drawn away by a sudden roar from above her. She whipped around, drawing her sword and shield to ready herself for a fight. Some sort of creature, looking like a winged lion, swooped down not far off from her, letting out another threatening roar. Odessii stared the creature down - it was different than fighting another sentient being, but one beast wouldn’t be the end of her.

With a shout, she twisted her body, reeling back the arm she held her shield with and swinging it forward, tossing the disc and keeping her arm extended for it to return to her. Only, it never did - she had called upon the Light like she had countless times, but nothing happened. Instead, the shield flew like any other disc towards the creature, hitting it once and bouncing off, falling onto the grass. “What?”

Angered, now, the creature began to charge at her - it was all Ode could do to hold her sword tightly, balling her other, now empty hand into a fist, readying herself to fight. She held her ground, and as the creature pounced at her she braced - only to watch an arrow fly from somewhere outside her view, striking the creature in the neck and causing it to fall limp at her feet.

Once she was sure the blow had been fatal, Ode let her shoulders drop, letting her guard down. Someone had helped her, but that was the furthest thing form her mind in that moment, as she lifted her shield arm to stare at an opened hand. She tried to call the Light - a Judgement hammer, a flash of healing, something... But to no avail. The Light wouldn’t answer her call... And she had no idea why.

Her thoughts were interrupted, though, as a voice sounded out behind her. A voice that... That she was sure she recognized, in the back of her mind. Smooth like silk and elegant in its inflections - something about it was... Comforting, despite the teasing words. “That was a rather close call, friend - for what it’s worth, I believe the shield is meant to stay on your arm. But, at least you’re unharmed...”

Ode turned towards the sound of the voice, and felt her breath hitch in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat - several, even, as she stared at the figure ahead of her. There was shock, confusion, so many feelings, but they all brought the beginnings of tears to her eyes. Her sword dropped, as Ode quickly released it to pull her helmet back off her head, mouth still agape for a moment until she finally found her voice. “Mother?”

There was no mistaking who her timely rescuer was - her skin was a shade of blue, as was her hair, but her face... That was her mother, Meredith, she was sure of it. The other woman seemed confused for a moment, narrowing her gaze at Ode before her eyes went wide with realization. “Ode? Ode!”

There was a short breath of a laugh from her as she looped her bow onto her back, rushing towards Odessii and throwing her arms around the armored woman. Odessii was stunned for a moment, not sure what to do or say - but, in that moment, a hug was enough. A tight embrace, the first she’d shared with her mother in years... Over a decade. Part of her never wanted to let go - even if none of this was real, if she were dreaming somewhere after going through the rift to the other realm. She wanted this moment to last forever.

But, soon enough, her mother did pull away, tears of her own forming in her eyes, that wrinkled her face along with a wide smile. A smile that quickly faded, though, as worry overtook her. “There haven’t been any new souls in so long, I... But, you’re not - Ode, did you...?”

Odessii wasn’t sure what her mother was trying to say for a moment, before she remembered just where she was. Quickly, she shook her head, bringing up a hand to wipe away one of the tears that had come to her eyes. “No, no, I’m alive - but... A lot’s happened on Azeroth... Gods, I don’t even know where to start.”

Relief washed over Meredith’s face, and her own posture slumped a moment as her tension was released, and she smiled again. Though, it wasn’t long before she straightened, bringing her hands to Ode’s shoulders. “Well, however it is you came to be here, you’ll have time to tell me - tell us!”

Ode looked at her, brows raised. “Us? Is father-?”

Meredith nodded, pulling back and gesturing for Ode to follow her. “Yes, but not just your father - come on, hurry up! Don’t tell me you’ve gotten slow as you’ve grown up?”

Odessii smiled warmly at that, nodding and going to gather her things, looking around this place once again. She had much to tell, and much to ask... But it could wait until the time was right - but seeing her mother again, and the idea of seeing her father... All of that seemed to push everything else from her mind.

Everything but the Light not answering her call... That had never happened before, and it terrified her to her core. But, there would be time for questions, and answers... For now, she had come looking for someone who might be able to put her on her way, to tell her where she was... And she had.

Oh, she truly, truly had.

#my writing #Odessii Dragonblade #Shadowlands #Meredith Dragonblade #World of Warcraft RP

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mashitandsmashit · 4 years

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America’s Got Talent: Season 15 - Auditions 2

11: Thomas Day. Is it okay to mock his hair, or is the Ace-Ventura-in-that-scene-where-he-was-wearing-a-tutu look just in these days? Alrighty then, let's get to the talent...He was good...And that's about it...I generally agree with Howie that his nerves somewhat got in the way of an otherwise charismatic presence, but I suppose he was JUST likable enough that I'd give him a pass...Though this does tell me that he's probably already been advanced to the live shows, because why else would they show an otherwise unremarkable audition in full...?

10: Kelvin Dukes. It's like if Steve Urkel WASN'T irritating and was actually kinda likable! Personality aside, his singing was also...good...Nothing mindblowing...So that's two of three singers at the bottom of my list...I assure you, the other one is much higher!

9: Simon y Maria. Cute and likable, which is always the magic formula for child dance duos. They're very talented for their age, though they better pray they never get pitted against that Indian duo from last week...

8: Frenchie Babyy. I'm usually fine when watching people contort in all these nasty ways, but this time I actually did get a slight bit queasy...Not sure how he stacks up against Strauss Serpent, but I do see potential...He just has a way to go before my enjoyment of him overshadows how much I cringe at him looking like his arm's about to come loose...

7: Divas and Drummers of Compton. STRAIGHT OUTTA...Yeah...This made for a very fun opener to the show, and everything from the precision to the choreography came together excellently! Obviously that three-year-old (looking scared out of his mind of the giant audience) is just there to add a little extra cute factor...Otherwise, they were clearly keeping him off the stage for both said stage fright and to avoid him getting kicked like a football into the field they usually cheer on...Anyway, I see a lot of promise with these kids!

6: Florian Sainvet. This is where the list gets a little tricky, because I greatly enjoyed everyone from this point on...But I guess this human disc burner gets the lowest spot, because I can very much see him...well...burning out...If he can prove me wrong, great! Until then, this was very slick and a lot of fun to watch! I guess the only issue is watching him drop those CDs all over the place...Those things aren't cheap, you know! That said, Howie looked unimpressed, and they didn't show him giving his opinion and whether he said yes or no...Chances are, the Shin Lim Effect came into play here, though in my opinion, this was far enough removed from the usual card tricks that I see Shin as a non-factor...

5: Jennifer and Daiquiri. I'm also quite surprised that there hasn't been a magic dog act before...(I have once pictured a DANGER dog act, though that would probably bring the ASPCA knocking faster than you can say “Woof!”) But this was a fun twist on the usual pet trick formula! And the most baffling trick of all was getting that big dog to fit through that little hoop! I'm all for this act! I legitimately hope they do well!

4: Usama Siddique. Finally, a comedian that isn't a middle-aged woman or has a disability! This is another case where I wish he went longer, but I almost come to expect that by now...Though since Heidi actually called it out this time, maybe that will change real soon...

3: Bonavega. Move over, Hans! There's another flamboyant superstar in town! I won't lie, I was expecting a disaster as well, but aside from being energetic and fun, the dude was actually a pretty decent vocalist...Granted, I didn't hear what he was saying a lot of the time, but I guess it's hard to hear him over all the noise he's making as well as the cheering he got...Oh yeah, and he's not half bad at guitar either! Last year I thought that the drag queen with the beard would be Hans 2.0, but this time I would say Bonavega HAS to be the successor...He has everything Hans had, and more!

2: Roberta Battaglia. When this girl came in with still over half an hour to go, I knew one of two revolutionary things would be happening with the Golden Buzzer...Either the act that I predicted would get it just from looking at the promos would NOT get it, and it would instead go to something different from usual, or they finally refrained from putting the GB at the very end of the show...I was mostly hoping for the former, but the latter makes perfect sense! Why would you want to make it a formula to put the awaited reveal at the end of every show, when that could lead to many of your viewers just tuning in at the very end? What's more, Sofia's selection is very much justified! Not only could this girl sing about as well as Lady Gaga could, but she emulated all of the inflections and tones from the song perfectly! She SOUNDS like Lady Gaga, and I could see her doing a good Miley Cyrus as well! (Say what you will about her music, but that chick can sing!) So far she's the most likely candidate to win this season, though I have my doubts because she doesn't quite have any of the unique draws that helped every other winner stand out...That said, I believe I've heard that she has a lot of fans (from another Got Talent she competed in or something), and we're yet to see how big her video's gonna be or how much media attention she gets...We'll just wait and see if another act comes along that fits the mold better...Though if nothing else, I can totally see her as the runner-up!

1: Bello Sisters. When I read their names on the Wiki before watching this show, I was thinking that Bello Nock's daughter was back with two sisters I didn't know about before...But I guess what we got instead wasn't too far off...Anyway, this had everything you could ask for from an act like this! Already they're putting the Messoudi Brothers to shame (at least when comparing auditions)! And I guess it's only fair, as after said distaff counterpart gave some eye-candy to the ladies, now the dudes get to watch three hot sisters put their hands and feet all over each other! The formations were mesmerizing, and I really hope this act goes at least as far as Messoudi did! Though it is worth noting that there are far more female viewers of this show than the male ones...Just keep them from competing the same night as say, Thomas Day, and we'll be peachy...

This was another overall solid episode! Sure, a few of them weren't anything amazing, but the fact that I consider more than half of the passing acts tonight slam dunks is a good sign! I'm still hoping that MAYBE they can find a Golden Buzzer that doesn't sing, but as long as they're great like tonight's choice, I don't mind too much...

Let's see if that lady they've been hyping up in all the promos gets it next week...

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happymetalgirl · 5 years

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Tool - Fear Inoculum

I didn’t actually intend to review the long-awaited fifth Tool album so long after its release, time and life got in the way of things, but I’m kind of glad in a way that I’m talking about it now after all the inevitable and ridiculous hysteria surrounding it has mellowed out, which is (spoiler) kind of a sign of the album’s relative quality next to the band’s other four records in and of itself. And, while now I get to talk about it without the confounding noise of the loud clamoring on about it, I don’t really think my words would have really been too different a month and a half ago than they are now.

Tool are a band, of course, who need no introduction; their cerebral brand of progressive alternative metal has become signature and iconic, and their four albums from 1993 to 2006 that preceded this one have served as an influence, if not a lofty aspiration, for thousands of artists since then. Like any self-respecting Tool fan, I consider Lateralus and Ænima to be roughly neck and neck at the top for my favorite spot in the band’s discography (the joint “Parabol” and “Parabola” together being my personal favorite Tool song). Those two albums show the quick crystallization of the band’s progressive metal psychedelia from their rougher, grungier beginnings earlier in the 1990′s. Though I do hold a lot of respect for how accomplished of a debut statement Undertow was, and how much ground it laid for the two albums to come. And even Opiate served as a strong prequel EP to that album. The band’s fourth album, 10,000 Days, however, took a perplexing turn from the heady, yet still metallic prog hallucinations the band had worked up to, and into more drawn-out, spacey experimentation, which I’d say haven’t really aged into anything and sound about as unnecessarily dilute and jam-band-ish as the day the album released in 2006. The album had its high points like the thundering bass of “Vicarious” and “Jambi” and the alternative metal oddity of “The Pot”, but it’s a largely tiresome and less rewarding listen than its predecessors. And that was the last we heard of Tool for thirteen years.

The tremendous wait for the album of course drummed up a lot of speculation of what it would sound like in relation to their previous works. Would it be a return to the beloved progressive metal of Ænima and Lateralus? Would it be a culmination of all their sounds in retrospect into one gargantuan crowd-pleaser? Or would it be something totally new for the band. Not to toot my own horn, (and not like I can prove this anyway), but I had this hunch that this album would probably be just a delayed continuation of what the band were doing on 10,000 Days, and, while there is the occasional reinvigoration of their sound with some stylistic callbacks to their middle two records prior, lo and behold, as much as I wish I didn’t, for the most part I guessed right.

Coinciding with the band’s acceptance of the times and the advent of streaming with their release of their catalog onto digital platforms, Fear Inoculum was released as a single-disc CD and as a longer, digital version, with three extra instrumental interludes sprinkled throughout the track listing stretching it past the limits of the CD format to nearly eighty-seven minutes, and it sure feels like the hour-and-a-half-long listen that it is, and not in a flattering way. Like I said, the album is largely a continuation of the atmosphere-focused prog of 10,000 Days, which is only somewhat updated from the band’s 2006 effort. The main songs are all over ten minutes long, and the similarly low energy across the marathon track list doesn’t really make a great case for this direction in contrast to what the band have shown themselves to be great at, namely vibrant, untethered prog adventurousness.

The opening title track layers together plenty of diverse tom percussion and the band’s recognizable guitar reverb into a slowly growing and whirlpool (kind of like the album cover) of Tool’s 10,000 Days sonic pallet that gradually cascades into a thicker, distortion-fuzz-driven finish. The abstract, cryptic lyricism about shedding the influence of manipulative fear mongering is more cryptic than poetic, but I can see the vagueness of the subject being a good way to make it widely and appropriately applicable in its commentary and play into the paranoia of refusing to acknowledge exactly what this deceiver is. As a tension-builder, it’s a great way to start the album off, but it doesn’t really seal the pay-off as the heavy bass line tries to usher in a climax while the other instrumentalists mostly just coast on forward to the end of the song like a tired distance runner giving a bit of a burst to finish the last stretch. And that’s one of the shorter tracks, with over an hour left to go.

The second song, “Pneuma”, is structurally not too dissimilar, with a synthy bridge this time connecting the meditative tom-drum/reverb-guitar build-up to a relatively hum-drum metallic non-finale. It really only marginally feels like it’s that kind of progressively building song, clearly being more focused on its meditative ambiance than its intentional trajectory. In which case, I would have honestly probably preferred the band taking that approach more holistically, rather than trying to fit it into a prog metal formula. Lyrically, the song centers around a lot of transcendentalism that Tool have written about before, not really adding much new beyond perhaps a slightly different angle to meditate on it from. The song is followed by the first of the instrumental interlude tracks, “Litanie contre la peur”, which plays around with a melodically manipulated vocal inflection over some humming ambiance for about two minutes.

The third big piece on the album, “Invincible”, which finally plays a little more to the band’s progressive strengths. The guitar groove is actually allowed to drive the song and shine in a more energetic manner as Danny Carey gets to get a lot more bombastic behind the kit, as do the rest of the band during the instrumental sections throughout the song. It’s not only a more metallically groove-driven song whose heavier elements are actually used to cultivate a sense of meditation from a much more signature angle, but also a more interestingly progressive song that does more than just slowly swell up to a mild crescendo for ten minutes. The worries of the song’s warrior speaker are pretty transparently transposeable to the worry and struggles any aging artist (especially a long-absent artist like... Tool, maybe) to maintain their importance and the meaningfulness of their work.

The ominous bass hum of the second interlude track, “Legion Inoculant”, leads into the fourth of the album’s main epic songs, which keep getting longer and longer with the thirteen-and-a-half-minute environmental apocalypse warning “Descending”, which pleas for an end to the apathy that exacerbates the compounding climate crisis. Musically, the song plays into the somber melancholy of the lyrics, while taking a more balanced approach between the spaciness of the band’s last album and the heavier elements of Ænima in particular, perhaps intended given the similarity of that album’s title track’s subject matter. While some of the later sections feel a bit over-indulgent, this song deserves its length as it cascades through emotive defeatism via progressive metal ebbs and flows into this impending metallic crescendo that actually fits nicely with the melancholic rock build-up and the lyrical implications; it sounds like its tracking the collapse of , much like the title track of Ænima., starting and finishing with the sound of waves upon the shore that will continue to crash, just as they did before our takeover of the land, after our demise.

While the lyrical concept revolving around self-doubt and of “Culling Voices”, is fascinating and all too tangible, the music falls more on the mild side again, with the band’s softer, more meditative atmosphere crashing just twice into explosive, but unimpressive climaxes of muscular, but not too creative, guitar riffing. The longest of the interludes, the wind-chime-laden and effects-doused electronic pulsing of “Chocolate Chip Trip”, features a tasty little drum solo to kind of make up for the lack of spotlight Carey gets on this album as he does so much of the rhythmic legwork, which I certainly appeciate and welcome.

The closing epic, “7empest” was the song fans were fawning over the most as a monstrous riff-fest after the album was finally released, and the riffing across the song’s almost sixteen minutes, as well as the repeating of the lyrical mantra, do capture some Ænima vibes, which makes sense knowing it was pieced together with motifs written during that era. The song’s lyrics once again call back to that breakthrough album with the repetition of the mantra “A tempest must be just that” in reference to the convenient muddying of the waters of responsibility for disasters caused by said chaos once it arises. It’s a song about those in power managing to use the chaos they create through their mismanagement to hide their guilt and just divert the blame on the chaos itself. The song is proggy in Tool fans’ favorite way and indeed dense with churning effects-laden riffage and a faster, much more aggressive vocal performance from Maynard James Keenan. While it is the longest, heaviest, and most vintage-Tool of the tracks here, I’d say it only stands a bit above the rest of the track list, and honestly maybe not surpassing the magnificent “Descending”.

The digital version wraps up with the odd, but disposable coda of the two-minute chirping sample manipulation of “Mockingbeat”, a strange note to end this version of the album on, but ultimately nothing destructive.

I had talked about Rammstein’s self-titled album and Slipknot’s We Are Not Your Kind as being among the year’s biggest of the biggest metal releases, but the long-awaited arrival of Fear Inoculum tops them both. Yet for all the drama building up around this album, all the hype that was inevitably going to hoist hopes and expectations to astronomical and similarly inevitably unrealistic levels, Fear Inoculum sits average at best, if not rather low in the band’s small catalog, and the rather quick hushing of this hype from fans and the metal sphere in general shows that I’m not alone in my relative underwhelmedness after the thirteen-year wait. While that sounds harsh, it is just because this album had such incredibly high expectations to live up to that it was most likely never going to meet. Fear Inoculum isn’t a terrible album by any means, but it does suffer from being drawn out the most by its weakest elements, its least creative ideas stretching it out in hopes of finding purpose for doing so, but coming back empty-handed. A little while after the album came out, Maynard made some kind of comment about this album being great eight years ago, which suggested that it had been in the works for a long time but perhaps held up by frivolous reasons, but also that it was composed largely near the time of 10,000 Days, as I thought it might have been, and it just kind of bugged me that this album probably didn’t need to be the huge prodigal event it was, maybe just an acceptable transitional moment for Tool to figure out what they wanted to do with their expanding sound arsenal. Instead we got arrested development dressed up as a comeback at a time when we might otherwise have one or two more albums from this band (by their releasing pace), possibly more accomplished. I had mentioned in my review of Opeth’s newest album that they deserved the patience with their prog rock transition, and that album showed it. It took four albums to get a record that could stand tall alongside their progressive death metal classics, but it came, and the journey did come with some good highlights along the way too. The journey to this album was a test of patience with clumsy publicity for several years more than anything else, not quite as rewarding, no music to offer along the way (aside from side projects), and still a sense of a band just picking up where they left off years ago without really assessing their direction. I’m glad Fear Inoculum is finally here, but I think others will share this sentiment with me even if they haven’t said it to themselves out loud. Yes, we got a few strong highlights out of this record, but I’m more relieved that the fiasco surrounding the wait is over than I am excited to have this batch of new songs (the latter of which I wish outweighed the former).

6/10

#Tool #Fear Inoculum #progressive metal #psychedelic rock #psychedelic metal #progressive rock #experimental metal #experimental rock #new music #new album #metal #heavy metal #album review

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empiricalsidhe-a · 5 years

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name. Fae Ariad, of the Imperial House of Ariad, of Sidhe nickname(s). Fae; Your Imperial Grace; Your Imperial Viciousness species. Humanoid/Sidhe title. High Imperial Empress of the Imperial House of Sidhe

P E R S O N A L .

morality. lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil religious belief. Sidhe theology, based around a higher power taking the form of Oracles who speak through the Seers on the Clouded Isle, as well as a series of lesser gods and goddesses who help make the world turn and function sins. lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / wrath virtues. chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice primary goals in life. See to it that her empire is back in working order. Marriage and children are always on her mind, but never the primary goal. languages known. -Sidhe [a vaguely mixed sound of Farsi and Sanskrit] -Oracle [for conferences with the High Oracle; guttural back-of-the-throat sort of noises] -Hylian secrets. -Despite the regal air and intimidating presence expressed in a political setting, she’s a lot less of a towering monolith in private, always worried about how she’s presenting herself. Her Regent is more or less her confidence booster. After all, advice comes in many forms, this is no different. -She’s a bit of a lush when it comes to stress. She’ll have a small glass of wine to calm nerves, but of course one glass turns into three turns into twelve and this is why at least one Regent is always at her side, to act as impulse control. quirks. -She sings at the drop of a hat. No, really, if something is on her mind, she’ll start by humming and then add lyrics to it in the form of a to-do list or something like that. Not everyone knows she does this. -Like all of her people, even she can fall prey to the dreaded ‘hivemind’ pack mentality all Sidhe go through. In times of shared emotion, she will fall in time with those around her and they will all move in sync. Usually, she’s the first out of it, though. savvies. -Singing and dancing -Physical combat [without using the Aeroglaive] -Tactics and stratagem -Politics [as much as she hates them, she can still deal with the best of them]

P H Y S I C A L .

build. slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese / other height. 6′6′‘ weight. 192 lbs scars/birthmarks. As a Blood Mage, she has quite a few scars where she has had to bleed herself for her magic at various tiers, though none as prominent in notice as the scar on her neck. From the back curve across the left side to the front curve, it is difficult to miss, a lighter shade than the skin around it. It is this one she displays regularly with pride, taking care not to wear chokers or heavy neck-cuffs that may obscure it from view. abilities/powers. -Life-force manipulation, particularly Vocal Manipulation; if the opposing mind is not closed or resistant to such power, she can use the tone and inflection of her voice to ease people into doing what she wants them to, including feeling certain emotions. -Blood magic and bonding; the most common use of life-force manipulation in the Empire of Sidhe, of varying tiers, bonding, and power. While she does not have the largest object bonded to her, she does have the most articulated, and the hardest to control. It is symbolic to her and to her people as proof that she is supposed to be on the throne. -Like all of her people, she sees well in daylight, but the best at night; hence, her eyes [and all their eyes really unless blinded] shine in low light as reflective-silver discs. Her hearing is also incredibly sensitive, but that is also a racial trait.

F A V O U R I T E S .

favourite food. Anything made with lamb, really. She has a strong fondness for it. favourite drink. A weird dark drink brewed over roasted beans her people call ‘cabean’. When in absence of this or tea, though, it’s wine. topping. Meat-eater; anything with meat on it. favourite colour. Blue favourite music genre. Her peoples’ folk music, though she has a fondness for learning about others’ music. Music literally makes her world go ‘round. favourite book genre. History; War records; Family history; The occasional fantasy favourite movie genre. If they existed, she’s one to watch war movies to point out the stupidity of how they’re done; Psychological horror is another one favourite season. Autumn favourite curse word. She doesn’t necessarily swear, per se. But ‘Oracles above!’ is a common exclamation of frustration, incredulousness, and simmering anger. Usually accompanied by venomous threats. favourite scent. The smell of the Dragon’s Blood they make their incense out of, deep and earthy; such trees where the resin is drained from grow on one of the islands in the empire, so it is a common scent. It reminds her of her people, and of her mother when mixed with the faintest hint of Styna’s Tears, a cluster of small white flowers with a subtle but pleasant fragrance, named after their most benevolent Empress.

F U N S T U F F .

bottom or top. Switch depending on partner loud burper or soft burper. Very soft and polite .... unless in privacy with Eyrol, in which case all propriety is out the window and it’s time to put the old Admiral in his place sings in the shower. yes / no [bath, but always...] likes bad puns. yes / no [even though she scoffs at most of them] their opinion on the mun. ‘Not an unpleasant person. We certainly need to work on that self-confidence issue, though.’

Tagged by i dont remember anymore

#A Game of Tag

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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Double penetration with Inflection Point JeongCheol-

you're not alone in wanting it,,

#🍵 tea time #💘 mutuals #rj 🍷#I FEEL SO BAD BC THESE HAVE BEEN GATHERINGG DUST #theres a bunch of other requests that ive yet to attend to as well #sighh #disc: inflection point

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marauders70s · 6 years

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which audiobooks do you prefer?? the stephen fry ones or the jim dale ones?? personally ill always love stephen frys voices and intensity better. jim dales voices just seem more cartoony to me. hp audiobooks are my fave method of consumption honestly

Hello! Thank you for your question!

I HARD STAN JIM DALE.

And here’s why (long, personal version):

I really love Stephen Fry. I just listened to his Audible audiobook “Victorian Secrets;” I loved his shows touring the country; I even loved him on Bones as a guest star. He’s such a strong LGBTQ ally and supporter, and great speaker and advocate for so many important things. He makes me feel like even though he’s cynical and annoyed generally, his love of learning, interest, being snarky, and being rad and cool friends with awesome people (both here and ones gone before, like Douglas Adams), makes me wish we were personal friends. One day, I really hope to meet him, and the news of his prostate cancer makes my stomach clench with unfairness and sadness.

However, my family purchased the Harry Potter audiobooks on CD. They came in big chunky boxes and had fun little segments saying things like “This ends disc four, please insert disc five to continue the story.” My dad had a flexible work schedule and drove me and my sisters to school every single day. During our morning commutes, we used to listen to The Beatles, and Peter, Paul, and Mary. But then came Harry Potter when I was about 12. (I actually saw “Chamber of Secrets” the film before ever seeing the first film or reading any of the books because my dad wanted to see what all the hype was about and dragged me to see it in theaters! The basilisk fight scene was so scary I had to close my eyes and felt just like Harry).

Now back in the day, CD players just held one CD at a time, and sometimes if that CD got stuck, you had to use a pen to nudge/unjam the felt lip of the CD player to let the CD get out. And the day we started Order of the Phoenix on CD it plays little intro music and Jim Dale says happily: “Chapter 1: Dudley....Demented” with a very long dramatic pause. Well the CD got stuck or skipped or sucked up a crumb or something and I swear to fucking god we listed to “Chapter 1: Dudley....Demented” about 48 times in a row in fifteen minutes while my dad is trying to unjam it and I’m in the backseat trying to lean up/climb up and he’s like “get back get back sit down” and I’m like “let me do it! You drive! Let me do it!” And then of course once I get in the front seat I can’t do anything and my two younger sisters (the youngest about six) were shrieking with laughter and have started joining in on the unending chorus of “CHAPTER 1: DUDLEY.....DEMENTED” with the same sort of zeal and insanity of “none pizza left beef.” We finally pull up in the carpool line of school and my dad can put it in park and unwiggle the CD and unjam it and reinsert it and we can finally start listening but at that point we’re all so giggly and ridiculous there’s absolutely no point in trying to start a new book.

The cool thing about getting into Harry Potter at 12 was that Order of the Phoenix was the first ever “release” of the book I had to wait for. Of course I had swallowed it up immediately after my parents had finished with our SINGLE hardback copy. And my Dad turned to me to warn me “Now...someone dies at the end of this book.” And I was so upset that he was spoiling for me, but he was like “I know you love Sirius.” (Guys I did love/was in love/am still in love/love Sirius Black the best). And I just got so angry at my dad for spoiling it, yet my voice still squeaked: “does he die?” And my dad is backing the car up in the driveway and he’s doing the thing where his hand is on the passenger seat and he’s twisting around and there was this heart stopping stomach drop where he stops looking out the back window and the car is still rolling and he looks directly at me. And to me, that’s the swooping, horrible feeling I still associate with Sirius dying. And even though when I read it and I cried, I never felt as much dread and as much sadness and as much grief as that moment when my dad looked straight at me and said nothing at all.

Jim Dale is also an incredibly talented amazing guy. I think that listening to Stephen Fry read Harry Potter is a bit like having your uncle or grandfather reading to you. Very a la Princess Bride. But when Jim Dale reads it, at least to me, when I was 12 and all my life since then, it felt like the characters were real. That his voices were real. When Hermione squeals “Oh HARRY!” but says it “har-eeeeee” in her anxiety; if Mrs. Weasley is scowling furiously and vocalizing her annoyance with huffs and gasps; how gentle Remus Lupin sounds, how raspy Sirius Black does; how very old, and very kind, and very wise Albus Dumbledore comes across. And how through his own inflections, Minerva McGonagall became more Scottish than you could have believed possible, and her voice the most instantly recognizable in the whole series. Jim Dale even commits to Peeves, and uses the inflections of David Bradley and Alan Rickman from the first film to help weave into Filch and Snape’s characters for continuity.

Jim Dale became the first person to win a Grammy for an audiobook, prompting a new category to be added in 2000 (post his nomination into a non-existent category for Sorcerer’s Stone). He created 134 distinct voices specifically for OOTP. He carefully recorded each individual one into a sound file so before he spoke that person’s lines he could re-listen to the voice he had made for them if he hadn’t spoken for them more than once or twice a book (or series - like Dedalus Diggle). His level of dedication and perfectionism is something I GREATLY admire and greatly adore.

Although I do like hearing Harry Potter as a bedtime story read to me by a man I wish I could befriend, in my heart of hearts, I want Harry Potter to be as magical, as intangible, as silly as “Chapter 1: Dudley...Demented” for my whole life long. And maybe it’s because I have deep connections of listening to it with my dad, who has since passed on in a way that made me understand that feeling when he looked back at me in the car. The sick stomach Harry felt when Sirius was gone. Or maybe it’s because my mom listens to Jim Dale’s Harry Potter every. single. night on her old fashioned iPod before bed, carefully copied from the original CDs, skips and all, even though we own all of it on Audible. She says she’s missing several 5 minute segments throughout the series, but she fills them in from memory anyways. My mom knows more about the canon of Harry Potter than anyone I know, and can recite most of the first book by heart, because its her favorite.

Obviously I run a Harry Potter blog because Harry Potter is important to me for many sentimental and personal reasons. And the audiobooks are part of that. Sometimes when I’m down or blue, I want Fred & George to tease me in their own voices, to tell me: “We thought we heard your dulcet tones!” “Yeah, it’s not good to bottle that up!” I still really admire and like Stephen Fry as a person, but in my heart, my books and my experience will always be narrated by the wonderful Jim Dale, a man whose voice I adore so much that I watched Pushing Daisies, and searched by narrator on Audible to fall in love all over again with Peter Pan. Harry is a personal experience for all of us, and this is mine. Thanks for listening.

tl;dr - Jim Dale. He does a really great opening line in Chapter 1 of OOTP.

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bonesingerofyme-loc · 6 years

Text

Shattered Legions I

Examining in narrative form the characters that make up my Shattered Legions killteam.

Personae Raven Guard Captain Leucas Kypto, XIX Brother Ides Conom, XIX Brother Macito Orn, XIX Iron Hands Brother Mordecai Castron, X Sons of Horus Luna Wolves Brother Aviko Barradon, XVI World Eaters Sergeant Khord, XII Death Guard Brother Varecht Poole, XIV Thousand Sons Codicier Noltak Vaal, Raptora, XV

‘I am Alpharius.’ Across the arming room, Aviko glances up at him while Leucas and Khord continue stripping down their bolters. All were present, save Vaal, some stripped to bodysuits, others in partially dismantled battle plate. His words only seem to register with Ides, who slowly rises to his feet, putting aside his jump-pack. Before the Raven Guard can speak, Macito goes on:

‘That’s what they always say. The Alpha Legion, I mean. Has anyone else fought alongside them?’

‘I had more than enough experience on Isstvan,’ Ides spat, voice rough, an octave higher and coarse from a slash across his neck, courtesy of an Emperor’s Child. Macito nods and can’t push aside the clench of guilt around his two hearts.

‘We all did. I meant before.’ Ides returns to his seat, but doesn’t break the acid glare he’s sending.

‘There is no before. There’s Isstvan, and there’s now.’ Leucas sighs.

‘Ides. Brother. Center yourself. Brother Macito, get to the point.’ It’s a name that by now feels almost more natural than the one he was born with, the one that slides a little farther away every day.

‘I’m saying they had strength of purpose. The Alpha Legion. I was thinking about the Legions that – the ones that betrayed us. Some of them…don’t feel surprising. Word Bearers. Night Lords. Even the Iron Warriors, I can consider and find reason.’

Sul’in’s voice rumbles through the arming chamber from his corner, deep in the shadow. Macito can only make out the shadowed shape of the marine, hulking and huge as he works on a long, serrated blade. The Salamander’s eyes burn in the darkness and he claims bright light irritates his rad-burns.

‘Curze’s bastard sons never sat right with me. None of the honesty of the World Eaters-‘ Khord grunts at this, but makes no other move as he slots diamantite teeth into a chainaxe. ‘and all the brutality of the Wolves. At least the Wolves have a purpose. Those bastards in midnight…all they lived for was torture. It was unclean.’

‘That is my point, that exactly, Ashrock. There’s a flaw, or some…some truth to the Legions that turned that reveals the treachery. The Night Lords were criminals, all of them. Rapists and murderers given the geneseed. The Word Bearers might’ve once worshipped the Emperor, but who knows what other fanes they found to bow to. Perturabo was always unhappy, always hating Dorn. Horus could offer the Iron Warriors nothing more than the chance to kill the Fists and it would be enough.’ Macito shakes his head, putting his bolter carefully aside, resting it on hooks and placing his gauntleted hands on his knees.

‘The Alpha Legion, that is more curious to me.’

‘What’s curious? What’s possibly curious? They’re traitors, Macito. Traitors. We don’t need to understand them; we don’t need to figure them out. We only need to kill them.’ It would always be Ides, he had considered once, always Ides that would be the one. There is so much hatred that burns in that son of Corax, a nucleonic nugget in his chest that will never, ever cool. At Praxitilum V, when they had struck the outpost of the III Legion for resupply, his bloody rampage had rivaled Khord’s. Ides had no nails to blame.

Barradon shrugs, pauldrons hissing as they match his gesture. Underneath the applications of white paint, splashed and slathered across the surfaces, here and there can be seen tiny streaks and patches of oceanic green, peeking through gouges and scrapes. In contrast to the liberal and careless application of ivory coating sits a meticulous and pristine wolf’s head set against a crescent moon in deep black. It had been an obsession of the Astartes’ to find something, anything to blot away his old colors. The paint slathered across his armor is usually meant for decking and bulkheads, appropriated without care. The reborn Luna Wolf had gouged out the crimson, slitted Eye jewels with his combat knife, defacing them and throwing them into waste chutes. The settings still yawn at his belt and chest, hollow like sockets absent teeth.

‘There’s a worth in knowing why. If only to remember where the line is.’ Ides snorted, and didn’t deign to respond. There was a constant tension between him and the three of their little group, the three whose Legions had fallen into treachery. Aviko Barradon, Khord and Varecht Poole, who had never been to Istvaan, who had heard of their Legion’s damnation and turned aside. Each dealt with it in a different way.

Barradon had regressed, repainting his armor, acting sometimes as if the years as a Son of Horus had never occurred. As if the Legion that marched with the damned Warmaster was something different. Something he had never been a part of.

Khord, ever a simple and straightforward World Eater, simply walked away. He still sported the bone-white and sky-blue of his Legion, still the beaten brass devoured world adorned his pauldron. It wasn’t his fault his lunatic father had led his Legion into insanity. Why should he apologize?

Varecht Poole hoped. He had hoped that his father, Mortarion, had made a mistake. An error. A miscalculation. That there could be redemption, for his Primarch and his Legion. That maybe, maybe, his father could be made to see the truth of things, the right of things. Then he had learned of Istvaan V, of Primarchs butchered in the sands. Now Poole was empty, a hollowed out core of a man, more mechanical than the augmented Iron Hands.

And Ides Conom could forgive none of them, nor ever forget their origins. Even if none of the three had been at Istvaan, even if lightyears had separated them from the perfidy committed in the hell of Urgall, Ides would never see them as anything but traitors. Useful, convenient traitors, but still, at their deepest core: tainted.

‘So I try to understand Alpha Legion. The others, I can find a way. Alpha Legion? ‘I am Alpharius’, they always say. When I served alongside them, I only knew a handful of names. They are their Primarch, they say. They are all one. One person, one mind, one purpose. Hydra.’

Leucas gives a slow nod, putting aside his lapping powder and resting his detached pauldron at his feet, still shining with polish. The bold, heraldic Raven was scratched and marred by las-blasts and the teeth of chainswords but never would its luster fade.

Leucas Kypto, son of the Raven, Captain of the Forty-Ninth, the only reason any of them were alive. Leucas who had pulled Sul’in from the glassy soil of a nuclear crater, hauling the enormous Salamander free of the razor-edged debris. Leucas who had gutted Word Bearers and Night Lords alike, slaughtering through the madness of Urgall toward the scattered landers that remained. Leucas who had beaten sense into Ides, with shouted words and then fists, knocking his brother from rage into sensibility. Leucas who had hauled Mordecai, bodily, from the field as the Iron Hand raged, frothing for the heads of the bastards, the bastards who killed his father.

Leucas, who had gone back. Leucas, who, with a battered Thunderhawk ready to launch, with injured and dying brothers on board, with the galaxy guttering into insensibility and horror around him, had turned his back and dove into the crush once more. Because he saw another brother, saw another Raven with its wings clipped, struggling to safety. Leucas who had gripped his hand and pauldron, who had pressed his helm to Macito’s and shouted to be heard over the din of dying dreams. To come with him. To stand. To fight on. To live.

Leucas had ‘saved’ him.

Leucas who had kept their slowly growing, dysfunctional band together and alive through the months after the Massacre.

Leucas who had stood between Ides and Khord, bodily interposing between a man with nothing to lose and a man lost to the Nails and talked both down.

‘I can follow your meaning,’ Leucas says, crossing arms across his broad plastron. ‘The Alpha Legion strives to all be singular. If the order came from their Primarch, who would question it?’ The marine shakes his head, sighing long and deep. ‘This is the seeds from which all of this was sown. Secrecy. Blind obedience. Wheels within wheels and intrigue where there should only have been warriors.’

‘The rot of the Lodges,’ Aviko grinds out, and rare was it that he would speak at all of his Legion. Several heads nod at that. ‘The Lodges,’ spits Khord, the words like crumbling masonry. ‘We had none of that shit in the XIIth, but I saw it enough in others.’

‘The Lodges,’ whispers Poole. He holds out a hand, where a small metal disc glints. His low voice is monotone, bereft of any feeling or inflection. ‘Where all could be equal. Where anything could be said. ‘I can’t say’. ‘I can’t say.’ Would you betray your own brothers? ‘I can’t say.’’

‘How excellent, we all understand why our brothers betrayed us. Now their treachery is clear.’ Ides slams his bolter onto the rack and stands, pushing towards the door. ‘This conversation goes places I don’t care for.’

‘Ides.’ Leucas does not raise his voice, nor change his tone, but the Raven Guard stops short of the hatch.

‘Sit down.’ For a long moment, Conom remains with his hand outstretched, reaching for the release, before he slowly lowers it, and stomps back to the battered metal bench.

‘I’m sure Brother Macito had a point behind all this.’ Leucas raises an eyebrow, black like the short-cropped hair on his head.

‘I did.’ Macito sucks in a deep breath, holds it for a second, and releases it. All of it.

‘I am Alpharius.’

#horus heresy #kill team #warhammer 30k #killteam #shattered legions #bonesinger writes

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minxiebutt · 6 years

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Erurimikenana where Mike and Erwin are ballet dance teachers and Levi and Nanaba are their students - maybe their star students that need extra lessons? 😏

(I tried to keep this clean of naughtiness but maybe I’ll write a continuation for that)

Erwin has rarely sought out new students. It’s been a comfortable decade of rejecting or accepting applicants, but Mike sniffed out a pair when he visited his sister-in-law’s dance school in a low-income, inner-city neighbourhood of Atlanta, and suddenly, Erwin’s breaking his habit.

He catches a redeye down from New York and meets Mike at the dilapidated fine arts studio, a small warehouse that shares space with a diminishing orchestra program and a few weekly painting classes. Erwin trades his buttondown for t-shirt and jeans, then meets Mike at the school, where they’re introduced simply as recruiters. It gives their little audience a jolt, as they look to one another with wide, disbelieving eyes. Sandra’s ballet class consists of six teenagers, and as they stretch on the barre, Erwin watches, excusing trembling limbs for the adrenaline of excitement.

Two students in particular immediately catch his attention. Their nerves calm quickly, replaced easily with confidence as they move with grace.

After warming up, Sandra has her dancers showcase a simple routine from Swan Lake. Erwin offers polite applause when it’s done, not allowing his eyes to linger on a certain pair of students, and then he steps back as Sandra teaches. Afterward, he speaks with each dancer individually and thanks them for allowing him to watch.

When the studio empties, the pair stays, replacing the disc in the studio cd player with one of their own. They’re squatting there together, speaking in hushed tones as a lofi beat fills the air.

“Levi and Nanaba spend all evening here, everyday,” Sandra is telling them. Mike nods his head. “They’re both pretty lax about their roles.”

“What do you mean?” Erwin finds them both rather ambiguous in the way they present, in their tutus and pointe shoes with their boyish bodies and short, undercut hair. Sandra only smiles.

They watch as the noirette, Levi, stands and moves into the center of the space, looking light and whimsical en pointe. Blonde, doe-eyed Nana joins, hands on a waist and lifting easily, turning and setting Levi down, only to lift on their toes and flit around him in long leaps. They continue on without a break for ten minutes, combining pieces of well-known choreographies into their own special dance. Sandra is right; neither of them stick to a single role. Both are skilled in the typical male and female disciplines, easily interchanging. They’re as good as Mike said, and Erwin takes a seat to watch everything that they’ll put on display.

When they’re done, he doesn’t ramble. He makes an offer for them to study in New York.

;;;

Mike shakes his head. Erwin pauses the music. “Again.”

Levi growls and snaps around, chest heaving with exertion. “What?”

Beside them, Nana touches their shoulder and pulls them back. They’re just as tired, but naturally less hot-tempered than Levi. “Come on.”

Levi pulls out of their grasp and returns to starting position, grumbling all the way. They’ve been doing their normal practices all day with the entire troop, and this evening for their private practice, Erwin is demanding forty fouettés in a single go, and they won’t go home until they can both successfully execute the difficult move.

“Flow with the movement,” Mike tells them yet again. “Stayin’ too tense, and it trips you up.”

Erwin restarts their music. They face one another, moving in unison, and begin. After eight, Nana stumbles backward, which pushes Levi to break their own rotations to steady them. Nana waves them off, both correcting their own position quickly and getting back to their fouettés. This time, they hit forty.

“Finally.” Erwin stops their music. “Let’s rest for a moment and then do reverses.”

Levi groans loudly and flops on their stomach. “You fucking said we’d go home after this.”

“I lied,” Erwin confesses without inflection.

They’re practically boneless when he’s done with them, and he lets them sprawl out on the floor until they get up on their own. Mike smirks, nose working. It’s nearly midnight when they get dropped off at the dorms, and bright and early the next morning, Mike and Erwin find their troop ready for another day of practices.

#erurimikenana #prompt #anonymous #penned

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fergstewartadad-blog · 6 years

Text

‘theanyspacewhatever’

We did some further research into artist who share similar practices in relation to relational aesthetics. In doing this we came across the art exhibition in the Guggenheim called ‘theanyspacewhatever 2008-2009′ where 10 artists worked together to create a collective experience, all having different expertise.

theanyspacewhatever 2008-2009

Within this exhibition, 10 artists with common ideas on relational aesthetics created an exhibition at the Guggenheim.

‘...ten artists who share certain strategies and sensibilities: Angela Bulloch, Maurizio Cattelan, Liam Gillick, Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Douglas Gordon, Carsten Höller, Pierre Huyghe, Jorge Pardo, Philippe Parreno, and Rirkrit Tiravanija.’

Though each artist is recognized for his or her own practice, they are linked by a mutual rethinking of the early modernist impulse to conflate art and life. Rather than deploy representational strategies, they privilege experiential, situation-based work over discrete aesthetic objects.’

All these artists are from ‘theanyspacewhatever’:

Angela Bulloch

Firmamental Night Sky: Oculus.12, 2008

‘Engaging the senses with color, light, and music, Angela Bulloch's installations explore the effects of environmental stimuli by incorporating elements that are activated by the viewer or patterned according to digital programming.’

Maurizio Cattelan

Daddy Daddy, 2008

‘Maurizio Cattelan is known for his provocative, paradoxical sculptures and installations, which frequently invoke the artist's own antiheroic persona. While a black sense of humor, roguish pranks, and a taste for the subversive have become hallmarks of Cattelan's work, its foundation lies in a nuanced confrontation with the absurdity and tragedy of the human condition. Cattelan's life-size effigy of a beloved fairytale character lying face down in the museum's fountain reads as a crime scene replete with questions of intent: suicide, homicide, or ill-planned escape?’

Liam Gillick

theanyspacewhatever Signage System, 2008

Powder-coated, water-cut aluminum pieces

‘Liam Gillick's work investigates the ideological underpinnings of the built environment, exposing the social, political, and economic forces that distinguish architectural spaces, and investigating how these properties construct and mediate behavior. He often exploits the potential of the exhibition format within a practice that encompasses an intricate layering of critical writing, fiction, and sculptural form, with an emphasis on modern design. For theanyspacewhatever, Gillick has intervened in the Guggenheim's operational systems, such as directions, didactics, and seating, to subtly reorient visitors' experiences of the exhibition itself. His series of hanging aluminum signs infiltrates the museum, deploying a characteristically spare and arresting graphic aesthetic. Appropriating the conventions of institutional signage, some of the texts playfully mimic imperative and informational language, while others reference the work of the artists participating in the show, or offer enigmatic slogans.’

Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster's

Meyers, NY.2022, 2008

Sound and light environment, 9 min.

‘Gonzalez-Foerster's light- and sound-based installation NY.2022 (2008), created in collaboration with Ari Benjamin Meyers, regularly animates the Peter B. Lewis Theater as a new iteration of an orchestral performance commissioned by the museum's Works & Process series and presented during the opening weekend of the exhibition. The live production of NY.2022 reconceived the science fiction film Soylent Green (1973) as an abstract musical narrative about endings and departures.’

Douglas Gordon

prettymucheverywordwritten,spoken,heard,overheardfrom1989

Wall texts in various fonts and sizes

‘From the beginning of his career, Douglas Gordon has used text and the spoken word to subtly intervene in existing environments. Whether whispered over the phone to unsuspecting audience members or sent via mail, his succinct but poignant missives disrupt the usual flows of communication. Dispersed virally throughout the museum's rotunda, prettymucheverywordwritten,spoken,heard,overheardfrom1989 . . . is a compilation of texts that provides a veritable archive of Gordon's written work. Encountered collectively, the texts reveal the artist's obsession with opposites–fact and fiction, good and evil, and so on–and the ways in which they often collapse into one another.’

Carsten Höller

Revolving Hotel Room, 2008

‘Carsten Höller's work generates unstable situations that challenge the assumptions of the viewer and explore the influence of unanticipated movement on human perception. His participation-based installations and devices—ranging from flying machines, slides, and carousels, to goggles that view the world upsidedown—induce new psychological and physiological sensations that prompt the participant to experience him or herself and the environment in a new way. Höller's fully functioning hotel room invites visitors to spend the night in the museum's rotunda on four slow-turning discs equipped with comfortable sleeping, dressing, and working areas. Members of the public can reserve the room for one night each and enjoy a leisurely private viewing of the entire exhibition at any point during their stay.’

Pierre Huyghe

theanyspacewhatever transfer book, 2008

‘Pierre Huyghe's work plays freely with the constructs of time and reality, creating fictional narratives that draw upon and ultimately affect our empirical world. As his contribution to theanyspacewhatever, Huyghe has created a book of iron-on transfers that illustrate the Guggenheim's exterior and interior, incorporating images of the spaces in which the artworks appear as a speculative device. This representation of a possible reality includes a number of renderings of the darkened rotunda filled with multiple beams of light, in reference to the participatory event, OPENING, that Huyghe will stage three times during the run of the exhibition. Disrupting and disorienting the temporal flow of the museum's presentation, the performance invites visitors to roam through the space in blackout conditions, lighting their way with headlamps. In a conceptually linked project, an image by Huyghe is currently displayed on a billboard in Times Square, at 47th Street with 7th Avenue’

Philippe Parreno

Marquee, Guggenheim, NY, 2008

‘Philippe Parreno considers the exhibition to be an integral element in his poetic and elusive work, which also comprises publications, lectures, and performances. His site-specific, illuminated movie marquee installed on the facade of the Guggenheim Museum functions as an enigmatic “label” for the exhibition. Rendered in white Plexiglas and neon, this ghostly sign announces the show without making any pronouncements about its content or structure, instead reflecting the open-ended nature of the exhibition.’

Jorge Pardo

Jorge Pardo Sculpture Ink, 2008

‘Infusing the aesthetics of modern design with a Pop inflection, Jorge Pardo reunites form and function to create operative environments within the museum, while also bringing art into everyday life in his architecture and design projects.

Whether redesigning a restaurant, an office, or a domestic interior, his work is always characterized by finely crafted, decorative elements and an interest in the social dynamics of public and private space. For this exhibition, Pardo has transformed one of the museum's ramps with an interlocking system of intricately-patterned cardboard screens that are illuminated by sculptural lamps. Demarcating an alternative circulation route for visitors, the installation also functions as an inventive display system for a series of silkscreened prints created by the artists in the exhibition and produced on a press in Pardo's studio in collaboration with master printer Christian Zickler.’

Rirkrit Tiravanija

CHEW THE FAT, 2008

A documentary film portrait

‘Rirkrit Tiravanija is best known for the meals he has cooked for visitors during his exhibitions, as well as the architectural structures he transposes to the gallery environment, in a layering of the real onto the aesthetic. True to his career-long pursuit to blend art and life, Tiravanija has created a documentary film, CHEW THE FAT, on the occasion of this exhibition. The film features extensive interviews with the artists in theanyspacewhatever as well as with other friends and colleagues, providing an intimate perspective on the art of the 1990s. The interviews–all approximately seventy—five minutes in length–are on view on dedicated monitors in the High Gallery, and in an edited-down, feature-length version screened regularly in the museum's theaters.’

After researching and observing all the different approaches throughout this exhibition it really broadened the scope of possibilities of how we could approach this type of topic of creating a community. Ultimately was very helpful when deciding what we were going to do!

#assessment3

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