Steve Roach's 1984 opus Structures from Silence has been a staple of my record collection for ages, but it has been about eight years since I last checked out anything new from him. Although he can sometimes be a bit too earthy for my taste, Destination Beyond shows that Steve has not yet abandoned the spacier side that produced The Magnificent Void, nor have his powers begun to ebb at all. I wish I had been paying more attention, as he seems to be in the midst of a rather fruitful creative period.
Give us an hour, we'll give you music to remember. This week we bring you an episode with brand new music from Softcult, Jim Rafferty, karen vogt, Ex-Easter Island Head, Jon Collin, James Devane, Garth Erasmus, Gary Wilson, and K. Freund, plus some music from the archives from Goldblum, Rachel Goswell, Roy Montgomery. Rubber ducks and a live duck photo from Matthew in the UK. Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
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Black to Comm's Marc Richter is an artist that perpetually seems to be on the verge of releasing an absolute masterwork, always creeping closer and closer but never quite nailing it. Alphabet 1968 does not quite buck that trend completely, but it is an oft-brilliant and unforgettable album nonetheless. Richter's impressive artistic evolution is showing no sign of slowing.
On his fourth release for the venerable label, Niblock has produced three large scale compositions, based entirely around the use of stringed instruments. In the process, he brings out the most subtle of harmonics and creates an unraveling tapestry of microscopic change in layers of sound. And a slight Band of Susans reunion.
As a format, singles accommodate brevity better than wistfulness. As Pumice, New Zealand’s Stefan Neville takes a different path. In Persevere, he performs as if he had an entire afternoon to burn. His drowsy style is charming, but it is Neville’s economy as a musician that really holds this record together.
I found this CD in a small shop full of musty vinyl, fanzines, crates of tapes, and neatly arranged homemade and self released CDRs on a recent trip to Portland, Maine. I had no idea what kind of music I would find on the disc, but liking the cover, I took a stab at it. I did remain skeptical knowing next to nothing about what I had just purchased. What I found was a very humble and unassuming album of non-pretentious lo-fi folk meanderings. On listening my attitude of skepticism quickly relaxed under the pastoral melodies Jeremy Pisani coaxed from his acoustic guitar.
Spilling over with trembling strings and thunderous crescendos, "Coward" foreshadows the electric energy that is to be found throughout Vic Chesnutt's newest record. With members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Silver Mt. Zion, and Fugazi once again contributing, At the Cut is populated by giant melodies, quiet meditations, and intense studies on mortality and memory. But, for all its bombast, At the Cut is probably most notable for Chesnutt's unwavering honesty and cathartic power. Because of these qualities it has quickly become one of my favorite and most played records this year.
Pelican's latest proves that you don't need a crooner to rock, and that you don't have to ramble on for a quarter of an hour just because your band doesn't have a singer, either. This is an album full of gritty, muscular songs that makes the case for hard rock bands releasing instrumental versions of their albums.
It's hard to imagine a better guide to vintage European prog/psych than The Bevis Frond's Nick Saloman. Here he curates another compilation of quality obscurities from the late '60s and early '70s, this time originating primarily in Belgium, Holland, Germany, Ireland, and Britain. While not every selection is a lost classic, this collection is thoroughly entertaining.
Ka-Spel's follow up to last year's excellent Part One is similarly organized, but features vastly different results. More disjointed and even jarring at times, this album mines new emotional territory. Uncertainty and dread give rise to paranoiac self-effacement on this melancholic gaze into the underworld.
