Hokusai, demo TAPE
What's in a name? A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet,
that's what I say anyway. Hokusai have been through a few names (check
your back issues for Archive and Genetic reviews) and a few styles as
well. From taut Cable writhings through bombastic Mogwai burnouts
they've now eased into a more considered trip hop take on the whole
guitar thing. "Chan" is a muted breakbeat slumber, kind of an indie
Tiny Attack, while "Rockular" melts the lull before an explosion, and
then the explosion itself, onto a similar template to much greater
effect. Easily the best they've produced so far. 30 Woodford Crescent,
Plympton, PL7 4QY.
Empire Builder, Waters of the Orient (Gringo) 7"
Empire builder, given the geographical bent of the title, are played
by Slint Eastward on this release for Essex's Gringo label. But you
probably knew that anyway as your interest in the band will be
determined by your attitude to all the other hopefuls that sound
almost exactly the same. As it goes, this is a darned fine
effort---dynamic and jerky in all the right measures and at all the
right times---but nothing wildly new. PO Box 3904, Clacton, Essex,
CO15
Le Bleu, Toujours la (Pickled Egg) 7"
It's like Norman Blake jamming with a passing tuba player after his
nightschool French class---and rather strangely so given that,
although now based in Scotland, singer Ed Beavan is actually from
Essex. The vibe is earlyish Teenage Fan Club (classically melodic)
with more than a hint of Gallic chic (classically effortless) and a
slow spin on the dreamy production that leaves you slightly
disorientated. And no room for my Scotch Egg joke, damn.
Billy Mahonie, 1000 years of (Too Pure) CDS
For the 100th release on Too Pure---surely an event worthy of
celebration---three of the label's current stars remodel Billy Mahonie
tracks. BM themselves rope in trumpeter Ian Watson for a sympathetic
remake of "Less flagiolettes" in the Slint mould, Luke Sutherland, in
his solo Bows guise, completely overhauls "We accept American
dollars," bringing it down to just windy atmospherics and a voice
while Darren from Hefner makes "Manywhere" one of his own.
Saloon, Futurismo (Artists Against Success) 7"
Reinforcing the Quickspace comparisons we made with their last demo
(see elsewhere), Saloon's latest slice of Cherry Red vinyl for AAS is
a bubbling rattle with flamenco flourishes that speeds by on the
barest hint of a drone. It's probably not the futurismo of pop music,
but it's a highly welcome diversion on the space theme.
Various, Aliens in Roma 2.000 (Wot 4) CD
This eccentric Italian label might just as easily be named Why
Not? Their approach to this electronic lark is very much in the
suck-it-and-see line which throws up such unlikely gems as Prince
Faster's "Storia" where opera and Italian talk radio are yanked into,
and out of, a variety of breaks at unpredictable points; the wholesale
sampling of old Run DMC tracks which are then played back at
ridiculous speed on Skycon's "Acid cesarini" and certified loon
Margoo (LP reviewed elsewhere) who bends all the rules on his
nightclub jazz-meets-interference "Cloro's theme for flying to Io"
amongst other, relatively speaking, straight breakbeat, dub and techno
experiments.
Jumbo, C.B. Mamas (Bright Orange Biscuit) CD
Although hailing from the East Coast (over here), Jumbo commence
proceedings in a West Coast (over there) manner, all psychedelic
trimmings on the odd-rock main course. We're talking impenetrable
lyrics, plenty of instruments, excess and quiet in equal measure, a
change every four bars or less and the kind of idea:song ratio that
puts them in the same shape box as Olivia Tremor Control. It's
indisputably pop music though, in the same way that Mercury Rev's
chameleonlike stylistic appropriations have been pop, in the
three-minute length and in the verse-chorus-middle 8 structures that
they twist out of shape. The defining moment is the appearance of the
lyric "everything in moderation...including moderation" which sums up
the album's grab bag contradictions nicely.
Alpha Plan, City of bastards (Earwig) CD
Naming their record for Auckland, the band's adopted home, and then
spending a year living in London, probably somewhere near the top of
the bastard-per-square foot league itself, might seem a little
perverse but New Zealanders Alpha Plan don't really give a rat's
ass. They're far too busy making angry noises that recall the
tormented pop-distort altercations of the Psychdelic Furs, Joy
Division or Wire, or the underproduced ravagings of a less-mental
Warser Gate. "Revolution" directs the anger at the exploitation of
science and technology by governments all too ready to use it to
subjugate rather than liberate and Depeche Mode's deadpan darkness is
echoed on the title track where they sing "I've said before this
world's a heavenly joke" as the the band's core implodes in a blast of
raw distortion and spleen. New material is due soon as this album is
getting on for three years old. PO Box 47612, Ponsonby, Auckland, New
Zealand members.xoom.com/Dead_Weight
Sternklang, Neolounge (Beatservice) CD
Sternklang are another one of those continental electroutfits that
chose their name on the basis of its onomatopoeaic similarity to their
sound (see also Grindverk and Funkstorung.) "Neolounge" plods into
being with stentorian neo-Floyd monotony before spreading artfully out
into rigid chemical funk ("Automatic soul"), robogo-go strutting
("Electone"), obligatory Bullit-style chase scene ("Basschase") and
cold-room percussive ambience ("Tremble") without ever losing the
stern facce or forgetting the, most important, klang.
Return of Id, Second skin (Vibrations...) 7"
So it's soft-loud-soft-LOUD, but who cares when it's done with enough
panache, enough attention to detail, enough familiarity with the
blueprint to be flexible---and short---with it, enough tune and enough
energy to carry it off with honours well earned. Like a pocket
Dinosaur Jr or something. 118 Gunthorpe Rd, Peterborough, PE4 7TS www.come.to/returnofid
Plutonik, Sister (Integrity) CDS
Another in the consistently stylish series of Plutonik singles over
the last year or so, "Sister" is the culmination of their quest to
craft a seamless pop marriage of real songs and drum'n'bass. It can
only be achieved, of course, by playing the beats down---there's
nothing jagged here apart from the odd stutter---but there's no
recourse to cliched string baths, instead a solo acoustic guitar
highlights the soulful vocal and silence does the rest. Having said
all that, the pick of these three is the much rougher instrumental
breaks of "Jungoltrane" remixed from their debut.
Six By Seven, Ten places to die (Mantra) CDS
A list song, you will have gathered, but "50 ways to leave your lover"
this ain't. Chris Olley forces the words out like the recalcitrant
last bit of toothpaste from a selfish tube, teeth clenched, face
screwed up, position foetal. The band, meanwhile, plays on, building
in waves of flowing magma riffs to crescendo.
Various, Bustin loose (Wall of Sound) CDS
Let's not beat about the bush, despite being well respected and
retaining a great deal of credibility while scoring pop hits and
soundtracking adverts, Wall of Sound have released some right
cack---Les Rhythmes Digitales is nothing more than Rick Astley with a
new haircut for example---but there's little of it here, even if we do
get a couple of tracks that tickle the pop tummy rather than beat the
dancefloor ass. On the pop front we get the Propellerheads and the
Wiseguys ("History repeating" and "Ohh la la") sitting a little
uneasily alongside the disco inferno of Dirty Beatniks' "Sandy and
Bud" or Schoolly D and Mekon's hip hop harkback "Skool's out",
Themroc's funky electro or E-Klektiks latino breaksfest "Maracana
madness." But perhaps that's the point, WoS have done everything on
their own terms so far and this compilation shows that, sure, they've
had hits, but look at the depth. If they're bustin loose of anything,
it's the dance music elitism and snobbery.
The Fighting Cocks, Love somebody, yes I do (FGZ) CDS
More commonly known as Sezei Kurva, the Fighting Cocks are your
original Hungaro-rave crossover band. Here they prefer a slow-motion
collision of dixie jazz and ska shuffle with the kind of itching
urgency you might experience on discovering a small colony of termites
in your underpants. Substitute termites for angry wasps and you've got
"Look away" where the mash-up includes "These boots are made for
walking," plagiaristic rapping, tabla and other Eastern crashes with a
huge beat. This is what Mark Perry should've made the last Alternative
TV album sound like. www.f-cocks.demon.co.uk
Duf Davis and the Book Club, Shut up and detune your guitar
(Orange Entropy) CD
As anyone who's ever thrashed aimlessly around on their flatmate's
battered old acoustic guitar knows, it's possible to make some
beautiful sounds without ever tuning a guitar. Unfortunately, it's
also possible to make a lot of horrible noise, the kind of horrible
noise that makes the squeals of a sensitive cat being sodomised by a
randy donkey appear positively serene. Sadly, the latter is more
common than the former. What Duf Davis manages to do here is extract
the unchords that work together in some strange way and abort most of
the unlistenable clangings. The result is like a gentle, folkish Jad
Fair wandering around the hypnotic ripple and pulse diasporas created
by Pram. PO Box 1198, Hightstown, NJ 08520, USA www.orangeentropy.com
Interlaken, Jean Cell (Olympique) 7"
Interlaken pursue what turns out to be an ill-advised jean/gene pun
across this debut vinyl outing to the guitar-powered accompaniment of
a New Order/Joy Divisionish moody trundle that bursts into plaintive
Pete Shelley passion at the chorus. It's a repetitive little beastie,
with the twin appeal of being both addictive and stopping, on a
sixpence, at exactly the right moment. 24 Portugal Place, Cambridge,
CB4 8AF www.listen.to/interlaken
Mason Jones, Midnight at the twilight factory (Monotremata) CD
Pick of the 4 simple, textual noisescapes on here is "Stone clouds," a
lengthy remake of the final few seconds of Husker Du's epic "Dreams
recurring" from "Zen arcade." Jones picks up the moods of impotence,
Lilliputian self-worth, frustration and alienation that Bob Mould's
cavernous, shrieking guitar tones thrust into the world and, just
before Mould snapped them back into his head with a petulant squeal,
dives inside them, magnifying and exploring, enlarging, zooming-in and
isolating each component for individual analysis. The result is ten
minutes of tense and unresolved disquiet. 815-A Brazos St #515, Austin
TX 78701, USA monorecs@monotremata.com
My Place In Space (Kylie) TAPE
Sometimes its the bits where the recording level overloaded, sometimes
its the flanging two-tone siren, the warmth of the tape hiss or the
data packets that ripple past in showers of random machine
noise. Whatever it is, Darren Cloudier's struck lucky on the
edge-ometer as these home recordings turn his extra-terrestrial
obsessions not into surf music as did Black Francis's, but instead
into a restricted and rudimentary sound somewhere between toy versions
of Sonic Youth and Stereolab with occasional over the top wipeout
oscillation. dcloutie@osdept.keene.edu
www.talk.to/kylie
Orange Cake Mix, Red rose speedway (Best Kept Secret) TAPE
On "Lo-fi love" Jim Rao sings "in a perfect world, it would be a hit,"
a title and lyric combination which neatly encapsulates the OCM
outlook. The 20-odd tracks embrace gently spacey instrumentals, gentle
lovelorn pleadings and gentle lounge bumblings all low of fi and all,
in the mind of Orange Cake Mix, destined for the top of the
charts. They'll never make it, of course, because this isn't a perfect
world. But don't let that stop you picking this up and sharing in the
dream. acrestani@telemar.it
Alessandro Crestani, via Biron di Sotto, 101 36100 Vicenza, Italy.
Johnny Domino, Johnny Domino (Blackbean and Placenta) LP
Miserable they are, that Johnny Domino lot. Resolutely downcurled of
lip, frowned of brow and cynical of glance, they mope through seven
tracks for this long-lost B&P debut, recorded a good two years ago but
only now seeing the light of day (long after the Artists Against
Success album we waxed lyrical over in the last issue of Robots..) And
the band don't like it much: the album itself nor the fact that it's
taken so long to put it out. Admittedly, the drum machine does sound
like it was recorded inside an oven---not so far off the mark in fact,
as it was recorded in Cable's Bakery in Derby---and then there's the
production/pressing and the, erm, at times unusual guitar
tuning. As Ian Dury should've once said, reasons to be miserable...but
frankly he had something to be pissed off about, I mean: polio or your
first album recorded in two days two years ago?
"Monkey nuts" kicks proceedings off. Its thudding beatbox monotony is
on a par with the Mary Chain in the imagination stakes but the bile in
the lyrics ("come and get your peanuts, you're just a bunch of
monkeys"), the churning, frantic riffing blurred by the restrictions
of 4-track recording and always just off the beat on the difficult
change and the proto-Cable high-pitched angularities of the convoluted
amelody line are more than adequate compensation. After "New pink
shirt" has blurted past. the band promise to rescue us from "cliche
land" in "Veggie rocker," a task they accomplish by adding synths that
half Hammond and semi stylophone their way through a bang-crash slowie
performed with a sour face.
Johnny Domino didn't seem wildly happy to be onstage at Abbey Park in
Leicester recently. The virtual monotempo of their set didn't do much
to lift the mood though, and "The retreat" doesn't either, although
its dearth of mirth is balanced by a great tune that's not a million
miles from someone like Half Man Half Biscuit in a mellow
moment. "Double diamond" reintroduces some razzle and the lead once
again recalls the mighty Cable, wriggling blithely around as
everything else plods moodily on. So: miserable yes. Crap,
no. Available for only a fiver from 147 Little Hallam Lane, Ilkeston,
Derby, DE7 4AA www.johnnydomino.freeserve.co.uk
Orangecan, The engine house (Regal) CDS
Orangecan have the handy knack of picking up a riff long-since
discarded by the likes of Led Zep and smothering it with the kind of
fizzing silence that runs through Mercury Rev's quieter moments to
produce a gentleness that laps in waves around your speakers at once
vaguely psychedelic, vaguely contry and vaguely familiar. But mostly
just pleasingly vague.
G-Force and Seiji, Just another number (Reinforced) LP
The very modest title belies the mesmerising stretch of languid,
flowing jazz contained in this album, manifested in the molten
breakbeats that ripple and bend in graceful ways, obeying only their
own whim and the influence of the occasional intruding sample or
instrumental snatch. There's little sonic similarity, but I've been
listening to it a lot in tandem with the Bablicon album which also
takes jazz as a base but, instead of stripping it down and reducing
everything to a beat, spurts off in tentacular freneticism. "Just
another number" is more relaxing, settling into its muse and looking
for the low-down vibe. Even when nothing much appears to be happening,
there's always the minimal variations to focus on. The similarity
between this album and "In a different city" is that intangible
quality: the feel, the knowledge transmitted from the players
to the listeners through the grooves, knowledge that says these people
care, and that none of these 9 are just another number.
Printed Circuit, I make it convenient (Catmobile) CDS
Rolf Harris, one-finger electrosynth melodies, junior Kraftwerk
robotics, rattling junglist soft-step percussion with hints of
distortion and a fully paid-up membership to the pop music
club. That's Printed Circuit. Kraftwerk are recalled most vividly on
"Futurecruise" where the layers of blocky melody interact in numerous
permutations and the layers of tinny programmed beats build up into a
hefty pound. If you're looking for more recent comparisons, try the
digital spryness of Mouse on Mars. welcome.to/catmobile catmobile@bigfoot.com
Spare Snare, love your early stuff (Che) CD
It's like a posh banquet where the menu looks like Encyclopedia
Britannica and the team of waiters waltz around like formation
penguins in some elaborately choreographed dinner dance. You tuck in
to the first of the 26 courses with relish, the next few with gusto,
no sign of flagging at the halfway point but enthusiasm begins to wane
soon after that and the cheese and biscuits are eaten with the
pleasure of the condemned man's last meal. "Love your early stuff" is
a tidy and completist collection of Spare Snare releases across a
dozen or so labels and is ideal to fill the gaps in your collection,
but too much for a single sitting.
The Seven Hearts, Broke my hand 7"
They don't---or won't---admit to a Captain Beefheart influence, but
it's here: in the growl, in the prowl and in the howl. For the rest,
the Seven Hearts offer an excellent fidgety slowmobilly rocker,
primeval and dirty with shades of---who else---the Cramps although
sans the glam. 2108 Memorial Ave, Lynchburg, VA 24501, USA.
Ween, Paintin the town brown (Mushroom) CD
I must admit that I always had Ween down as juvenile wasters who'd
somehow struck it lucky by finding an audience for their bad jock
jokes set to bad music. And it looks like I was wrong, at least in
part, as this compilation of live recordings spanning the years
1990-98 is less childish than Childish in places. Sure, there's some
cack and crazy voices and, yes, titles like "Poopship destroyer" don't
inspire confidence, but there's also dirty garage noise and distortion
("Doctor rock"), genuinely funny faux-country ("Japanese cowboy") and
70s stoner rock ("Voodoo lady").
Thebrotheregg, Limited run ep CDS
"Dark workmanship" gently spasms through its duration, a slowly
twitching take on the Palace formula bathed in the glow of
uncluttered, but full and warm, budget orchestral production. Just
piano and violin augmenting the tender countryness, enhancing and
emphasising, but never overwhelming. Even on "Dormant poodling" where
the piano is given its head there's neither honk nor tonk to disturb
the fragility. Pick of the three tracks, however, is "Billy Barty's
brains" where we're talking classy Slow River (Sparklehorse, Josh
Rouse, Willard Grant Conspiracy, Peter Bruntnell etc) melancountry
gliding along on a mournful slide and cracked whispering. PO Box
3767, Portland, OR 97208, USA resistor@spiretech.com
Margoo, Eh? (Wot4) CD
I've seen one or two short reviews in my time---they tend to consist
of a lone expletive---but the title of this CD would do as well for a
review and take the minimalist review record too. Y'see, Margoo
rejoices in the glory of the non sequitur. Whole tracks consist of
slow processions of out-of-context snippets of who-knows-what from
who-knows-where, treated who-knows-how and stitched together
only-one-man-knows-why. Fragments of spoken film vocal, odd squirts of
melody---or not---burbles and bobbles, boings, crunches, twangs,
whistles, squelches and rattles all occur frequently but do not make
this one of those half-arsed cut'n'paste collage of crap that we are
often led to believe is futuristic art, instead a kind of louche,
cultivated techno with just enough surface normality to pass casual
muster is blended. Normal above ground, but below the subversive
elements already mentioned are cheekily juxtaposed in all sort of
wrong ways. It's as if Frank Zappa had set out trying to make
an Aphex Twin record, but got stoned instead.
Piazza Torrigiam 14, 50050 Vico D'elsa, Firenze, Italy
fformiga@tin.it
Yuppie Flu/Three Pieces, split w/ (Extreme Sports) 12"
Yuppie Flu live up to the name with a lethargic, weary and painfully
fragile cycling stomper, "Ambassadors," which starts off like a
sluggish Dinosaur Jr: streams of consciousness over looping split
beats; turns at mid-point into a sluggish Family of God tromp and
winds down into the funereal dirge of a sluggish Suicide. We like it a
lot. Meanwhile, on the other side, Three Pieces provide, erm, three
pieces of the kind of Tangerine Dreamish fractured ambience that bored
me rigid ten years ago but right now, after my cocoa, seems to hit the
spot.
Various, Telephasic ambiance (Lianora) CD
As befits and self-respecting fanzine (Metropolitan Audio)/label
compilation, at least half of this is indie pop of one strain or
another (Shallow, Kaktus, Pala, Mogul, Lazer Guided) and as befits a
title like "Telephasic ambiance" the other half trots along the
space/electronic/post line like a good 'un. The more interesting stuff
comes from the second half, including a stirring loop-the-loop from
Earworm favourites Tank, but everyone is belittled by Jad Fair and
Jason Willetts' prank pronk track, "Return of the fly."
c/o B. Sonnette, La Noue 77750, Basseveile, France metroaudio@quid-info.fr
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