Moderator: Redaktörer
Trevlig lista! Bra introduktion till några band jag inte lyssnat så mycket på innan.shifts skrev:Det är fredag och dags för lite bröt och rens. Satte ihop lite spektakel från ett
av mina favvobolag, Rune Grammofon:
http://open.spotify.com/user/amlux/play ... S03Khegcll
+1! Det bästa han gjort på länge, eller iaf sen samarbetet med Aidan Baker.shifts skrev:zidane: Nej, den är inte mer intressant än bra – den är faktiskt snorbra.
"On tour, Lord of the Flies. Aw, hey kids, what's a guuuii-taaaaar?" So begins the sharply titled "On Tour", a spacious, diary-like explosion nestled just a few minutes into Smoke Ring for My Halo, Kurt Vile's fourth and finest full-length to date. Strings buzz, strummed patterns double back on themselves and from up above it all, the Philadelphia-native showers everything with cosmic, harp-like harmonics. It's a song that's both monastic and vast all at once, the kind of curiously rich work that seems like it was crafted by forty longhairs instead of just one. But Vile has gone great lengths in answering his own question in recent years, finding a way to distill thousands of hours spent with classic American guitar music into one very singular and sublime vision. Whether he's channeling the energies of John Fahey or Tom Petty or even Bob Seger, Smoke Ring makes clear that the end result is his alone.
But to listen to Kurt Vile is to hear him in conversation with himself: That can be said of his ultra-wry lyrical observations just as much as the elliptical, brick-by-brick architecture of his songwriting. In the past, though, Vile's words have been written off as mumbled, unintelligible, and listless-- a criticism made all the more reasonable given the crude recording techniques he employed. But 2009's Childish Prodigy, his Matador debut, found Vile wiping off some of the grimy, decidedly "lo-fi" film that had fenced off much of his work up until that point. (Additionally, he brought his sometime touring band, the Violators, into the studio to help fill out those songs that required more brawn. They also appear here.) It was a jump to the relative big leagues that, despite its cleaner approach, offered more in the way of promise than focus. That's not at all the case here. As hinted at by last year's Square Shells EP, a "stepping stone" to where we are now, the sonics and vocals have been spit-polished to shimmer-- every sonorous detail can now be heard in full, and Vile's voice has taken on a new, mountainous presence in the center of each song. The conversation's grown far more engaging.
What we learn is that Kurt Vile has a lot to say. He can be quick, as on the strong-jawed, electric groove of "Puppet to the Man", when he opens, "I bet by now you probably think I'm a puppet to the man. Well I'll tell you right now, you best believe that I am." And he can yank your heart out, as he does a number of times here, perhaps most memorably amid the celestial fingerpicking of "Baby's Arms", when he tries convincing himself that, he'll "never ever, ever be alone." But he's actually always alone here. Vile's lonesome brand of melancholia is still communicated both plainly and unassumingly enough to be missed, but its that sense that he seems to be talking only to himself that lends these songs such magnetic pull. Between the two seismic chords of "Ghost Town" this album's bulldozing climax, Vile wonders aloud, "think I'll never leave my couch again, because when I'm out, I'm away in my mind. Christ was born, I was there. You know me, I'm around. I got friends, hey wait, where was I, well, I am trying." Although he stretches those last two or three notes, it doesn't feel like he's singing. We're eavesdropping on the most private of dialogs.
Sonically and compositionally, Vile allows us the space to do that. He's still cycling between strummers and fingerpicked mazework, but the battery of pedal effects is mostly gone. Rather than stitch loop to loop to loop, Vile's given every marvelous, carefully placed layer all kinds of room to aerate. In the past, "Peeping Tomboy" may have sunk halfway through its bridge, while single "In My Time" probably would have lost its way mid-jam. But here, Vile has acknowledged limits in length for the sake of depth. It makes for a full-blown journey. Though there isn't an earworm like "Freeway"-- that endlessly replayable, interstate love song from Vile's 2008 Constant Hitmaker LP-- Smoke Rings isn't that kind of listen. This feels like a family of songs, one whose complexion and course changes as a whole with every spin. In the closing moments of "Ghost Town", Vile leaves us with, "Raindrops might fall on my head sometimes, but I don't pay 'em any mind. Then again, I guess it ain't always that way." He knows exactly what he's trying to say.
-- http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/151 ... r-my-halo/
Claire Boucher's debut as Grimes has been a long time coming and has already drawn comparisons with the work of fellow chill/drag/witch/h-pop characters Laurel Halo, Hype Williams and even Autre Ne Veut. When it gets it right - it's quite the killer too, with opener "Outer" managing to integrate sincere, properly sung vocal harmonies with the kind of compressed low-end rumble that would make Salem blush. "Rasik" is another standout, flexing shoegaze signatures with impressively heavy-hitting vocals and throbbing bass pulses that end all too abruptly, before the majestic "Heartbeats" ingests cinematic conceits without falling into the trap of dragging itself through a vortex of cod-emotions, instead playing with timbre and pitch to create something that sounds like Fever Ray crossed with Enigma - in the best possible sense. Over the course of an hour you're drawn deeper and deeper into an alternate pop matrix, with only the occasional misstep (such as the British Airways advertising soundalike "Intor / Flowers") nudging you back to reality. Overall though, "Halfaxa" is one of the more accomplished and absorbing full-length's to have emerged from the genre with a plethora of dodgy names - and comes to you with much recommendation, make sure to check it out.
-- http://boomkat.com/downloads/385084-grimes-halfaxa
Geidi Primes is a landmark album of modern Canadian fringe, an assemblage of space-station pop memorabilia teleported from a time-static nether-zone beyond the scope of our earthly understanding. I’ve been waiting months for this, posting anxious pleas to Grimes after hearing the sinuous, harrowing bass-line on Rosa. With the curiously packaged cassette in my fiending grip, the orbiting swaths of synthetic warmth and echoing drum-machines have caused exciting astral projections outside my usual mental musicalia. Geidi Primes takes off from Rosa’s minimal bass-lines and launches straight into a strange hybrid of Björk, The Cure, Micachu, and other avant seamstresses, leaving a footprint in every decade and thankfully landing in ours. Chord progressions and samples are pulled from any source imaginable and the aggregation results in a Kate Bushian trail of decadence. It seems pointless and restrictive attempting to describe its brilliance, so I’ll stop with this: Geidi Primes is a flagship of hyperbolic dimensions. Get on board.
-- http://weirdcanada.com/2010/01/review-g ... di-primes/
+1shifts skrev:Grimes låter intressant, i alla fall hela två låtar in på den först länkade plattan.
Alexi skrev:Bidrar med två singlar i min smak
Hailing from Gainesville, Florida, Papercranes is not exactly a household name in folk/alternative rock. In fact, everything about them begs to be left alone. Their raw sound doesn’t aim to please anyone besides themselves, and their work is an indication of the reclusive style that they integrate into their music. They seem to march to the beat of their own drum, and their albums are undoubtedly better off for it. Papercranes’ sophomore effort, Let’s Make Babies in the Woods, is a spiraling stream of consciousness expedition into front woman Rain Phoenix’s mind, a black and white soundscape of hurt and abandonment. With folk and psychedelic influences as the impetus, everything from Phoenix’s tortured wails to the music’s underlying depression is put on full display during this unpolished gem.
Let’s Make Babies in the Woods is an album that won’t fully make sense until it is over. Its sound is out of touch, maybe even a little coarse, driven primarily by percussion and Phoenix’s raspy vocals reminding one of a Regina Spektor or Kate Nash who just woke up. The music may not be directly engaging, but what it lacks in immediacy it makes up for in depth and an emotionally profound atmosphere. One could easily cite the glass-tinged piano echoes and New Orleans-style horn section present throughout “Dust Season” as a crystallizing moment for the listener. However, the truth is the album is constantly evolving within itself, even from the opening seconds. The acoustic strums and comparatively accessible chorus of “say you have feelings for a shell, the ghost of me” are an illusion, diverting attention from the album’s insistence on remaining buried in its unrefined production – something that plays to the album’s advantage significantly. The chant-like vocals become more raspy, more raw, and more honest in the desperate-sounding “Headphones”, the real introduction to the record’s signature musical style. The gentle ooh’s and hums whispering up the spine of “Long Way” lend Let’s Make Babies in the Woods a haunting air, one that continues to make its presence felt periodically throughout the album’s runtime. In the meanwhile, mid-album tracks like “Sea Red” and “Texas” give Rain Phoenix even more room to show off her creativity through metaphors and abstract-but-devastating lyrics – proving that filler has no place on this album.
The most impressive moments on Let’s Make Babies in the Woods are saved for last. “Synapses” stands out as a highlight on an album full of phenomenal songs, with haunting hums and harmonies that are startlingly interrupted by heavy drums and rapid electric guitar strums. Phoenix’s vocals are perfectly integrated as usual, with every instrument, every vocal note, every thing interacting in the most dynamic fashion possible. The pure attention to detail in this song - hell, for that matter the whole album – is so immense and so stunning that it escapes words. Yet somehow, miraculously, Let’s Make Babies in the Woods feels as through its roots lay in the basics. The closing “Grace” follows suit with a completely unrestrained vocal onslaught by Phoenix, who holds nothing back in her serenades, wails, and shouts that pay just as much if not more attention to hammering home an emotion – an idea - than they do to holding a note. And because of the album’s untamed, unprocessed feel, moments like these are able to show themselves as innovative; as rare experimentation as opposed to just sloppy. Let’s Make Babies in the Woods is Papercranes coming into their own, and doing it faster than anyone expected them to. On just their second album, they have already bestowed an absolute jewel upon us – one that may be covered in a thin layer of dust, but is still guaranteed to sparkle.
-- http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/4147 ... ave-Faces/
FalloutBoy skrev:Experimentell elektronisk pop med inspiration hämtad från droger. Kan vara något för phloam?
Ton skrev:Till veckan släpper The Vaccines sin första fullängdare så jag tänkte vi kunde lyssna lite på senaste singeln "Post Break-Up Sex". Klassisk gitarrpop, okomplicerat & omedelbart
phloam skrev:Jäkligt bra tips där, som en vacker kollision mellan flera andra grupper i min smak. Flummigt oh raspigt, gillas! Tackar
ISVOLT is a collaboration with Disaro Records Houston / LA, features 9 tracks of a new, exciting and haunting type of electronic music, which is commonly termed as “drag” or “witch house”, associated with acts such as Salem, Balam Acab and Zola Jesus! The music was produced by artists from all over the world and define the first truly global genre of the new decade!
-- http://www.robotelephant.co.uk/tagged/release
Legendary electronic pioneers Cabaret Voltaire re-enter the musical fray with a new single and album on Shiva Records. The album, “National Service Rewind“, is a collaboration between Cabaret Voltaire and new Sheffield rock band The Tivoli, recorded at Cabaret Voltaire‘s legendary Western Works studios.
“National Service Rewind” is a sonic juggernaut that cleaves all conceptions of dance rock crossover in two and dives deep into the jugular to spit blood, bone and baritone. There are no niceties here, no musical politesse, just a war of electronic attrition, psychotic, psychedelic rock and tower-block rocking beats peppered by juddering, Jamaican Dancehall bass.
South Yorkshire’s hottest new rock band, The Tivoli, have been thrown into the blender for a total shakedown courtesy of the godfathers of electronica, the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Made in Sheffield, this is a Steel City Ruckus that will reverberate from Shanghai to Seattle.
Already on a local high, selling out every show in Sheffield and now preparing to headline their biggest ever show at O2 Academy 1 on April 17th, as well as being heralded by all local tastemaker media and being tipped by the likes of Richard Hawley, The Tivoli came under the scrutiny of Cabaret Voltaire originator and main man Richard H Kirk at a typically heaving live show some months ago. Discovering that the founding father of the post-punk Sheffield music scene was actually impressed by the politically charged, sample-laced, art-rock furore of The Tivoli, four young musicians got the beers in pronto and hatched a collusion of collision knowing that their own rock’n’roll vision would be irreparably shattered and bombed to bits by an electronic blizzard. The Tivoli sacrificed their indie rock soul at the altar of Cabaret Voltaire’s legendary Western Works studios and the slaughter began.
-- http://www.robotelephant.co.uk/tagged/release
Jag la in albumet samtidigt men tyckte inte resten av styckena höll samma kvalité: http://open.spotify.com/artist/4vkp0Xrh0KIQ5f9D5IlMDmFalloutBoy skrev:Alexi skrev:Bidrar med två singlar i min smak
Singeln från Fleet Foxes var ganska mysig. Ska bli intressant att höra nya albumet när det släpps.
FalloutBoy skrev:Har du förresten noterat att det finns en "ny" våg av mörk alternativ elektronisk musik som till stora delar är hämtad från 80-talets synth/industri-musik?
De verkar inte vara särskilt medvetna om det själva dock (eller så förnekar de bara det).
Kallas ofta för "witch house" eller andra fyndiga namn.
FalloutBoy skrev:T.o.m Cabbarna är tillbaka! Cirkeln är sluten skulle man kunna säga:
phloam skrev:Hittade denna intervju om det (The Quietus är kanonbra, TCM har tipsat om den för länge sen har jag för mig, tackar) http://thequietus.com/articles/04177-ca ... hnny-yesno
Tundra Dubs is a Californian based label dealing in the underbelly of modern music; the ugly side of witch house, the confrontationally bleak electronica that conjures the more inhospitable soundscapes in its seances. Immediately stamping its mark as one of their best, almost signature sounding releases, is the debut from the mysterious (been a surprisingly/relatively long time since I've got to say that) ∆AIMON.
Amen adds some cold-blooded industrial momentum to the labels sound, hip-hop signifiers subducted into convection loops that spits occult themes back out, oily and violated by the darker malevolence that forges these tracks. The album smashes itself out of the speakers with Pure, eruptions of crumbling distortion, breaking apart under the insistent stamp of hollow-eyed drum-machine, its steady mechanistic plod juxtaposed well with the flighty feminine vocals that flit between the spaces, riding in the wakes of the beats that plough through the waves of fuzzy drone, a fizzing presence that threatens to break over each track and flood them with noise - what holds it back is a tense sense of restraint that keeps this release from overshooting itself, and holding the tracks at a nervy peak throughout their relatively short durations. The title track Amen features an earth shaking bassline that ratchets up the tension further until it all peaks with the following keystone; the cover of Swans' Holy Money. It's a rendition that extends the grim futility of the original, rolling right into ∆AIMON's world and out the other side leaving the following tracks ringing with its vehmence.
-- http://nfrblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/rev ... -amen.html
I love Salem’s King Night. More than expected. I’ve enjoyed the previous singles, etc., but they didn’t prepare me for these 45 minutes of dark, weird, hollowed-out beauty. (Hats off to John Holland, Heather Marlatt, Jack Donoghue.) You get Screw fueled by twice the cough syrup (and a Dennis Cooper novel). Starless deep-South mythologies filtered through Traverse City/Chicago street culture. They establish an elegant, pristine goth shoegaze that now and then drops out weird, introverted dance anthems. Or deep, bowel-shaking bass rumbles accompanied by warping atmospherics. A real sense of dirt. (The songs come off like field recordings for the back alleys in Trash Humpers.) As mentioned, bands like Salem, Frank (Just Frank), Blessure Grave, Crystal Castles, and Oneohtrix Point Never (or go back to Svarte Greiner) are currently playing to a soft spot of mine. These bands don’t sound the same: They tap a darkness and a romantic bleakness, the kind of thing I’ve found so attractive, in a different guise, via black metal or deathrock. In “Sick” you get the title repeated and sounding like a “666.” “Release Da Boar” glides across your speakers like crystal fog (unseen folks gargling, impotently howling, haunting within it). The anti-social and strung-out Hot 97 anthems “Trapdoor” and “Tair.” Etc. “King Night”’s the first track on the collection. It works well as an intro, prepping you for the blasted/bleak, catchy/creepy world that you’re about to enter.
-- http://stereogum.com/416181/salem-king- ... iere/mp3s/
”I’m off to save the world” ursäktar sig Josh T Pearson inledningsvis på sitt första soloalbum, men redan i nästa spår konstaterar han att Honey, I Ain’t Your Christ. Någon oproblematisk profet är han med andra ord inte, trots alla sina bibliska referenser och rentav gammaltestamentliga stämningar. Snarare är han en förtvivlat sökande och förvirrad domedagsprofet, isåfall.
På Last of the Country Gentlemen vacklar han på ett djupt oroande sätt mellan självmord och smekmånad, mellan Jesus Kristus och Djävulen, i tio minuter långa långsamma noveller som alldeles för ofta känns självbiografiska. Borta är det oväsendet från Lift to Experiences debut, det enda album han hann göra innan den tio år långa ökenvandring som föregått den här solodebuten. Borta är elektriciteten överhuvudtaget, intill hans försiktiga gitarrplockande och nästan Jeff Buckley-hypnotiska stämma ryms bara något enstaka stråkinstrument. Men det bidrar än mer till skivans apokalyptiska stämningar, och kraften i hans musik har vuxit avsevärt sedan hans gamla högljudda dagar. Även om det stundtals är mycket obehagligt att lyssna på Josh T Pearsons svavel och aska-predikningar känner man sig till slut märkligt renad.
-- http://nojesguiden.se/recensioner/musik ... -gentlemen
Jansson skrev:Tyvärr finns inte 2011 års Ventriloquizzing på Spåttifaj så vi får hålla till godo med ovanstående.
The Soft Moon is Luis Vasquez and The Soft Moon is his debut on Captured Tracks. The sound he purveys gels with the tastes of the man behind the label, Mike Sniper, who is also known musically as Blank Dogs. By this I mean that the Soft Moon plays a dark and minimal, synth-heavy, electronically-enhanced kind of pop with a lo-fi aesthetic. However, Vasquez edges more towards the instrumental or ambient side, eschewing typical song structure for exercises in poppy repetition and drone.
The Soft Moon obviously owes a lot to its krautrock and synth-rock influences, but it also fits in perfectly with the current moment. Though the sound has an expansive reach, it’s a small kind of music, made by one person alone. Being freed from the collaborative aspects of a band also takes this music away from the typical confines of the pop song. There’s more emphasis on repetition and layering. Instrumentation doesn’t stand out, vocals don’t matter; the music communicates a feeling.
All of the songs on this album are essentially versions of each other, but Vasquez always knows when to add a new layer, a new bit of sound, to make it interesting. Most tracks don’t really have coherent lyrics, just breathy vocal vamps to punctuate the sound here and there. The major mode of the Soft Moon is bass and the bare minimum of a beat (that gets elaborated with other percussion). Though these songs exist in time, they have that collage feel of aggregate parts pasted together and hanging there at once. So most of the tracks aren’t really songs. The album ends up resembling the score to a scary Road Warrior type film. The track “Out of Time”, for example, could actually show up on a spooky sounds compilation and not seem out of place. The high pitch-shifting synth is like a haunted cat squealing in the night.
Only three of 11 tracks resemble anything like a “proper” pop song, with verse and chorus structure (based on lyric or melodic difference). These songs structure the album like the beginning, middle, and end of a sentence. The highlight of these three “When It’s Over” is also the major anomaly, having dreamy vocals over a guitar with vibrato. Not that this is a typical song; it opens up with a high pitched groan of pain. But it’s the closest Vazquez comes to an anthem—if an anthem is draining and you can’t sing along to it. It’s more like a tip of the hat to the Soft Moon’s ‘80s British influence.
Album opener “Breathe the Fire” is like krautrock mixed with rockabilly (krautabilly?). Over a bass line that could be a Joy Division song that stands still inside of three notes, Vasquez whispers tonelessly but with a hint of pompadour, while a sickly bending note drones over the song. Whatever melodic component the song has comes in the staccato guitar notes that serve like a bridge outro to the song. Perhaps the most emblematic track is “Circles”: It has a queasy synth and a driving beat with reverb-washed percussion. The song comes in repeating layers that, whether voice or synth, work rhythmically rather than melodically to produce a dark trance state.
As I’m trying to describe the Soft Moon’s sound, I keep coming up with metaphors of sickness. The insistence of bass, guitar, and synth to hover between two notes brings to mind that kind of strange empty focus that comes with the pain of illness. But it’s not just me who thinks this way. Vazquez hints at it: “Sewer Sickness” winds itself into you head like a migraine, with a syncopated gasping vocal that could be a dry heave. This isn’t to say that the album makes you feel bad. Call it a flight into illness—something about the album is otherworldly, not right, but inevitable; and like the worst illnesses it marks the time it takes with an irrevocable beckoning. There’s something about that time that makes it seem like it will never be over, and yet you will keep returning to it.
-- http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/136 ... soft-moon/
shifts skrev:Detta där var ju rackarns trevligt, men jag tror kompressor är deras främsta instrument! Men det var riktigt bra.
Verkligen på tiden! Hoppas att hela deras katalog läggs upp.shifts skrev:Otroligt glädjande att mina gamla favoriter Stars of the Lid äntligen finns på Spotify med två skivor:
Kan bara instämma.Gör en sökning på "label:kranky" också. Det är helt klart ett av de skivbolag som påverkat utvecklingen av den musiksmak jag har i dag.
shifts skrev:Vet inte hur länge Boduf Songs funnit på Spotify, men jag tror inte det är så
länge. Det är något jag missat i alla fall. Här är en av 2000-talets bästa album
tycker jag, How shadows chase the balance:
http://open.spotify.com/album/2rjk0A6CIciR36YPTP1A9b
Timothy Showalter has a beard, an acoustic guitar, and a heartbreaking backstory-- on the surface, the confessional singer-songwriter start-up kit. But he'd prefer not to talk about his heavy history even if it would make you root for him. For one thing, he'd rather not relive some of the personal tragedy (a bad breakup, a house fire) that inspired his debut, Leave Ruin. But it also would obscure the otherworldly mythology he creates on Pope Killdragon, an astoundingly original twist on the loner-folk template.
He begins the mesmerizing "Sterling" like he's keeping an especially heavy secret, but Showalter is merely an observer and a confused one at that. If his lyrics are occasionally too loopy to pin down what it's "about," they're perfectly suited for an unreliable narrator trying to piece together lost time. In the darkly comic "Daniel's Blues", he inhabits Dan Aykroyd, racked with depression after the death of John Belushi. I won't spoil the ending, but it's by far the most pathos-laden song ever to recall the decision to take a role in Ghostbusters. Meanwhile, the spare "Alex Kona" is the stuff of Mastodon epics-- 12-foot monsters, sermons from the mount, mothers wailing in the streets-- and to drive that point home, it's immediately followed by "Giant's Despair", an honest-to-god doom-metal instrumental.
Those are the attention-grabbing tactics, but Pope Killdragon maintains these strange juxtapositions throughout: historical fact with whimsical fiction, a mournful delivery of absurd lyrics, an odd allure to the bifurcated sonics where synths sidle up with acoustic guitars. It's easy to envision the "next Bon Iver!" plaudits-- Showalter looks and sounds the part, but that would miss the deeper commonality. Auto-Tune, Gayngs, rolling spliffs with Rick Ross-- Justin Vernon has made the most of the spotlight by cutting against an image that requires him to continually hurt harder than others. Similarly, Pope Killdragon's playfulness and sense of humor allow it a broader range of emotion than the typical sadsack folkie. Showalter did a good deal of bloodletting on Leave Ruin, and now Strand of Oaks' horizons are limited only by his fantastical imagination.
-- http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/145 ... illdragon/
Twenty-two-year-old Finn Olli Aarni is a lot like Girl Talk. No, really - okay, he relies far less on the generosity of Fair Use, but both men compose primarily by sitting around, listening to mountains of music. What a living! The similarities end though when you consider what each man samples for. Gregg Gillis wants you to dance, possibly like you've never before. Ous Mal's Nuojuva Halava, an ambient record replete with hip hop and Finnish folk influences, wraps you in a cotton quilt and tucks you in.
The more melodic and rhythmic touches balance the amorphous ambience perfectly, giving you enough hooks to listen to actively, but Nuojuva Halava is best sampled when you're between sleep and waking, so it can envelope you. The drony ambience and Aarni's softly plucked kantele - the national instrument of Finland - is recorded intentionally so it's not clear when one piece ends and another begins, again to replicate the daze of near-sleep.
You could listen to audiobooks, but frankly, this is better - plus it comes with the added bonus of being able to boast to your equally pretentious friends that you're up on the latest trends in Finnish ambient.
-- http://www.sixthousand.com.au/hear/ous- ... va-halava/
Användare som besöker denna kategori: Inga registrerade användare och 5 gäster