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Keith Fullerton Whitman brings his 3-part Generators series for Japan’s NAKID label to a close with a third and final instalment that ravishes the senses with hybrid analogue/digital systems tekkerz.

Hazing into a solemn start of floating organ and slurred drums, the first part fizzes into action with pranging irregularities, tentatively allowing the system to voice varying pitches and nimble rhythms that resemble balletic footwork plies as much as classically-trained instrumentalist flurries. It’s deeply trance-inducing, meditative gear that over the course of 25 minutes slowly gains momentium and complexity, first adding robust arps to complicate the structure, treading the finest line of chaos and discipline. In time, those arps turn themselves into a rhythm track, landing somewhere between Whitman's earliest junglist works as Hrvatski and a sort of plucked rhythmic minimalism that reminds us of Mark Fell’s Sensate Focus, gliding on natural, brownian motion and flux of texture, punctuated by what sound likes a plucking of a drum machine from the inside-out.

In part 2 the mood pools and diffracts in slow-fast meter, bristling ruptures of atonality that send limbs flailing one way and then another, adding subs for a dimensional shift that’s rhythmically fractured but always grounded at the low registers. The wavy embroidery of Whitman's machines trigger each other in endlessly fascinating forms of gyring workshop ballistics and dub reverberations.

A special bonus piece ‘Meakusma (Generators, Soundcheck)’ is the most curious of the lot, with a lone clarinet heard in the air, perhaps a serendipitous inclusion form someone else’s soundcheck, lending an enchanting depth perception to his frolicking bleeps.


[a] 1 | MEAKUSMA [Generators] (190606) Part 1
[b] 2 | MEAKUSMA [Generators, Redactions] (190606) Part 2
[c] 3 | MEAKUSMA [Generators, Soundcheck] (190606)

Fractal head rearrangement from Keith Fullerton Whitman on his first vinyl release in what feels like years, here blessing Japan’s NAKID label with a new instalment in his forever-evolving Generators project, arcing from bleeping post-Kosmische sounds into completely unexpected drum mutations in footwork and grime modes. It’s properly head melting gear that links the algorithmic mind-fukkery of Laurie Spiegel with the floor-bending rhythmic experimentation of Mark Fell, Rian Treanor or Jana Rush, and the first in a three part series that offers some of the strongest gear we’ve heard from one of the very best in the game.

Modular synth scientist, critic and historian Keith Fullerton Whitman first debuted his »Generators« set in 2009, using a modular setup to create non-repeating melodic patterns that basically came close to generating themselves. Over the course of hundreds of live shows (and a handful of releases on Root Strata, Editions Mego and other labels), Whitman glacially honed his process and allowed the concept to slither down different avenues, mutating as it picked energy from the various venues it was situated in. His rigorous method meant ‘Generators’ was never played out the same way twice, veering from psychedelic Kosmische experimentation to obliterated, off-grid Techno.

In 2019, on the tenth anniversary of the project, Whitman was invited by the GRM in Paris to set up in Studio C, where he avoided the arsenal of pristine, museum-worthy modular synthesizers and instead reprogrammed his classic ‘Generators’ patch. Recorded in a single take using luxe analog- to-digital convertors, the result is a 45-minute durational piece, split into two distinct sides for this release.“Very little manual interaction happened,” Whitman explains. The music is, as its title suggests, generative, and at this point basically sounds as if it reached its most advanced, final form. The first few minutes of the opening side mine the original theme, with clocked LFO shapes triggering oscillator blips in mind-expanding non-looping patterns. Soon, percussion enters the matrix, at first wrong-footing us with a 4/4 fake-out - possibly nodding to the piece’s 2010 Root Strata iteration - before splitting into staccato polyrhythmic abstractions of the most loose- limbed and deadly variety.

General MIDI drums can sound almost hilariously boxed-in, but handled by Whitman they show off a plastic cultural sheen to piercing effect, deployed in a way that re-draws the rhythmic bass music of someone like Jlin while nodding to Mark Fell and Rian Treanor’s quasi-generative dance explorations. These comparisons take on even more weight on the second side, where Whitman opens up his filters to allow the synth bleeps to sing even more loudly, introducing that all- important clap/hat interplay that dialogues with Atlanta and Chicago simultaneously.

DJ and producer David Holmes is welcomed to the Late Night Tales fraternity with an evocative collection of personal songs and music, peppered with exclusive new material and rare gems. By now, I think we all know David Holmes, right There's acid house Holmes, with bone-rattling Chicago jams and Detroit destroyers, break-digger Holmes responsible for the grittily shaking 'Let's Get Killed' and seminal Essential Mix compilation (which brought Sixto Rodriguez to people's attention, and then there's soundtrack Holmes. His most enduring and vital source of musical inspiration - cinema - plugged into David's rst solo record 'This Film's Crap, Let's Slash the Seats' and inspired 2000's 'Bow Down to the Exit Sign', created as the soundtrack to a not-yet-made movie. Ofcial soundtracks have been bountiful, including scores for Soderbergh's Out Of Sight and Ocean's trilogy, '71, Hunger and Good Vibrations. In a series of personal songs sung by himself, David's last solo album 'The Holy Pictures' explored inuences of La Düsseldorf, The Jesus and Mary Chain and early Brian Eno. His Unloved collaboration with Keefus Ciancia and Jade Vincent then took us on a musical journey full of raw 60s pop-noir, psychedelia and French Ye Ye with a contemporary twist. Somehow he's also found time to produce records by Primal Scream and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Unsurprisingly, for someone au fait with matters cinematic, this Late Night Tales conjures up its own mindmovies. It's not only packed with the judiciously selected nuggets for which his mixes are noted but also stuffed with original material, including collaborations with BP Fallon and Jon Hopkins and an amazing new reading of 10cc's 'I'm Not In Love' by Holmes-produced Song Sung. In fact, there's a Celtic thread running through the whole journey with Stephen Rea's reading of an extract from Seamus Heaney's AENEID BOOK VI - Elsewhere Anchises. Among the other gems included here are David Crosby's lush 'Orleans', Buddy Holly's celestial 'Love Is Strange' and the Children Of Sunshine's 'It's A Long Way To Heaven'. David Holmes loves music. It's a way of expressing the sometimes inexpressible or the inconsolable, a questing desire to nd out just what is over the next hill. It's no surprise to learn he's a keen walker. Always on the move, headphones on, lost in some reverie or piece of music, the soundtrack to his life, the stuff that feeds his imagination. I walk a lot. It's amazing for listening to music: your phone or your emails aren't going and you're just in the forest listening to music. It's so intimate. Anyway, I was listening to the KLF's Chill Out album, which still sounds amazing, but it triggered an idea with concrete sounds through travelling and movement. And one of the things I was trying to do was to use this idea not just break up the moods but also as a metaphor for moving through life and arriving in different destinations or arriving at different stages in different parts of your life. Memory, Love, Living, Family, Friendship, Healing, Death and The Afterworld are some of the themes I wanted to explore within this record. Although these strong themes and tracks are personal to me, I also wanted it to be a great listen that was unpredictable yet had a seamless ow - a journey that was personal to me yet to the listener a great compilation of music that they may or may not have heard before. I hope I've succeeded in the later.' David Holmes 2016

Newly remastered version of Oren Ambarchi’s long out-of-print classic Hubris originally released on Editions Mego in 2016. Expertly remastered by audio wizard Joe Talia who worked with the original mixes, highlighting the myriad details of the audio with forensic precision, previously unheard up until now.

From the 2016 press release:
Hubris continues the exploration of relentless, driving rhythms heard on Ambarchi’s Sagittarian Domain (2012) and Quixotism (2014). Where those records looked to Krautrock and techno for their starting points, the sidelong opening track here begins from the perhaps unlikely inspirations of disco and new wave, drawing particularly from Ambarchi’s love of Wang Chung’s soundtrack to William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. Leaving behind the song-forms of these reference points, Ambarchi weaves a sustained and pulsating web of layered palm-muted guitars from which individual voices rise up and recede, eventually setting the stage for some lush guitar synth from Jim O’Rourke. Arnold Dreyblatt collaborator Konrad Sprenger contributes overtone-rich motorized guitar, pushing the piece into a satisfying intersection of shimmering minimalism and rhythmic drive that smoothly builds up until the entrance of Mark Fell’s electronic percussion in its final section.
After a short second part, in which Ambarchi, O’Rourke and crys cole pay tribute to the skewed harmonic sense of Albert Marcoeur with a track built from layered guitar figures and abstracted speech, the long final piece pushes the concept of the first side into darker and denser areas. Joined by electronics from Ricardo Villalobos and the twin drums of Will Guthrie and Joe Talia, the layered guitars of the first piece are transformed into a raw and tumbling fusion-funk groove that calls to mind early Weather Report or even the first Golden Palominos LP. As this stellar rhythm section rides a single repeated chord change into oblivion, a series of spectacular events emerge in the foreground: first, aleatoric synthesizer burbles from Keith Fullerton Whitman, then slashing skronk guitar from Arto Lindsay, until finally Ambarchi’s own fuzzed-out harmonics take center stage as the piece builds to an ecstatic frenzy. Few artists could hope to include such an incredible variety of collaborators on one record and still hope for it to have a unique identity, but Ambarchi manages to do just that, crafting three pieces that emerge directly out of his previous work while also pushing ahead into new dimensions.
Players: Oren Ambarchi, crys cole, Mark Fell, Will Guthrie,
Arto Lindsay, Jim O’Rourke, Konrad Sprenger, Joe Talia, Ricardo Villalobos, Keith Fullerton Whitman.

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Clear Vinyl

DDS catch enduringly absorbing sonic alchemist Jim O’Rourke at his knottiest and most ingenious in a wormholing suite of amorphous rhythm and psychedelic electronics - a massive RIYL Autechre, Roland Kayn, Bernard Parmegiani, NYZ, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
Playing up to and into DDS’ freeform aesthetics, O’Rourke renders 40 minutes shearing hyaline synth tones and ruptured rhythm generated at his Steamroom facilities in Tokyo, a modular outzone trawling that harks back to his iconic Mego releases and some of the more recent Steamroom experiments. It’s an ideal addition to the ever expanding DDS cosmos, following Demdike’s recent ‘Drum Machine’ expo with a slice of purist and screwed modular magick that transcends early
electronics and modern styles in pursuit of musical sensations that defy stylistic brackets.
‘Too Compliment’ was assembled using a bespoke Hordijk modular system, a rare West Coast-style setup hand made by Dutch engineer Rob Hordijk. O’Rourke focuses on the frequency shifter here, using it to coax out fluxing tone thickets, haphazard frequencies and elongated drone corridors.
It’s transportive stuff, harking back to the early days of private press academic synth music but also sitting on edge alongside Autechre’s recent long-form work, as well as O’Rourke’s classic “I’m Happy, And I’m Singing, And A 1, 2, 3, 4” In O’Rourke’s hands, the mass of electronics takes on throbbing, organic dimensions, congealing
grey matter and purplish veins of fluid in viscous transitions that glisten and spark with invention as they form new tissue. What comes out is as unearthly as the earliest electronic music, but also
blessed with a psychedelc spirit in a way that’s long kept O’Rourke right out on his own, teetering between paradigms yet never settling into any single style. If you’ve always been keen on finding a way into that sprawling soundworld, ‘Too Compliment’ is a perfect entry point into a highly rewarding creative macrocosm.

First-ever official re-issue of the Ecuadorian composer's stunning electroacoustic composition "Oeldorf 8" on vinyl and CD. Remastered by KASSIAN TROYER at D&M, Berlin.

MESÍAS MAIGUASHCA (b. December 24th, 1938 in Quito / Ecuador) is a composer of Neue Musik, especially electroacoustic music, who studied at the Conservatorio Nacional de Quito, at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY (1958–65), with ALBERTO GINASTERA at the Instituto di Tella in Buenos Aires, at the Hochschule für Musik in Cologne and, after a short return to Ecuador, attended the Internationale Ferienkurse für Neue Musik in Darmstadt and the Fourth Cologne Courses for New Music in 1966–67 where he studied with KARLHEINZ STOCKHAUSEN. From 1968 to 1972, MAIGUASHCA worked closely with STOCKHAUSEN in the Electronic Music Studio of the Westdeutscher Rundfunk in Cologne and joined STOCKHAUSEN's ensemble for performances at the German Pavilion at the Expo '70 in Osaka. In 1971 he became a founding member of the OELDORF GROUP of composers and performers, and began work at the Centre Européen pour la Recherche Musicale in Metz, at IRCAM in Paris, and at the ZKM in Karlsruhe. From 1990 – 2004 MAIGUASHCA was Professor of Electronic Music at the Musikhochschule of Freiburg im Breisgau where he still lives today.

The OELDORF GROUP, named after the small village 40 km away from Cologne where they lived and worked in a rented farmhouse where they set up their own studio for electronic music and studio productions, was a musicians' collective active during the 1970s. In the adjacent barn, the group held concerts for audiences up to 300 people with an emphasis on live-electronic music and other kinds of new and avant-garde music. Thanks to a long-standing contact with the Westdeutscher Rundfund, the core members of the OELDORF GROUP (PETER EÖTVÖS - electronics and keyboards, the violinist/violist and composer JOACHIM KRIST, electronics specialist and composer MESÍAS MAIGUASHCA, who also played keyboards, and his wife GABY SCHUMACHER – cello) received commissions for compositions, invitations to perform in the Musik der Zeit concert series, as well as having many of their summer concerts recorded for the late-night broadcasts of WDR3.

One of these commissioned compositions is "Oeldorf 8": a retrospective portrait of the OELDORF GROUP consisting of a series of ten short pieces for four instrumentalists (clarinet, violin, cello, electric organ/synthesizer) and tape which may be played either simultaneously or continuously without a break. It premiered in 1974 at the Darmstädter Ferienkurse and was released on LP two years later and turned into a sought-after, but not very well-known rarity achieving collector's prices., and was later unofficially reissued on KEITH FULLERTON-WHITMAN's Creep Pone CDr label.

Conceived as a sonic diary with an edge to encompass radical electronic synthesis, the 48 minute composition proves " … a thing of wonder; from the outset, MAIGUASHCA's spoken introduction of the players & concept gets slowly eroded by errant, pointillist electronic sound … which then lets loose for a good 10 minutes before a swarm of slowly rising held tones c/o the players acoustic arsenal slowly comes to the fore. On the second side, the acoustic sounds - patiently, elegantly state their cases across a good half of the segment until a rising pulse-wave drone essentially annihilates the more nuanced phrasing & slowly builds to an almost ROLAND KAYN-esque climax of raw oscillator gristle" (Soundohm).

44 years after its original release, MAIGUASHCA's stunning album finally sees its deserved and overdue re-release on CD and LP, carefully remastered by KASSIAN TROYER at D&M, Berlin.


"Maiguashca … is part of the first generation of South American maverick sound explorers that in the 1960s paved the way for a tradition of innovation that persists in the present noise and psychedelic scenes of the continent. Along with Edgar Valcárcel, César Bolaños, Beatriz Ferreyra, Mauricio Kagel or José Vicente Asuar, he contributed to expand the possibilities of musical language beyond the dominant Western canon …"

David Jarrin / Kraak Festival

*This is the second solo album from Ken Camden who lives and works in Chicago. He also plays in the Implodes sound quartet. *Space travel is the dream of many and the reality of few. Since Yuri Gagarin rst shed the bonds of earth gravity in 1961, only about 500 humans have made the trip beyond the atmosphere. *Ken Camden travels to space while still grounded on terra rma. His vessel of choice is a guitar and some effects with which he journeys on fantastical expeditions and surveys the biggest territory of all, the one between your ears. *The glimmering sound elds he forms could be a soundtrack to an epic 60's science-ction lm, or a long forgotten grade school educational lm strip explaining how humans would be living on Mars early in the 21st century. *Camden's narrative rejects the dominant dystopian view of the future and posits that there are great voyages yet to be made in inner and outer space. *The album forms a gravity-free environment in which the listener is suspended, enhancing an aural excursion to the outer reaches of the musical Kosmos. *Press quotes for Lethargy & Repercussions: 'Transcendence achieved.' Tiny Mix Tapes 'It's an album that, although it's only been recorded once, feels forever embedded in the present tense when you listen to it.' Attn Magazine 'Ken Camden fuses the mystery of Eastern scales with Krautrock and Karl Stockhausen inspired themes, yet his sound remains futuristic.' Bearded 'Awesome record of shimmering, electronically modied solo guitar music. The pulsing, gated rhythms do have a certain (k) / (c) luster that reminds me of Achim Reichel and / or Steve Hillage, but the sound- palette is decidedly contemporary, with endless synchronized delays & comb lterings making the proceeding just so rich & dense.' Keith Fullerton Whitman *Track listing: