Buscar:bedrock structures

Voal — Vand and Shoal — reveal five more cuts on their home label Isotoop, taken from the pair’s time living together in Utrecht. Whereas the debut EP, ‘Saffron’, dropped the listener into psychedelic aesthetics and atypical rhythmic structures, the sequel ‘Jinx’ has a more crystal-cut vision of club music, made for no less exploratory dancefloors.

Possessing a natural progression almost as fluid as a contiguous live set, with imagination each track can form the basis of the next through the fingerprints of a barely-perceptible ghost leaving a piecemeal narrative impression, an exposure in negative that develops over repeated exposure to the five versatile tracks.

Relative to Saffron’s sidestepping repertoire, this latest EP goes for the jugular with insistent club dynamics from the get-go. Summoning steps on air, a self-contained package of breezy dancefloor initiation and escalation, all-in-one, and from the foothold of this thermal vortex Crosswind ups the drama with storm-hued dynamics and blustery club debris.

The knife of aesthetics is freshly sharpened for the flip: Jinx takes the record out of earthbound atmospheres and deep into sci-fi territory. A jigsawwing bassline seems to drill ever-deeper into an expanding landscape, as it does so uncovering small sonic treasures locked in the bedrock. A mirror to this scene, The Chain digresses with bubbling verve and psychedelic strut, a combo-finishing left hook that simultaneously holds playfulness alongside dour dramatics, a duality shared by vinyl-exclusive closing track Ouah, which blows out the lights with a smirk, and premium hallucinatory dub psychosis.

Cleveland-based producer Tim Thornton makes music under the moniker Tiger Village. Thornton has carved out a niche in the American experimental underground through the wide-spanning releases of his own label Suite 309, as well as through his day job as a quality control supervisor at the Gotta Groove Records manufacturing plant — meaning that his ears serve as the finish line for a vast slate
of vinyl projects that hit the market every year. The Celebration, the fourth Tiger Village release on Hausu Mountain since 2014, joins a catalog that includes releases on Orange Milk, Patient Sounds,
and HausMo sublabel Blorpus Editions, along with a battery of music self-released through Suite 309.


Within the jittering IDM-adjacent networks of The Celebration, Thornton expands his craft on multiple concurrent trajectories, digging deeper into complex drum programming and labyrinthine synth arrangement while further exploring passages of vocal synthesis and non-recursive song structures that thrive on unpredictability and constant fluctuation. Thornton can’t help but bring a wide-eyed curiosity to anything he produces, as he rejects the dead-serious gun-metal intensity of many strains of contemporary electronic production in favor of bright tones and wonky rhythms.

Like fellow Hausu Mountain artists Wobbly and Moth Cock, Tiger Village revels in cheeky compositional about-faces and
carnivalesque synth lines. In all their staccato voices and peals of abstract texture, Thornton’s tracks blur the lines between harmonic electronic elements and drum patterns. The album morphs before our
ears every few seconds or so, allowing arrhythmic loops and alternating rhythmic grids to contrast against whatever might seem to be the bedrock of any given piece. By paying attention to the
trajectory of every dollop of sound, Tiger Village pulls off magic tricks in his pointillist arrangements in which nothing remains static — everything pushes towards a state of progressive complication.

Lawrence Hayward knew that he wanted to be a pop star as a teen, and he devised a plan to release ten albums and ten singles over ten years to make that dream come true. A particular and determined individual, he would only be known as Lawrence from that day forward. His hopes for stardom would be pinned on his newly formed band, the succinctly named Felt. Soon signed to Cherry Red Records, Lawrence’s achingly cool vocals and the group’s way with walking melodies were evident on their debut for the label, “Something Sends Me To Sleep.” This compilation collects material from Felt’s Cherry Red period of 1981 to 1985, kicking off with that confident start, assembling numerous high points, and closing with their biggest hit, “Primitive Painters.”

This phase of the band is defined by the songwriting partnership and unique interplay of Lawrence and guitarist Maurice Deebank, with Deebank’s stylish and confident playing the envy of many of their counterparts. He delivers a constant string of shimmering hooks that wrap themselves around and over top of Lawrence’s more traditional beat combo song structures, as if trying to fit four songs worth of ideas into a pre-set radio friendly cutoff time. It works wonderfully as Lawrence always counters with a solid bedrock.

In one of many brushes with the brass ring, in 1984 Felt recorded versions of “Dismantled King Is Off The Throne” and “Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow,” for the newly formed and Warners-backed label Blanco y Negro, in hopes that the band would follow their A+R man Mike Alway to the executive suite. Despite putting forward two of their finest songs, it was not to be. While major label dreams had to remain on the shelf, fans were delighted to be able to hear these beautifully stripped down and more direct versions when this compilation was released a few years later.

By 1985 the Felt roller coaster was something Maurice Deebank was constantly getting on and off of. As Gary Ainge always kept the beat, and Lawrence never lost focus, they were joined by local teen prodigy Martin Duffy on keyboards, filling out the arrangements, and following Deebank’s racing six-string cascades in “The Day The Rain Came Down” you can even hear a tiny hint of the next phase of the band in Duffy’s organ before Maurice swoops to the finish. The newly expanded Felt would then put everything they had into making one of the defining releases of the 80s: “Primitive Painters.”

Lawrence Hayward knew that he wanted to be a pop star as a teen, and he devised a plan to release ten albums and ten singles over ten years to make that dream come true. A particular and determined individual, he would only be known as Lawrence from that day forward. His hopes for stardom would be pinned on his newly formed band, the succinctly named Felt. Soon signed to Cherry Red Records, Lawrence’s achingly cool vocals and the group’s way with walking melodies were evident on their debut for the label, “Something Sends Me To Sleep.” This compilation collects material from Felt’s Cherry Red period of 1981 to 1985, kicking off with that confident start, assembling numerous high points, and closing with their biggest hit, “Primitive Painters.”

This phase of the band is defined by the songwriting partnership and unique interplay of Lawrence and guitarist Maurice Deebank, with Deebank’s stylish and confident playing the envy of many of their counterparts. He delivers a constant string of shimmering hooks that wrap themselves around and over top of Lawrence’s more traditional beat combo song structures, as if trying to fit four songs worth of ideas into a pre-set radio friendly cutoff time. It works wonderfully as Lawrence always counters with a solid bedrock.

In one of many brushes with the brass ring, in 1984 Felt recorded versions of “Dismantled King Is Off The Throne” and “Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow,” for the newly formed and Warners-backed label Blanco y Negro, in hopes that the band would follow their A+R man Mike Alway to the executive suite. Despite putting forward two of their finest songs, it was not to be. While major label dreams had to remain on the shelf, fans were delighted to be able to hear these beautifully stripped down and more direct versions when this compilation was released a few years later.

By 1985 the Felt roller coaster was something Maurice Deebank was constantly getting on and off of. As Gary Ainge always kept the beat, and Lawrence never lost focus, they were joined by local teen prodigy Martin Duffy on keyboards, filling out the arrangements, and following Deebank’s racing six-string cascades in “The Day The Rain Came Down” you can even hear a tiny hint of the next phase of the band in Duffy’s organ before Maurice swoops to the finish. The newly expanded Felt would then put everything they had into making one of the defining releases of the 80s: “Primitive Painters.”

On their third album »Constant Connection«, West Australian-based Erasers create hypnotic compositions of synth, guitar and voice, evoking the vast expanse of their native landscape and the shrouded emotions behind the senses. Comprising of vocalist, synth player Rebecca Orchard and Rupert Thomas on guitar and synths, Erasers have developed their earthly kosmische music into an open language based on drone, variation in repetition and minimal song structures. Based in Perth, regarded one of the most isolated cities in the world, Orchard and Thomas’s music has brewed in the city’s vibrant DIY/Outsider community and evolved into a meditation on landscape, power, the shadow-world of human emotions and stream of consciousness. »Constant Connection«, with its waves of sound and chant-like vocals evokes a trance that suggests an infinity just beyond the senses.

At the heart of each Erasers composition is the interplay between the instrumentation, played with stoic restraint and recorded directly with minimal effects and the transcendental states induced in the listener. It’s a magic that is performed in plain sight and all the more powerful for it. The recognisable vibrato of Fender Rhodes keyboards and simple drum machine loops, the subtle strands of analog synth melodies that snake in and out of the ear, above all the towering encantations of Rebecca Orchard’s undeniably Australian-accented hymns; all of this is presented with minimal ostentation and yet it instantly engenders a dream state, hints at an infinity beyond the material.

Shades of John Cale’s 70s work with Nico, early 70s German synthesists Kluster and even fellow Australians Fabulous Diamonds can be seen as stylistic touchstones for Constant Connection. Where Nico hinted at the macabre and gothic, Rebecca Orchard’s similarly gliding vocal is more zoned in to a kind of oceanic openness, with words becoming chants and spells that suggested themselves to the singer during recording sessions. It’s this hidden hand of improvisatory, automatic writing that lends a sense of expanse to the music. On opener I Understand, while the lyrics might hint at discontent the emotional spectrum it opens up is far more rich and complex, as layered as the waves of droning chords that are the bedrock of each Erasers track. The title track talks of flow, continuum and balance, the protagonist in the song seemingly weightless, gently pulled through a walking reality that borders on dream. In Erasers’ world, it seems, the borders between reality and dream, consciousness and sub-consciousness are blurred and eroded.

On Constant Connection, Erasers’ music might be deeply evocative of landscape but it’s never clear which one. The vast, open terrain that surrounds Perth is dusty, burned by the sun into desert and Constant Connection feels like the product of the heat and relative isolation, the altered states these elements can create. But it’s these altered states of mind that appear to be the real landscape described by Erasers. It’s a landscape that’s hazy, in-and-out of focus, with emotional undertows pushing and pulling you into a weightlessness. On album closer Easy To See the band dispense with percussion all together, field recordings of the water at the edge of their native city ushering in two duetting synths. Orchard’s vocal undulates with the flow, viewing both the geographical and psychological landscape from the perspective of a consciousness not bound by bodies and from a timescale measured in millennia. The album ends as it begins, with field recordings of the real world that the music seeps out from, temporarily, before regressing back into the other realm it feels like it belongs to.

Between these two recorded hints of reality, Erasers manifest a deeply sensual dreamscape that constantly feels like it’s dissolving at its seams. A desert psychedelia emanating from a real world that might not be that real in the first place.