Suche:beseech

CLAMM could not have come from anywhere other than Melbourne, Australia. Theirs is a city that bleeds music. Iconic bands such as Eddy Current Suppression Ring and Total Control have built on the city's history of open-hearted, fist-in-throat, fiercely independent music. Scenes centring around labels like Antifade, Flightless and Cool Death have held the torch for countless groups as good as any in the world. However, CLAMM arrived completely apart from any established scene or sound. They began playing shows in 2019, sharing bills with virtually anyone who would have them. Jack Summers (vocals/guitar) and Miles Harding (drums) had been friends and musical collaborators since early childhood. Under various banners, they performed for years with friends and siblings across Melbourne's underground landscape. It wasn't until they found Maisie Everett (vocals/bass) that the CLAMM picture was complete. Debut album Beseech Me was recorded with Nao Anzai (Rolling Blackouts, Floodlights, NO ZU) and mixed and mastered by Total Control's Mikey Young.

Onna Last Live 1983 includes the final performance by the original line-up of Onna, the psych-rock project of revered Japanese manga artist, Keizo Miyanishi. Onna’s legend has largely rested, until now, on one self-released and self-titled seven-inch from 1983. Reissued by Holy Mountain in 2009, its rediscovery, along with several archival live and studio sets that leaked out across the 2000s, signalled to a wider audience the power of Miyanishi’s strikingly hypnotic songwriting. With Onna Last Live 1983, though, we hear the group’s perfect line-up performing at its peak.

While Miyanishi was the core member and conceptualist of Onna, the other members of the group would also go on to make significant contributions to the Japanese underground. Guitarist Michio Kurihara would eventually be known for his membership of YBO2, Ghost and White Heaven, and collaborations with the likes of Boris and Damon & Naomi. Drummer Ken Matsutani formed Marble Sheep & The Run-Down Sun’s Children and The Mickey Guitar Band, while also running the Captain Trip label. Joined by the late bass player Yasui Yutaka, to whom the album is dedicated, this quartet only performed live in 1983; the live set here was recorded at Silver Elephant.

It’s a different line-up to the Onna duo that’s documented on their single. After Miyanishi and fellow manga artist Mafuyu Hiroki recorded that material, Miyanishi decided he wanted to start playing gigs; Hiroki left, and Kurihara, Matsutani and Yutaka joined soon after. This line-up allowed Miyanishi to significantly expand Onna’s powers, leading to a sound that Kurihara once described to Ptolemaic Terrascope magazine as “repetitive and heavy, yet quite orthodox.”

The songs here are simple yet deeply effective in their repetitive power, generally revolving around two or three simply strummed chords for guitar. Bass and drums repeatedly lock into mantra-like grooves as Kurihara’s guitar scales the walls, with Miyanishi’s consumptive moans and sighs sent torquing through FX. The cumulative effect of the seven songs here is very heavy indeed; if the prologue “Always…” drifts beautifully through five minutes of placid, beseeching melancholy, the epilogue, “Never Seen A Light Like This”, spirals out into sixteen minutes of glazed-over psych-rock, completely monomaniacal and thrilling in its slow-motion tumult.

Throughout, you can hear Miyanishi and co. reaching for something ineffable, something beyond and between the notes. It’s a phenomenal performance; it’s also no surprise that the group disintegrated after this show, given its intensity. Matsutani and Yutaka left after the Silver Elephant show, with Miyanishi and Kurihara continuing through the first half of 1984 firstly as a duo, and then a trio with new drummer Yoshiki Ueonyama. Kurihara left soon after. But Onna Last Live 1983 is proof plenty of the powers of the original Onna quartet, sending their Rallizes/Velvets dream-mantras off into darkened, stormy skies.

The album opens with the ominous guitar-driven Hollow Sky, accompanied by its haunting music video's verdant vistas. The song, with Iceglass ghostly vocals, shimmers with that sounds like an Omnichord flittering like sonic firefly lights and brooding bass. This perfectly scores the less traveled wanderings through the dark wooden path of Dante's perdition, leading to the titular well that graces the album cover. The Crater opens with an unsettling riff and bass, with low, repetitive frequencies on the synth create a sense of unease. Here, Iceglass recounts a fatalistic requiem for the king of romance that is cataclysmic and leaves a scar upon the earth. With Fall Industrial Wall, once again, Iceglass channels a silky and Nico-like emotive deadpan; against a dirgelike melody backed by minimal synth, bass, and drum. Almost medieval and plaintive, with its folk droning horns, deep and shallow in their resonance. This song is anachronistic, setting the scene of ruins centuries-old with crumbling edifices strewn about like memories lost in time. With the poetic lyrics of The Chamber do we find the eponymous abyss. Here, dualities are laid bare; besides love, there is heartbreak, and without this sorrow, what meaning would there be to love if one knows not what it is to lose? This song encapsulates the idea that love is heartbreak, and love lost is reaching the deepest chamber of the heart. This is carried through a sombre horn, minimalist drum machine, and deliberate bassline overlaid with Iceglass german and english lyrics. The Well is led in with a softly distorted bassline overlaid with eerie banshee howls give way to Iceglass otherworld vocal refrain, echoing through time as if emanating from a hole in the ground, and encircling that hole is a garden of woe and despair. The sinfully seductive song The Moor features a captivating SAX SOLO courtesy of Perseas; a welcome shift in tone, juxtaposed well with the intensity of Iceglass tenebrous vocal purr. This hitherto unexplored foray into dark sensuality takes the song into sordid mid 80s territory, bringing to mind a dusky drive along a serpentine road, with equally haunting instrumentations straddling time with icy fire. Broken Characters is an acoustic folk interlude featuring Selofan's Dimitris Pavlidis on guitar. Here we find a more gentle approach with its earnest and romantic lyrics. The song's melodic hook is a soft caress along with the forlorn horn elements highlighting Iceglass at her most Nico-sounding vocal yet, singing the sorrowful truth that most artists are indeed broken characters. Chimerical opens with dirgelike synth organs. The chill of winter has befallen the lamentations sung by Iceglass carried by haunting chord progressions and minimal percussion, plaintively beseeching the song's subject to remain elusive, idealistic, and a dreamer. After an album highlighting more Jill than Jack, our male protagonist finally makes his ascent in the sonorous and breathtaking Dark Hill, a masterful march of sweeping synth horns, and trepidatious drum machine with William Maybelline's bellowing voice cracking like thunder, rattling the atmosphere like his heart against his ribs. Spirals swirls in a cautionary knell of cathedral-esque droning synth dirge, with Icarian lyrics shining like a sombre ray of hope; like the sun's rays creeping into the darkest of places. The song, minimalist in its tight percussion, echoes with the solace of Larissa Iceglass vocal litany; invoking elements of the supernatural, almost like a Casio preset sequenced to the beating of an angel's wings.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

In 2012, Army of God released a cult cut of cold wave: “Salvation”. This was the only EP by the partnership of Aroy Dee and Miss Jagroe, the only EP until now that is.

Army of God are back, after more than a decade the duo return with Endless Skies. Analogue warmth is sliced by surgical synth stabs and bittersweet strings, Jagroe’s unmistakable voice echoes into the distance with the beseeching mantra of “until the music dies”. Aroy Dee’s edit of the title piece fortifies drums for the floor, emotion is further stripped from the already deadpan lyrics as melodies bleed into distorted wonder. The black streak that characterises Army of God turns a shade darker for the flip. A throbbing bass is inked by off-kilter keys, clusters of claps piercing the thicket of static and chilling chorus of “Fear the Night”. Venturing ever deeper into the night, the darker version will set speaker cones shaking and shivering.

Juddering and trembling, basslines are bolstered with vocals invoking the very darkest regions of the dancefloor.

Dara Smith from Lakker in brilliant form: six vividly evocative, dramatically uneven soundscapes, ranging tonally from beseeching tenderness to thumping, bad-minded bass, guaranteed to rock the house.