Buscar:contrast

Angelo is an LP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist/singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy’s father and both of Stuart’s parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the

Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo’s sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, “to get us out of our grief and into our bodies,” says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal — a resourceful, collective answer to “what happens now?”

Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. “Such a bro-y, ‘80s dude car, it’s been super fun to drive around in a new town,” Murphy says. “He’s older than us, he’s a classic, he’s got a story.” It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, “Which Way To The Club.” The question is quickly resolved by “Take A Trip” as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip — the kind of

imagined space or chamber within one’s self capable of “shifting a fraction of who you are,” says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be “as free as we could be,” adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: ”What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room.”

Next is “Shy Guy,” a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: “We are in junior high, we’re on the dance floor, what’s going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?” The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. “Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too,” Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one — something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, “It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission.”

“Angelo” and “Ooo La La” deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean’s catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo’s dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude “Colors” drifting into “Where Do We Go?”, a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space.

It all culminates in “Caldwell’s Way,” a fond farewell to their Bay Area community — “a part of my life that I knew couldn’t come back,” says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There’s the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: “I’d rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars.” And the song’s namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. “I’m only miles away, maybe I’m just feeling lonely,” the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and “Nostalgia” runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

In the early 1990s, a handful of black metal artists were enticed by the possibility of conjuring new fantastical worlds from the deep isolation of their home setups. Rather than the dense metal sound of their existing projects, this new direction would be centred around intimate synth soundscapes: forlorn organs and otherworldly MIDI theatrics.

The music on ASCEND is predominantly from self-produced, self-distributed releases, typically manufactured in small numbers. Though some artists producing this style of music, most notably Mortiis and Burzum, gained wider recognition outside underground circles, it is only in recent years that the sound and its influence has really been appreciated. This is particularly the case with the late Matthew Davis and his recently reappraised Secret Stairways project, whose song ‘Lammas Tide’ (from the 1997 Enchantment of the Ring album) appears on ASCEND. A simple home recording on a Yamaha KX-W392 manages to be both elegant and tortured, ambiguously devotional and recalling latter years Popol Vuh.

This battle between dark and light is a constant thread through ASCEND, with simple minimal synth lines that can be both delicate and menacing. Compilation opener ‘The Dark Dreamquest’ from Italian black metal group Evol is loaded with occult warning, and Finnish act Kadotus 609’s ‘The Summoning Through Crimson’ is languid, twisted and dark. In spite of the darkness, several pieces of the music on ASCEND have formal similarities with the sometimes saccharine new age music that rose to prominence in that era: but to a rougher, darker ends. The closing song from Darkthrone icon (and past NTS radio host) Fenriz, under his Neptune Towers pseudonym, pulls us further out, with ‘To Cold Void Desolation’ — an astral synth project, akin to ’70s kosmische muzik masters Harmonia.

The gentler side can often amplify an uncannily sinister edge, heard in German act Dolch’s ‘Tumulus’, where orc marching horns contrast against delicate rompler harps and softly whispered chanting. It hammers home a deep loneliness and detachment constant throughout ASCEND, made possible by these unusual contrasts, both unsettling and otherworldly.

In 1975, under the oppressive air of military dictatorship in Brazil, brothers Lelo and Zé Eduardo Nazario invited bassist Zeca Assumpção to join their musical experiments in a basement under Sao Paulo’s Teodoro Sampaio Street. As teenagers, the trio had already been playing together in Hermeto Pascoal’s Grupo, alongside guitarist Toninho Horta and saxophonist Nivaldo Ornelas, and it was while working together under Hermeto’s direction that the Paulista rhythm section (as they were then known) began to realise their own potential.

With many nightclubs and venues closed in the mid-70s and government censors dictating the output of radio, TV and art galleries, many Brazilian artists fled during the years of dictatorship. But underground, Grupo Um were fusing avant garde ideals with contemporary jazz and Afro Brazilian rhythm; making phenomenally free and expressive music - in stark contrast to the sterile, conservative conditions being imposed above ground.

Just like Hermeto Pascoal’s Viajando Com O Som from the following year, Starting Point was recorded over two days at Vice-Versa Studios, by revered engineer Renato Viola. The studio was one of the best in Sao Paulo and musicians communicated with engineers through cameras and a monitor, allowing the group complete immersion in the process. They also made use of the studio’s hemispherical tiled room, which served as an acoustic reverberation chamber.

The album begins with Zé Eduardo Nazario’s thunderous drum solo on “Porão da Teodoro”, before clearing the clouds with the lone Berimbau which opens “Onze Por Oito”. Built around a hypnotic electric bass line, heady Fender Rhodes improvisations, and more rip-roaring drums, it’s a rapturous, electrifying freak-jam in 11/8.

Like some invertebrate deep-sea curiosity, the free-form “Organica” is made up of Lelo Nazario’s playfully eerie prepared piano, with Zé Eduardo’s percussion flurries darting around Assumpçao’s double bass. The equally non-conformist, percussion-only piece “Jardim Candida” features many of Zé Eduardo’s home-made instruments, including a long saw blade played with vibraphone sticks and violin bow. While working with Hermeto, Zé Eduardo famously built his own all-in-one percussion set-up known as the “Barraca de Percussão” (Percussion Tent) - the first of its kind in Brazil, which he would also use on Hermeto Pascoal’s Viajando Com O Som and throughout his career.

“Suite Orquidea Negra'' (Black Orchid Suite) was written by Lelo Nazario as the score for an imaginary movie - the story of a rare, black orchid which produced a substance meant to cure all diseases, but which had mysteriously disappeared from the laboratory… “As a screenplay it’s not very good” reflects Lelo in jest, “but the music ended up being very interesting, the way its parts are chained to one another carries a little of the mystery I imagined for the movie.”

The album closes with the triumphant “Cortejo dos Reis Negros” (Procession of Black Kings) - a groovy variation on the Maracatu rhythm, with a two-note bassline underpinning piano improvisations, exultant wordless vocals, cuicas, slide-whistles and a very special guest appearance from Zé’s dog Bolinha.

Starting Point was to mark the inception of one of Brazil’s most daring instrumental groups. Their debut now sits in the lofty echelon of otherworldly 70s Brazilian music, alongside the likes of Marcos Resende & Index’s self-titled debut, Cesar Mariano & Cia’s Sao Paulo Brasil, Azymuth’s debut and indeed Hermeto Pascoal’s Viajando Com O Som. But just like all of those titles, which were either shelved or largely ignored at the time, Grupo Um - so radically ahead of their time - struggled to find a label to release their debut album. So Lelo kept the tapes safe in his archives, which is where they sat for almost half a century. Finally, almost fifty years later, this mesmerising piece of history is here, and it was only the beginning...

Grupo Um’s Starting Point will be released by Far Out Recordings, on vinyl LP, with an insert featuring unseen photos and liner notes by the Nazario brothers, as well as a CD on 17th February 2023.

From a research work started in full lockdown three years ago, finally sees the light (or darkness) Echi Senza Fine, a remastered collection of sound material by Tasaday. Inspired by the controversial media story in 1971 of the discovery of a tribe in the Philippines that apparently had technology that had stood still in the Stone Age, the project officially borrows the name Tasaday in 1984 from the evolution of Nulla Perreale, in turn union of Die Form (musical part) & Orgasm Denied (performative part).

To put it in the words of Marcello Ambrosini, the Tasadays find in Die Form the controlled destruction of the form after its careful design and construction, while in Nulla Iperreale the spontaneity free from any possible superstructure. They declare themselves new primitives, not in the perspective of a nostalgic return to a pre-industrial or prehistoric external world, but in the exception of an inner experience in stark contrast to the leviathan of the single utilitarian thought that has dominated the West for centuries.

Their production-action does not allow itself to be tempted by the repetitiveness used by many industrial groups of those years, thus resulting seminal in the evolution of the scene. Their impulse to go further and not remain caged in the format of the new wave is witnessed by their particular sound vocabulary that sees, along with the use of conventional instruments, the use of DIY tools such as Chopper Vox and highly sui generis tools, like the Camolofono, cariole loaded with sheets, stones, tubes, chains and “garbage” of various shapes and sizes.

A discography dotted with primordial electronic experiments that reaches the new millennium through several vinyl records and an endless number of cassettes. From this undefined and mysterious number of tapes that is born Echi Senza Fine: 14 tracks (+ 2 digital bonuses) remastered, collected by Asymmetrical, who also edited the release insert, a collage of visual and textual material from their fanzines. A series of 300 transparent vinyl + Insert.

In the wake of a 2020 edition of Movement in the City's second album Black Teardrops (1981), Sharp-Flat Records returns with a prequel by way of a reissue of the band's self-titled debut from 1979.

As the 1970s were drawing to a close, the epic Black Disco studio project with its signature pairing of drum machine and organ had run it course. After delivering a killer trilogy of cosmic lounge outings dating back to 1975, the group yearned for funkier grooves and the core trio of composer Pops Mohamed on organ with Basil Coetzee on tenor sax and Sipho Gumede on bass decided to hire a drummer and rebrand as Movement in the City. In contrast with the New Age detachment of Black Disco, Movement in the City was conceptually grounded in the bleak social realism depicted on its photographic album covers and leaned into the vivid sensibilities of library music from the era. Blending Cape jazz with funk and soul, the group's output evokes a soundtrack for South African city life at the outset of the 1980s while nodding allegorically to the subterranean movements that were in the course of shaking the cage for political change.

With its cast of jazz fusion all-stars, Movement in the City is the manifesto of a band in transition - a bold and slick first offering that delivers a modern South African sound capable of both the funky exuberances of "Mister Lucky" as well as the down-home pathos of "Blue Sunday." Restored from its original tape masters and released in partnership with As-Shams Archive and Pops Mohamed, this rare artefact of South African jazz history is back in print for the very first time since its original 1979 release.

Horsey’s critically acclaimed debut album Debonair arrives on vinyl via London label untitled (recs). Made up of Jacob Read, Theo McCabe, Jack Marshall and George Bass, Horsey have built a cult live following having toured with the likes of King Krule, Goat Girl and Hinds, as well as playing sold-out shows across their hometown venues with the likes of YOWL, Hotel Lux, Norman, Ugly, Lazarus Kane and more. Horsey refused to be pigeonholed at every turn. “Debonair” is propelled forwards from the opener with an incomparable wide-eyed intensity that blurs the lines between dark, glam inflected noise-rock, surreal jazz breakouts, wonky apocalyptic pop, emphatic rock opera-esque histrionics and melancholic lo-fi without abating. The juxtaposition between maturity and immaturity is central to the album’s themes, and this contrast is not only found in the album’s dynamic instrumentation but is also prominent in Horsey’s intoxicating and coltish lyrical prose, which is all at once deeply personal, tumultuous and utterly abstract. Though often delivered with overtones of sardonic humour the subject matter carries a sincere message, one that channels the spirit of when the band first met in nursery whilst tackling the tropes of modern living. The result is a gripping and exuberant reminder that there is great value in applying some childlike lateral mentality to the all too serious events of adult life. Tracklist: A1/Sippy Cup A2/Arms and Legs A3/Underground A4/Everyone’s Tongue A5/Wharf B1/Lagoon B2/1070 B3/Clown B4/Leaving Song B5/Seahorse (Feat. King Krule)

Freude am Tanzen is back for a very special occasion. In 2022, three Various Artists EPs will bereleased, celebrating the 24th anniversary of the label from Thuringia. Whilst occasions like this would normally be celebrated on the quarter century, this release makes sense not only on the mathematical level. 3 compilations with 4 tracks provide the half of 24.
The release however also makes sense in terms of history. Freude am Tanzen is showcasing a broad range of electronic music, never neglecting their history but also looking into the future.

Chapter 001, as the first of three, comes with four deep house tracks.
The A-Side comes with a focus on broken beats and versatile arrangements. Module One delivers a dreamy ride containing a stunning vocal sample. Rising Sun has provided a superb collection of samples that have emerged into a track, that’ll light up moods everywhere its played.
On the flip side in contrast, Chuck Boris has contributed the catchy house roller „Put A Mask On Your Face“. Soela rounds of the first edition off with a very emotional yet forward thinking production, making it a gem your record bag should not miss.

It might seem tongue-in-cheek on the surface, but the fact that the title of Eldritch Priest's sprawling debut vinyl release, Omphaloskepsis, is the Greek translation for “navel-gazing” unlocks something essential to the Vancouver-based composer and writer's singular outlook.

Perhaps even more telling is the title of Priest's 2013 book Boring Formless Nonsense: Experimental Music and the Aesthetics of Failure (Bloomsbury), whose 300-odd pages read as though you've been dosed with potent hallucinogens. Throughout the text Priest addresses—celebrates, even—the titular elements via various musical examples, including that of his peers. What's so bewildering it is that his descriptions of how boredom, formlessness, and nonsense manifest are laced with the very tactics he's depicting. Passages tie themselves in knots, footnotes engulf the “primary text,” he even deliberately misleads the reader.

The restless stasis of Omphaloskepsis could be regarded as an extension of this book's wayward spirit. Things unfold fairly slowly and consistently but it'd be a stretch to describe it as properly contemplative. Like attempting to meditate with a high fever, any sense of tranquility is constantly derailed as one succumbs to queasy agitation. The piece's foundation is a seemingly endless guitar melody; an organic meander that neither seems to repeat or offer any concessions to narrative directionality. Priest unfurls this rambling cantus firmus in a rich, clean, jazz-like tone, but as it's played, it's repeatedly tangled with snarls of dense digital processing and shadowed by stumbling virtual “band.” These strident interjections blatantly contrast with the guitar, yet they aren't so violent as to offer more than a faint itch of distraction. As such, the distinctive amorphousness that this piece asks us to inhabit for its 54-minute duration leaves a strong impression, but also feels utterly intangible.

In addition to his recorded forays, Priest's disorienting music has also been performed by top-tier interpreters such as the Arditti Quartet, Quatuor Bozzini, Philip Thomas, Anton Lukoszevieze, and Continuum. While living in Toronto he co-founded the collective neither/nor with John Mark Sherlock, which featured a cross section of musician-composers playing each other's work including Eric Chenaux, Doug Tielli, Eric KM Clark, Heather Roche, and Rob Clutton. “Though the name refers specifically to a loosely knit group of composers and performers,” remark's the collective's website “neither/nor is also a sensibility that refuses art’s messianic pretensions and the gaping maw of commercialized society, opting instead for art’s right to be esoteric.” In 2021, when Eric Chenaux and Martin Arnold relaunched their neither/nor-adjacent Rat-drifting imprint, an album by Priest, Many Traceries, was among the first to be released. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Priest was a student at the University of Victoria, a school that's come to be known for fostering such staunch individualists as Arnold, Linda Catlin Smith, Allison Cameron, and Anna Höstman.

As a scholar, Priest writes from a 'pataphysical perspective and deals with topics such as sonic culture, experimental aesthetics and the philosophy of experience. Priest brings these interests to his job as an Associate Professor in the School for the Contemporary Arts at Simon Fraser University, interests that also inform his work as a member the experimental theory group The Occulture. In addition to Omphaloskepsis, his new book, Earworm and Event: Music, Daydreams and Other Imaginary Refrains,

µ-Ziq says hello again with 'Goodbye'. The six track EP is the first in a series of releases by Mike Paradinas this year, which are all centred around the 25th Anniversary Edition of 'Lunatic Harness', his classic 1997 album. Inspired by going back through the archives while he was remastering the Lunatic Harness reissue, 'Goodbye' sees Mike revisiting the nineties, taking on jungle and its precursor jungle tekno and upgrading them with the benefit of hindsight and contemporary software. Imbued with Mike's lush sense of melody and his knack for striking contrasts (don't be shocked to hear maudlin piano, 303 and amens in the same track), 'Goodbye' approaches these old genres like a sandpit, and stretches them in directions only Mike might take.