Buscar:le millipede

Alien Ensemble's trombone man Mathias Goetz caused quite a splash when he released his eponymous debut LP under his Le Millipede moniker back in 2015: The multi-instrumentalist's initial offering was clearly something else, impossible to grasp, a musical vessel beyond genre, beyond style or era, seemingly beyond space and time even, a vessel that carried an almost cosmic kind of song-craft - music with no fixed stamp of origin, though it did somehow feel like an Alien Transistor release. Followed by remix album Mirror Mirror, which comprised reworks by 1115, Protein, LeRoy, Olaf Opal, and Saroos, to name a few, it's now time for album #2: The Sun Has No Money.Let's face it: There's nothing as majestic as the sun. At least not in our world. If it runs out of juice one day, it's game over: The End. Light's out. For everyone. At that point, it wouldn't even matter if you're rich or poor. We're all equal under the sun. Same level. And yeah, this might not be major news, but then again... we're talking about the sun. The sun! Guess it's about time to acknowledge its power and superiority, right In fact, you can feel it on your bicycle: pedaling at night, when it's on duty in other hemispheres, and you're working hard at the dynamo, sweating, you can actually feel how powerful it is. In the end you get off the bike all recharged, a tune on your lips - and somehow feeling like a miniature version of the sun yourself. And whenever you feel like that, that's exactly the right moment to grab a melodica and get to work.Following an initial warm-up round sans electricity, this new album soon begins to glow: Mathias Goetz aka Le Millipede doesn't need pedals, he boosts circulation by single-handedly* playing tons and tons of different instruments - it actually feels like thousands, easily. And thus begins a show that has countless levels to it: There are various sonic illusions... and yet Le Millipede doesn't hide anything: He's also willing to show the inner workings, the actual recording process and everything else. In short: he goes meta. Makes songs about making songs. That's right: why not use all these beautiful means to address the issue of money It's not the sun that casts shadows, all it does is recharge, fuel: growth & thriving, that's the sun's area of responsibility. And yet there came a man whose plan was simple: steal the fruit from your garden, only to sell it right back to you, for money. We can hear the sea gulls crying in the distance, as somebody is throwing breadcrumbs up into the wind that carries their voices...It's not the sun that casts shadows - all it does is radiate light. And yet there came a time when someone blocked those rays of light. Now if you're some kind of Diogenes, you'll simply say, Move at least a little out of the sun.' But if you're a teacher, you'll maybe light up your pipe and use that to lighten up. What matters is that the percussion parts, in this case, resemble some serious musique concréte. The sun doesn't know shadows - all it knows, is itself. And yet somebody entered the picture and built an entire city. A city full of streets, so that houses can cast shadows into these avenues. Plus, there's music in the streets, music originally written inside the walls of said houses.One of those streets is known as the Tin Pan Alley: a place that got its name from a music writer who compared the sound of so many pianos to the banging of tin pans. That sound: that's one side of the road that is this album. Some of these melodies appear to be shadows of earlier tunes, dating back to, say, 1898 or even before that, melodies that were first registered in the Tin Pan Alley publishers' offices back in 1912 or 1917. We actually get to see this Alley at that point in time. We see the ropes, the workings. How things come together, the actual act of creation. Suddenly, we can hear the shadows!
Okay, so one side of this street is America. The US of A. The opposite side: Russia. And smack dab in the middle: Europe. A pothole in the center. All the back-and-forth that occurs between these two poles ultimately depends on the movement of the sun. Night and day, taking turns, commuting in and out of sight. We get to meet Prokofiew's and Scriabin's ghost, among other spirits, reframed and published by Le Millipede's own imaginary label imprint on the historic Tin Pan Alley. Indeed there are moments on this album when Le Millipede seems to be playing Scriabin's clavier a` lumie`res (tastiera per luce), when his performance seems to be based on synesthesia, a wild cross-pollination of colors and sounds. In case you didn't know this: In the States, Prokofiew goes by the name Brian Wilson, and Scriabin's also known as Sun Ra - yet another guy who's usually broke, but gets to spend a lot of time out in the sun. Together, these assorted protagonists ask the people of the Antilles for Mutabor dance-tokens and send postcards to Moondog in Germany, right back into the darkness. On the postcards you can see people dancing the Biguine...Firing foreign fossil fuels from all pipes (Brennelementsteuer!), Le Millipede controls the very center of this hustle and bustle: going as far as to employ some southern Chopped & Screwed styles, he's 100% current and zeitgeisty! Houston, we've got a problem: there's some kind of myriapod, centi- or millipede on the loose! Well, give me another sip of lean, sizzurp, dirty Sprite, and on goes the journey in the Pullman coach. Let's follow the sun! Keep on moving, keep things motorik! Here comes the Trans-Eureka-Express. Cherish the backpacking days! A piercing rhapsody of sound (bohrende Rhapsodie), we'll remember them fondly! And thus things move on, the sun, the days, the earth: rise, set, action, round and round... onwards eternally. The sun: the biggest loop known to mankind. As if it was some kind of sonic Rube Goldberg contraption, time seems to be stretching out while listening to that hmmm. After all: time is a lot (a lot!) more than just money. And yeah, the sun is the real big shot on (or rather: above) Planet Earth. Le Millipede's live line-up also includes Markus & Micha Acher (The Notwist etc.), Nico Sierig (Joasihno), and Manuela Rzytki (G. Rag & die Landlergschwister, Kamerakino etc.).
*sole exception: Evi Keglmaier (Zwirbeldirn, Hochzeitskapelle) plays the viola. Words/sun worship: Pico Be

A home, a house, has countless frequencies. Each room, each corner feels different. Swings differently. And as you grow older, you realize which corner is yours. But yeah, it takes time…

It certainly marks the end of an era when the house one called home as a kid no longer exists. This home, it was the starting point of so many journeys. Of one big, ongoing journey. And so it feels good, soothing, reassuring to at least return to a spot nearby – to that (proverbial) hill from where you can see it. Feel the vibe that made you.

Andi Haberl’s debut solo album as Sun is sort of dedicated to that house. It’s a journey leading to that hill overlooking everything that made him. It’s not about nostalgia, not about actually returning to a specific place. Instead, it’s about finding a personal frequency, an overlapping of sounds and samples, an open space that mirrors and extends whatever frequencies felt right at different points in time.

“To me, the results feel like Gold Panda/Four Tet meets Steve Reich meets Krautrock meets film scores. I just really wanted to create moods that touch me – and ideally others, too.”

Talking about his first solo album, Haberl recalls many stages: early compositions that ended up on Alien Ensemble’s albums, early DIY/home studio/multi-instrumentalist inspirations (Le Millipede), new technologies that came and went, even a set of wildly convincing arrangements (done with Cico Beck’s crucial input) that ultimately became stepping stones for yet another round of DIY takes. “It was a long, recurring process, and the songs went through so many different versions,” he says, talking about phases of growth (“I added more and more equipment over time”) and pruning, “cleaning up my music a bit.” Tending towards instruments that open up space, and slowly falling in love with sampling, he certainly didn’t rush things once it was time for interior design decisions ;)

“During this whole process I got to learn so much about my own taste, how I prefer to listen to the pieces, which musical elements really matter to me… and what my own voice is. For example, that acoustic elements are most important to me: the banjo, piano, drums, my voice, glockenspiel, trumpet, melodica. Anything that opens up some space.”

Every journey begins with a search: “Missing” with its plucked chords opens like a sunrise over pastoral plains, gently leading the way towards the intricate, playful explosion that occurs once a certain amount of energy (“Sun”) hits dirt and other surfaces: things grow, clot and curdle into new shapes, like new buds; layers of sound move forward, drenched in Spring’s new light. Relying on samples to ask for precipitation (“Rain On Me”), robotic “Low” goes from barren to bass-heavy after its midway shift in pace, full of loops plucked from the shade.

Towards the album’s midpoint, things are suddenly reversed: “Cluster” has that backwards pull, you can’t tell what’s what, yet everything is perfectly locked in, as the pace increases once again. And before the title song shimmers with densified cheering (to eventually stand tall like early Lymbyc Systym), “Beside Me” swipes you off your feet with its booming bass drum. The beat returns once again (“Daydream”), full of searching voices underneath, and at “Dawnday,” we can finally catch a melancholy view of the house. Voices hum. It’s the score moment of the album. Everything makes sense now. A happy end of sorts?

“I want to take people on a journey. A personal journey, too, because when my parents split up and sold the house I grew up in, I felt a bit like the ground had fallen out from under my feet. But I have dedicated the album title and the accompanying piece to this house… so I can keep it in good memory.”

“I Can See Our House From Here” has been a long time coming. It’s been a long journey. Homeward-bound. Leading to a place that’s really Haberl’s – his sound. His frequencies.

Known as a long-time member of The Notwist and various other bands/projects (Alien Ensemble, AMEO, jersey, Ditty etc.), Berlin-based drummer/composer Andi Haberl has also worked with My Brightest Diamond, Till Brönner, Owen Pallet, and Kurt Rosenwinkel, to name a few. “I Can See Our House From Here” is his first solo offering.

The Kraut Jazz Futurism compilation shows what's cookin' in the new German Jazz scene. Young German bands and a few of the international musicians working in Berlin now. Fresh artists that combine Jazz, Krautrock, Afro, Hip Hop and Electronica in a new way. The first volume of the compilation came out last year and was described by The Wire as "... a re-drawn map of underground Berlin. Refreshingly new, eccentric, badassed and sometimes funny." This 2nd part goes further. Similar to Gilles Peterson's "We Out Here" compilation, where he shows mainly the new hip english Jazz artists, on Kraut Jazz Futurism, Kryptox records head honcho Mathias "Kapote" Modica puts together what's hot in the new club jazz scene in Germany. And there is a lot cookin' in Berlin right now. Kraut Jazz Futurism comes out on Kryptox. Sublabel of Gomma & Toy Tonics records.

Jam Money is the shared musical vision of Kevin Cormack and Mathew Fowler. Mathew (Bons) and Kevin (Half Cousin, Harry Deerness) first began collaborating as part of the Blank Tape Spillage Fete, an ongoing collective project of art and music which focuses on the creation and perpetuation of small DIY exhibitions, related events and limited releases that celebrates the hobbyist nature of home recording.

Jam Money revolves around a passion for the simple and sometimes restrictive nature of four-track cassette recording. Using old half-broken guitars, clarinets, charity shop keyboards, toys, family heirlooms, zithers, home-made percussion, and household objects a shared dialogue appears, involving both mark making and musical mishaps, allowing the makers to be carried along as the music finds its own way.

Genre definitions melt away in Jam Money's music as ambient dissolves into lo-fi rock, noise into fragile naive classroom melodies. Creativity beyond easy categorisation.The first recordings titled 'Blowing Stones' were self-released in 2014. The cover and insert artwork for this record featured abstract paintings by the artist Aimée Henderson whose work and process is a great influence on their music. Having played gigs alongside kindred spirits National Bedtime and Plinth, the tail end of 2015 saw the the band travel to Germany to play with the Notwist and Le Millipede for a series of 'Alien Disko' nights organised by Alien Transistor, a label with a shared kinship of both the weird and wonderful.

'A Gathering Kind' is the second album by Jam Money: a journey of sound and colour, subliminal images and narrative. The roots of this collection found Fowler and Cormack using an earthier, more instinctive language, making it a rougher-edged sibling to their other recordings, with parallels to the home-spun worlds of Flaming Tunes, Pumice, Maher Shalal Hash Baz and World Standard. Aimée's artwork features again, both paintings and music forming a collective language of dream-like adventure.

"Poignant and exploratory. Melting together acoustic and electronic elements, the narrative throughout is one of a ghostly world heading for winter. A firm fan favourite Stephen Pastel (The Pastels & Monorail Music) on Blowing Stones.

"Created in question and answer form, their songs exist like little sculptures - wayward and peaceful, sometimes whirring into automatic life under the pair's combined attention."