Buscar:los heroes del noise

We’re teaming up with ELUCID and Fat Possum for a limited edition of 300 copies of a Rush Hour black ice coloured edition.

E L U C I D, one half of the illustrious duo Armand Hammer, is here with the full-length follow-up to 'I Told Bessie'. Further experiments in the sonic, expanding on the 'live' side of music paired with the embracing of chaos. Something you haven't heard, or not so for a very long time. E L U C I D is here to reveal the bleakness of reality.



---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now.''
James Baldwin

A raw, crackling urgency runs through rapper-producer ELUCID’s new album REVELATOR like an underground power line. There is no space here for sepia-toned reminiscences or indulgent self-mythologizing. Intellectual rabbit holes have been filled in with concrete and rebar ; there is nowhere to hide and no off ramp from the audio Autobahn that ELUCID has fashioned—a renegade Robert Moses with gold fronts, bulldozing the homes of the powerful and the complicit. REVELATOR brims with the energy of now, with a refusal to look away. Carpe diem in a murder one mask.

Born in Jamaica, Queens, ELUCID has been on the cutting edge of New York’s underground scene since the mid-2000s. From the beginning, he has defied both convention and expectation. He ran with Okayplayer darlings Tanya Morgan, but his own music eschewed their throwback charm for glitchy noise experiments and bass-swamped culture jamming. His 2016 debut studio project Save Yourself (re-released in a deluxe edition last year) announced him in earnest. But in recent years, his Armand Hammer releases with partner-in-crime billy woods have received significant attention and acclaim. Serving as a followup to his last solo album—2022’s comparatively balmy I Told Bessie—ELUCID hoped to “re-distinguish” himself with REVELATOR, setting himself apart amidst the increasing attention around the music he and his friends are making together.

For ELUCID, this meant setting bold new challenges for himself. One of these was diving further into live instrumentation than ever before—”getting my Quincy Jones on,” as he puts it. The testing ground for this approach was Armand Hammer’s most recent project, 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips’ Möbius strip soundscapes, warmed with instrumental flourishes and skin-shedding beat progressions. With REVELATOR, though, ELUCID strove to create an atmosphere of chaos, embracing experimental electronics and atonal sample bursts. He worked on much of the album with co-producer Jon Nellen, who comes from a background in avant-garde and Indian classical music. “I wanted to get as freaky as I could at this moment. I wanted people to hear things, maybe for the first time, or in a way they haven’t for a long while,” the rapper explains.

ELUCID arrived at the studio with a collection of noise sources: non-referential samples, glitches and noises. Together he, Nellen, and others created forms out of them and, as ELUCID recalls, “just started playing drums with it.” Their fried, distorted sound was directly inspired by Miles Davis at his most uncompromising—specifically, the tone-clustering funk track “Rated X” from his 1974 double LP Get Up With It. At times, the pairing of rap with avant-fusion sounds also brings Emergency! from The Tony Williams Lifetime to mind, perhaps in an alternate timeline where the late drummer was listening to Ice Cube’s AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted.

“The World is Dog,” REVELATOR’s lead single, functions as the album’s aesthetic thesis statement. Like the Davis track, the textures are punishing, the tonality is in free-fall, and the driving breakbeat of a groove cuts in and out unceremoniously. Avant-jazz bassist Luke Stewart, who appears throughout the record, holds the whole thing together just long enough for ELUCID to tightwalk over the beat. This tension is exactly where REVELATOR sets itself apart; in a time of drumless loops, and safe soul samples, this is a high-wire act with no safety net. Similarly, the song announces the themes of the album within just a few phrases, evoking the way societies accept and adjust to new levels of debasement and brutality while suffocating under the weight of history: “Can’t clock the kill, all a mystery/Forced past will eating everyone eventually/The world is dog.”

Many of the songs on REVELATOR grapple obliquely with dissolution and disenfranchisement in America and across the world—the grim realities of our domestic sociopolitical climate and our involvement in foreign conflicts. “Much of my artistic and political sensibility comes from the Black arts movement here in New York,” ELUCID explains. “Recognizing the interconnected global struggles against oppression, artists and thinkers created works and actions in solidarity with freedom movements in South Africa and Palestine.” ELUCID cites intellectuals like Amiri Baraka, Kwame Nkrumah, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, and Nikki Giovanni among his heroes. (One track on the album is specifically inspired by Lorde’s work, “SKP,” citing the scholar’s paper “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic As Power.”) Songs like REVELATOR’s insistent closer “ZIGZAGZIG,” find ELUCID applying up-to-the-minute messaging, making explicit reference to the conflict in Gaza: “Feed a war machine…from river to sea, in lieu of peace.”

Despite ELUCID’s preference for cacophonous system overload here, the rapper also provides moments of respite. Recorded at The Alchemist’s Los Angeles studio, the laid-back, wheezing “INSTANT TRANSFER” is a collaboration with billy woods, which crystallizes their shared sense of creative determination. “With much momentum behind us and even more on the horizon, I knew a purpose, and that every step was ordered to that purpose,” ELUCID said of the experience. Meanwhile, the jittery “HUSHPUPPIES” is a playful anomaly on the track list, providing a snapshot of ELUCID watching his grandparents in the kitchen while preparing for Friday night fish fry dinners.

“Love still rules over on this side,” ELUCID says. ”I’m raising a family. We are making meaning and finding joy in the midst of all the fucked up-ness of everything around us because the alternative is cowardice and slow death. We remain rooted. We celebrate our people and our wins. Struggle is necessary.”

“IKEBANA” is one of ELUCID’s strongest statements of purpose on the record, blending the record’s heaviest themes with its most hopeful sentiments. supported by a shoutalong refrain and an urgent prog-funk groove. Breaking away from images of dissolution and crumbling societal systems that populate REVELATOR, ELUCID notes that the only way to navigate life’s bleakest landscapes is to cling to love and believe in those around you—to look forward toward something better that may or may not be possible. For the rapper, one of the album’s most trenchant lines comes during a centerpiece of a beat drop: “Being alive/I must look up.”

“The lyric ‘being alive I must look up’ is important especially in the context of this album. Much of the album imagery is harsh and reflects the actual doom some of us experience. But still I/we exist,” ELUCID explains.

Every artist is, in one way or another, the product of their time, bound by life’s leaden gravity to operate within the space of that which is already known. But there are some who are able to shake free of these ties, to shape the culture as it unfolds, to make the present their own.
Revelation, as a concept, points to the scales falling from people’s eyes—something that has been hiding in plain sight becoming clear. “The revelator relates to things that have been talked about, things that have been forecasted,” ELUCID adds. “And now they’re really here, and everyone sees it. And there’s no escaping.” REVELATOR plays out with the unmitigated power of those storms, laying waste to any genre conventions in pursuit of a certain physicality. Here, ELUCID develops a wholly distinctive musical language to explore our fractured modernity.

REVELATOR's packaging was designed by longtime Armand Hammer / Backwoodz art director, Alexander Richter.

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

When Kompakt came across Amsterdam-based Harm Coolen and Merijn Schotte Albers aka WEVAL back in 2014, we were blown away when we heard their slow-burning, darkly emotive tracks.

Their debut EP 'Half Age' on Atomnation featured painfully intimate and surprisingly kinetic electronic chamber pop that convinced us they were a perfect fit in Kompakt's family. Following two widely acclaimed EPs for Kompakt and playing numerous festivals including DGTL, Reeperbahn, Iceland Airwaves and Piknic Electronik, we now see the two tackle their self-titled debut full-length WEVAL. What you have before you is not a mere collection of tracks, but a complete listening experience with organic flow, emotional heft and a narrative thread.
Smitten with WEVAL's uniquely personal and catchy approach to producing dark electronic music, it didn't take much to win us over... and so came WEVAL's acclaimed 2014 label debut EASIER EP (KOMPAKT 318), followed by the bold and beautiful 2015 offering IT'LL BE JUST FINE / GROW UP (KOMPAKT 344) which saw the two soundsmiths digging deeper into the granularities of electronic funk than ever before. However, Harm and Merijn's music - while astonishingly fully-formed even in its earliest stages - always seemed destined for more, a bigger format, more space to explore the nooks and crannies of their rapidly evolving sound cosmos. Simply put, they needed to think about an album and their beloved living room studio wasn't cutting it anymore.
An old school building became WEVAL's new home, repurposed to house small creative businesses - but in the summer of 2015, it was abandoned most of the time, with everybody out in the sun while our heroes turned the building's attic into a sweet spot to make some noise, have 24-hour access and lose track of time. And apart from a sketchy tenant being evicted, the occasional soccer game with friends and live gigs across Europe, there really was no interruption to the focussed vibe. It's not like they were looking for distraction anyway: "working on the album all by ourselves in this bloody hot attic was all we had on our mind", the artists admit. And they decided that their album shouldn't sound too clean: "We try to find the beauty in imperfection. It makes things sound more human".
Weval draw their inspirations from no single genre of music but a cumulation of music that inspires them. The results present an astonishingly coherent vision - cuts like the dramatic THE BATTLE, bass growler I DON'T NEED IT or the trippy epic MADNESS share the same DNA of zestful nostalgia, a knack for immersive sound-sculpting and that certain kink in the groove. They also feed on deeply personal experiences and moods, as exemplified by the haunting electronic ballad YOU'RE MINE, the carefully layered, polaroid-tinted JUST IN CASE or the beautifully voiced closer YEARS TO BUILD. And sometimes, it's just an old, out-of-tune piano that stands in the hallway: "Whenever I'd pass by it, I couldn't resist playing it", says Merijn, "so Harm decided to start recording and it became an integral part of YOU MADE IT (PART I)". No doubt about it: this is WEVAL's most powerful and organic material yet - which means a lot, considering the amount of skill already on display in their small, but weighty portfolio.
(de) Als sich 2014 in Amsterdam Kompakts Wege mit denen von Harm Coolen und Merijn Schotte Albers aka WEVAL kreuzten, waren wir sofort Feuer und Flamme für ihre schwelenden, emotional aufgeladenen Tracks. Ihre Debüt-EP "Half Age" auf Atomnation präsentierte intimen und überraschend kinetischen, elektronischen Kammer-Pop, der wie angegossen zu Kompakt zu passen schien. Nach zwei vielbeachteten EPs auf dem Label und einer Reihe von Festvialgigs (inklusive DGTL, Reeperbahn Festival, Iceland Airwaves und Piknic Electronik) nehmen Weval nun mit dem gleichnamigen Release ihr erstes Album in Angriff. Und legen dabei nicht einfach nur eine Ansammlung von Tracks vor, sondern kreieren eine komplette Hörerfahrung mit organischem Flow, emotionalem Gewicht und einm roten Faden.
Angetan vom einzigartig persönlichen und mitreissend düsteren Klang WEVALs brauchte es nicht viel um uns zu überzeugen... und so kam es 2014 zum gefeierten Labeldebüt EASIER EP (KOMPAKT 318), gefolgt vom kühnen und wunderschönen 2015er Release IT'LL BE JUST FINE / GROW UP (KOMPAKT 344), für das die beiden Soundtüftler tiefer denn je in die Granularitäten des elektronischen Funks abtauchten. Nichtsdestotrotz - und obwohl sie schon von Anfang an ausgereift klang - schien die Musik von Harm und Merijn auf dem 12"-Format stets bestimmt für mehr: mehr Freiraum um auch die äussersten Winkel ihres rapide expandierenden Soundkosmos zu erkunden. Sie mussten schlichtweg zum Langspielformat wechseln, und ihr heissgeliebtes Wohnzimmerstudio konnte da nicht mehr mithalten.
Ein altes Schulgebäude wurde schliesslich WEVALs neues Zuhause, umfunktioniert für kleine Kreativunternehmen - doch im heissen Sommer 2015 stand es zumeist leer, da alle draussen in der Sonne badeten, während unsere Helden im Schweisse ihres Angesichts das Kellergeschoss in ein lärmfestes Aufnahmestudio verwandelten. Mit Studiozugang rund um die Uhr liess es sich bestens die Zeit vergessen. Und abgesehen von der Räumung eines zwielichtigen Nebenmieters, dem gelegentlichen Fussballspiel mit Freunden und natürlich Live-Gigs in ganz Europa, gab es auch keine Ablenkungen vom hochkonzentrierten Kreativfluss. Ablenkungen, die das Duo ohnehin nicht suchte: "ganz allein in diesem verdammt heissen Keller am Album arbeiten war alles, was wir im Sinn hatten", geben die Künstler zu. Und sie entschieden sich, dass ihr Album nicht zu sauber klingen sollte: "Wir versuchen die Schönheit im Makel zu finden. Es lässt die Dinge einfach menschlicher wirken."
Weval beziehen ihre Inspiration nicht aus einem einzelnen musikalischen Genre, sondern eher aus einer Akkumulation von Musik, die sie inspiriert. Die Ergebnisse zeichnet eine beeindruckend kohärente Vision aus - Aufnahmen wie das dramatische THE BATTLE, der Bassknurrer I DON'T NEED IT oder die Trip-Saga MADNESS teilen diesselbe DNA aus schwungvoller Nostalgie, einer Schwäche für immersive Klangschnitzerei und einer gewissen Delle im Groove. Sie nähren sich auch aus zutiefst persönlichen Erfahrungen und Stimmungen, wie zum Beispiel bei der eindringlichen elektronischen Ballade YOU'RE MINE, dem vorsichtig geschichteten, polaroid-gefärbten JUST IN CASE oder dem wunderschön gesungenen Schlussakt YEARS TO BUILD. Und manchmal ist es nur ein altes, verstimmtes Klavier, das im Flur herumsteht: "Immer wenn ich dran vorbei lief, musste ich darauf herumklimpern", erklärt Merijn, "also wurde es ein zentraler Bestandteil von YOU MADE IT (PART I)". Kein Zweifel: dies ist WEVAL's stärkstes und organischstes Material bisher - was durchaus was bedeutet, wenn man das Talent bedenkt welches bereits in schmalen, doch gewichtigen Portfolio der Band steckt.