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Dischi Fantom’s Sussurra Luce series, blurring the boundaries between text, music and voice, returns with their fifth instalment, an expanded version of Hanne Lippard’s “Talk Shop”. Sculpting a fascinating bridge between radically experimental sound practice, conceptual art, and sound poetry, across its two sides the Berlin based multidisciplinary artist taps an almost dada sensibility, delivering a suite of poems and texts where singular words and sentences are looped and repeated creating a sensory experience of the efficiency and stress found in our private as well as public life.

Roughly a year ago, we had the pleasure of exploring the first two releases from Dischi Fantom’s emerging Sussurra Luce series, Ginevra Bompiani, Caterina Barbieri, and Tomoko Sauvage’s “Il Calore Animale” and Francesco Cavaliere’s “Zoomachia Disc 1”. An extension of the Milan based cultural platform Fantom’s broad and diverse activities (exhibitions, installations, performances, etc.) across numerous artistic disciplines, the series, curated by Francesco Cavaliere and Massimo Torrigiani, delves into the “science of imagination”, working with contemporary authors to explore and blur the boundaries between text, music and voice. Now the brilliant series returns with its latest entry, the Berlin based multidisciplinary artist Hanne Lippard’s “Talk Shop”. Released in a limited edition of 200 copies and coming with an LP-sized booklet, it combines orality and textuality with the idea of loop and repetition to explore the notion of time, and it’s a stunning gesture of performative poetics that plums a startling range of subjects through its sonorous forms.

Working across the fields of text, vocal performance, sound installation, printed objects and sculpture, for more than a decade Hanne Lippard has deployed language as the raw material for her work. Working within a practice that rests at the juncture of the spoken and written word, drawing upon content appropriated from the public sphere (found text) intertwined with her own words, Lippard’s work investigates how the rise in digital communication and mediation reprograms our relationship to language, presenting the subsequent fragility of language - its flaws, oddities, and potential for misinterpretation - and its attempts to convey meaning and sense.

“Talk Shop”, the fifth instalment of Dischi Fantom’s Sussurra Luce series and Lippard’s third recorded release - building upon the ground of 2020's “Work”, issued by Collapsing Market, and 2021's “PigeonPostParis”, released by Boomkat Editions - began as a live performance. Combining orality and textuality with the idea of loop and repetition to explore the notion of time, its relationship with the world of work today, and its personification through the experience of the human body - anonymity as the spearhead of the digital economy - the conceptual underpinnings of the piece depart from the notion that the human voice has become commodified by the ubiquitous nature of contemporary productivity, and intertwined with the mechanics of capital - the voices of satnavs, smart speakers and voicemail systems - while the written word has become increasingly anonymous online.

Addressing vocal anonymity as a spearhead of the digital economy, Lippard’s “Talk Shop” - regarded by the artist as “a compilation of poems and texts where singular words and sentences are looped and repeated creating a sensory experience of the efficiency and stress found in our private as well as public life” - taps an almost dada sensibility through its unexpected layers of meanings drawn from a maximalized approach to the potential of the human voice, creating an engrossing and challenging listen from the first sounding to the last, that continues to reveal itself and unfold with every return.

Sculpting a fascinating bridge between radically experimental sound practice, conceptual art, and sound poetry, it culminates as one of the most strikingly singular creative gestures we’re likely to encounter this year. Highly recommended and not to be missed.

Hanne Lippard (Milton Keynes, 1984) explores the social forms that govern discourse. Her artistic practice, which mainly takes the form of reading and sound installations, investigates the voice as an instrument of emancipation and alienation in times of hyper-connectivity. By mixing personal thoughts and appropriating texts from advertising, slogans and newspaper articles, the text becomes a mix of private and public that regains inventiveness and authorship through the use of the voice, becoming a body of its own. Her recent artistic research has focused on the use of the female body as a container of sounds, on the conscious and unconscious automation of speech and language.

Originally released in 2014, “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” marks the first cassette release on Dauw for Tatersall under his The Humble Bee moniker. Taking advantage of the format, each side on “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” is reserved for a single piece nearing the 20-minute mark.

“Exploding View” (aka Side A) swells into existence with a very grand sounding synth-driven melody. Of course the other thing that’s present is the decaying sound of the tape loop that’s working to bring that music to life. At first, the melody grows and grows, fairly undisturbed, but eventually the sound of so-much tape warble threatens the rising nature of the piece until it sounds as though it is one loop away from total decay and simply fluttering out of existence.

But of course that’s the point. There’s a tension between that grand melody that opens these moments and that warble. It’s a lesson in opposites: the mechanics of a tape loop, guaranteed to break down, placed in contrast with those signature Tatersall melodies, which somehow seem eternal. And just as that tension seems too much to bear — the melody dies to be replaced by something altogether new. What comes next is something much quieter, driven by a sub-aquatic bassline, some rhythmic tape hiss and some gentle piano.

It’s a very dramatic and sudden break. The technical elements of that could be attributed to Tattersall’s understanding of how far a melody can be pushed before it succumbs to the abuse of being processed out of existence — perhaps the tape had been looped and processed to its breaking point. Regardless of whether it was a technical or artistic choice, that hard break serves an important narrative function. Frequently in instrumental music, musicians play with opposites (quiet-loud, clean-distorted) to create a narrative to their work since they don’t have words/lyrics as a tool. In the case of The Humble Bee’s use of tape loops, one set of opposites in tension is always driven by the fragility of the melodies and the limitations of a machine guaranteed to inevitably decay the media it is designed to support. And where one thrives, the other takes a backseat. As side A winds down, the melodies are much more sparse — appropriate for en ending, yes; but it also gives more space for those hisses and crackles to claim their moment.

Side B is filled out by “Manual with Foot Pedal” and it begins as gently as its predecessor ended. Slowly eking outing it existence – it’s as if watching Tatersall set the board, showing his players on opposite sides of the table before really setting them in motion to do their thing. By the piece’s midpoint, melody has taken centre stage as a glitchy, piano-led rhythm marches its way forward, clearly carving out its space and claiming its territory. And almost immediately following that: the decay takes over again and those tape loops seem processed to near death — the melody almost barely decipherable as it flutters under the weight of the history of being looped/played ad nauseum. And in the very final moments, the melodies are sparse again, giving the tape hiss room to play its part — it’s as if Tatersall is giving both players enough space to take their final bows.

Repress

Punctual like a Swiss watch, Driftmachine presents a new album that once again astounds and delights. We know their trademark: solid mechanical percussions, forceful bass and melodies systematically built around circular patterns. "Spume & Recollection" is the sixth Umor Rex album by the Berlin duo, and what better way to celebrate the label's 15th anniversary than with a new record from the masters of labyrinthine cables and patches. Regarding "Nocturnes" (UR 2014), their debut album, we described their sound as precise and symmetrical, identical concrete blocks mounted and articulated in a random order. Their already obsessive style continued to evolve with their third record, "Colliding Contours" (UR 2016), now pushing further into abstract dub, ultra-tense grooves, and even more kinetic loops, moving further away from conventional musical structures. Between these two albums they released the remarkable "Eis Heauton" (UR 2015), a kind of hypnotic experiment informed by shadowy atmospheres, chance, and an intuitive dialogue with their musical machines, a unique situation in which they acted as bemused observers in hunt for epiphanies, resulting in an exquisite amalgamation of lucid dream-logic and mechanical precision. A one-of-a-kind soundtrack for minute and wordless scenes unfolding in pitch-black back alleys and hidden, alchemical basements. A similar map was explored with "Shunter" (UR 2018), a superb secret meeting between avant-garde phantasmagoria and concrete experimentation. "Radiations" (UR 2017) offered B-sides and bonus tracks, in addition to collaborations with Shackleton and The Sight Below, a kind of preamble that united Driftmachine’s different expressions and leanings.

When Andreas Gerth and Florian Zimmer come up with new material, one listens with high expectation. Looking back on their discography, one could safely anticipate a high quality album densely layered with their familiar leitmotifs. And yet, "Spume & Recollection" takes us by surprise and finds a new way to transfix. Fresh methods and ideas are introduced to their dynamics and formula. Yes, of course, you can still expect a healthy dose of kosmische, which is one of the dominant features in Driftmachine’s DNA; but this is now entwined with novel materials, semi-material patterns of alien code stretching over exhilaratingly tense and detailed grooves, clouds of gas shifting on top of deep dub architecture and blocking out the sun for prismatic effect. Even more of a surprise is the immediate, streamlined nature of these tracks, making "Spume & Recollection" their most accessible record and, perhaps, the most addictive (and this without sacrificing the essential mystery and strangeness at the core of Driftmachine’s sound).

We have previously described their work as post-industrial-dub; right now, we might just call it hypno-music for man and machine to dance and dream together. "Spume & Recollection" takes this concept as far as it can go without breaking, and finds some strange new feelings, and weirdly danceable grooves, to shed some light on this dark and dazzling ride.

All songs written & produced by Andreas Gerth & Florian Zimmer in Berlin Mastered by John Tejada Artwork & Photos by Daniel Castrejón

Tyyni is the third album by Finnish-born sound artist and musician Cucina Povera aka Maria Rossi. The second album recorded using a more studio-based scenario – as opposed to last year’s Zoom, a collection of in-situ, spontaneous recordings – Tyyni feels like a slowly unfurling mediation on the clash between nature and mechanical living, a rumination on the complexities of modern life that begin to unveil more about the inner landscape of the artist as it progresses. A Finnish word referring to still, serene weather, the title belies a new note of turmoil in Cucina Povera’s soundworld. Tyyni represents a more detailed focus on the sculpting of sounds that curl around Rossi’s hymnal vocal performances. It’s a more adventurous work than Rossi’s previous output that goes further into noise elements and vocal abstraction while maintaining the balance and ecclesiastical ecstasy of her debut Hilja.

While tension at the core of Cucina Povera is always prevalent, previously it was organic sounds that were used to counterpoint Rossi’s singing but on Tyyni these are often replaced with aggressive synths and distortion, profane clashes with the seemingly sacred hymns. Whether close mic’d and intoning in a loop or in full flight, Maria Rossi’s voice remains in the foreground, set here against a more synthetic backdrop. This development builds new worlds for Cucina Povera, a digital environment which brings in a sense of the alien for Rossi’s vocal to duel. The effect is often dazzling. On Salvia Salvatrix, an ode to the medicinal plant used to ward off evil spirits, Rossi’s invocation is encircled by a distorted synth sound tearing at the fabric of the composition. It’s an inspired juxtaposition, leaving the listener to appreciate both sounds as separate and as a duet. Anarkian kuvajainen embraces a sense of chaos, an accidental transmitting mobile phone’s pulse is swept up gently with looped synth swells as Rossi’s prayer-like vocal rhythmically teases the composition into loops that embrace and then drift apart. Teerenpeli flirts with a minimal beat rendered by sampler and processed, layered field recordings of capercaillies, while Side A ends with one of Rossi’s most beautiful, simple tracks yet recorded. Varjokuvatanssi is an a cappela recording built on top of a wordless glossolalia, a shadowy interplay which foregrounds the solo vocal.

Pölytön nurkka is the most melodic song yet recorded by Cucina Povera. While it still maintains an off-the-cuff performance style, the synthesized chimes and 4/4 beat are smothered by a distorted synthesizer which almost replicates the bravado of an electric guitar feedbacking into the night. Rossi’s subject matter talks of trying to start anew, getting rid of extraneous material, perhaps still feeling powerless to affect positive change. On Haaksirikkoutunut, the protagonist vocal is lost, a vessel rudderless on the ocean, buffeted by waves metaphorical or real, digital, atonal chords gurgling and splashing against the bow, a storm forever brewing on the horizon. Saniaiset recalls Coil in its eldritch, nocturnal tone and digital-bell like synth, Rossi’s half-spoken/half-sung voice attaining a creepy tone before flipping into flight. Album closer Jolkottelureitti uses an escalating, sequenced synth that splinters into both abrasive tones and harmonising chords creating a kosmische effect, reminding the listener of Kluster or synth-era Popol Vuh, all the while elevated by Rossi’s searching vocalising.

For an artist with such a singularly unique musical language, Cucina Povera is continually teasing new strands and emotive tones from an evolving palette. Most importantly, Tyyni appears to be pulling back the veil to uncover an artist finding a synergy between her own emotional inner world and practice. As such, on her third album, Maria Rossi has found a third way between abstraction and extraneous emotion, personal experience turned inside out to reveal more about the listener.

“Assembly Sequence” is a split EP featuring two of the four founders of Kajunga: Berndt and Cloudy Kid. Having taken root in Minneapolis and frequenting cities like Detroit and Chicago, the EP has an inherent Midwest feel. This marks Cloudy Kid’s third release with Kajunga and Berndt’s second. Berndt has also released with sister labels Clave House, and Corndogs out of Detroit.

Assembly Sequence is controlled by the mechanical nature of its creators. Berndt and Cloudy Kid split the arrangement down the middle to manufacture a sonic signature they believe can be used to drive the biomechanical functions of life-space.

Side A begins by fusing ethereal groove polymers with stabilizing oscillations from Berndt’s precision pump rhythms; On side B, Cloudy Kid neuro-casts an injection chassis turbine on the entire structure, constraining the rhythmic patterns to rip deeper into the corrosive noise planes of the collective Darkmind.

Moritz Simon Geist, media artist and robotic musician, publishes his first record. It is the world's first techno record played entirely by self-made futuristic robots. This is the 4-track EP to the following full-length album out 16. Nov. 2018. All of the sounds on his records are played by robots: small motors that beat on metal, futuristic 3D-printed robo-kalimbas, salvaged parts from old hard drives that click and cut. It took Geist several years to build, tweak, test and play all his DIY robotic instruments. His 'Sonic Robots' try to push the boundaries of the imaginable. He did so already in 2012 with his well-known oversized 808 robot - an iconic drum machine gotten real, 4 by 2 meter, filled with robotic parts which play the instruments live and in front of the audience. Now, Moritz Simon Geist goes even further to discover the unknown and futuristic world of techno robotics. For this quest he teamed up with the berlinian sound wizards from Mouse On Mars and dug deep in the history of mechanical music and experiments of early electronic music.

On the 4-track EP 'The Material Turn' Moritz Simon Geist turns materials into sounds. The opener 'Entropy' is a bassy club-track, played by futuristic bass-kalimbas, a psychedelic pattern of tonal glasses and pneumatic hi-hat patterns. It is core piece to this EP and is also featured in the main video. Even without a visual part, listening to his music, a sound world opens up which is unheard before: in definition, reference and organic nature. Geist: 'When you listen to robots playing, you realize, that they sound precise, but in contrast to digital sounds they transport an immense organic feeling. No beat is like the other, everything is played with actual acoustic physicality and thus actual error. On the same time, the repetitive nature of the robots make it perfect for playing electronic music. Its industrial and organic at the same time.' The second track 'Under Deconstruction' is a metal-on-metal slammer with a heavy beat played on a big sheets of metal. 'I often try to compose a track around one instrument', explains Geist, 'letting the sounds take a lot of room so they can stand out.' The B-side starts with 'Supercharged' - a heavy drone, reminding of the darked sides of music concrete. Here, tuned air fans, and a metallic percussion robot create the texture. 'Detok' closed the EP with an up-tempo club track, featuring complex rhythmic textures and well defined robotic percussion elements. What Moritz Simon Geist came up with is a stunning record of what is possible today - to explore the sound of mechanics that keep on filling our world. Geist creates a smashing soundtrack for both the precise automation and physical fragility that shapes today's society.