Buscar:vivid oblivion

Clear Vinyl

Downwards’ deep bonds with NYC catalyse the debut LP by Jim Siegel’s Vivid Oblivion, a reveberating post-industrial salvo produced by adopted Brooklynite Karl O’Connor (Regis), and co-mixed by Anthony Child (Surgeon) and Simon Shreeve, who also mastered it. It’s a super deep, highly atmospheric beast somewhere between Valentina Magaletti’s most expressive percussion work, Bark Psychosis, and classic, moody 4AD, which is coincidentally referenced via the artwork, made by Chris Bigg - legendary graphic designer and longtime assistant to Vaughan Oliver.

Invoking the density, vertiginous scale, and dark grimy nooks of NYC, ‘The Graphic Cabinet’ was realised by Jim Siegel - hardcore legend and occasional/regular drummer with everyone from Raspberry Bulbs to Damo Suzuki and Boredoms, made in close collaboration with Karl O’Connor aka Regis during 2021.

Stemming from intently deep listening sessions immersed in LPs by Viennese aktionist Hermann Nitsch and the myriad eras of Killing Joke, while also absorbing the atmospheres of classic Tarkovsky flicks, the album began life as gonzo field recordings of Siegel smashing the f*ck out of his drum kit, zither, scrap metal and gongs in an array of abandoned warehouse spaces. The recordings formed the basis of Karl’s compound productions, which add depth charge bass and sonorous metallic atmospheres to the mix, along with birdsong and gibbon hoots, plus guitar textures by Nick Forté (Raspberry Bulbs, Rorschach) for a dread-lusting jag deep in the belly of the Big Apple.

With a palpable tang of rust and blood in the air and grime under the fingernails, the seven tracks evoke a resoundingly brutalist portrait of space and place. Siegel’s nervy percussive discipline is framed in alternating barometric and light settings from cut to cut, variously snaking from the poltergeist clang and haunted resonance of ‘Converging and Dissolving’ to slamming motorik thrum in ‘Oblivion’ via imaginative descent into cyberpunk simulacra of the city as jungle-at-night in ‘Remnant Corridor’, replete with animalistic atmospheres that recall Organum.

While the raw attack and devilish swerve of the rhythms are utterly fundamental to the record, Karl’s atmospheric content and the animist mixing magick of Anthony Child and Simon Shreeve most potently give flesh to its bones. Patently evident on the stepping pulse and searching zither that keens into detuned orchestration on ‘Immediate Possession’, the zoned-out klang of ‘Stand Aside’ or in the flooded warehouse chaos of ‘Test For Traps’. The attention to spatial, textural and proprioceptive detail is tightened throughout, peaking with ‘Bargemaster’, a dense slab of tension that sounds like Jon Mueller’s Silo recordings fed through The Caretaker’s fogged machinery.

It’s one of the most impressive records on Downwards for a long while, bound to gnaw and spark the nerves of experimental rock and post-industrial’s greats, anything from The New Blockaders to Faust, Flying Saucer Attack and into iconic Blackest Ever Black releases in the modern era.

Strut Records presents a fresh look at Oblivion Express, the 1971 album that marked Brian Auger’s shift into a new musical frontier. After years spent shaping the sound of British jazz-soul with the Trinity, Auger stepped into the new decade with a leaner, electrified ensemble and a renewed sense of purpose. This record captures the moment that transformation took shape.

Oblivion Express introduced a sound that was distinctly Auger’s own. Rather than echoing the fusion emerging in the United States, Auger developed a language rooted in the UK’s jazz underground, culminating in a spaced out jazz- rock / prog-fusion album awash with larger than life drum fills and Auger’s virtuosic organ playing. Between bassist Barry Dean and drummer Robbie McIntosh the album moves effortlessly between tight, articulated phrases and broader, improvisational passages. The trio’s interplay forms the backbone of the album and sets the tone for the sound that would define the early years of the Express.

Album opener “Dragon Song” launches with a restless drive that immediately signals Auger’s new direction. Auger chose to record this version of John McLaughlin’s piece (his friend and former bandmate in 'The Niddy Griddys') after hearing McLaughlin’s album Devotion during its mix at New York’s Record Plant Studios. Auger was blown away, recalling, “Oh my god, this is amazing. I wanted to record that myself - and I did!”. Pieces like “Total Eclipse” demonstrate the Oblivion Express’ command of dynamic contrast, and title track “Oblivion Express” explores the cinematic and compositional prowess of the group through stripped back, building moments vs. explosive melodic breakdowns. Riff-heavy “The Sword” later became known through Madlib’s usage in 2014 tracks “Yeti Movie” and “Parodies”.

In retrospect, Oblivion Express stands as a jazz leaning, prog-rock masterpiece and foundational moment in Auger’s catalogue. It captures the starting point of a new sound that is more focused, more urgent, and fully committed to the possibilities of jazz-rock at the dawn of the seventies. The album remains a vivid document of a band discovering its identity and setting the stage for the further array of influential releases that would follow.

Strut Records highlights a landmark in British jazz-rock with Second Wind, the 1972 album from keyboard visionary Brian Auger and his powerhouse group Oblivion Express. Capturing a fully matured lineup, the record finds Auger expanding his fusion language - bridging jazz sophistication, funk-driven rhythm, and soul-infused songwriting with the clarity and fire that defined his early ’70s work.

Though Auger’s roots lie in the lineage of hard-swinging jazz organ and the improvisational fire of the ’60s British scene, he has never been an artist content with tradition. With Second Wind, he moves further into a hybrid language that fuses rhythm with harmonic depth and groove, without sacrificing sophistication. His playing is expansive yet precise, translating the electricity of live performance into a studio work that breathes with immediacy.

At the heart of this era of Oblivion Express is the telepathic rapport among its members. Vocalist Alex Ligertwood (in one of his earliest major recordings before Santana fame) brings a soulful intensity that feels both grounded and forward- looking. Second Wind contains tracks that have become deeply significant in Auger’s discography - original compositions Second Wind, and Truth to name a few - but it was Auger's high octane revisioning of Eddie Harris' Freedom Jazz Dance, (adding new lyrics to the original instrumental) that genuinely broke barriers. The track became a DJ friendly classic and highlighted the groups deeply original approach.

The rhythm section of Barry Dean and Robbie McIntosh balances weight and fluidity, giving Auger the space to stretch across Hammond organ, Rhodes, and keys with characteristic boldness. Their collective sound is one of seamless motion: jazz-inflected lines swelling into rock-driven crescendos, funk-leaning grooves locking with vocal hooks, moments of quiet clarity emerging between bursts of improvisation.

Second Wind stands as a pivotal moment in Auger’s discography: a record that bridges the exploratory spirit of his earlier projects with the more groove-oriented approach that would soon bring international attention. More than five decades later, it remains a vivid document of a band carving out its own language. Music born of instinct, collaboration, and a restless desire to push beyond the expected.

Richie Culver had been waiting his whole life to record I was born by the sea. His debut album immediately and messily inscribed the artist into the canon of outsider music and experimental electronics, serving both as an arresting statement of intent and a painful reckoning with the difficult path that lead up to it, stealing one last glance back at a place he always knew he had to escape. Between grim lamentations, faded memories and anxiety attacks, all told with searing honesty and disarming openness, I was born by the sea excavates a space for hope, finding Culver digging through Humberside silt to find a world weary optimism, the raw material from which his visual and sound art is shaped. For this collection of expansions and inversions, Culver invites a collection of kindred spirits, contemporary inspirations and old heroes to wade into the salt water of his formative years spent living for impromptu raves and afterparties, connecting vivid memories of his birth place of Withernsea to artists hailing from as nearby as Preston and Bridlington, further afield, from Manchester and London, Berlin and Paris, before returning back to Hull, to where it all began.

For some, responding to I was born by the sea means diving even deeper into the record’s furthest reaches. Space Afrika clear away the pummelling loops of noise from ‘It’s hard to get to know you,’ revealing a cool and cavernous expanse in its wake. Distant chatter, previously heard as though through thin, plasterboard walls, now echoes from outside the maddening claustrophobia of the original’s Sisyphean sonics, illuminated as a dense storm cloud suspended amidst a more open scene, washed clean by a lighter rain, allowing the tender heart of the track to beat clear. London producer MOBBS stretches out ‘Pigeon Flesh’ into an epic, 10-minute, cold-sweat spiral, strung-out tension wrung from disconnected phone tones twisted in unexpected directions, snatches of Culver’s voice turned inside-out and deep fried bass threatening to tip the track over into oblivion, the build-and-release of a nervous breakdown experienced in real time. In an act of subversive self-reflection, Morgane Polanski switches one kind of ennui for another in her adaption of ‘I was born by the sea,’ swapping the sea for the city, English seaside towns in January for summer evenings in Paris and flashing lighthouses and sparkling oil rigs for the Eiffel Tower and the traffic around L’Arc de Triomphe. Even Culver finds time to revisit ‘Dream About Yourself,’ a track taken from his EP Post Traumatic Fantasy, breathing new words into its glacial drift, the half-remembered testimony of a shut-in: Woke up in the evening / Pray for me / Don’t trust anyone / Pray for algorithm. Reframed in a more melancholy light, the track’s reverberant keys even more clearly evoke a mournful nostalgia, fresh pain felt in old wounds.

Others find a parallel universe in Culver’s visceral world building. Rainy Miller flips the script with a scorched, avant-drill rework of ‘Daytime TV’, threading puncturing hi-hats and queasy low-end surge through the track’s steady ambient cascade, invoking the irresistible Preston beat magic of Miller’s own essential debut album, Desquamation. Aho Ssan melts away the crystalline textures of ‘Love Like an Abscess’ with the ominous crackle of a nascent fire, building through swathes of organic Max/MSP squelch and brittle, nails-down-chalkboard scrape, swelling and metastasising the original to spill over Culver’s desperate hymn to corporeal desire, at once flesh and not. Teresa Winter transports us an hour up the coast from Withernsea to her native Bridlington, replacing the sea wall of synthesis on ‘Nervous Energy’ with muffled ASMR murk and fever dream whispers, transforming Culver’s unflinching observations into a haunting call-and-response, filling in the blanks with her own eerie utterances, a fleeting conversation with a ghost. In a touching victory lap, Fila Brazillia, eccentric stalwarts of beloved ‘90s trip hop imprint Pork Recordings, whose performances at Hull institution The Lamp convinced a young Culver of the necessity to make his mark on club culture, resurface for their first remix in 20 years. Steve Cobby and David McSherry lead a low-slung, heartfelt stroll back through a suite of tracks from I was born by the sea, tracing a full circle saunter from Culver’s origins to his current musical practice, the sounds of his present repurposed by the sound of his youth. In a gesture that reflects the emotional complexity of the project, Fila Brazillia find joy at the end of Culver’s troubled reflection, picking out an undeniable groove in the stasis of feeling trapped in your hometown. Underlining Hull’s vital musical legacy, from Baby Mammoth to Throbbing Gristle, Cobby and McSherry demonstrate that, though there are certainly storms, by the sea there is also sun and through the fog, if you listen, you can hear a singular sound, a sound now carried by Richie Culver.

Participant is a record label and creative studio run by William Markarian-Martin and Richie Culver

French duo Double Mixte bring their digital thunderstorm of neon lit noire to the Italians Do It Better family on their debut EP. Mixed and produced by label head Johnny Jewel, Romance Noire opens the door to a new wave of Italians Do It Better artists coming in 2019.

Fresh Blood. New Tears. The title track arpeggiates and boils as waves of bass flow beneath. Rhythms are carried to the ceiling by a searing cascade of disintegrating color. A heavy backbeat anchors Clara Apolit’s poetry, ready to wear for a night in the face of oblivion.

The cinematic “Arlette” is a call for discovery through a darkness lit only by the glare of headlights in digital rain. Through all of this, Thomas Maan’s incantations search for the lonely, lost in the void of electronic fog. “November” finds in Clara an Anglophonic chanteuse, meditating on the cycles of time.

A blend of suspended sound and an uncertain melody contracts and expands before dissolving. Romance Noire is art that both contemplates and tanscends time’s firm grip. It’s a filmic journey inducing a vague sense of future nostalgia. Happy Valentine’s Day. Double Mixte is Clara Apolit and Thomas Maan.

The duo met in Paris and there was an immediate pull to create music together. They pooled their combined interest in powerful narrative & dark 70’s French film music to write lyrically vivid songs. In 2017, Thomas reached out to Johnny Jewel for what soon became a collaboration that expanded their vision into a haunting debut EP, out today on Italians Do It Better.