Xeng Records
Rating: 7.5/10
Joseph Campbell was an American writer and orator well-known for his studies on comparative mythology. The title for Zu’s (a jazz/industrial trio hailing from Rome) latest record is taken from 1983’s The Way of the Animal Powers, a fine introduction to world mythology. Since there’s no greater mythology than that of rock music, an instant connection is made and appreciated - so let’s move on with no further delay.
Simply put, this 25-minute record shows the Italian ensemble at their most mature, and it follows Radiale - a much-acclaimed collaborative effort with Spaceways Inc. - released last year on Atavistic. Despite its title, we believe no animals were harmed in the making of these nine dysfunctional, droid-made, jazzy clusters. In order to augment their eccentric orbits and spit out all the insurrect sounds they live up to, Zu invited Fred Lonberg-Holm, a renowned cellist that has worked, among others, with Morton Feldman and Anthony Braxton.
But what really makes Zu break from the norm of contemporary jazz-core is its readiness to wrangle around a song, articulate it with strings at fucked-up angles and go beyond the symplistic take on chunk-based music. For instance, Luca Tomasso’s sax is not in the slightest reminiscent of the apprentice’s scholastic mannerisms, but more in tune with Sweden’s Mats Gustafsson (with whom Zu will be releasing How to Raise an Ox sometime next month).
If the opening track, “Tom Araya Is Our Elvis,” makes you wonder which direction Zu is heading to with this album - from the sample-endorsed “Anatomy of a Lost Battle” on - the band scotches any fear that their sound would be less bleak and easier than usual. You may argue that simplicity is what it takes to hold everyone’s heart, but simplicity is rather boring sometimes. Aging a song is like nurturing and looking after a baby and it takes time.
Jacopo, on percussion, also does the vocal part on the last piece, “Every Seagull Knows”, a contemplative drum-based invocation of all things supernatural. It features a crying baby and wards off the spread of tainted, diehard stiffness that popped up from the rest of the album. Massimo’s bass lines are a case study in unpatterned, sinister ventures, hanging clouds of dust and heavy rain here and there.
Before that, the circular, lounge-driven number that is “The Witch Herbalist of the Remote Town” on its own makes the album a valuable purchase, but in the case that you like going all quartz-like, detailing each parameter in music, the following track should be your favorite. Either way, Zu is one of the missing links between Evan Parker’s spiraling tones and John Zorn’s aggravated subtelities. Go and grab it now!
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=1034951694435f5cbe2e640
28/10/2005
25/10/2005
S&N - Homages EP
2005
Bully Records
Quando o facto de um rapper tão desprezível quanto 50 Cent encher o Pavilhão Atlântico serve para desembainhar considerações saloias sobre o público que vai lá vê-lo, apetece enterrar ainda mais a cabeça na areia. E continuar no processo de deslumbramento com coisas como Non-Prophets, David Axelrod ou Diplo. Que se lixe a Bíblia dos costumezinhos toscos daquela gente que descobre o hip-hop nos tiros que um rufia leva na cabeça ou abaixo da linha do abdómen e pensa que descobriu a verdade, a essenciazinha dessa coisa esquisita de metralhar rimas e preparar um bom beat.
No caso do tipo dos grandes concertos, as rimas não podiam ser mais básicas, o flow mais rasteiro nem a passividade / agressividade mais ensaiada. Alguém que dificilmente teve que lidar com a falta de saneamento básico ou água potável lá no bairro dele. Que se mete em barafunda e tiroteios porque quer ou os provoca. Não há paciência para miúdos mimados, com os peitos de pombo inchados pelos dólares que conseguem juntar, sem a mínima noção do que é pôr um disco no mercado e tentar chegar ao coração de alguém.
Só quem andou com a cabeça perdida pelo gangster dos tiros deixou passar o disco do ano passado de Sixtoo, um rapper canadiano que sabe misturar bem as linguagens da música contemporânea. Chewing on Glass & Other Miracle Cures era um assombro. A colaboração deste início de Outono com Norsola no EP Homages leva um pouco mais longe a sua vontade de romper as membranas que só existem na música, porque as pessoas são estúpidas como amibas dormentes.
Enfim, faltam as apresentações: Sixtoo é quem já se sabe, canadiano, produtor afamado na divisão do “toma e volta a baralhar”, com uma perninha no turntablism soturno e outra num break poderosíssimo em cuja bolsa criativa cabem músicos como Damo Suzuki (dos Can), Thierry Amar e Norsola Johnson; esta Norsola é a violoncelista dos Godspeed You! Black Emperor, que já tinha entrado no disco anterior e agora repete o feito neste soberbo sete polegadas.
Sixtoo assume a parte da electrólise, fazendo aquilo que tem vindo a fazer desde que aprendeu a girar discos: piruetas rítmicas, salpicadas por uma sensibilidade cinemática que faz de câmara de eco aos próprios sons que vai produzindo, reverberando-os, samplando-os e deixando o tapete sonoro cheio de franjas inacabadas e irreverentes. Norsola é a metade orgânica do duo, toca violoncelo, baixo e outra instrumentália não especificada. A soma das partes é uma coisa que só ouvida: um borrão na pintura obsoleta da música actual, um soco desferido no estômago dos maus alunos do hip-hop, o que quiserem.
Quatro temas chegam para estes arquitectos paisagistas mostrarem onde pára o downbeat quando leva um banho de instrumentos orgânicos e os cristais ficam à espreita. A imagem do arquitecto que tenta dar novas soluções ao espaço social / individual não é nova e decorre até, num desajeitado acto falhado, de um cruzamento de figuras mentais sugeridas quer pela capa de Chewing on Glass..., quer por “Old Days Architecture”, o oitavo tema do disco do ano passado – o primeiro que Sixtoo gravou para a Ninja Tune. A propósito, este Homages vem já pela Bully Records, uma casa que tem servido de morada a gente fresca como Mat Young, P Love ou Mat Kelly.
O disco evolui por atmosferas manifestamente down-tempo, aqui e ali com apontamentos de percussão (alguma percebe-se viva, outra sabe-se gravada). Ainda: ganchos rítmicos de oscilação variável e linhas retorcidas. Voos nocturnos próprios para o descompensar da actividade nas horas mais tardias. Planos rasantes de brinde entre discursos do gira-discos e sons colhidos nas sementeiras. A grafonola da capa remete para uma toada ligeiramente retro do animal criado. Ora, se for para ter alguém como 50 Cent a fazer a festa, até é bom que não haja circuito de concertos de hip-hop em Portugal. Pelo menos, não se lixa a cabeça dos putos com uma fabricação mercantil sem brilho nenhum. Homages, pelo contrário, é uma estupefacção.
http://www.bodyspace.net/album.php?album_id=522
Bully Records
Quando o facto de um rapper tão desprezível quanto 50 Cent encher o Pavilhão Atlântico serve para desembainhar considerações saloias sobre o público que vai lá vê-lo, apetece enterrar ainda mais a cabeça na areia. E continuar no processo de deslumbramento com coisas como Non-Prophets, David Axelrod ou Diplo. Que se lixe a Bíblia dos costumezinhos toscos daquela gente que descobre o hip-hop nos tiros que um rufia leva na cabeça ou abaixo da linha do abdómen e pensa que descobriu a verdade, a essenciazinha dessa coisa esquisita de metralhar rimas e preparar um bom beat.
No caso do tipo dos grandes concertos, as rimas não podiam ser mais básicas, o flow mais rasteiro nem a passividade / agressividade mais ensaiada. Alguém que dificilmente teve que lidar com a falta de saneamento básico ou água potável lá no bairro dele. Que se mete em barafunda e tiroteios porque quer ou os provoca. Não há paciência para miúdos mimados, com os peitos de pombo inchados pelos dólares que conseguem juntar, sem a mínima noção do que é pôr um disco no mercado e tentar chegar ao coração de alguém.
Só quem andou com a cabeça perdida pelo gangster dos tiros deixou passar o disco do ano passado de Sixtoo, um rapper canadiano que sabe misturar bem as linguagens da música contemporânea. Chewing on Glass & Other Miracle Cures era um assombro. A colaboração deste início de Outono com Norsola no EP Homages leva um pouco mais longe a sua vontade de romper as membranas que só existem na música, porque as pessoas são estúpidas como amibas dormentes.
Enfim, faltam as apresentações: Sixtoo é quem já se sabe, canadiano, produtor afamado na divisão do “toma e volta a baralhar”, com uma perninha no turntablism soturno e outra num break poderosíssimo em cuja bolsa criativa cabem músicos como Damo Suzuki (dos Can), Thierry Amar e Norsola Johnson; esta Norsola é a violoncelista dos Godspeed You! Black Emperor, que já tinha entrado no disco anterior e agora repete o feito neste soberbo sete polegadas.
Sixtoo assume a parte da electrólise, fazendo aquilo que tem vindo a fazer desde que aprendeu a girar discos: piruetas rítmicas, salpicadas por uma sensibilidade cinemática que faz de câmara de eco aos próprios sons que vai produzindo, reverberando-os, samplando-os e deixando o tapete sonoro cheio de franjas inacabadas e irreverentes. Norsola é a metade orgânica do duo, toca violoncelo, baixo e outra instrumentália não especificada. A soma das partes é uma coisa que só ouvida: um borrão na pintura obsoleta da música actual, um soco desferido no estômago dos maus alunos do hip-hop, o que quiserem.
Quatro temas chegam para estes arquitectos paisagistas mostrarem onde pára o downbeat quando leva um banho de instrumentos orgânicos e os cristais ficam à espreita. A imagem do arquitecto que tenta dar novas soluções ao espaço social / individual não é nova e decorre até, num desajeitado acto falhado, de um cruzamento de figuras mentais sugeridas quer pela capa de Chewing on Glass..., quer por “Old Days Architecture”, o oitavo tema do disco do ano passado – o primeiro que Sixtoo gravou para a Ninja Tune. A propósito, este Homages vem já pela Bully Records, uma casa que tem servido de morada a gente fresca como Mat Young, P Love ou Mat Kelly.
O disco evolui por atmosferas manifestamente down-tempo, aqui e ali com apontamentos de percussão (alguma percebe-se viva, outra sabe-se gravada). Ainda: ganchos rítmicos de oscilação variável e linhas retorcidas. Voos nocturnos próprios para o descompensar da actividade nas horas mais tardias. Planos rasantes de brinde entre discursos do gira-discos e sons colhidos nas sementeiras. A grafonola da capa remete para uma toada ligeiramente retro do animal criado. Ora, se for para ter alguém como 50 Cent a fazer a festa, até é bom que não haja circuito de concertos de hip-hop em Portugal. Pelo menos, não se lixa a cabeça dos putos com uma fabricação mercantil sem brilho nenhum. Homages, pelo contrário, é uma estupefacção.
http://www.bodyspace.net/album.php?album_id=522
24/10/2005
Growing & Mark Evan Burden - Self Titled
Xeng Records
Rating: 7/10
The self-titled collaborative effort between Growing and pianist Mark Evan Burden is a split CD based on two compositions that can be heard separately, but work much better when digested back to back.
Those familiar with Growing’s previous releases - notably the superlative album from 2003, The Sky’s Run Into the Sea - will not be jaw-droppingly surprised with this 19-minute “Firmament,” a prelude to an underbelly of drone-y splendor. The snake-wrangling, incantatory ambient that the ensemble produces cuts directly into Portland-based Burden’s “10 24 02,” a busy, ascending and descending musical movement.
“Firmament” is like a cloudy aural painting, drained through its grey corners that gently collapse into themselves. Growing’s half of the disc is a peek into the mind itself as well as those protein complexes capable of pumping new blood into dead veins. The pianist’s piece is a slippery glissando wherein notes emerge like a phoenix after being suppressed to near silence.
In the middle of this slow chaos, there are little pockets of warmth that, in Mark Evan Burden’s case, evolve into drops of convalescent sound fragments. Then again, how one could allow an experimental, avant-garde ensemble - sometimes reminiscent of Brian Eno - to mess around with a modern pianist is something most will never comprehend. But if listening closely, it is easier to realize how these two go hand in glove without interfering with each other’s work.
When I had the chance to talk to Joe DeNardo circa The Sky’s Run Into the Sea, I asked how he felt like when everyone wrote about Growing’s music being so womb-like. He dismissed those comments simply by saying that he didn’t know how a womb sounds like; my opinion is that we should really ask a newborn for an answer because I think he or she would relate to this record. Maybe it’s just me, but these nebulous sounds must definitely be the kind a newborn hears just before the water breaks.
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=1291377869435a7e9a9261a
Rating: 7/10
The self-titled collaborative effort between Growing and pianist Mark Evan Burden is a split CD based on two compositions that can be heard separately, but work much better when digested back to back.
Those familiar with Growing’s previous releases - notably the superlative album from 2003, The Sky’s Run Into the Sea - will not be jaw-droppingly surprised with this 19-minute “Firmament,” a prelude to an underbelly of drone-y splendor. The snake-wrangling, incantatory ambient that the ensemble produces cuts directly into Portland-based Burden’s “10 24 02,” a busy, ascending and descending musical movement.
“Firmament” is like a cloudy aural painting, drained through its grey corners that gently collapse into themselves. Growing’s half of the disc is a peek into the mind itself as well as those protein complexes capable of pumping new blood into dead veins. The pianist’s piece is a slippery glissando wherein notes emerge like a phoenix after being suppressed to near silence.
In the middle of this slow chaos, there are little pockets of warmth that, in Mark Evan Burden’s case, evolve into drops of convalescent sound fragments. Then again, how one could allow an experimental, avant-garde ensemble - sometimes reminiscent of Brian Eno - to mess around with a modern pianist is something most will never comprehend. But if listening closely, it is easier to realize how these two go hand in glove without interfering with each other’s work.
When I had the chance to talk to Joe DeNardo circa The Sky’s Run Into the Sea, I asked how he felt like when everyone wrote about Growing’s music being so womb-like. He dismissed those comments simply by saying that he didn’t know how a womb sounds like; my opinion is that we should really ask a newborn for an answer because I think he or she would relate to this record. Maybe it’s just me, but these nebulous sounds must definitely be the kind a newborn hears just before the water breaks.
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=1291377869435a7e9a9261a
19/10/2005
The Ebb and Flow - Time to Echolocate
Three Ring Records
Rating: 8/10
The Ebb and Flow is a retro futuristic trio that glues together the geniuses of a Russian Jew, an Iranian native and a Midwestern girl. On this record they sound like a Siamese experiment that caught everyone in the lab off guard. Their aim consists in recycling good old synthesizers with upfront electronic twists and moves, delivering a sweet aroma that blinks an eye to the swell sound of the 80s while still harassing last week’s disco-goers.
Take the inaugural, two-part joint “Sonorous”, a polyphonic spree that will leave you defenceless and clueless for the rest of the album. The group proves that the Time to Echolocate is the exactly when organic, analog-driven melodies clash into the electronic, contemplative and frequently overrated blips of today. “Body and Soul” is pretty revisionist in this sense, mixing Casio-like reminiscences with jarring comments about being “time to pay the bill.” The following track - this time a female-vocalized number entitled “Framer Framed” - is dissonant and rebellious, finding its branch on the family tree by way of acts like !!! and Large Number.
Sara Cassetti is the US-based one-third of the group and she plays the drums; Sam Tsitrin and Roshy Kheshti are, as the press release puts it, “two illegal immigrants,” who alternate the vocal parts - the latter also plays the Moog synthesizers, the Farfisa organ, melodica and vibes, whilst the former gives birth to the guitar and bass lines. This ethnic mash-up is the fertile soil wherein fine seeds are manipulated and heart-shaped orchids blossom.
The Christmas-scented, baritone saxophone-fuelled “Interlude” serves as the perfect appetizer for the Tsitrin-penned, mellow “See You in the Fjords”, as accompanied by a trumpet courtesy of Jeff Jacobs. The dialogue with cross-faded genres does not end here: “Country Verses” attempts to capitalize on the teachings of Willie Nelson with a taste of counterfeit machinery; it does put a smile upon your face, but it sometimes feels like the country legend cheated on an IQ test before conquering Nashville.
To set the record straight, The Ebb and Flow prepare a farewell, multi-layered track, “Sweet Southern Melody”, where the keyboards are infinitely warmer and more familiar, and augmented by the voice of the late (and very great) Bob Moog. His analog philosophy is sampled here to a great result, bridging the gap between the manic 80s and today.
If only Human League managed to break the time spell, they would sound pretty much like this - but never before bathing in the newest technological fluids, of course - and this should be the best they would ever sound. So, if you still go weak at the knees for scholastic, mathematical disco sound, Time to Echolocate should be a fine treat for you. Just put on your Sunday shoes and dance to this cerebral, electronic ballet. It is defiintely better than any synth-pop accelerated version of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, I can promise you that.
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=21078242454350f71f4edd0
Rating: 8/10
The Ebb and Flow is a retro futuristic trio that glues together the geniuses of a Russian Jew, an Iranian native and a Midwestern girl. On this record they sound like a Siamese experiment that caught everyone in the lab off guard. Their aim consists in recycling good old synthesizers with upfront electronic twists and moves, delivering a sweet aroma that blinks an eye to the swell sound of the 80s while still harassing last week’s disco-goers.
Take the inaugural, two-part joint “Sonorous”, a polyphonic spree that will leave you defenceless and clueless for the rest of the album. The group proves that the Time to Echolocate is the exactly when organic, analog-driven melodies clash into the electronic, contemplative and frequently overrated blips of today. “Body and Soul” is pretty revisionist in this sense, mixing Casio-like reminiscences with jarring comments about being “time to pay the bill.” The following track - this time a female-vocalized number entitled “Framer Framed” - is dissonant and rebellious, finding its branch on the family tree by way of acts like !!! and Large Number.
Sara Cassetti is the US-based one-third of the group and she plays the drums; Sam Tsitrin and Roshy Kheshti are, as the press release puts it, “two illegal immigrants,” who alternate the vocal parts - the latter also plays the Moog synthesizers, the Farfisa organ, melodica and vibes, whilst the former gives birth to the guitar and bass lines. This ethnic mash-up is the fertile soil wherein fine seeds are manipulated and heart-shaped orchids blossom.
The Christmas-scented, baritone saxophone-fuelled “Interlude” serves as the perfect appetizer for the Tsitrin-penned, mellow “See You in the Fjords”, as accompanied by a trumpet courtesy of Jeff Jacobs. The dialogue with cross-faded genres does not end here: “Country Verses” attempts to capitalize on the teachings of Willie Nelson with a taste of counterfeit machinery; it does put a smile upon your face, but it sometimes feels like the country legend cheated on an IQ test before conquering Nashville.
To set the record straight, The Ebb and Flow prepare a farewell, multi-layered track, “Sweet Southern Melody”, where the keyboards are infinitely warmer and more familiar, and augmented by the voice of the late (and very great) Bob Moog. His analog philosophy is sampled here to a great result, bridging the gap between the manic 80s and today.
If only Human League managed to break the time spell, they would sound pretty much like this - but never before bathing in the newest technological fluids, of course - and this should be the best they would ever sound. So, if you still go weak at the knees for scholastic, mathematical disco sound, Time to Echolocate should be a fine treat for you. Just put on your Sunday shoes and dance to this cerebral, electronic ballet. It is defiintely better than any synth-pop accelerated version of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, I can promise you that.
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=21078242454350f71f4edd0
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