Here’s Andy Stott spinning dark techno brilliance for almost an hour. I’m totally unsure of how I managed to miss this. Dropping two years ago – just before his stunning full length Luxury Problems – this live set mixes in a whole lot of his signature abrasive 4/4 monstrosities and searing vocal colors from Alison Skidmore. It’s a dark, sinewy construction, shambling its way through the back caves of your mind.
Basically, it sounds exactly how you’d expect Andy Stott to sound like live. Fans of Luxury Problems will be especially pleased around the 19 minute mark.
In typical Boiler Room fashion, the crowd consists of listless hipster types sipping on beers and occasionally tilting their hips. The real draw is the sound. Turn your volume up, and read something interesting while you listen. I suggest this illuminating treatise on the philosophy behind invisible prisons that shape our lives. It’s called The Black Iron Prison, a term birthed by Philip K. Dick in his final novel, VALIS. You should probably read that at some point in your life. It’s a transcendent (and partially autobiographical) dissection of sanity itself.
I don’t have much else to say about this. Just listen. Or watch, too, if you’re in the mood to see people looking miraculously bored at one of the most intimate, brilliant techno sets I’ve ever heard.
I was aimlessly browsing and came upon the Ghost In The Shell original score on cd. Loving the film, though having not seen it in years, I knew it would at least conjure some nostalgia for a time long gone. Nostalgia is achieved within 5 seconds of the opening track. Beyond that, it gets very interesting.
About that opener: anyone who’s seen the film will be instantly transported to the iconic fembot creation opening credits sequence. To a young teenage boy in 1996 this was both erotic and confusing, setting up my expectations for something which never appears. Instead what unfolds is an enigmatic film sprouting questions about consciousness, mortality, empathy, identity and where we’re headed as a culture. The film’s outlook is as dystopian as its ending is optimistic. The cinematography and art direction sit at the zenith of hand drawn animation (and yes I know primitive CGI was employed as well). The music sits at a crossroads between traditional Japanese, Hollywood classical, and minimalist synth pads echoing classics like Blade Runner and anything Tangerine Dream in the 80’s.
With my tastes light years removed from whatever I was into at age 14 (remember, this was before the internet made jaded cynics out of preteens bored with Boris and Nico) I find myself slipping into boldly embracing waters with the score by Kenji Kawai (川井憲次). I love the abstract synth sculptures of Oneohtrix Point Never, the warm tones of Brian Eno, the quickening thunder of Taiko and choral flights into pure ambient bliss. I love when an epic orchestral swell dissolves into liquid neon pools, spiking the hair on my neck. I love when an alien sound cloud whisks my conscious mind away, toward nothingness and enlightenment, and peace.
This is one of my favorite scenes of the film. There is no dialogue. Almost nothing happens, but it’s the moment when the initial rush of plot subsides and the viewer truly slips beneath the surface. It is pure hypnosis.
Long ago I was shown The Necks. The internet was not such a hospitable place and my search for an album to sample was fruitless. Alas, after the buzz wore off they were forgotten. Now, thanks to a helpful soul on a forum, I was reintroduced to what is quickly becoming a new addiction. Here is their first album in its entirety.
The band, comprised of Chris Abrahams on piano, Lloyd Swanton on bass and Tony Buck on drums, unspools boundless jam fireworks outside of any specific genre or time. There’s the interplay of jazz, an often motorik pulse of krautrock, and space based atmospherics of kosmiche all woven together in a pristine spartan construction. They make an hour disappear without breaking a sweat.
I don’t like doing research simply for the sake of posting on here so I must return at a later date when I’m fully immersed in The Necks. For now, enjoy the debut and seek out more if this is your kind of thing. And please, buy their music if you enjoy it. Everything they’ve released is available on their site:
As a longtime fan I am horrified, annoyed, and yet.. far too curious not to listen. I’m over halfway through the first hour and thinking this hasn’t been any more a waste of time than any other new music from a great band I could be hearing. In other words, I’m glad I dove in. In all likelihood you will be too. It’s the only sort of trippy space adventure you’d expect to last so long. Listen below.
The Flaming Lips – I Found A Star On The Ground
Part 1 / 3
Part 2 / 3
Part 3 / 3
The story goes that band leader Wayne Coyne was playing with some psychedelic toy and thought, if this one device can provide hours of entertainment, why can’t a song? Hence the astounding, ridiculous length of this piece. For the increasingly preposterous band – already known for their gummy skulls, fetuses, and assorted collaborative gimmicks this year – it’s not such a leap toward releasing a quarter-day song. Let’s face it, if you’re already on their weird train, you’re psyched about this.
The USB stick containing the music is in there somewhere.
Having heard almost a third of this I can report that it’s basically a version of their Embryonic-era dirty ambient krautrock jams, stretching ever deeper into a black hole. It stretches as it goes on and folds in a few new wrinkles along the way. I won’t speculate as to where it goes in the next two segments but I can imagine if you enjoy the first 10 minutes, consider it a keeper. Fucked up way to get our attention aside, this is actually fun. Let me know if any of you have purchased the hallucinogen accessory kit pictured above.
So I know I’ve been sluggish this year with Optimistic Underground. I relish being able to share the music enriching my life with you. I hope to rectify this laziness starting now, with The Psychic Paramount and their (hopeful) breakthrough album II.
I had this whole through-line about jet engines and surgical instruments and LSD and This Heat and Les Rallizes Dénudés and Miles Davis and cathartic volume levels… but I got caught up, slack-jawed and blasting this album again. It’s almost like a psychedelic brillo pad, carving clear my thought channels and surrendering my body to oblivion. A therapeutic breakdown of cogent narrative, this thing blasts away the outside world and disconnects me, sets me free in a way only the most blissed out Lovesliescrushing or hard droning Boris album can. It strikes an unknown sweet spot, defying gravity while splaying my brain with crushing heft. Crucial to this power is the flawless production, zooming in on every microscopic detail yet capturing the panoramic magnitude these songs inhabit. A dizzying high wire act of wide-eyed clarity, this album satisfied me in places only a fellow Swans or John Coltrane or Fennesz fan would recognize.
Second track DDB, opening with one of the more gentle passages on II, grows like marshmallows in the microwave, devouring 9 minutes in a wild-fire.