the submersible dirigible

After a two month wait, Dutchman Wouter Van Veldhoven’s latest ambient release finally arrived on my doorstep.  Considering the monumental delay, I have to assume the simple square six-inch cardboard package’s journey from Eat This Media’s Dutch offices to The Submersible Dirigible’s NYC-based corporate towers was a laborous one, apparently traveling over land by crab-walk, and over the Atlantic by paddleboat.  Fortunately, Wouter’s latest record turned out to be a soothing remedy for injustice, allowing me to quickly forgive the collaborative failure of the Dutch and American mail-carriers.

 wouter in context (bookmarked aac): Download (667)

 

 wouter in context (mp3): Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (1122)

With only a handful of previous releases — I assume Wouter’s work hasn’t yet captured the eye of most ambient music fans.  Considering Wouter’s Four Simple Songs alongside his earlier, far-too-limited Ruststukken (Slaapwell, 2007), it seems likely he’ll soon be to mentioned alongside the best established work from our era’s biggest contemporary-minimalist super-celebrities.  Stylistically, Wouter’s brittle tape-fueled ambient arrangements feel inspired primarily by William Basinski’s own melancholy, high-altitude tape-glaciers.  “Second Simple Song” (see podcast) makes the most convincing case for Basinski’s influence on the record; the track’s leaky organs and inky rythms are drenched in a shrill, pervasive electrostatic leaking from the track’s warmer, ailing melodies.  Decay and crafted interference burden the more emotive instrumentation like a wet blanket, familiar from comparable Basinski releases like The Disintegration Loops (2062, 2002/2003) or Variations for Piano & Tape (2062, 2006).

Continue reading ‘Wouter Van Veldhoven’s ‘Four Simple Songs for Five Dead Bumblebees’ (Eat This Media, 2008)’

Any researcher looking to uncover an exhaustive list of international musical hotbeds, those alluring capitals for creativity and genre-bending developed by the contemporary music underground (e.g., Iceland, the UK, Finland, Sweden, Denmark) would probably find Italy ranked alongside the likes of Mongolia, Cambodia or the United Arab Emirates.  Until just recently, I doubt I could name many noteworthy Italian musicians myself, besides the glorious Goblin, or Luciano Pavarotti — and the latter only comes to mind because I regularly encounter his likeness featured proudly on a wall mural inside my local pizza place.  Goblin and Pavarotti are nothing to sneeze at, surely, but aren’t quite cutting edge.  Partly for that reason, discovering Fabio Orsi’s ambient work — and subsequently the work of Gianluca Becuzzi, Valerio Cosi, among others — has been especially delightful.  Encountering your favorite genre surprisingly well developed in yet another region overseas leads to a barrage of new discoveries.

Fabio Orsi’s Picture Myself In a Cloud (Speaking Through Thought), his first release for ruralfaune (myspace), is the latest in an accomplished catalog of finely crafted, endlessly pleasing electro-acoustic, ambient releases from the Italian musician.  Picture Myself fits snugly alongside an already impressive catalog of under-celebrated releases on the finest of micro-labels, including LVD, Digitalis, and (the apparently Italian) A Silent Place. Continue reading ‘Fabio Orsi’s ‘Picture Myself In a Cloud’ (ruralfaune 2008)’

 

 Fabio Orsi - Part One (Picture Myself..., ruralfaune 2008): Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (1648)

Bottling Smoke was Digitalis Industry and Phantom Limb’s first experimental, field-folk festival, featuring the many of the best acts contemporary ambient/experimental music has to offer. Festivals are a dime a dozen these days, some good, some not so good. Bottling Smoke, though, was something special. From an outsider’s perspective, the numerous collaborative performances were the highlight of the festival and a fitting reflection of the communal backbone vital to the contemporary micro-label culture. One glimpse at the Brad Rose or Grant Capes (festival co-curators and Digitalis/Phantom Limb masterminds, respectively) discography is evidence enough of this empowering, internet enabled, globalization of independent, self-produced music. As explained by Sir. Rose, Bottling Smoke was a chance to bring these artists together for the first time, who had previously only been able to collaborate remotely. Tragically, I was unable to attend, so my take on all this can’t be terribly insightful.

Fortunately for me though, Digitalis has produced and recently released the first slew of disks in their new ‘Arroyo’ cdr subscription series. ‘Arroyo‘ is apparently intended to capture and communicate some of BS’s wonder and magic for the rest of us, the geographically deprived.

Continue reading ‘Brief glimpse into the latest Digitalis cdr subscription series, ‘Arroyo’’

 

 Arroyo Series (Oct) excerpts: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (1268)

No matter how much of my time I sink into musical explorations, no matter how exhaustive my searches, I always stumble across new musical territory on occasion that reminds me just how much wonderful music I’m regularly missing. Thanks to a brief, but stupendously helpful posting at the K-RAA-K blog a few weeks ago, I’ve sailed straight into some new territory, an impressive expanse of previously unexplored musical terra icognita called Blaastaal. Blaastaal is Belgian duo Mik Prims and Bert Lezy’s monthly experimental, tape-fueled, kitchy radio broadcast/podcast. Generally (and it’s difficult to generalize), blaastaal sounds like surrealist musical painting in pointillism. From a distance, the show takes the impression of a colorful cacophonous mess, contradictory elements residing comfortably side-by-side. Up close, the layers of sound gain more clarity, drones, found sound, samples and analog burrs festooning a colorful and consistently mysterious core playlist (I hardly recognize a handful of names from each show). It’s difficult, usually impossible, to say with any certainty whether you’re experiencing a musician’s offering untouched, or soaked, stained and tainted in layers of tape-manipulated reinvention.

Describing music is usually as constructive as blowing on a cup of steaming lava, so I’ve thrown together a quick mp3 mix highlighting some favorite moments from recent shows. The static you’ll hear periodically divides the selections, serving as a sort of audio ellipsis. I assure you I’m doing little justice to the show, and it could only really be fully appreciated as originally presented, but alas, here is the sample nonetheless:

 

 blaastaal (excerpts from 12nov & 29gokto) [13:02m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (1099)

more below… Continue reading ‘Blaastaal; Experimental Collage Radio’

For corporate cogs like myself, the biweekly paycheck day is a joyous occasion. Every other thursday in the mailbox, waiting patiently, is that freshly printed statement of self-worth, precise to two decimal points. Turns out, I’m not worth much (and only up about 3% from last year). More troubling than the ultimate value, though, is the fact that my single bi-weekly check isn’t even enough to cover that months rent, which ends up devouring around 60% of my income. It’s usually difficult to warrant such waste. Well, when the Wordless Music Series shows are in full swing, the decision seems more than justified. I’m situated literally 20 minutes walk from the best New York has to offer.

My first Wordless show featured Eluvium, who I’d been dying to see for ages, supporting Amiina. The venues are mostly churches, perfectly warm, intimate spaces for ambient acoustics. I had also bought tickets to see The Books, but had to miss the show for work (I’ve bought tickets for three separate Books shows, and missed them all). Most recently, I was able to see Colleen supporting Beirut. I’d seen Colleen before, supporting partner Leaf label musician A Hack and a Hacksaw. I’m guessing Colleen got paired with Beirut for their tour through Hack and a Hacksaw, since the two bands worked closely together on the eastern-european, gypsy inspired and critically adored ‘Gulag Orkestar‘, a sound Hacksaw has been developing for years, over several albums. Even under the worst concert conditions, at a tiny show during the summer of 2005, in a stuffed, unventilated Philadelphia art studio, I’d completely fallen for Colleen’s looping, glitchty, music box & minimalist cello that night. Well, her Wordless performance was similarly stunning. Fortunately this time I’m able to relive the experience, and share it with other like minded folks since WYNC recently decided to partner up with Wordless to archive this season’s shows, and offer the recording for free online. They’ve really come at a perfect time, with the absolute best performances yet to come from Múm, Hauschka, and Max Richter in his first ever US concert appearance. WYNC’s recording of the Colleen show is embedded below. The rest can be found on WNYC’s page dedicated to Wordless.

Recommended highlights: Colleen @ 23:15 (from Golden Morning Breaks), Katya Mihailova & Colin Jacobsen @ 50:26 (performing Arvo Part’s Fratres)

(image: Colleen in Paris, promotional photo from colleenplays.org)

I’ve been wandering around the history of electronic music recently, and spent a good deal of time dwelling on the work of Delia Derbyshire and the rest of the BBC Radiophonic workshop. My interest stemmed mostly from the incredible slew of releases and re-releases coming out of Trunk Records, the indisputable masters of this realm. Bernard Herrmann’s spectacular ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still‘ soundtrack, especially the pieces that include his theremin work, have contributed to my recent fascination with early electronics. Well, while “working’ today, I came across a wonderful BBC Four documentary covering the workshop, Alchemists of Sound, on the youtubes. Apparently the documentary hasn’t been released properly on dvd, so I don’t feel so guilty watching such a wonderful program for free. The documentary is a wonderful look back at the atmosphere within the BBC that allowed the Radiophonic Workshop to develop, and shortly after its creation, create some of the pioneering tape, electronic and experimental music of the era.

WFMU’s blog featured one of the more interesting snippets investigated by the AoS documentary, namely the otherworldly pop single from ‘Ray Cathode‘, an imaginary artist dreamed up by George Martin of the Radiophonic Workshop. The post includes mp3s for the A&B sides of that single, which has apparently become quite the collectible.

Before the video, I also just wanted to note for you, my non-existent readers & listeners, that I’ll be more active shortly. New show should be up shortly, with more postings coming on a regular basis from now on.

Radiophonic Workshop -Alchemists of Sound -Part 1 of 7: