Holy shit, all this juke, can’t handle. Japan get’s it, though. Satanicpornocultshop repping juke for Japan here, of course. Anyone got names for Japanese dance cliques? Just shout ‘em out at your computer, cause I can hear you ‘_’. Someone gotta step up this dance routine and set fire to the floor/circle. For real, physical insult to injury should become the biggest rep in this dance culture. Also, I got a totes heart-boner for bad Japanese to English translation. Not an anime thing or bad movies, just on the whole. I wished that had happened in Satanicpornocultshop’s new Covers EP, which features juke/footwork renditions of tracks from artists like The Prodigy and LFO. But I dare anyone in the American juke scene to take on that mock Japanese to English translation in they’s music. Though, my favorite part about this juke shit is the bass. It’s completely operational of itself. Like, it follows the flow, but sometimes you just have *bAaaaAAaaaAss*. It’s perfect for rush-hour traffic, yo. And lingering. Cue: nasty looks while y’all blast-off ya last factory speaker. The sound is nasty. The looks in traffic become grateful. Then someone starts nodding. *Smiles*
• Satanicpornocultshop: http://www.nunulaxnulan.biz/satanicpornocultshop.html
• NuNulaxNulan: http://nunulaxnulan.biz
“I’m Homesick Sittin’ Up Here In My Satellite”
With all the gene splicing and atom splitting that goes into engineering beats these days, it’s refreshing and downright dirty (in a good way) to hear Doldrums kick off this track with such catastrophic drums. And those horn hits! Doldrums’ downer name is misleading, as is his bemoaned homesickness. There’s a lot of cosmic imagery tossed around in modern pop music, but it’s rare for it to remind us that space is actually exciting — this track’s eponymous satellite surprises us, channeling space in order to evoke groove instead of grandeur. It’s less Space Odyssey, more Tatooine cantina. See, doesn’t that feel nice?
Altered Zones tipped us off to this track, and we’re thankful for it. Big days ahead for Doldrums: they’re playing some spots at CMJ, and Portishead’s upcoming “Chase The Tear” 12-inch features Doldrums’ remix as the B-side. Get Parrot Talk, the mix from which “Homesick…Satellite” hails, on Doldrums’ blog right now.
• Doldrums: http://www.endlessdoldrums.com
Recently, I figured out Android phones let you program videos as personalized ringers. Needless to say, if you’re in my phone, you have a pro-no clip representing your every call. Not only has this news got out to my contacts, but they’re now battling over the hottest content for their video. And, like, I get it, you’re battling over my boner, but do you get it? It’s not about the hottest; it’s about, well, what the fuck is it about? Is it the women? Technology? Instant communication? Is it my body? It’s my body, isn’t it? Fuck my body. It’s just nasty. Nasty thoughts and feelings. My body is so inherently confused. All this, all that, and all everything that makes me mixed about arithmetic and America and affluence. You know, you know, I don’t know, you know. Ah, it’s straight, whatever, I wake up and do my shit and get it over with for the first quick tick, always. Always [ad nauseum] @selfishness&shame.
Don’t change the fact that I know nothing about these singers, this music, the culture in these countries, and The Cambodian Space Project playing at this year’s End of The Road Festival, Soundway Record’s London Party, and a Rough Trade East. But I’d love to get to know Srey Thy a little more. Less in a Sasha Grey way, and more in a shut-cho-mouph Susan Sontag way. Srey Thy would put my not-so-transgressional — only this is real and I may need help — self into check. Or, she’d probably tell me to go away. She’d probably request I listen to Kung Nai’s discography and/or get myself fuckin’ educated. Eh, my imagination is, is too too… eh, I’d probably start sweating a lot and choke on my words. Whatever. This song is beautiful.
• The Cambodian Space Project: http://www.cambodianspaceproject.com
“Not Giving Advice”
Sure, 14 minutes sounds like a pretty hefty commitment, especially for a music video (really more a short film) featuring ambient drones and water sports. But this is worth it. Unlike a lot of the internet’s average muck, “Not Giving Advice,” produced by Broken Machine Films, shows us images so specific and so well managed that, while still weird, one can chart a real aesthetic arc over this film’s quarter hour. There’s a genuine and nuanced reality on display, which is one of the highest achievements I can hope to discover through any careful twisting of sound and vision.
The first few minutes are all washed out in ochre, of a visual quality that suggests film. I’d say “found footage,” but who knows. There’s something inherently appealing in pairing imagery of antique physical feats with contemporary digital beeps; I get a kind of voyeuristic thrill when the five ladies in canary tutus glide one-footed, hand-in-hand atop the pond at 1:24, and then an inexplicable emotional surge when, immediately after, the Olympian oaf sheds his skis in a single leap, skates the lake on bare feet, and then flips face down into it, with grim spume rising as a wake. The images go on and progress following a loose congruity of water imagery and warm weather. The medium shifts as tape footage surfaces, film founders, and color is born until the last minutes, when the blood hue comes back along with film’s endearing freckles. By the time the mermaid-esque women make an appearance at the end, we’ve arrived at something so alien that the uncanny has cracked into a gentle riptide of fear.
Long Pond’s Pageants is available on cassette from Koppklys Records.
• Koppklys Records: http://koppklys.blogspot.com
“Love and Light”
These Constellation Records chaps are on a roll. Sandro Perri’s a Canadian dude who’s been going a fair while under a wealth of ingeniously named guises (the best being Continuous Dick, followed swiftly by Polmo Polpo [which means “Octopus Lung” in Italian, I’ll have you know]). But he sheds them all for his latest release, Impossible Spaces (TMT Review), which is all about minimal, shuffly jazz, and his vocal chords. Constellation’s SoundCloud taster is light and airy, making me feel like this when I’m cracking out the old 9-5. The star performer here has got to be the brutally syncopated percussion, which features more breathing than actual drums. Unfortunately, this is likely to cause severe hyperventilation if performed live.
Sparkling Wide Pressure
Again? Well, yes, there is a new Sparkling Wide Pressure video, directed by fellow Tennessean Geoffrey Sexton, and it pretty much rules. Pseudo-Buddhist temple offerings, plenty of incense, rich natural settings, glittering light superimpositions, ritualistic accoutrements, and some bitching handmade titles comprise the mise en scène. It’s the perfect setting for the damaged tape loops and distant melody of this track to flourish.