l’esprit depart (literally = mind departure) :
The moment when you are sitting in a taxi after a long night on the crawl and you begin to feel the tape loops in your mind becoming fuzzy and drawn out. There is a feeling that displaces the band you watched play soothing synth jams in Bar A to Bar B, where in fact there was no band, but instead a DJ spinning hypnagogic reel-to-reel tape constructions. The out-of-place-ness of the fractured memory gives you a headache, and the imagining of the two together further splinters other memories of the night — standing next to a dancing girl and feeling a slight bristling of skin every time her hair brushes across your cheek; popping a pill in the bathroom with your mate because he tells you it will help you relax; standing out on the street corner and feeling that for the first time you can embrace the cold of the night as an internal warmth; at the apartment with your dog waiting for the gang to arrive so you can go out and have a little fun — into a soup of common hedonism that slowly rolls away into blackness as you watch it.
The physical process of forgetting what has happened because your brain is over-stimulated.
So the taxi rolls. And you find a gradual beat that comes with the rolling stops and the street signs and the weird, outdated pop playing on the radio. In a state of disconnection, the world becomes music, and you listen intently, realizing you have stumbled across something new.
Vondelpark’s excellent debut LP, Seabed, is out today on R&S Records.
Chocolate Grinder Mix 76
Not as Deep: Just as Surface
Tell it as “It is.” Be real. Honestly? Y’all won’t like this mix. Butt ear, ear: ear it is…
- Lalić: reminds me of /please/’s .2. release from last year. Real post-bedroom/out-there linger collage stuff.
- Tape Loop Orchestra: will continue to steal breath from my body and beats from my heart. Soulless music for the soulless believer.
- Mike Cooper: makes my work-place neighbors think I’m listening to crickets all day. “I’d like his job.”
- Bangladesh: the mixtape is a fucking mixtape, but that broad scheming is LOL. Save it for the beach.
- L. Pierre: dropped my Thursday into a bowl of serenity. I am now haunted.
- Aki Onda: takes me to everywhere I used to be. He beholds the finest memory relapse.
- Mark Templeton: once ruined the way I listen to music. Now it’s though nothing’s changed.
- Unburied: is totally LOL metal at its MAX. Best enjoyed on the highway.
- Aaron Dilloway: continues to crush ass. Stop him before it’s too late for your ears.
- YYU: yelled during his set when the audio fucked up, and even though we were in a warehouse, it still felt unprofessional. Yet, I love his unprofessional style of music-making keeping its shit together.
- Félicia Atkinson: supports that post-Pocahaunted vibe. On a whim, I bought this without regret.
- Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement: can be expensive shit. But vastness has a tender spot in my mind (see: brain scar tissue).
- Abyssal: provides the most devastating listening experience this year. Kill…
- Tyler, The Creator: can suck my copyrighted DICK! I gets mine on YouTube.
- Grouper: is new to me, so hi!
Stream below, and subscribe to our podcast here.
[00:00] Lalić - “Rise Up Mantra”
[00:06] Tape Loop Orchestra - “I Died When She Left Me”
[05:12] Mike Cooper - “Jalan Sam Heng”
[06:40] Bangladesh - “Ponzi Scheming 10” [syrup]
[07:13] L. Pierre - “Doctor Alucard”
[09:25] Aki Onda - “A Day of Pilgrimage”
[10:44] Mark Templeton - “A Distant Hum”
[12:54] Unburied - “Stalked, Fucked, and Buried” [end]
[13:18] Aaron Dilloway - “Siena 7”
[13:46] YYU - “mix 6”
[14:40] Félicia Atkinson - “Infant Vampire”
[16:42] Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement - “Poisonous Spirit Species”
[19:08] Abyssal - “Forebode” [syrup]
[19:14] Tyler the Creator - “Freestyles Acapella on Sway in the Morning”
[20:57] Grouper - “Vital”
“Perdizes Camp Seniors”
A writing assignment on a new piece of work from Brazil’s Babe, Terror comes with both great excitement and a hell of a lot of anxiety, seeing as how it means I have to come up with more ways to describe what is, for all intents and purposes, very, very difficult to describe. Currently, there is very little on the planet that sounds close to what Babe, Terror (or, as he is also known, Perdiz es Dream) is up to with his music, and, aside from making some half-assed kind of March Madness joke in terms of the Cami Alvarez-directed video’s use of old-timey basketball footage, the video-mulch-meets-watercolor technique is pretty stand alone as well. All I can really say is that the overall effect of this amazing artist’s use of light and sound is absolutely and completely mesmerizing. “Perdizes Camp Seniors” sounds like an outdoor chorus of ghosts singing praises on high, only sampled and interjected with sputtering moments of space to give something that is ostensibly beat-less a heaving sense of rhythm that feels like it’s really meant for the dance floor. And whether you find yourself awkwardly swinging a partner around to this one or just at home with headphones glued to your head and your eyes slowly crossing as you near that comatose state, it ultimately doesn’t really matter. Wherever you find yourself with Babe, Terror, you’re bound to be lost anyway.
This track is found on Babe, Terror’s new tape, College Clash, which is available from Glue Moon.
Schoolboy Q’s third full-length LP, Oxymoron, hits shelves later this year, on the heels of the excellent Habits and Contradictions. The Los Angeles rapper — who was recently selected to be a member of XXL Magazine’s 2013 Freshman Class — has unveiled the first single, the Boi-1da-produced “Yay Yay.” While the title can be seen as a reflection fans’ excitement for new tunes, the topic is anything but mirthful – it’s a drug dealer’s manifesto; paranoid, prideful, and unmistakably candid. Schoolboy Q’s double-dutch rhymeplay is at the forefront here, along with his usual snarky charm. Even though the subject’s dark, there are still some lighthearted moments: “Used to fight on 49th, Grandma said be home by night/ But her old ass sixty something, so three hours late aiight,” raps Q, smiling: what Grandma doesn’t know won’t kill her.
Another day, another project of the sunn 0))) / Southern Lord extended family, another chance for me to dive blindly into the abyss and tumble down past the boiling fire pits and crags and super aggro crags to the stone lair where Attila Csihar keeps my heart in a jar of blackened formaldehyde. Many miles separate the all-star participants in Gravetemple — Stephen O’Malley [USA->Paris], Attila [Hungary], Oren Ambarchi, and Matt “Skitz” Sanders [Australia] — but the sessions we hear on Ambient/Ruin lose none of their power for having drifted across years and oceans and desktop audio workstations to our ears. What we get here is just what we’d expect from the musicians involved: churning acoustimatic field recordings, howls of torture, overdriven electronics, and the most chest-crushing hi-fi guitar drone on the market. If you think this all sounds a bit like Monoliths and Dimensions minus the horn and string arrangements (and Greg Anderson), you’re on to something: these neo-concrète doom-drone collages first emerged from the magma right around that time as a self-released demo CD-R in 2008.
Check out “II,” 17 minutes of sublime terror from Ambient/Ruin, below. Allow Csihar’s chants, Ambarchi’s motorized cymbals, and O’Malley’s classic 0)))-ing to pull you down to That Place — you’ll recognize it when you get there. And peep the cover art by the vbercvlt overlord himself, Justin Bartlett.
Grab the 2xLP from Ideologic Organ on April 29.
• Ideologic Organ: http://editionsmego.com/releases/ideologic-organ
Car fumes hazing red break lights bend as a draft pulls the emissions toward a hole in the road. Close to the border now, sweat and fear swell their minds and smuggling [BLANK] in from wherever to u.s. is both brilliant and daunting. Muck in the sewer changes consistency closer to the change, and CHANCE takes the IMAGE of confusion. Confusion: both within thyself and outer attire, covered in nothing worth mentioning (for your stomach’s sake), CHANCE and the P. Child crawl patiently through to freedom. Heavy paranoia seeps in through their pours; Mexico city has a huge crowd for this sorta music. Disguised in broken notes and thoughts, claps of what’s thought as noise turns into noise.
They seem to be an outfit for mythic musical pleasure, but become mules in underground [BLANK] trading and commerce. It’s clever, as they are always hard at work doing something. And meeting them in Brooklyn or Eagle Rock or Glasgow or Belgium becomes a guessing game of “Where am I?” Which is chill in a “Where am I?” sorta way. And in the same way people never pass through animate objects, CHANCE’s “TRIGGER*FINGER” creates a rouse in order to placate the thoughts of everyone/everything. Sonically, and specifically, CHANCE distorts your mind to something of repetition, dancing upon your thoughts of something layered and clicked in muck, but not of the slow-drip kind, more of that thick sustainable sludge that looks solid on the iris. Once you’ve drawn your entire focus to it, nothing else matters but the [BLANK] running through your system, all provided by the fellah who brings you REAL internal entertainment.
• CHANCE/IMAGE: http://chanceimag.es