If there’s something my sig-nif loves move than dinosaurs, let me know, because I can totally get a surgical rept-ivert operation for love. Actually, the partial meaning behind this C Monster pseudonym is because she always calls me “Monster.” And now I’m on the hunt for any version of Rampage, so we can share a mutual appreciation in giant creatures and shit. Anyhow, this “Mangrove” video is my sig-nif’s wet dream. Like, when she’s sleeping and peeing the bed, she’s definitely thinking exactly how this video appears, scene-by-scene. And it’s disgusting.
Also, Bataille Solaire restored my faith in synth-driven psych-out banging last year with BAAL-SHAMASH et son char céleste. I think I listened to that through and through and through, through the months of April and May. Funny “Mangrove” is popping off right now in my ears and in front of my eyes. Anyhow, new tape by Bataille Solaire called Documentaires coming out on Constellation Tatsu ASAP. So scope it that fast!
Last week, we sang the praises of Date Palms’ expanded ensemble — this week, we see them in action. The video for “Dusted Down,” which appears on the band’s forthcoming The Dusted Sessions LP, unites two disciplines we all know were born from the very beginning of time to be together: drone bearing the influence of Hindustani classical music/the American West and hallucinogenic live video synthesis. Recorded at video artist Andy Puls’ Whistlehut studio, the band’s live performance sparks the video into swirling abstraction, fusing the five musicians into an oscillating rainbow prism or a kaleidoscopic drone symbiote all covered in tendrils before returning them safely to their human forms. Hear loping guitar and bass phrases lock into a modern era Earth-core mantra groove, as Marielle Jakobsons’s violin moans a tremulous melody above Gregg Kowalsky’s chiming synth figures. As the track’s trance state deepens, Puls’ processed undulations give way to a trail of all-consuming blur — and the band strips it all the way back down to the most essential tone.
The Dusted Sessions arrives April 30 from Thrill Jockey. Pre-order it on LP or CD. Put it onto your turntable or into whatever plays CDs inside your home. If you turn off the lights and close your eyes, I bet you too could morph into a multi-tendril swirling rainbow entity right there in the middle of your living room. I promise you it really won’t be that hard. Don’t give up.
“Meta Y Dinero”
There’s that thought process that goes:
Fuck garage pop! I’ve had my fill. I’ve seen the willy-mics and the inter-generational greasy hair enough times that I don’t need to jump around at the front of every show in that vest I cut myself with a kitchen knife, adding my own Beach Boys backing vocals and wantonly belly-slamming the lead singer with every off-the-mark snare roll. In the morning, I don’t need that particular genre of tinnitus that comes like a distant, rolling thunderclap followed by a quick, piercing, flash of high hertz dolphin song. There are genres of tinnitus, right?
Then there’s this.
And my school-kid Spanish kicks in.
Though whether it would get me through a night with Los Blenders in Mexico City is debatable.
And the clouds start some foreplay with the sun.
And I realize I’m lying to myself, and this is great.
My favorite Spanish word?
Trabajaba. He used to work.
And this still does.
• Los Blenders: http://losblenders.bandcamp.com
Guest Mix: Lucrecia Dalt
I’m still taking in Lucrecia Dalt’s breathtaking debut LP, Commotus. With its mystifying lyrics and graceful charm, the music had me drawing comparisons to David Lynch and Mark Frost’s Twin Peaks when I reviewed it earlier this year. On ”en medio,” an exclusive mix for TMT, the Colombian artist offers a most descriptive insight into her creative working patterns, where she uses snippets of performance and dialogue to expand on the processes behind writing structures — all this while hinting at fresh material from her forthcoming album.
There remains little more from me, other than to offer you a pleasant journey through this truly wonderful exposition of artistic method, which comes with an introduction from Lucrecia herself:
There’s always some dialogue, a melody or a particular phrase that lingers in my mind after watching a movie, and these fragments become leitmotivs within my imaginary sound world for days, weeks, or even years afterwards. I wanted to integrate some of these in the mix, where they work probably as multipliers of meaning within the narrative.
Film became increasingly relevant when I was making the Commotus album, but I was thinking more about imaginary landscapes then, whereas on the new album, film played a key role. I picked around 10 movies I’ve been heavily resonating with during the past year. While recording I used to play these movies on mute and sometimes just randomly, I was turning up the volume for a second while playing back the stems I was working on. Since I am not having any collaboration from other musicians on this album, these movies became the external shifter elements, the vectors of disorientation, guides to other moods. This way my temperament wasn’t the only thing determining the album’s direction.
The mix slightly exposes some of the resources used on the new record, like frozen tonalities as bridges for change; they illustrate a certain attention, or the care involved in the levels of the mix, which leads to doubt as to whether or not a melody was there all the time, when it appeared or if it had disappeared completely.
There are sudden brakes in the narrative, an inversion of meaning through dialogue and texts being brought out of context. It also has musical references that relate to both albums, like the boleros that were very important references to create Commotus, or how the headphonic pieces and soft pink films are important to the new album.
While I am making a new record, work becomes a compulsion. My routine changes completely, dreams and thoughts become louder and more intense, conversations more enjoyable and graspable, ordinary walks become remarkable; I’m able to materialize what besets consciousness, self-estrangement rises, as does my affectation.
Stream below, and subscribe to our podcast here.
[00:00] Frank Gartner - “cloud environment”
[00:05] Asmus Tietchens - “p1 (micro snippet)”
[00:11] Vittorio Gelmetti - Opening track of the film Deserto Rosso
[00:27] Nuts & Co - “La Vie Des Animaux”
[01:33] Patty Waters - “Black is the colour of my true boy’s hair (snippet)”
[01:50] Tod Dockstader - “Rotary”
[02:28] Felix Kubin & Coolhaven - “Der Bleiche Beobachter (snippet)”
[02:42] Winona Ryder - Dialogue from Night On Earth
[03:54] Esther Ferrer - “Radio Web Macba podcast FONS # 1 (snippet)”
[04:13] Felix Kubin & Coolhaven- “Der Bleiche Beobachter (snippet2)”
[04:39] Frank Gartner - “Shudder and Shimmer”
[05:02] Brian Eno - “Jungles”
[06:32] Snippet from Sans Soleil
[06:35] Jason Grier ft. Julia Holter - “Karma”
[09:25] Ellen Burstyn - Dialogue from Providence
[09:35] Fondation - “Spirale”
[11:39] Girona with Consell de Cent - Recording from the Chamfer, Barcelona, April 2013
[12:56] Matilde Díaz - “Te Busco”
[15:38] Gena Rowlands - Dialogue from Faces
[15:44] Young Marble Giants - “Have Your Toupee Ready”
[15:44] PÉREZ (Sara Fontán + Lucrecia Dalt) - “Jiff (miniatura 2)”
[17:24] Japanesse Bolero - taken from the soft pink movie Daydream
[18:47] COH - “Path # 1”
[18:59] Snippet from the film 2 Ou 3 Choses Que Je Sais D’elle
[21:30] Bradien - “Nemoroso”
[23:38] Frank Gartner - “The Moon”
[24:49] Λένα Πλάτωνος - “Έρωτες το καλοκαίρι”
[27:10] Ryoji Ikeda - “Headphonics 1/0”
[29:43] Snippet from the podcast “Probes # 2.2” by Chris Cutler for Radio Web Macba
[Photo: Catalina Pérez]
Justin Marc Lloyd
Inappropriate King Live, OK Putrid, Peer Group, etc.
I imagine Justin Marc Lloyd’s uncle or granddad or maybe an ancient blind neighbor sitting him down at age, like, 8 on the front stoop of the Lloyd home. The sun barely peeks out from above the tree line and the fireflies fly low around the yard. “I want you to listen close, Justin,” the man whispers. “No matter what anyone says, no matter what highfalutin’ jobs you watch your school friends snatch up someday like suited-up soulless little shark-humans, I want you to remember this: you will be a Noise Musician, capital N, capital M. You will live modestly, run your own DIY tape label, and create art with an incredible degree of productivity under at least a dozen monikers. This, and this alone, is the American Dream.” Young Justin squints off into the sunset. “…uh, or, maybe this is the Japanese Dream. No, yeah, yes – this, and this alone, is Merzbow’s dream.” They share a solemn nod and go inside for some milk.
Perhaps best known for his work under the Pregnant Spore nom de guerre, noise maven / visual artist / Rainbow Bridge label honcho Justin Marc Lloyd has been churning out uncompromising music alone and with a bevy of collaborators since the mid aughts. His most recent batch of Rainbow Bridge tapes, in editions ranging from 19 to 100 a pop, features not one, not two, not three, but at least five of his own projects (the count could be higher but some releases are barely credited as far as I can tell). Regardless of nomenclature, his current output assaults eardrums with a gloriously noxious stew of overdriven pedals and electronics, field recordings, garbled vocals, and cathartic cut-and-stitch noise collage. His work as Dementia and Hope Trails strays into more consonant territory, however, presenting us with what he calls “deeply reflective, wrist slitting ambience and glistening beauty.” Check out a few samples of these projects below, or head to Lloyd’s SoundCloud for a full preview of the batch.
Snag whatever Rainbow Bridge tapes are still available from the label’s webstore, or check out an enormous backlog of out-of-print and net-only releases from Lloyd and numerous other artists on the label’s Bandcamp.