So, Infinity Frequencies followed up Computer Decay (TMT Review) and Computer Death with the ” ambient computer-gaze nostalgia Japan” release, Computer Afterlife, making it currently into a trilogy of technology deep post-realms. And people are already chattin’ about it. And within 22 tracks, it’s terrifying in the most hauntingly pleasant way. Like a lonely ghost watching you fix your computer but the wires aren’t connecting and no answer is in sight. Or like being shrunk and placed inside your computer, and it’s practically a maze to get through all the levels of microchips and motherboards and wirings… thus: Infinity Frequencies.
But, “Oh, listeners!” This post ain’t about that young Computer Afterlife. I mean, I’ll link it at the bottom, but this here Infinity Frequencies is all about “Traces.” Perhaps Infinity Frequencies on this track is making a mournfully hopeful move from inside the computer to inside the mind of SMOOTH-fucked nostalgia. Yo, I’m thinking there could be a big shift in aesthetics toward more tracks like “Traces.” Yeah, you’ve the same sounds of loops and sonics, thus the notion of “Traces.” However, I figure this is more of a rebirthing of Infinity Frequencies. Especially that end image of gold dripping from leaves — I’m thinking Infinity Frequencies might go digital weather manipulative on us soon, maybe?
Listen to Computer Afterlife below and scope “Traces” (from Computer Decay) above!!
• Infinity Frequencies: http://infinity-frequencies.tumblr.com
“Tapeworm Small Eater”
Kurws is a punk-jazz collective based in Wrocław, Poland, which is as eclectic as the city itself, combining minimalist rhythms of Krautrock with ear-splitting harsh saxophone freakouts à la Kaoru Abe and a penchant for a truly punk punch somewhere between The Flying Luttenbachers and ZS. Ever since the release of their 2012 debut Dziura w getcie (Hole in the ghetto), they seemed to mature a little and exchange punk energy for some jazz attention to detail. On the group’s newest release All That Is Solid Melts Into Air, members of Kurws create a high-tension noise-rock escapade, with mathematical, precise drums by Dawid Bargenda.
Despite the harsh, unkempt sound, the band presents itself as a tongue-in-cheek version of a punk band, adding humorous titles and artwork to their albums. The representational piece of All That Is Solid Melts Into Air is oxymoronically-titled “Tapeworm Small Eater,” with an accompanying surreal music video depicting some sort of weird Rubik Cube Death Kvlt formed among cats and dogs, who die in fire and enter some sort of zombie mode, set to the hypnotic rhythm of damaged, neurotic amplified freak-jazz that hurls forward as if in an amphetamine-fueled fury. There are hints of Shellac in the sheer hardness and relentlessness of Kurws’ music, reflecting the cold wit and technical proficiency disguised as simplicity of their spirit animal Steve Albini through a tradition of free improv, letting the hysterical guitars roar and plow.
Listen to the full length of All That Is Solid Melts Into Air below, and watch the video for “Tapeworm Small Eater” above.
All That Is Solid Melts Into Air is available now on CD via Gusstaff Records.
Stacte Karaoke [excerpts]
Not only am I lazy for using Experimedia excerpts (they were the only ones I could find), but I’m HUGELY late to this new Oren Ambarchi release Stacte Karaoke. Maybe two months late. And it’s sold out at Experimedia, but you can grip the digitals and outta-state analog in some dark corners. Um, but I’m just doing my two cents and news-flashing y’all about how Oren has broken his mind for Stacte Karaoke. It’s majorly fucked in a wonderful way. SCOPE IT!! <3
Officer! is BACK? Nah. Well, sorta. Blackest Ever Black tore into the chest of its deep discography and conjured up an unreleased album from the 90s, Dead Unique, this past Monday; and to kick it off PROPER, here’s another snippet, “Elephant Flowers.” And it’s ultra smashed-out trippy. Not in a harsh way, but in a way of intricacy: Alto woodwind blowin’ it out. Random distorted vocal bits. Lingering bass. Rhythmically slapped-around drumming. Light-light acoustic guitar. “Elephant Flowers” grows bright and big and (yeah) beautifully bored of getting bogged down, so what’s there to do? Song time. Whoa! These drums really warp at the end here too. YES!
Mick Hobbs, of course, is not just a solo sandwich-losing joker. Throughout the 70s and 80s, Hobbs worked with all manner of UK-based experimental and post-punk groups, including initially The Work, and later groups such as Flaming Tunes and Family Fodder. He was also quite closely associated with This Heat’s Brixton-based Cold Storage studio, recording his 1984 LP Ossification there. In the early 90s he moved to the US to work alongside Jad Fair’s Half Japanese project. His Officer! project, though a solo endeavor, gave him the opportunity to collaborate with all his pals, including on Dead Unique everyone from Patrick Q of The Legendary Pink Dots, the animator and illustrator Marsha Colburn, and Jad Fair.
Dead Unique is out NOW via Blackest Ever Black on 2xLP, CD, and digital, so scope “Elephant Flowers” below until the physical arrives, as always:
• Blackest Ever Black: http://blackesteverblack.bigcartel.com
Seeking the Millenary Kingdom
Solid Melts, where have you been? I found that Branches tape somewhere in Portland almost two years ago. And then that Clearing tape showed up in my mailbox, and I’m thinking, “Okay Solid Melts. Okay.” Then SILENCE. Where have you been? “Wait’s over, Top Heavy,” says some little shop somewhere in Chicago (How do you know my name?). “Check out this Josh Millrod tape. SM026 and shit.” Then, I blacked out. That Chicago trip was crazy. I popped the tape in the deck on the drive home, steering with my knee while I read the inside of the J-card:
In some corner, a vestige of the forgotten kingdom. In some violent death, the punishment for having remembered the kingdom. In some laugh, in some tear, the survival of the kingdom. Beneath it all, one does not feel that man will end up killing man. He will escape from it, he will grasp the rudder of the electronic machine, the astral rocket, he will trip up and then they can set a dog on him. Everything will be killed except nostalgia for the kingdom, we carry it in the color of our eyes, in every love affair, in everything that deeply torments and unties and tricks.
Some quote from that Julio Cortazar novel, Rayuela, which, fittingly, reads like two opposite sides of a tape. That part about trying to grab onto the electronic machine stands out. The churn of synthesized swells rise and fall from the magnetic field of the tape head. Faded regal horns wheeze from the tops of broken, stone castles. Shrapnel flags still fly, but the wind has died. I slip the card back into its case and look up. A gate is opening in the distance.
The Seeking the Millenary Kingdom cassette is available now from Solid Melts, of course.