Jung An Tagen
Crumbling at the fault lines of trouble, a typical Tuesday follows: “You didn’t get my message? Your my paralegal. That had important information in it. I clicked your number off the e-mail you sent me. From my e-mail to the dialer, my phone called this number and received YOU telling me I received YOUR voice mail. And you’re claiming, as my paralegal, you didn’t receive that message. OR you just didn’t go through your messages yet? Is asking that a violation of some legality? What about the appointment I just asked to schedule at the firm’s office that you flagrantly ignored?”
All I need is a million monikers to cover myself from the world. Such is the case with our man Stefan: Cruise Family, Nachtbote, (“defunct”) SF Broadcasts, Virtual Vienna, and Jung An Tagen. Glad he’s back to flush out my woes, making music as Jung An Tagen, and catching the ears of Feathered Coyote Records with Vielheiten. It’s straight stress shattering house influenced electronic breakdown of beat collage. Nothing of the sampled realm. All production style sounds. And ready to become one with your psyche.
Stream Vielheiten by Jung An Tagen below and find the physical tape here.
Beyond the Orchard
To those outside of the Chicago orbit, one that has produced neo-psychedelic juggernauts the Plastic Crimewave Sound and, more recently, the loner-bellow of Circuit des Yeux, Muyassar Kurdi might be a completely new name. A member of the community that has fed the work of the aforementioned, and performing with the moniker The Humminbird, her reverb-drenched stew of voice, autoharp, organ, tanpura, samples, and electronics should open up unknown vistas. Whatever the term “psychedelic” means, a benchmark may exist, and The Humminbird’s minimal chants, pleading, and beguiling in a fuzzed-out haze, clearly put this music well within the psych realm.
Beyond the Orchard is her latest, a six-track EP that (hopefully) will see some sort of physical version. Until then, this twenty-four minute batch of unsettling siren songs, gauze-draped ballads, and rumbling off-kilter loops holds up quite well with a tangibleness that belies its digital home. The first three pieces are a solid introduction – in brief snippets – to Kurdi’s art, culminating in the aptly-titled “Drone,” which takes a page from the Journey in Satchidananda book and melds tanpura, oscillators and feedback into a short but arresting instrumental piece. The following three tunes are a bit longer, hovering around four to six minutes, and range from the nearly oppressive wash of “Dear Momma” to the folksy echoed beauty of “Don’t Want Your Love.” The closing title composition brings the fuzz in a wander of queasy repetition, percussion and blown-out organ that looks somewhat toward early CDY/Espers. Sure, The Humminbird is trippy, but her flitting is quite robust.
• The Humminbird: http://thehumminbird.bandcamp.com
You read that biddy-diddy interview with Alex Gray we published today? That ain’t no “GRAN.D,” th’oh, yo. Cause below beholds the newest flair off by good-old D/P/I, leaving it all up to Chance and Images. AND Leaving Records! What? Yes, out February 4 on Leaving Records is the new D/P/I digital and CS release of 08.DD.15. That’s all I gotta say. Stream it below and conduct your own viable imaginative situation to the sounds playing; don’t let me spoil a good vision:
“Death After Life I”
After relocating to the Chi-city in 2011, Ryan McRyhew has clearly absorbed a nice dose of Chicago-dance influence. As manifested in his upcoming release as Thug Entrancer, McRyhew has delineated a unique assimilation of analog dance exploration and arcane experimentation. Set to release on the beloved Daniel Lopatin’s Software, Death After Life is an eight-chapter progression that hones innovative analog brilliance, acidity, and a decidedly comfortable engagement of traditional techno-house motifs. In “Death After Life I,” the opening sequence and 808 jams both bobble under dragging synth evolutions. While our heads are spinning in the mix, we are given bursts of jukey-snare riddims that centralize and swing us on our journey. The calming yet obliquely meditative realm is uniquely powerful, especially when smeared on traditional dance elements.
“Death After Life I” is accompanied by an incredible, post-worldly 3D video rendering, directed by Milton Melvin Croissant III. The video is just as much a mind-winder as the track, and even more so when combined. We follow an ominous perspective as it progresses through a deconstruction of consumerist sci-fi aesthetics. We meet a friend with gloriously rag-dolled hair, before entering into its’ Star Wars mouth and climbing escalators into “techno-torture chambers, heavenly mall arcades and triumphant head-bangers,” as Milton describes. Ultimately, we’re brought to the pinnacle of the fluid construction, where questions of god might emerge. Totally interpretable, deliciously intriguing, and slyly satirical.
“Death After Life” by Thug Entrancer will be available February 11 via Software.
LIVE FROM THE BASEMENT
Dreamcrusher (Luwayne Glass of Wichita, KS) prepares his electronics on a three-legged table positioned under the exposed lightbulb providing the only source of light in the chamber. One hideous drainage pipe spans the west wall, dripping flakes of decay and asbestos onto the jackets of the pipe-leaning posse. Before anyone is even close to ready, Glass’s set begins.
Noise-Heads in attendance touch their temples with both hands and sway in arrhythmic ecstasy. “Oh daaaaaaggg!!!” “Straight up power electronics, man.” “Harsh Noise Walls FTW!!” No one, not even the screamers themselves, hear these screams over the torrent of static-blasted death gushing from the PA. Black plastic bags emerge from pockets and cover heads.
Ravers in attendance lick a finger and hold it out to test the barometric pressure. Perfect for throwing down and/or getting there. A bass drum throbs through the mayhem as the attendees spread out into their own radii of free motion. Arms fly and heads bang as side-chain compression squeezes peals of feedback and house beats into one pulse: “untz H*H#T(#TE untz 83ty9#YHT#AT untz *#TQ(HTAUTGND untz.”
People that don’t fit into either of these demographics, or fit into both, enjoy themselves down there in the basement. Dreamcrusher’s maelstrom of live destruction offers something for everyone.
Incinerator is available on limited edition cassette, and digitally via Bandcamp.