Live at Ultra Music Festival XIV on UMF Radio
Miami sweat. Eye-melting lights/visuals. Fire blowing out everywhere. Beats so fresh. Probably tits. Hollow light streams and red eyes. This pink drink. Flavored tabs. Probably dick. Glasses jumping up. Hands on you and you and me. Bass Control capturing all this in sound. Handling the moment before you explode. Guiding your inner thoughts to cruise. White-faced Japanese people. Neon-faced youths. Money over here, and money over there. Darkness encroaching. Bass Control silhouettes in front of the full moon on stage. He’s shouting out. The music drowns everything. Audience members grasp for air/more. And the set continues into infinity. Well, just a set. But I’m sure Bass Control (Dennis Sebayan) could. Actually, you should book him just to see how much music he can pound into you before submission. Your submission. And if you’re in the New York City area, scope out his next live event at the Brooklyn Beat Music & Arts Festival. It’s being put on by the super (SUPER FUCKING) nice peeps over at Art For Progress. Go up to him and say, “Hey.” Your night depends on it!
Months ago, I was listening to a piece on NPR about an artist who had taken Beethoven symphonies and slowed the tempo down far enough to stretch the piece into a 24-hour experience of listening and relaxation. Listeners were invited to bring blankets and pillows to the premiere and immerse themselves in the slow-churning epic for as long as they so desired.
Violet Replacement, an hour-and-a-half, two-song tour CD-R set, follows the same idea. But just as a simple violin stroke can be rendered unrecognizable when stretched to fit a new timeline, the Wurlitzer warbles, guitar strums, and field recordings — made familiar over the span of four Grouper albums and a number of splits and collaborations — are pulled nearly to their limits over a deserted, auditorium-style emptiness. It provides the breathing room to separate the tidal waves of drone from the singer-songwriter tendencies done to perfection on last year’s double album, A I A (TMT Review).
Watch an excerpt from the recent Torino, Italy performance of Violet Replacement above.
• Grouper: http://www.myspace.com/grouperrepuorg
TMT’s in-house doctor, a quack if I ever saw one, recommends Physical Therapy “if you want.” Get emergency medical help if you have chest pain, weakness, shortness of breath, slurred speech, or problems with vision or balance. The music may also cause serious effects on the stomach or intestines, including bleeding or perforation (forming of a hole). These conditions can be fatal and can occur without warning. Call your own doctor at once if you have symptoms of stomach bleeding, such as black, bloody, or tarry stools, or coughing up blood or vomit that looks like coffee grounds.
Safety Net, the debut EP by Physical Therapy, is out June 19 on Hippos In Tanks.
“Laud the Hyena”
Simon Price, singer/guitarist of stoner rock band The Heads, is set to release a solo album as kandodo. The self-titled album features nine tracks of stretched-out, psychedelic meditations — a Thrill Jockey strength of late — via a 1965 Magnatone Typhoon guitar, keyboards, slight percussion, and a “slowly breaking Walkman” for field recordings. The result is a highly textural soundworld that embodies everything from the experimental rhythmic scene of 70s Germany and its ambient aftermath, to Price’s South African origins and his interest in “animist religions, hyenas, sharks, and dusty drives.”
“Laud the Hyena,” the album’s second track, features a driving four-note progression that uses repetition and dense layering to eventually push the song from its humble, somewhat staid beginnings into more dynamic, chaotic territory. It’s not only one of the album’s loudest moments — matched only by its sister track (and album closer), “Lord Hyena, 3am” — but it’s also one of its darkest ones. Check it out here:
kandodo is out June 12 via Thrill Jockey. Pre-order the album here.
• kandodo: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kandodo/168305819900725
• Thrill Jockey: http://www.thrilljockey.com
Still lingering in creeping holes and cellars are oozing rituals upon perceived blood thrones and smeared visages on walls and heads. Hymns come tattered and frothing from the mouth in both ancient and modern derelict languages — eyes pinned back, choking venom from bile, excreting memory. Unspeakable thought becomes reality, drenching a kneeling mass in virgin cum and blood. Once the body is split, everything pours out, and The Communion feast begins at the feet. Upon the alter rattles a severed head soaking in a vat of toxins. It’s raised by two hands and used as a baptism device among the starved, gorging themselves asleep. Everything happens underground, so getcha “Stirrups” and explore! While you’re at it, snag a Prison Tatt.