A fairly, ah, minimal collection of minimals this month, as we look through some of the records that we couldn’t review in full by Joseph Burnett [JB], Rich Hughes [RH] and Matt Poacher [MP].

Gultskra Artikler – Abtu Anet (Miasmah)

A double EP set from Russia in the name of Gultskra Artikler who’s the bastard love-child of Vangelis and The Caretaker. A collection of retro-futurist folk songs heard through a mesh of distorted drones. I could actually take up the rest of this paragraph with the song title of track 2 side A, possibly one of the longest I’ve ever seen and can be shortened to, and still done justice with, “In the middle of the sixteenth century in the south of England a group of Orford fishermen caught a strange creature”. This probably reflects the music quite nicely – quirky, weird and dark sounds from the beasts of HP Lovecraft or, perhaps the more modernist view of Alan Moore’s distorted folk tales played with a steam-punk alternative history, that ends up creating a collage of sound that would actually sound be out of place in any century, and thus becomes timeless. It’s a difficult album to accurately pigeon hole such is its reach and scope. But that’s what makes listening to it such a joy – each time I play it, I find something completely new to enjoy. [RH]

Kane Ikin & David Wenngren – Strangers  ( Keshhhhhh)

The most striking thing about Strangers is that its two creators, Australian Kane Ikin and Swede David Wenngren (of Library Tapes) never met at any point during the album’s production (I’d be curious to know if they’ve done so since!). Using technology to cross the divide of the oceans, the album was carefully, but adventurously, compiled, in Ikin’s words “without ever meeting, without real discussion or even a plan”. It’s remarkable therefore that it is so cohesive and composed. Opener ‘Swell’ has a fitting title, not just because it’s a great track (bad joke, I know), but rather for the way the elements that compose it – delicate string drones, sustained background hiss, mournful synthesizer lines – emerge gradually from the mix, swirling and drifting around one another in graceful osmosis. ‘Call’, meanwhile, is slowly introduced by tinkling bells, elusive gongs and fuzzy field drones that segue into a sea of morose melodies that ebb and flow like receding waves lapping on a shoreline; whilst ‘Veil’ carries an aura of emptiness heightened by near-intangible sound effects, submerged guitar lines and the permanent sound of distant wind. The imagery conjured up by Strangers is not just the human alienation inherent in its title, but also grey, deadened horizons and blank landscapes of spectral beauty, something underlined by the track titles (‘Drifter’, ‘Veil’, ‘Chalk’). I suppose you could argue that, given how it was created, Strangers is somewhat lacking in spontaneity, but I think that would be to miss the point. There is a distinct atmosphere of exploration on this album, it’s just of the most understated and elegant variety. [JB]

Liberteer – Better To Die On Your Feet Than Live On Your Knees (Relapse)

Matthew Widener is alive with possibilities at present. His history is in the California grindcore scene, with gorehounds Exhumed and the more political crust-inflected political grind of Citizen; but Liberteer is a whole other beast. He’s essentially taken the vicious snarling grindcore of his past and added upthrusting drafts of pomp and drama straight from the classic American songbook: think of the Entombed of Wolverine Blues (actually just think of a wolverine) on a hovercraft cushion of John Philip Sousa or even Aaron Copeland. Hell, on ‘Sweat for Blood’ I even thought of Bill Conti’s work on the Rocky soundtracks. And all this packed into a tightly wound 27 minutes of barely suppressed anarchist fury. For Better Die On Your Feet Than Live On Your Knees also functions as a kind of manifesto, a mode for living. The package details not only the breathless bile of Widener’s politicised lyrics (check the titles alone for an idea of the content: ‘Class War Never Meant More Than It Does Now’ ‘We Are Not Afraid Of Ruins’) but also how to utilise the packaging as a graffiti stencil, and well, a bomb. As he has intimated in interviews, this is music of action, of agency. I hesitiate to use the word inspiring as I sit on my arse typing this, but this is serious and full of intent. It’s also a total blast. Go get. [MP]

Lindstrøm – Six Cups of Rebel (Smalltown Supersound)

Is there such a genre as “prog-dance”? If so, Sweden’s Lindstrøm is its flag-barer. Six Cups of Rebel is his third solo album and probably the least straight-forward to date. It’s a sprawling mix of thumping beats, progressive synthesisers and wonky vocals that are left to explore the outer reaches of their origins. There’s times where each track passes its seemingly natural finish and breezes beyond it, opening other avenues of ideas and further exploring what obscure concoctions of sounds and noises can be put together. ‘Magik’ is a perfect example. Beginning with a tumbling beat, it unfurls into an expansive flow of treated vocals and spiraling synths before breaking down into a series of keyboard solos that Rick Wakeman would be proud of. This flows into ‘Quiet Place To Live’ where a choir of vocals, distorted and contorted, repeat the track title over a skittish beat that degenerates into a vocoder led vocals before quietly finishing.  Those prog influences come back with ‘Call Me Anytime’ which could be a  distant cousin to King Crimson with its synth obsession, but the BPM soon skyrockets and charges the track into the stratosphere before coming apart in a final fall of silence. Six Cups of Rebel sounds like Lindstrøm couldn’t care less about the LCD Soundsystem crowd he’s wooed on previous outings. This is the sound of artist who’s completely happy crafting his own sound away from, and completely different to, other artists. And because of that it’s a wonderful listen. [RH]

Radere – I’ll Make you Quiet (Future Sequence)

In a recent review, I lamented that so many new drone acts seem more concerned with too much endless synth noodling, genre cross-pollination and temporal shifts, rather than concentrating on the core essence of what makes drone such an imperial musical style: immersion. I can have no such complaints about this latest opus by Radere, aka Carl Ritger, for it is positively ponderous in its pace and single-minded in its emphasis on the power of drone. Sure, Ritger allows himself the luxury of dropping found sounds and field recordings into the mix across I’ll Make You Quiet, but from the opening title track, what really hits you is the dense wall of shimmering electronics and mangled guitar fuzz that builds and builds until he pulls the plug, the ensuing near-silence almost as deafening as the noise that proceeded it. As a title, ‘I’ll Make You Quiet’ could almost be a manifesto, for the track’s overbearing and beautifully suffocating avalanche seems intended to submerge the listener and cut off all senses bar hearing, a blissful approach that brings to mind the likes of Windy & Carl or Barn Owl at their most melodic. On other, more delicate pieces, such as ‘Sometimes, I Can’t Make Full Sentences’ and ‘Good Evening, Ghosts’ (the latter punctuated by eerie sound effects and underscored by muted orchestral drones), the impact is more nuanced, with restrained – yet somehow edgy – atmospherics lending the tracks a ghostly, haunted feel. Across I’ll Make You Quiet, Ritger toys with the boundaries of stillness and raw noise, making the album a fitting reflection of the bleak, mountainous landscape that adorns the album’s cover [JB]

Spiro – Kaleidophonica (Real World)

The second album by Bristol based folk troupe Spiro finds them further exploring the notion what folk music actually means in the 21st Century. Taking the traditional derigour traditional instruments of squeezebox, guitar and violin they weave a complex tapestry of sound full of swirling rhythms and exciting tempos. It’s amazing when listening to learn that no overdubs were used when making the album and each piece was recorded live. It’s the vibrancy that really shocks the system – from the opening crash of ‘Yellow Noise’ with its duelling acoustic guitars and charging violin, the music possesses and crashes upon you like a series of breaking waves. Unlike their contemporaries Lau, who prefer the darker side of life, there’s a delightful brightness to proceedings that banishes negativity and becomes a fresh experience. It’s also a very literal work, the music for each piece reflecting the title: ‘Steeple’ winds and climbs to a spire of delicate ribbons of sound, ‘Arches’ rise and fall, from ground to a point, in a meandering motion of strings bows whilst ‘Swarm’ is a bustling, ferocious and angry cacophony of chords coming from all around. Spiro are a bright, fresh and exhilarating listen and, along with their distant cousins Lau, suggest instrumental folk music will not get lost in the coming years. [RH]

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