As we bake in the unexpected heat of early spring, we settle among a bunch of releases we didn’t get a chance to look at in full. Reviews by Andrew Bowman [AB], Christopher Greenberg [CG], Rich Hughes [RH] and Matt Poacher [MP].

Benge – Loop Series (Chemical Tapes)

The latest cassette release from Benge, fresh from touring with John Foxx as part of his “Maths” lineup, consists of four tracks composed on four synthesisers and recorded direct to tape. It’s like an analogue lover’s wet dream. Each track named after its device of choice: VCS3, Moog, Serge and Paia, each playing to their own particular strengths and sounds. Opener ‘VCS3′ creeps and crawls through a minimal electronic hum, throbbing slowly like blood to the brain. ‘Moog’ plays out like a haunted galactic cry, occasional piercing notes and bass thuds creak and crawl underneath, slowly dragging it down into their dark depths. There’s something more monotonous and mechanical to ‘Serge’ as its revolving synth notes repeat endlessly over deep and messy bass tones and contorting noise, giving the impression of the tape is un-spooling, or cross-spooling an effect that becomes a surprisingly addictive. The tape finishes with the bright and breezy intro of ‘Paia’, all light and fleet-footed, until a heavy thud of bass drops, like an anchor to the floor. Other sounds dance around the low end , playfully teasing away at it, seemingly making fun of its lack of maneuverability. Four different instruments, four evocative experiments. I’d consider that an impressive result. [RH]

Gareth Dickson – Quite A Way Away (12K)

There’s a plangent ambient languor about Gareth Dickson’s sound, a beguiling simplicity that means the absorption of his tone and meaning is a slow but rewarding process. Quite A Way Away is his third official full length release (following on from Collected Recordings and The Dance) and his first for 12K. It’s been the perfect accompaniment to this early spring, as it has an elemental reverb-laden coldness about it (much like some of Dean McPhee’s work) but gradual listening reveals the overall tone to be one of warmth and inclusiveness. One major influence is Nick Drake in terms of the overall feel – hushed and frail, dextrous and wafted in with a hint of otherness; and then that voice, high and whispered, disappearing from your field of hearing in its top register – but there’s no sense of Dickson paying mere homage: this is too unadorned and naked, too ready to follow twisted finger patterns into beautiful blind alleys. Lyrically, Dickson is fairly obtuse, but the main theme of the album seems to be an irretrievable distance from someone, particularly refracted through the prism of the sea, where an unnamed person is either drowning, or swallowed by a whale (the former in ‘Noon’, the latter in the beautiful closing track, ‘Jonah’). The simplest thing to say with this is that I keep coming back to it. Quite A Way Away is a quiet triumph. [MP]

FRAK – Muzika Electronic (Digitalis)

FRAK, the Swedish duo of Jan Svensson and Johan Sturesson, have been producing skewed dance records for 25 years, mainly at the helm of their label Börft Records. Muzika Electronic could be viewed as a sampler for their back catalogue, such is the breadth of genres and styles that are covered over these 10 tracks. From the opening minimal 8-bit opener of ‘Voyage No. 1′, through the analogue movement and shuffling beats of ‘Varja Dag’ to the early New Order-style thumping and throbbing of ‘Pulse-Crack’, this is tour de force of electronic skill writ large. No two tracks are similar, yet the FRAK DNA spins through each piece – a bright, yet minimal style loaded with positive charm. And there are lessons to be learned here about longevity: why be happy exploring the same sounds from your laptops and keyboards if you can use these amazingly versatile and expansive tools to explore such a vast array of different sounds and styles?  [RH]

Mirroring – Foreign Body (Kranky)

A new collaboration between two leading lights of the American underground, one of whom (Grouper, aka Portland’s Liz Harris) has been increasingly prolific and brilliant in recent years, while the other (Tiny Vipers, aka Jesy Fortino from Seattle) has not released much since 2009. The first two tracks on Foreign Body are beautiful, but a little underwhelming, as they sound respectively, much like solo performances by these two artists (albeit particularly lovely examples). However, as the album progresses, the musicians’ distinctive styles and voices begin to subtly merge and overlap, with Fortino’s plangent guitar picking and aching soprano gently submerged in Harris’s incandescent haze and otherworldly vocalisations. Both artists have repeatedly referenced “the void” in their work, with Harris also expressing a marked interest in extraterrestrial phenomena, and these ideas are clearly reflected in Mirroring’s music. The hypnotic and, dare I say it, ethereal nature of the project’s sound casts a lulling spell over the listener, but at the music’s centre one finds no resolution, and senses only uncertainty and emptiness. A bewitching and unsettling exploration of “the space between”, this album finds these two restlessly seeking artists well matched, and leads one to hope for further collaborations in the future. [CG]

Nadja – Excision (Important)

This game is all about finding useful signpost comparisons and flailing about for adjectives, and when you come up against bands like Nadja the recourse tends to be towards comparisons to early 80s synth gloom (The Cure) and industrial battering of Godflesh, but neither are particularly satisfactory ways of getting to the nature of their sound. As for adjectives, it’s all vast, sludgy, magmatic: Aidan Baker and Leah Buckareff with mere guitars and drum machines create a sound that seems to exude from the very mantle of the earth. And with Excision, a collection of now unavailable vinyl-only releases from 2007-2009, the duo have reached something of an apotheosis: 8 tracks, all over 17 minutes long and totalling more than two and half hours – a relentless elemental wave of slow crawling brutality. It’s like being suspended in a minutely moving wall of granite. The sixth track here, ‘Kitsune (Fox Drone)’ – a track that previously featured on a split LP with German band Kodiak – might be the best thing the duo have produced, or at least enough of a signature track to act as a kind of Nadja tincture for the uninitiated. It bleeds into the ears, twin rivers of glutinous, fibrous miasma that roil and coalesce as they enter and exit your sonic field. It’s a model of control as much as anything, a mastery of their potential. [MP]

Olan Mill – Paths (Facture)

Paths is the second album from Olan Mill, the duo of Alex Smalley (also of Pausal) and Svitlana Samoylenko, and their first for the Facture label. Their signature sound is something along the lines of Stars of the Lid, particularly the later, more orchestral-leaning sound that duo have explored; but there is also something more ethereal about Olan Mill, something – and I don’t mean this negatively – thinner. These 6 pieces are almost see-through in places, translucent washes of sound that spread broadly like the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Whereas the first album, Pines, dealt mostly in short piano based songs, Paths has more complex sound palette, utilising treated guitars, pipe organs and strings. The overall form is more ambitious because of this, and despite its short length (32 minutes), Paths feels bigger. ‘On Waiting’ is probably the standout track here, a thing of hovering, vibrating beauty that peaks with an almost Godspeed-like intensity of strings and low bass rumble; and for such an vaporous album, it’s a moment of telluric drama that very much grounds the whole project. I’ve been very much of the opinion that there’s simply too much of this stuff around at the moment, but when it’s done this well it’s something to celebrate. [MP]

Pleq And Lauki – Perceiving Perspective (Chemical Tapes)

The combination of Bartosz Dziadosz (Pleq) and Mike Lauki (Lauki) has produced another collection  that blurs the boundaries between electronic ambient music and modern classical. ‘Intro’ takes a beautiful piano loop and weaves it between static, or maybe the sounds of the city – a dull, moving drone – beauty and the beast entwined together. The title track takes a repetitive knocking beat, the sound of something banging on a door, while a crisp and crackling noise plays in front of it. Behind this barrier, field sounds play out – the cries of children and passing traffic. Are we spying on someone? Are we trying to get out, or indeed, in? The perspective is constantly changing, challenging your perception of where you are in relation to the sounds. The closing track ‘The Last Letters’ begins with a slow drone before a scratching set of strings are thrown in, dispatched as a dull set of rising strings slowly creep up behind you. There’s a sinister, feel to this, it’s an uncomfortable ambience, setting the hairs on the back of your neck on edge. The key to this is how organic it sounds – there’s less of the electronic manipulation at work, the ‘natural’ instruments taking centre stage and tweaking your emotions. It might not be the easiest listen in places, but Perceiving Perspective shows a collaborative duo working in a perfectly synergistic relationship. [RH]

Various Artists – Personal Space: Electronic Soul 1974 – 1984 (Numero Group)

In the liner notes of the 2001 reissue of Shuggie Otis’s (until then) forgotten 1974 classic Inspiration Information, Stereolab’s Tim Gane is quoted, describing it as “almost like a new style of music that could’ve developed but never did.” While that statement is somewhat hyperbolic and wide of the mark, Otis’s brand of ‘electronic soul’ certainly occupied a small recess, its only obvious forbears being Sly’s There’s A Riot Going On and Timmy Thomas’s huge hit ‘Why Can’t We Live Together’. With Personal Space, Numero Group, champions of the underground, independent and privately pressed, attempt to widen the niche and establish a subgenre of eccentric pre-disco, pre-electro machine funk. What most of the album’s obscure excavations share with the above examples is heavy emphasis on early drum machines and electric/electronic keyboards. In relying on this arguably tenuous – electronic instruments were likely employed for reasons of convenience and economy rather than ‘vision’ in many cases – common thread, the selection arrives as something of a mixed bag. That said, the best stuff here makes it a worthwhile endeavour. ‘Money’ by Spontaneous Overthrow (best band name ever?) is a spoken word rap of dollar woe set to a snappy rhythm box groove and spacey synth interjections – the kind of thing Madlib or Dilla would probably wish they’d made (rather than sampled). One of several instrumentals, Space Commander Woo Woo’s (!) ‘Master Ship’ beautifully conjours the vessel of its title with portentous chords; more poppy and naïve than the futuristic jazz experiments of the time, it comes across as a missing cosmic link between Kraftwerk and Detroit techno. Elsewhere, The Makers’ far subtler ‘Don’t Challenge Me’ is simply sublime, a demure cousin of Larry Young’s mind-bending freak funker ‘Turn Off The Lights’. The odd one out among the oddities, The New Year’s ‘My Bleeding Wound’ is virtually drum-free, its twin attack based on twangy guitar and heavy echo; ‘dub blues’ might be a better heading here, but considerations of consistency will soon subside when you hear the distorted ricocheting cries of “Ecstasy! Ecstasy!” on this one. [AB]

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