bvdub - Ten Times The World Lied

Glacial Movements Records: 2020

I feel like I've been name-dropping bvdub forever now, but it's only happened about a half-dozen times, according to internal blog stats. Granted, the first such instance occurred over a half-decade ago, but it's been sporadic since. I cannot deny that assumption in always mentioning Mr. van Wey's project is what led me to finally springing for an album of his. It just didn't make any sense to use him as a frame of reference if I hadn't actually listened to a single CD from the chap.

And as always, if I'm diving into a discography that's nearly fifty albums deep, I may as well do so via one of my preferred labels, in this case Glacial Movements Records. Actually, this choice is as much a statistical certainty as it is practicality, bvdub having featured on the print half a dozen times now, two albums of which were among their first dozen items (sure am dropping 'dozen' by the, erm, dozen this review, huh?). He's a bit of a regular with the label, is what I'm saying, though he has music out on Dronarivm, Kompakt, Darla Records, Quietus Recordings, Auxiliary, and... ooh, Apollo! Not to mention DJ mixes on such trendy music blogs like Resident Advisor, A Strangely Isolated Place, Headphone Commute and the old mnml ssgs. Dude's done the rounds these last dozen years, so plenty of material to gorge myself on should this first outing prove fruitful.

And, well... damn, but is this Ten Times The World Lied ever lovely. For sure it's ambient drone, but done in that melancholic way I typically associate with 36 these days. Not so opulent as Mr. Huddleston's work either, the production deeper and thicker with the layers of timbre – which is about what I'd expect from a project handle with the word 'dub' in it. Can't deny it sometimes gets a bit overwhelming, the endless cascade of reverb and delay almost drowning your senses. Still, it's never so much so that you can't hear whatever piano piece, synth sweep, or string melody is being performed underneath. Like, imagine you were among that herd of blizzard-blasted cattle in the cover art, the wailing winds and frosted ice obscuring your senses, your only warmth a huddle of other beings, weathering the onslaught of the elements. Yeah, it's like that, this album.

Appropriately with a title including Ten Times..., ten tracks make up this album. Brock apparently wrote one on the tenth day of a month, for ten months, spending ten minutes of live improvisation for each piece. Okay, only eight minutes per, because obviously we couldn't fit ten ten-minute tracks onto an eighty-minute CD. Does make me wonder if there's an extended version of this album though, one that could have been digital only.

Regardless, Ten Times The World Lied proved a solid entry point into the world of bvdub for yours truly. Not sure where I'll go from here though, because... well damn, just look at all them albums!

Chihei Hatakeyama / Dirk Serries - The Storm Of Silence

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

It's been a spell since I last talked up Chihei Hatakeyama, and not for a lack of desire. He's simply one of those ambient artists that has hardly any filter, a discography that keeps ballooning to ever greater proportions with each year. It's been six cycles since I first reviewed an item of his (holy cow!), and Lord Discogs lists some forty more items added to his catalogue in that time (holy cow!!). Even if I wanted to jump back in at some point, where do I even begin? I only scoped out Above The Desert because it happened to be among Dronarivm's newer releases at the time. Maybe I should do the same with another trusted label, then? Yeah, Glacial Movement Records, you'll do.

Even better though, this particular release is a pairing with another ambient artist I've long wanted to dive into, if not for an even more daunting discography behind him. Dirk Serries is his real name, but many know him as Vidna Obmana, one of the earlier ambient drone artists that leaned into the dark ambient side of things. Once again, it's that industrial background, caustic noise and sonic experiments eventually morphing into music more contemplative and reflective. He's worked with many prominent names of that scene, including Steve Roach, Alio Die, Robert Rich, and Asmus Tietchens. And like many of his brethren, his nearly four decade old discography lists some one-hundred items on Lord Discogs. That's not even getting into his more recent works as Fear Falls Burning, plus another hundred items under his own name. Where does one start with a catalogue so vast, but I repeat myself.

Sadly, this is hardly the best album to glean a comprehensive conclusion on either man's work. Honestly, even a twenty CD box-set would be lacking, but if you were looking for a definitive work from Chihei or Dirk in The Storm Of Silence, this probably isn't it. I mean, it's only four tracks long! How can any forty-year spanning oeuvre be summed in a mere forty-two minutes? For all I know, this is Misters Hatakeyama and Serries just going through the motions, elder ambient statesmen making music for its own sake, to Hell with challenging the genre, or something. Not that I dislike what I hear, oh no! It'll simply be a lo-o-o-ong while before I come to any sort of judgment on their works, is all.

Anyhow, this is a fairly typical collection of droning ambient as I'd expect from the players involved. Well, maybe not so much Glacial Movements, The Storm Of Silence not quite so cold and foreboding as I've heard from the label. Heck, I'd even call opener Kulde 'warm', in that the minimalist synth pads are rather soothing, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. Each subsequent piece, averaging around eleven-minutes each, gradually ramps up dissonant harmonic tones, but never in a confrontational way. And it's over before you realize it, but this wasn't the last time these two paired up, nosiree.

Stormloop - Snowbound*

Glacial Movements Records: 2011

Yet another artist I've long meant to return to, and simply neglected for... gosh, half a decade now? There's a silly reason for this, in that when I picked up his Into The Void album, I thought I was diving into an artist with an impeccable work rate, his prior decade seeing the release of some twenty LPs worth of music. Now appearing on ..txt, it looked as though Stormloop was ready to launch his career ever higher. And there would be I, having his Bandcamp page bookmarked, getting all those early alerts that another session of lush ambient tones was about to drop. Only... it didn't.

Not that Kev Spence went totally dark after Into The Void, still releasing the odd item here and there. Just compared to his output prior, it's quite the drop-off. I'm sure there's any number of reasons for this – real world events conflicting, goals mostly accomplished, etc. - but yeah, when an artist slips from your recollection, so too does returning to their discography for another dive.

Fortunately, I was reminded of him when I started my splurge on Glacial Movements Records. Come to think of it, Stormloop was technically my introduction to the label, name-dropping them in my review of Into The Void. Didn't really make a connection then, and wouldn't for another couple years, until covering Skare's Grader. Funny how that works out. Anyhow, Glacial Movements offers bulk CD buys, so when I finally took the plunge, I was quite happy to see Stormloop's Snowbound* still among the options. Physical medium is already plenty rare in Kev's catalogue, and the fact such an old item (over a decade now!) was there for the taking, well, how can you beat that?

Just in case you weren't clear about the sort of album you're in for, the titular opener very gradually eases you into a wintry clime'. It almost feels like you're awakening from some long, restless slumber, unsure of your surroundings, biting cold piercing your flesh as you huddle yourself, gathering your bearings. The synth drone is ominous, yet somehow awe inspiring too, as though you know full well you're in an inhospitable realm that contains its own unique beauty. All the while, a steady electronic pulse carries you along, the sort of minimalist tone that will instantly get your Biosphere triggers flaring.

The desolate dark drone doesn't let up for the rest of the album. Tracks with titles like Cold Winds, A Blizzard, Dense Fog, and Losing Sleep should tell you the sort of album you're in for. We even seem to get space bound by the end, even though the foreboding tone doesn't offer much respite. There are moments of reflective tranquility (Space Station J), but once again, Glacial Movements has drawn some of the most isolationist ambient out of its contributing artists. Now excuse me while I wrap myself in more blankets. It cold here in Vancouver!

Equal Stones - Below Zero

Glacial Movements Records: 2019

We inch closer to Proper Winter now, the weather growing ever colder in our annual tilt away from solar warmth. Yes, even my seasonally smug corner of the world. Atmospheric rivers aside, we've been extra cool 'round these here parts, dipping below freezing temperatures. Sometimes. Usually at around 4:14am. By about one or two degrees. Honest, that's unusual for us, plus counts as a tie-in to this album's title and theme!

Yes, in my ceaseless need to chill the f' out, I've taken the most logical step in scoping out another of Glacial Movements Records items, an album titled Below Zero. Why, it even has a derelict boat on the cover art! Well, maybe not completely derelict, but certainly in no condition to travel, ensconced within foggy frost as it is. Interestingly, despite growing up in a port town well into the northern latitudes, this is not a scene I'm familiar with. In fact, that town is somewhat famous for having one of the deepest harbours that never freezes year round, which is handy when you want to move cargo without running into hull-carving islands of ice. Now if only it wasn't located in such a remote part of Canada's west coast, maybe it'd have grown larger than it did.

Anyhow, Equal Stones. One Amandus Schaap, he started out making droney, melancholic ambient music for the obscure net-label Hidden Vibes. Well, not that obscure anymore, as a few noted names have had releases out on it (SiJ, The Green Kingdom, Chihei Hatakeyama, Halftribe). They also aren't strictly a net-label anymore either, having gained enough clout to offer limited CD runs as well. Equal Stones was there at the beginning though, and remained fairly exclusive to Hidden Vibes for half a decade. He started branching out into darker strains of the genre as Death Star, and has now (well, a couple years ago) hooked up with Glacial Movements for a conceptual album of ice-cold drone.

Below Zero opens up with Presence, and if that doesn't immediately trigger feelings of unease that lumbering icebergs are about, the bitter cold sounds definitely will. With sounds of biting winds and grinding ice enveloping your headspace, Amandus does an effective job in putting you in a most inhospitable of arctic clime's. Even Ugasanie would shiver.

It's mostly industrial drone-tone from here on out, which is fine for what it is, but I feel loses some of the album's theme along the way. It's not until the final sixteen-minute track Fragmented Ice that things get back to something truly icy. Aside from an intermittent 'exhale' from sickly machinery, we're treated to desolate white noise for many minutes. Discordant tones and flickering electronics gradually swell in prominence, even getting on some '70s style flange. It's like being isolated in some remote science station, adrift on islands of gravel and ice. And always that heavy exhale, as though the deep freeze makes the simple act of breathing torture. Maybe best to hibernate, for a while...

Council Estate Electronics - Arktika

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

Ah, it's good to be back in my familiar wheel-house: obscure ambient drone from an artist I have never heard of before. At least, I think that's my familiar wheel-house. Sure feels like it sometimes, especially after I discover a new label that piques my interest, going on a mini-splurge of material. Like this here Glacial Movements Records, a print that's been around for fifteen years now, housing such recognizable names like Rapoon, bvdub, and Celer. What good is such discovery without broadening one's exposure to new artists though?

So it goes with Council Estate Electronics, the sort of egg-headed alias that has me remembering such geeked out projects like Higher Intelligence Agency, New London School Of Electronics, and Institute Of Frequency & Optical Research. I have not a clue what this is all about, but tickle me intrigued for some polar drone with that kind of name.

Opening track Urals kicks things off on a rather brittle, dubby foot. A heavy, languid beat moves things along as distant percussion rattles in the distance, all the while what sounds like a muted fog horn pierces the murk. At nearly eleven minutes long, there's enough time for subtle tones and harmonies to weave about that noise, making the track rather laid back and chill for its runtime. Don't get too relaxed though, as follow-up 567 foot 33,500 ton goes quite abrasive, a noisy, buzzy sound dominating over another heavy, slow dub techno beat. Man, it almost reminds me of the industrial sonic grind from The Bug's collaboration with Earth on Concrete Desert. Say, who's behind Council Estate Electronics anyhow?

*one Discoggian dive later*

Hah! There is a connection after all! Turns out one-half of C.E.E. is Justin Broadrick, who frequently works with Kevin Martin under many aliases (Techno Animal, Zonal, The Curse Of The Golden Vampire, God). He's also been part of many industrial noise and death metal bands over the years, including founding Godflesh. There's many more, of which I'll be here forever name-dropping them all. Suffice to say, Justin's done a lot. Along the way, he paired up with former Godflesh member Dermot Dalton to make analog-based experimental music. Right, the background sorted, let's carry on with Arktika.

Actually, there isn't much more to say. If The Bug association wasn't a dead giveaway, we're firmly in industrial dub's domain. Big, cavernous beats, sometimes with distortion redlining way beyond reasonable levels (Rosatom, Polar Star), other times going as minimalist as dub techno of the '00s (Type LK-60YA, 60 Megawatts). 50 Let Pobody does a shimmery, cascading effect upon its dub treatments, while Liquefied Natural Gas edges out on the fringe of spaced-out reggae dub, but by and large, Arktika is mostly a clinical take on the genre. Just, y'know, performed in a noisy, industrialist sort of way.

Honestly, I'm quite surprised by this album, in that I had no idea Glacial Movements Records would also offer dub techno of this sort. What else might I uncover with this label?

Rapoon - Song From the End Of The World

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

Just another dark ambient album, that's all this was meant to be. I've reviewed countless of these, enjoyed most of them for their sonic narratives and explorations of dronescapes. I've even let my mind drift into escapism with some offerings, into realms while not hospitable, certainly provide solace in sensory deprivation. I certainly never let them 'get to me', affect my mood to such a degree that I need to step back for a bit, come back when I'm of better frame of mind. Much, much later. That Rapoon fella' though, he has a way of getting under your brain, tapping into parts of your psyche that seems all too willing to surrender its autonomy, utterly succumbing to whatever vibe he's crafting. And if that vibe happens to be an 'end of the world' motif, well, you can imagine that having the effect of bringing down your whole day.

Not that this isn't untapped material where Robin's discography is concerned. A good chunk of his Zoviet France days was spent twisting tapes into a weird, hypnotic cacophony of post-industrial horrors. As his career transitioned into Rapoon, however, his sonic travels generally drifted further away from such bleakness, at times even coming across jubilant while still adhering to those most primitive of musical instincts. By contrast, Song From The End Of The World sounds like a return to those roots. Not to say that Mr. Storey hasn't dabbled into Zoviet France styled stuff between then and here – I can't claim to have heard every Rapoon album – but of what I've listened to, this album re-captures those apocalyptic vibes quite nicely. And by nicely, I mean terrifying.

He doesn't waste any time getting right into the thick of it either. We Travelled In Waves does that warping loop-craft much of Rapoon's music entails, this time with a bleak piano and bell tones endlessly repeating while white noise hiss marinates everything in a suffocating stench. This goes on for quite a while, before abruptly shifting into eerie, twitchy minimalism, and discordant orchestral swells, all the while maintaining that hypnotic repetitiveness. When the piano returns, it's almost a sigh of relief, remarkable considering how unsettling it sounded at the start.

And it only gets more hopeless from there. A Listening Ice sounds like wailing wraiths trapped under Antarctic glaciers. A Sky Beckons Down brings in ghostly voices and tongues. A Prophecy Lies Under adds an orchestral to all the chanting. An Answer In Ice twists sounds in such a way they sound like flesh-ripping polar winds. And to tie things up, The Sky Dances In Green lays everything to waste. Serious 'World Of Ruin' vibes with this one, lasting well over eleven minutes. Take that 'leap of faith', Celes, you're better off.

It feels weird recommending Song From The End Of The World. It's not a headspace one should actively indulge in. If you're at all curious of the psychological power of dark ambient though, by all means give it a go.

Frame - The Journey

Glacial Movements Records: 2019

No way I could resist an album like this. The cover art alone invokes so many sonic possibilities, all of them frigid, remote, isolated, and barren – perfect summer music! And gosh, it looks like the whole label is like this, with familiar names like Rapoon, bvdub, Chihei Hatakeyama, Scanner, and Skare. Hello, my new obsession!

With no frame of reference, I went into this one cold (puns for days!). Doing a little background reading wouldn't have helped much anyway, this being Frame's lone entry within Lord Discogs' tomes. The players involved have been around many, many years though, with releases dating back to the early '90s. Andrea Benedetti was among the earliest adopters of Detroit techno out of Italy, heading up a few labels in support of such sounds at the time. He's also released sporadic material as Sprawl, but it seems DJing has been his primary passion. His Frame partner, Eugenio Vatta, has even less info on his Discogs page, but apparently has worked with Andrea since ye' olden days as well, skint though those releases are.

Apparently Frame is something of a long-running live P.A. project of improvised gigs performed at artsy shows. They never committed anything to CD, figuring the spontaneity of a live performance couldn't be replicated within a studio. That didn't stop them from recording many sessions though, building up a library of material for possible consideration. Thus it turned out with The Journey, an attempt at creating some sort of narrative from these disparate performances.

Ah, a journey as in the journey Andrea and Eugino have taken as Frame over the years? Sort of, but that'd make for a boring concept album. Ah, so a journey to the frozen clime's of our planet, as indicated on the cover art? No, not that either. Going by the tracklist, this is nothing less than a journey to the cosmic reaches of... just our solar system. Well hey, plenty to explore here.

Truthfully though, Frame opts for the ultra-minimalist scenic tour. Often played real quietly too. Things start out rather typically for a dark drone outing, Mercury imparting a foreboding tone, while Venus brings in creepy, echoing rattlers while static hisses in the background. Almost feels like you're in a steamy, sticky hot jungle, which kinda' makes sense for the Hell planet.

Things go extremely minimal after that though. Heck, most of Mars' eight-minute runtime is just a sustained tone (oddly relaxing mood for the War planet). From there, a lot of abstraction, a lot of experimentation, all played impossibly quiet, such that the sounds often fade into whatever background ambience surrounds you. Yes, even when played on headphones – the sound of your own heart beating may be louder than some of this stuff. It's not until Neptune that something harmonic emerges, with synth pads gradually building, while Pluto And Charon goes more industrial. And hey, The Arrival finally gives us some actual melody! Hoo boy, what a journey to get to it though.