Twincities - Memoirs: To Dust

Unknown Tone Records: 2015

Is this really the first Unknown Tone Records album I'm reviewing? I feel like I've touched upon them at some point before. Maybe a name-drop from an associated producer? I guess I technically covered the Lee Norris and Porya Hatami collaboration Every Day Feels Like A New Drug, though that was via a digital version offered by Mr. Norris, not the original CD as released by Unknown Tone. I can only assume that's how I came across this label the first place, after which I must have visited their Bandcamp, spotted a CD bundle deal, ordered a bunch of stuff, and ended up with a pile of albums I barely have any recollection of getting. Having reviewed most of my old collection, methinks this blog has turned into nothing more than a glorified record of how I'm getting all my new stuff. It's grown increasingly difficult keeping track of it all, what with too many options now available to indulge my weakest impulse. Why can't I be internet addicted to something more traditional, like gambling or porn?

Twincities is Fletcher McDermott, an individual that doesn't have much Discoggian presence beyond his work for this project. I assume he's done work elsewhere, just because he seems like the sort of chap who'd have plied his trade with a variety of indie or abstract musicians around the Long Island region. Or this project is just something he does in his spare time, his day job some mundane thing that's prevented him from expanding further into the domain of 'fifty releases in one decade' ambient producers. Wouldn't surprise me, given the state of living conditions in the New York City region. Music don't pay the bills like it used to there. In fact, did it ever? Maybe in the grimy '70s.

Mr. McDermott describes his music as 'noisy ambiance', though there's nothing terribly racket-inducing about his stuff. Nay, he makes very calm, minimalist droning material, with static and glitch treatments giving his sparse arrangements a lived-in feeling. It's not too dissimilar to Porya Hatami, come to think of it, which makes sense they'd both appear on the same label. And sparked my interest enough to spring for a few albums off them in the process. It's all coming back to me, guys!

Also, as the album's title implies, a hazy sense of faded memories permeates the mood, whether of wandering urban locals or sitting at home with some long forgotten classical music tugging at the back of your mind. He does have a few musicians contribute for those moments (Ysanne Spevack on cello, Tanya Lam on viola), but they serve the mood of the pieces rather than take lead in any way. Well, maybe at the end of A Stuck Bird, their soothing tones coming after the most abrasive stretch of static-drone Memoirs: To Dust subjects you to. Also, damn but does that steel-pedal guitar drone in A Flown Bird ever stretch to the furthest reaches of the horizon. Fly on, my son.

Harold Budd - Luxa

All Saints: 1996/2018

So I got myself a box of Budd. I was stunned to discover such a thing existed, and kinda' relieved too. There's just so much Budd to sample out there now, different flavours for different moods, such that one can get lost figuring out where to begin. And yeah, I've sampled a little Budd in the past, toked on the obvious flavours as cultivated by Brian Eno. There's so much more in Budd's bowl than The Pearl and Ambient 2 (The Plateaux Of Mirror) though. Sure, I'll find myself in familiar territory of calm, soothing haze of pleasant piano tones no matter which album I dab on, but surely there's a bluffer's guide of his various musical crops. Indeed there is, the Budd Box, with six albums from his first fifteen years of releases. Yeah, that's but a third of Budd's total output in that time-frame, but as I said, I'm after a bluffer's guide, not a compendium.

By alphabetical decree, the first album I'm reviewing in the Budd Box is Luxa, which also happens to be the last album in the Budd Box. Or rather, the most recent, released in the near-times of 1996. Considering this box-set was initially released in 2013, it seems funny that the Budd Box only went that far into his discography. No interest in any of his post-Millennium material? Though considering there isn't a detailed Wiki entry for Luxa, it's fair to say even his more well-known works retain but a niche audience to this day.

I do wish there was a Wiki for Luxa though, in that this is an odd-ball album, and I'd love to have more background info on it. Harold himself calls it a “decorative thing”, in that it's him exploring different facets of his various musical backgrounds, in that artsy sort of way you'd expect of a student of the minimalist avant-garde.

Thus we get four segments in Luxa, the first of which is titled Butterflies With Tits - I think that's the title of the cover-art too. The longest segment, it features pieces titled after various artists in various fields (Agnes Martin, Serge Polakoff, Paul McCarthy, Anish Kapoor... you may have heard of some of them), and touches on the various keyboard tones Mr. Budd had since incorporated into his repertoire. It ain't just 'soft pedal' pianos, yo'! There's moody pads, flowing synths, and even some light jazzy percussion too.

Following that is the ultra-short Inexact Shadows segment, three short piano pieces that you'd probably think was one, single, two-fifteen minute composition. Smoke Trees, on the other hand, gets into the pure ambient side of Budd's muse, long drawn-out pieces noodling about in a calm, abstract manner, a little light percussion joining the pads and organ tones every so often. The final segment, Laughing Innuendos, features a weird contrast between its two pieces, Marion Brown doing the modern classical piano thing, and Steven Brown doing a ...piercing organ thing? Gosh, that tone almost sounds 16-bit. Oddly familiar, that.

SiJ - The Lost World

Reverse Alignment: 2015

See? See!? I knew there was SiJ in this endless backlog bundle (I've been at since March and I'm only in the 'L's, OMG!). It wasn't some flight of fanciful delusion that I somehow skipped out on the specific artist I raided Reverse Alignment for. Okay, no one doubted my proclamation of innocence in that Ajna review, because few would even care. I cared though, if for no other reason than to confirm my own fraying memories. I had to have scoured for SiJ, because I recall doing so. It couldn't be a figment of my imagination, could it? Like, one of those realistically mundane dreams you're so certain happened it becomes a permanent memory? The cruellest of such dreams I've had are the ones I've unearthed a trove of unreleased Calvin & Hobbes comics. Yes, it's been a recurrent one.

Thing about SiJ is one can be a tad flummoxed over where to start on his discography. Dude's nearly up to fifty releases this past decade, and while I'm sure a good deal of it is just drone experiments, there's bound to be plenty more that's not. Like, did you know he did a cover of Terra? As in, the theme music for Final Fantasy VI Terra? I sure didn't until I did a little poking around his Bandcamp page, and lo', there it was, his interpretation of one of the most lush compositions ever cranked out of the old SNES. Who'd have ever thought a guy appearing on Cryo Chamber would have a Nobuo Uematsu cover in his catalogue. Actually, come to think of it, that 'World Of Ruin' music would work quite nicely in a dark ambient context too.

Speaking of worlds, here is The Lost World. And yes, this is a specific tribute to the Conan Doyle novel, wherein a plateau within the Amazon jungle holds prehistoric creatures. Not to be confused with The Land That Time Forgot, the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel released almost concurrently about an Antarctica realm that holds prehistoric creatures. It was a popular sci-fi idea in the early 20th Century, usually featuring someone getting eaten by a Pleisiosaur, running from cavemen, and a volcano erupting. Heck, even Mickey Mouse had an adventure like that, which was weird considering the cavemen were actual pre-humans in a world of anthropomorphic animals. I've gotten way off track.

What caught me most off guard about SiJ's The Lost World is his inclusion of actual tribal rhythms in the titular cut, Night Near The Shores Of Gladys Lake, and A Fright Sight I Shall Never Forget. It's the most rhythm I've ever heard out of a SiJ album, and makes for welcome thematic variety with the other atmospheric drone pieces he crafts here (always with that distinct fuzzy melancholy). Then it all ends on a total whiplash of an under-produced tropical ditty called At The Falls. Well, under-produced compared to the deep atmospherics of what came before - almost comes off 16-bit in contrast. Say...

B°TONG - The Long Journey

Reverse Alignment: 2017

This is probably the first album I should have gotten from Chris Sigdell. I'd certainly wouldn't have burnt through as much word count on figuring out how to pronounce this project's name. In fact, the EMC jury's still out on that, though until I've confirmation on something specific, I've settled on “b'TONG”. Doesn't mean I won't keep alternating cases though! I giggle it could be either B°TONG or b°tong, for all intents based on the phases of the moon.

While I touched on the particulars of Mr. Sigdell's career, and the various labels he's taken B°TONG to, I didn't dive too deep into his discography. It's certainly an intriguing assortment of titles among his twenty-something releases: Microsleep, Hostile Environments, The Soul Eater, The Great Desintegrator, Prostration Before Infinity, Ascending In The Light Of an Alien Sun, I See Dead People Walking Around Like Regular People. What interests me the most about all these albums is his impeccable ability to sell you on the setting, whatever that theme may be. Yeah, I know, that should be par for the course where dark ambient is concerned, above all else atmospheric mood music as it soundtracks the macabre and perverse. You'd be surprised how often artists only pay lip-service to their concepts though, thinking pure abstraction is enough to coax imagery out of your imagination. And who knows, maybe the extended b°tong catalogue falls into this pattern as well – I've really only taken in a couple of his albums, hardly enough to gauge a full body of work. Still, if what I have heard is anything to go by, then I definitely gotta' hear what the deal is with that elf and 'haarp'.

What struck me most about The Long Journey is how it flew in the face of what I was expecting. You look at the cover, read the liner notes, and it all seems straight-forward enough. Giant black hole at the centre of our galaxy, spitting out intense energy at regular intervals, except for that one time when a really big burst was expunged from the galactic core. So, some deep space drone, with intermittent chaotic radio static, right? Except, a cacophony of noise hits you right out the gate of opener AX J1745.6-2900 (Sgr. A*)! Geez'it, I'm used to more lead-in than that. Even more confounding is all the racket is by way of earthly field recordings, like stepping out into a busy street. The track does lull you into a serene sense of drone for the remaining dozen minutes though, almost making you forget it smacked you across the face so harshly out the gate. And then he does it again with second track 2004 MN4 (impact risk- 1-300)!

The two remaining tracks are shorter and more conventional of this sort of dark drone, though even Hybris-MM threw me for a loop by again opening within the confines of our planetary realm. Rainfall and forlorn piano playing, eventually giving way to weirdo krautrock electronics. Rather old-school, that.

Distant System - Lost Sequence / Pupillary Response

self release: 2009/2010

Everyone's got that hotly anticipated item that seems perpetually postponed. The world of fantasy literature has George R.R. Martin's latest entry in his Game Of Thrones saga. The world of music has Dr. Dre's Detox. The world of music guides has Ishkur's Guide To Electronic Music V3.0. The world of video games has [checks notes]... Star Citizen now. Huh, does that mean folks have finally given up hope on Half-Life 3? Guess it can't be anticipated if it was never officially started in the first place.

Anyhow, while the above undoubtedly have had tonnes of folks hanging on every drip-fed update for years now, the bane of my anticipation remains hopeless obscure. Indeed, if Last.fm stats are anything to go by, it's not even a blip on the spaced-out psy-chill scene, as micro-niche of a scene as they get. Small wonder that Tyler Smith has kept a second Distant System LP in cryostasis for so long if the interest simply isn't there compared to his Androcell project. Dammit though, Spiral Empire remains one of the most captivating examples of this extremely specific sound tickling my limbic system that I've being craving another hit ever since. Others can have their additional songs of fire and ice, I wants my Spiral Empire 2: Revenge Of The Spiral!

While there's been small murmurs and rumblings Mr. Smith may finally dust the project off (again), I figured the best way to keep tabs on developments was to spring for the full Distant System discography on Bandcamp. Yes, I even re-bought Spiral Empire, the only time I'll likely re-buy a CD I already have in a digital format. Meanwhile, that allowed me to finally nab the two compilation-only tracks I'd missed out on way back when, Lost Sequence and Pupillary Response.

Speaking of Lost Sequence, holy cow, what's up with its scrobbling data? The track's outpaced everything else in the Distant System discography by a factor of five, and even has a whole two bars beside it on Spotify. Was the compilation it appeared on, Vampire Sunrise, really that popular? Hm, with a name like that, I wouldn't be surprised. Still, I suspect a shared link on some influencer's blog helped it along.

Anyhow, the track feeds me exactly what I crave in my Distant System fix (directly into my veins!). The epic synth pads painting the cosmic grand, the steady chugging prog-psy rhythm that makes me feel like I'm cruising on an interstellar craft, the touches of sci-fi bleeps and glitch as though I'm receiving sparse transmissions from the depths of the galactic core, all that good stuff. Pupillary Response, initially released on the far-less known Vital Signs compilation (which Tyler himself pieced together) is a more chill affair, almost meeting in the space where Distant System ends and Androcell starts. Not a whole lot happens that I haven't heard in this project before, save a chord change midway that melts my head, heart, and spleen. Sometimes the simplest tricks are the best.

Curve - Cuckoo

Anxious Records/3 Loop Music: 1993/2017

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

Could Curve have been bigger than they were? Sure, anything's possible, even music careers for no-talent hacks like [redacted]. Should Curve have been bigger than they were though? Possibly. For sure they had their fame, carved out a respectable niche in the alt-rock scene of the early '90s. Trouble was, a lot of rock bands were carving out respectable niches in the alt-rock scene of the early '90s, a veritable golden era for the scene as much as it was for hip-hop or rave music. It took more than some regular ol' talent to stand out from the pack, and sometimes even having a unique look and sound might not be enough, that confounding 'luck o' the fates' having as much to do with one's success as any other factor. There's only so much attention to go around, and when the crowd is crowded indeed, some acts get lost in the shuffle, returned to with greater appreciation later down the road after the dust has settled and the wheat's been separated from the chafe. No more cliches, I promise.

In sounding like such an over-amplified soup of feedback-drenched goth rock, Doppleganger certainly had an identity of its own, but was a bit much to take in as a whole. In their sophomore effort, Dean Garcia and Toni Halliday show more variety in their songcraft, even opening up with an all-out noisy cock-rocker. It certainly got the attention of Trent Reznor, providing a rub on the single. From there, Cuckoo hits the same wall-of-sound highs their previous album did, but I do hear more space between the drums, guitar feedback, and Ms. Haliday's voice. In fact, a few tracks in the middle seem to reduce the backing instruments substantially compared to the rest of the album, almost as though the gain on the mixing console was suddenly taken down to a seven from an eleven. Unreadable Communication in particular almost sounds like it's shooting for trip-hop dubbiness, save a mid-song guitar freak-out. Was this intentional? I'd like to assume so, but it kinda' sounds like a mistake too.

Speaking of 'quiet', how about that Left Of Mother, Curve going acoustic! Okay, there's still plenty of layered pedal effects as the song carries on, but man, simple guitar strumming at the start is a handy reminder that this band can go mellow too. Overall though, I'm still astounded they were seldom tapped for movie soundtrack tie-ins. So many of these songs would play great over rolling credits of many a '90s action-thriller.

As for the bonus material in this expanded re-issue, it has the usual assortment of b-sides and rarities included. The remixes naturally grab my attention though, what with the aforementioned Reznor rub on Missing Link, and The Drum Club having a go with Half The Time. Plus, an outfit known as The Future Sound Of London do a rote acid-house thingy on the obscure song Rising. They probably won't amount to anything off of that.

Stokes - Local Crowd

Databloem: 2018

It's not so bad that I missed out on Saul Stokes, is it? If his Discoggian data's to be believed, he did the bulk of his music production at a time I couldn't have known of him. There might have been the odd chance I'd have run into his work on Portland based ambient label Hypnos Recordings, some of that print's releases drifting a few hundred kilometres north to the Canadian border. Sadly, I wasn't so in the ambient know as I would have liked to think I was at the turn of the century, still sticking with the few acts and names I was most comfortable and familiar with. It wouldn't be until the advent of a little record database website that I realized just how massive this scene actually was. And lord would it take even longer for my finances to reach such a level I could even indulge in this expanded universe in any meaningful way. (never mind the digital-only Kahvi Collective releases, because block-headed stubbornness)

It was around the peak of his productivity that he released an album on the fledgling Databloem, mostly a collection of live recordings with a few original tracks sprinkled in. Fast forward fifteen years later, and Mr. Stokes has returned to the veteran Databloem, which also happened to be his first new album in seven years, and ten since his last on an actual label. To say he's slowed down some in this past decade is an understatement, but this has always been a fickle scene. Some producers can crank out the jams forever without missing a mark, while others have their initial flash of inspiration, then let things slide down as other interests take hold. Seems familiar, somehow...

As for the music we can expect from Saul, he was a bit all over the place way back in the day, drifting from ambient experiments to soft, fuzzy downtempo techno. His Fields album, released the same year as his first Databloem record (Radiate), might have even fit with the early Ultimae Records catalogue, which maybe explains why Vincent Villuis has provided an Ultimae Mixdown™ for Local Crowd. No, wait, he's been doing that for most of Databloem's new releases now. So, hey, if you've been jonesing for more that label's lush sonic headspace, check out this label's recent offerings!

I must say though, Local Crowd is an odd album to be given the Ultimae Mixdown™, in that it's such a simple little collection of tunes. Best I can describe is 'electro dream pop', just without the harsher 'electro' element, and the overt shoegazey elements of dream pop toned down. I still get the same day-glo feels from this, just not so overbearing about it. I sadly don't have much to specifically say either, as the vibe and tunes are all generally the same throughout the album, making highlights difficult to point out. Local Crowd is a pure 'reflective feels' record, which I guess is enough.

Sghor - Le Grand Mystère

Snowy Tension Pole: 2009

I think I have a problem. A music buying problem. True, one can look at my living room, see all the wall-mounted shelves holding some fifteen-hundred CDs, and say with a roll of the eyes, “Well, d'uh!” That's not what I mean though. Like, compared to some collectors, my library is paltry, a fraction of one's true potential of blowing every single penny on product (sheds, my friends, sheds). Maybe if I was less discriminate in my purchases practices, I could reach that lofty achievement(?), but nay, I remain somewhat selective, generally knowing what kind of music I'm getting and where I'm getting it from. As this blog's a hefty testament, I have a pretty firm handle on the whens and wheres of every CD I've gathered.

And now I'm holding within my grasp a CD that I've no idea where it came from. It's definitely dark ambient, but not from any of the dark ambient labels I generally buy from, and there's no general dark ambient shop I grab random albums from. Did this come included in that Databloem 'mystery box' I indulged in? That can't be right, this sound well outside the usual wheel-house that label/store operates within. The Ultimae shop, maybe? Like, this certainly looks like the sort of cover art I'd blind-buy from them, and they certainly branch out into genres that don't typically track with their primary output. Still, a dark ambient album from 2009?

Wherever I got Le Grand Mystère, here's what I (meaning Lord Discogs) know about it. The artist behind it is Sghor, who goes by Kryzsztof Mrozek in the black metal band Cold Empty Universe. He's released some half-dozen albums under this alias, first debuted with Depressive Black Ambient, with stray items released on his Bandcamp to this day. Le Grand Mystère in particular kicked off the short-lived label Snowy Tension Pole, which also featured releases from b°tong, about the only tie I can figure I have to this particular album. Lord Discogs does recommend Gustaf Hildebrand's Starscape and raison d'être's Enthralled By The Wind Of Lonelieness with it though, so that's something. I'll take whatever I can in figuring out how Le Grand Mystère popped up in my stacks o' CDs.

Anyhow, the album. There's ten tracks, all numerically titled KKK. They range from four to over ten minutes in length, and generally sound the same throughout. Sghor essentially uses discordant layered drones that ebb and flow like waves, building to a loud peak, then fading out before another emerges, each track consistent in maintaining this structure. Mostly I hear orchestral strings and operatic voices within the timbre, with the latter more prominent in tracks like KKK8 and KKK9. Or was that KKK6 and KKK2? Pretty sure there's a layered bell tone in KKK3. Honestly though, this is another album that just feels like one long track with relatively static scenery. This descent into Hell is still creepy, but who knew the Devil wasn't much for spicing up his domain's decor.

Various - Kulør 001

Kulør: 2018

I've argued 'real' trance never went away, just rebranded itself as something else and kept to small secluded corners of techno's domain. Lately, it seems those who wanted to make trance but couldn't admit to making trance because of the Dutch's handling of the tag have slowly re-emerged from the recesses of club culture, prominent critically-approved DJs rinsing out the odd throwback tune here and there. It's gotten to the point where a label can make honest-to-God vintage trance music and have music journalist sorts sing its praises for accomplishing all the things it peaked out on by the year 1995. Ah, the dependable Twenty-Year retro cycle never fails.

I know, I know. Why be cynical when I should be celebrating a release like Kulør 001? Surely I've been waiting for a release such as this since the turn of the century. I guess, kinda'? It's not like I've run out of old school trance music to unearth. Truth be told, aside from a few labels that could do no wrong, a great deal of it was rightly left in the '90s, a sound that had creatively done almost all that it might. Then again, dub techno perseveres to this day, and ain't much variation in that genre's sound over the decades. Ambient too, if we're being honest. Okay, so classic trance could have maintained something for itself if enough willing, inventive producers indulged in it. The clubbing climate just wasn't there for it though, and when eurotrance stole the name for itself, that was about all she wrote for the hypnotic spacey offshoot of EBM and techno.

But as mentioned, retro's undeniable pull can reach back to any ol' sound and make it fresh and hot again, which is what I'm sure this upstart new label out of Denmark is counting on. Hey, I liked the Danes' take on trance, always finding a sweet middle ground between German class and Dutch cheese. And that's what I get out of Kulør's launching compilation, Kulør 001. Ooh, triple-digits compilation numbering. Mighty ambitious aspirations there, just like In Trance In Trust. I wonder what that label's been up to...

Just in case you were wondering (worried?) this would be a complete retro love-in, the beats throughout this compilation are as tough as modern techno can get. Nay, it's all about those melodies, such light uplifting ditties that'll have you reminiscing early '90s Paul van Dyk. And gosh, there's some high BPMs here too, a proper reminder of when trance music was made to fuel your speedy E' benders, rather than hop in one spot under a ketamine daze. Mind, some of these wouldn't be much more than filler on an old Rave Mission collection, but they trigger the nostalgia endorphins just the same. If such tunes remain too cheesy for you though, there's some proper faceless techno bosh on Kulør 001 as well. Guess classic trance still needs a little more time before a full return is embraced.

Samora - Kaleidos

Databloem: 2018

Sometimes it's never the actual album I'm reviewing that sparks the most discussion. Indeed, what more can be said for the eleven-zillionth ambient record that is released annually? I'll buy such music more for my personal interest and enjoyment, but that doesn't provide me with much material to wax the bull with. It's almost a relief when I pop over to the artist's Discoggian data and discover a rich history I've overlooked, wherein I can burn ample word count touching on prior releases and the funny label names said producer has released on. (so many funny label names... just, so many...). I was not offered such a bounty of talking-point riches with Samora, but he did dredge up some unfortunate recollections.

Samora is Enrico Marani, a synth chap who's worked with various experimental, avant-garde outfits out of Italy, Le Forbici di Manitù being the most consistent of the bunch to this day. Being part of a band for over a decade didn't leave his own muse fallow, spending time dabbling in his own original compositions. He eventually made a debut album as Samora called The Unspeakable, a collection of minimalist ambient with recited poetry from cellist Christine Hanson, released on Psychonavigation Records. Yes, that Psychonavigation Records. Hey, at least it was in 2012, before all the shit hit the fan with that label. A follow-up album came out on Psycho-N's Italian sub-label Tranquillo Records (Lontano), and when those went tits-up, a third album The Gift came out on the rebranded label Where Ambient Lives – that one also seems to have gone into limbo, though unlike the others, its Bandcamp remains up. Might be mindful of buying anything from it though. Anyhow, it seems poor Enrico finally had enough of that label's sketchy practices, and took his Samora project to the steadier Databloem for his fourth album Kaleidos. Methinks t'was a wise decision.

If your eyes didn't glaze over much in that block o' words above, you may have noticed the genre namedrop you're in for with Samora. Right, even being on Databloem is a good hint, but even the small sampling of the label's output I've indulged has shown some nice, surprising variety. This is minimalist ambient as you likely imagine it though. Stretched-out droning pads, sprinkles of piano and bell tones, fits of burbling electronics and static fluff, self-titled compositions averaging in the double-digit minute lengths with little care of destination, only the journey. In the opening track alone, I felt I was shifting into differing tonal lanes every few minutes, though Keleidos 1 is possibly one of the 'busiest' among these six pieces.

I say “possibly”, because this honestly isn't an album that sticks with me. It's ambient as pure sonic wallpaper, which is fine since that's Mr. Marani's intent. Can't knock a body of music that succeeds in the artist's vision. Just wish I could give it a stronger recommendation for others beyond the genre's faithful. So it goes in this scene.