Pantha Du Prince - Black Noise

Rough Trade: 2010

I reviewed Pantha du Prince's The Triad a while ago, but kinda' forgot about it. Then some songs from it happened upon my playlists, causing me to take pause and reflect: “I think I actually like this guy's music to explore further.” Where to start digging though? The very beginning with Diamond Daze? Mm, maybe not, its shoegazey micro-haus vibes always prompting quick skips when sampling through Spotify. This Bliss, then, the one that broke Mr. Weber... well, not all the way into clubbing consciousness, but enough such that it got Very Important electronic music journalists buzzing. Perhaps I will, but at a later time, when that album's “Oh yes, it's definitely peak minimal tech-haus” attributes don't cause as much PTSD in yours truly. Conference Of Trees? What is this, person of the year 2020? I'm doing this dig in 2018.

Thus, it falls to Black Noise, the Pantha Du Prince album I'm sure everyone has, even if they're not a Pantha Du Prince fan. Without hearing a single bell tone or marimba strike or groovy bassine, you're instantly drawn in by the lovely painting of St. Bartholomew's Church. Then you hear praise and plaudits from across the continent, intriguing you further for an impulse purchase. It certainly got the attention of music journalists beyond traditional clubland:The Guardian, Uncut, Spin, Clash (fashion mag?), and ...The Irish Times? Wow, deep find there, Wiki.

I've given Black Noise multiple plays since getting it, yet I'm still struggling to 'get it', if you get me. Absolutely I 'get' what I'm supposed to 'get', be amazed at all the clever use of multiple mallet instruments and how much sonic space is left among them to breathe upon the simple steady grooves. I dunno though, some tracks on here come off trying to be too clever for their own sake, layering things in such a way that it mimics glitch production. Some portion of my brain though – the 'dumb' part, I guess – wants something to hook it in, and only occasionally does that happen, mostly in the straight-forward dancefloor tunes (A Nomad's Retreat, Satellite Snyper, Bohemian Forest). The percussion showcases of the first few tracks on this album come off cluttered to my ears, though Bohemian Forest does get that balance down right, while Welt Am Draht's dreamy vibe reminds me of what I liked about The Triad so much.

Anything else? Oh yeah, that other big selling point that got indie mags looking into Black Noise, the collaboration with Noah Lennox. Some of you may know him as Panda Bear, others as part of Animal Collective; a big f'n deal in that scene, is what I'm saying. No snark, I quite like Stick To My Side, Pantha's dubby rhythmic treatments and sparse bell tones creating a nifty moody atmosphere. Panda Bear comes in and does his vocal thing, but I'm all about those slowly escalating strings, the song peaking out quite nicely. Black Noise could have used a couple more of these.

L.S.G. - The Black Album (2021 Update)

Superstition: 1998

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

Not much I can really add to that old review. Heck, I probably exhausted every possible simile in describing what The Black Album sounds like. Won't deny, I literally wanted to start this Update with a few more fun ones, but nothing came to mind. Nada. Zilch. How does one top “cyborg jembe drummers” or “Unicron having a tummy ache”? Or this fun little nugget: “This isn’t the kind of stuff you’d hear from guys like Marco V or Sander van Doorn; Lieb’s material eats their tracks as a midnight snack and takes a second helping without asking.” Oh yeah, that was around the time I was getting annoyed at folks calling those chaps 'true tech-trance warriors', or some bollocks. Some of their stuff was good, sure, but compared to what Lieb was doing half a decade prior? C'mon, man.

I remain flabbergasted that not only did Lieb take L.S.G. down such a primal techno road, but that it also holds up strong-style over two decades on. It's been quite a few years since I last listened to this album, so some of it had slipped from my memory. Hoo boy, once it got going though, with the relentless onslaught of aggressive rhythms and minimalist industrial sounds, all the feral feelings came rushing back. It's like, it unleashes the reptile part of my brain, long deep in slumber, stirred awake by the sounds of nuclear reactors going off.

Steadily it emerges from the depth of the spinal chord, making it onto the dry lands of the mammalian limbic portions of my cranium, crushing such things like emotions and values under talons and foot. Nothing stops it, only growing stronger and more determined in its path of destruction as The Black Album carries on, finally confronting the neocortex, the last line of logic and rational defence. The primate portion of the brain, if you will, an 800-pound gorilla of humanity taking on the unstoppable path of reptilian devastation. Who wins in this ultimate showdown of the psyche? I dunno. I think, by the end of The Black Album, everything's been abducted by aliens or something.

I still don't know what prompted ol' Oliver to go so hard into techno's domain. There was something of a movement burbling in the periphery of European clubland of techno bangers dominating the 4am timeslots, but it'd be a few years before the likes of Adam Beyer and Chris Liebing would truly dominate. And even then, they initially came at things from the Detroit angle, but I do find it interesting that Chris and Oliver both hailed from Frankfurt. Maybe there's just something in the water there, that makes their producers need to get their pure techno groove on, no matter what your main lane of music making may be.

So yeah, if you have never checked out The Black Album for whatever reason, I'm giving you a reason now. You want that epic confrontation in your brain. You need it!

HIA & Biosphere - Birmingham Frequencies

Headphone: 2000/2019

Bobby Bird had tagged with Geir Jenssen to the Norwegian's remote hometown for the Polar Sequences performance, which creatively turned out quite well for the two. I'm assuming, then, that the man behind HIA told the man behind Biosphere that should he ever find himself in his own Birmingham hood, he should check out his crib for another collaborative project. Two years after that Tromsø trip, Geir indeed found himself in the birthplace of ambient dub, so off with Bobby he went for another session of field recordings trips and music making magic.

Only... what sort of sounds would Mr. Jenssen gather? Birmingham is a rather stark contrast of location compared to the cold tundras that had come to define Biosphere's realm of sonic influence. Heck, even for a British town, Birmingham doesn't seem terribly interesting. I looked for it on a map, finding it stuck between where all the cool music locations are (to its north, the Big Three cities of the midlands; London to its south-east). I'm sure there's been a few famed names from there (Steve Lawler, Duran Duran, ELO ...UB40? Erm, no), but judging by the Google Earth images of industrial, brutalist architecture, it doesn't surprise me that budding musicians fled the city as fast as they could. Which makes the fact something like the ambient dub scene of the early '90s could even blossom in such a place all the more remarkable.

So out and about Birmingham Bird and Jenssen went, collecting samples and sounds such as geese in a river, building alarms, the reverb and echo of channel tunnels, and... Okay, what exactly are they doing in Augusta Road? It sounds like they grabbed a large stick and dragged it along wooden planks, which is amusing for a little, but did I really need to hear it to the extent we do here? Still, the sound of rummaging through brush, with it being manipulated in such a way that it becomes almost like white noise static, is a nifty little sonic trick. Plus, this track has one of the best examples of the two's unique styles playing off each other, an ultra-minimalist outing where Biosphere's echoing dub pulses serves as the rudder for HIA's playful dub bleeps to ride, and that's all. Just a shame about that obnoxiously loud tree-branch thingy.

There's only six proper tracks here (Daddylonglegs is but a pure field recordings interlude), wherein two apiece offer differing examples of music making. The aforementioned Augusta Road and Narrowboat do the minimalist thing, whereas Gas Street Basin and Midpoint have brisk HIA rhythms, with less featured samples driving things along. Cannon Hill and The Rotunda, on the other hand, sound more organic, especially with jazzier percussion in the latter and gentle acoustic guitar strums in the former. In fact, given how urban and claustrophobic much of Birmingham Frequencies comes across, Cannon Hill in contrast almost sounds pastoral. Well, until HIA's clickity rhythms enter. Gotta' let ol' Bobby get his stuff in, amirite?

Jacob Newman - Biospherica

Carpe Sonum Records: 2016/2018

I've talked about Jacob Newman before, but not specifically. My prior exposure to him came paired with Devin Underwood, whom I've touched upon individually as Specta Ciera. Seems only fair I finally give the other half of Gapfield a look-see, though he doesn't have quite so robust a discography as Devin. It's a respectable collection of music, but not a touch on his collaborator's body of work. What's weird is despite the two having done solo work and pairings with other artists, I can't shake the notion of Jacob and Devin forever tied at the occipital lobe. Is it because my first exposure was their contribution to that megazord-sized Pete Namlook tribute box-set Die Welt Ist Klang? Or that Sending The Past was really that good? Sure, let's go with those.

Mr. Newman's story seems typical of most ambient artists of the modern age. He started out with a few albums on netlabel Earth Mantra, which I can't help but suspect got lost in the shuffle. Oh yes, they were one of those 'release all the things!' ambient netlabels, almost two-hundred items in their half-decade lifespan. Mr. Underwood had also put out a Specta Ciera album there, which is how I assume the two crossed paths to start collaborating for dataObscura and other assorted self-release options. Jacob kept making his own music though, self-releasing nearly a dozen digital EPs. This particular album on Carpe Sonum Records was apparently produced around the same time. Or at least, was gathering many of his field recordings, before committing them to a concept album. Biospherica thus became his first full-length solo work since the Earth Mantra years, half a decade on.

And upon seeing that title, along with 'field recordings', I'm sure you can't help but wonder if there's any Geir Jenssen influence here. A tiny bit perhaps, if only that Geir's approach to 'field recording ambient' was so genre defining, everything after couldn't help but be influenced by it to some degree. But no, if there's any name I'd drop in comparison here, it'd be Andrew Heath's spacious, 'lowercase' minimalism, and even then that's only for a couple tracks. Or maybe Lars Leonhard? There's certainly a lot of dubby warmth in Biospherica, which makes sense as Jacob's intent is to invoke feelings of spring and summer, lifeforms blooming into activity as the winter slumber ebbs away. Perhaps I should just discuss the music, and not keep trying to make comparisons. Oh, but it's so much easier doing that.

Actually, I think I've discussed all that needs to be said here. Nine tracks make up Biospherica, most hovering in an unfussy six-to-nine minute range (the lone 'short' track, three-minute long Humidity Dub, comes off quite slight as a result). Some go for more of a mysterious vibe (Bats At Dusk, Fade To Night), but we're generally in a tranquil setting here, with gentle pad work, soft spritely melodies, and sounds of nature burbling underneath it all. Recommended for beating back the frost-bitten doldrums.

Dan Terminus - The Wrath Of Code

Blood Music: 2015

I think this catches me up with the extent of Blood Music's dive into synthwave. That is, of artists on the roster, not so much everything of the genre the label's released. I'm fairly certain artists like Odium, Wolvhammer, Megaton Leviathan, Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, or Rïcïnn don't fall under the retro '80s continuum. Hm, maybe that Toby Driver though? No, no, stay focused! Dan Terminus is the last of them, for now. He is the last!

Though it's easy enough tying this chap in with the same branch of French darksynthers as Perturbator, Dan Terminus actually got his start with Werkstatt Recordings. Ah, so he came in along with GosT, then. That album, The Darkest Benthic Division, had a rather unique concept in the synthwave pantheon going for it, something of an aquatic tech-noir (do androids dream of electronic manatees?). That same year, he also self-released an album called Stratospheric Cannon Symphony, featuring cover art reminding me of the final boss of Final Fantasy X-2. You know, the one that's playing a giant pipe organ mega-gun weapon? In the game where your characters are three women? No phallic symbolism there, I swear!

Clearly, Dan Terminus approaches synthwave from a slightly different angle than his peers. I mean, just look at that cover art! I think there might be robots, or some cybernetic hybrid alien forms. Where are the vector grids though? The '80s fashions? The cyberpunk fetishism? Then again, Blood Music does eschew cliches, so I guess this tracks. Get a little Galaxy Of Terror vibe from this anyhow, and that's pure '80s schlock!

Seriously though, what I mean is this music isn't like most synthwave I've heard, in that for as much as I like the genre, it tends to be incredibly singular in its choice of actual synth ware. And for good reason, the whole point sounding as much like music that could only have been made in the '80s, with the limited sounds from the hardware of the day. Now obviously a lot of synthwavers cheat – I mean, no synth from that decade sounds as thrashy as Perturbator's – but they generally stick to the formula.

Not so with The Wrath Of Code, all manner of unique sounding sounds coming fast and furious in each track. Yeah, basic darksynth grit is still there, but dig those weird distorted tones in Death By Distortion! Or the retro opera-pads in Grim. Or the chiptune tweaks in Restless Destroyer. Or the acid in Avalanche. Or the pure Mororder thump of Pegasus Pro Ultra Fusion. Dan Terminus throws a lot of different sounds into his tracks, keeping everything fresh throughout the album.

Which is all awesome in of itself, but when you compare it to his previous two albums, which were rather stock synthwave outings, it's an astounding leap in songcraft. It's like, having the chance to strut his stuff with a bigger label, Dan Terminus did all he could to make a solid impression. I'd say he succeeded there.

Amon Amarth - With Oden On Our Side

Metal Blade Records: 2006

This is Amon Amarth's best album, if Sputnikmusic is anything to go by, the Swedish death metal band's only 4/5 as rated by the userbase. Mind, it's not by much, inching out over Twilight Of The Thunder God and Versus The World by a mere 0.1 each. Plus, how accurate can an online community rating system be? I'll grant I have more faith in the general consensus of long time metal fans over, say, fresh-faced trance fans, but these things can get a little screwy with review bombing and whatnot. Still, reading the discourse in those review threads leads me to believe I can trust these opinions, especially with over 1,500 folks contribute the rating.

I mentioned in the previous Amon Amarth review that this period in the band's output is considered Peak Amon, and I can hear why. Stylistically, there isn't much difference between this and Twilight ..., released two years apart. Listening to these back to back, I can tell this is the sound of a group that have figured out exactly what their style is, what themes they want to explore, and are in perfect sync as musicians to do so. In fact, if you were to do a blind test and mix songs from either album up, you'd probably think they were all from the same record. I admit I wouldn't have known the difference, but hey, that's why I'm taking a little extra time in digesting these things. There are differences though.

The first thing I noticed is the dreaded Cookie Monster growl isn't so prominent. Sure, it's there – death metal just can't help itself – but Johan Hegg doesn't go to the absolute bowel-decibel levels as frequently as he does in Twilight.... This lets me take Amon Amarth's brand of Viking metal a little more ...seriously? What a weird thing to say.

Also, and this may come as a shock, the topics covered in this album are different compared to the latter. You'd think Viking metal would have an incredibly narrow niche of themes, with almost no room for variation, and you'd be mostly right. That doesn't mean a band can't explore those specific things to the nth degree, however. Twilight..., for instance, most dealt with mythological stuff, whereas With Oden... focuses mostly on the sorts of shenanigans the Earth-realm mortals were getting up into, far and wide from the lands of the Rus to the isle of the Irish. Y'know, the pillaging and the warfare and the glory of victory and all that gory rot. Okay, not always 'glory of victory', as Rune To My Memory details the final thoughts of a warrior dying on the battlefield, but mostly. There's no reinterpretation of Gods Of War Arise though, wherein Johan bluntly goes on about setting fires to churches, 'honourably' slaughtering those who stand and fight while enslaving the survivors and making off with their gold. It was tough times, y'see. Don't worry though, they'll get what's coming when the Mongols arrive.

Wintersun - Wintersun

Nuclear Blast: 2004

You wouldn't think the Viking metal scene was large enough to allow for splintering. Maybe occassion personnel rotations, but if a band struck it hot with success, you'd be best served sticking things out together. That's not what happened with Ensiferum though, the lead vocalist and guitarist, Jari Mäenpää, striking out on his own after just two albums with the band. Okay, that's not quite accurate.

Seems Jari had been writing his own material before joining the Finnish folk metal band, and though having success with Ensiferum, continued stockpiling songs for future side-project consideration. Why not produce them with his current band? These just weren't compatible with the type of themes Ensiferum was exploring, Jari having visions of grand, majestic, and even melancholic in mind. Less pure folkish influence, more “spacy”, as he put it. So committed to the project he was, that Mr. Mäenpää decided he'd do all the music himself. Then he realized he couldn't do the blast-beat drums he'd wanted, so got Rotten Sound drummer Kai Hahto to join in. Everything else though, from vocals, guitars, synths, and miscellaneous, he'd produce.

So sounds good, and after a while, Jari managed to compile enough songs to see his 'Wintersun' project to fruition. Only, he'd booked studio time that would conflict with an Ensiferum tour. He requested a break to meet his studio schedule, but the band apparently fired him instead. Cold, man, like a Nordic winter.

If I thought the Ensiferum stuff was at a blistering pace, it's got nothing on Wintersun. In fact, it sometimes sounds too fast, like the guitars are pitched up and the drums can't quite keep up, though Kai is doing it absolute best to try. Or are the drums too fast? Is there any need to be ultra blast-beating during the operatic bridges? Plus, the overall mixdown seems rather tinny to my ears. As I've said, I don't know enough about Nordic death-folk-speed metal to know what the scene's bassline of production standards are, but surely it's beefier than this? Mind, as it is Jari doing almost everything here, having to record each part separately across many studios, so it's remarkable this debut album came together as well as it did. And while even Jari admits Wintersun can sound a bit 'demo-ish' compared to his later efforts, it certainly wasn't lacking in songwriting ambition.

Oh yes, despite all this, Wintersun does kick a lot of ass, in an epic, over-the-top sort of way. I can't take much of it seriously, but when that chorus in Battle Against Time erupts, holy Hell, do I ever want to fist pump along with. Plus, each successive song is longer than that last, showing some thought and care in the album presentation as a proper journey. Which is a fancy way of saying it does drag by the end, but I'll allow it. Given all the struggles Jari had in seeing this album to completion, Wintersun deserves a little indulgence.

La Luz - Weirdo Shrine

Hardly Art: 2015

Just how '60s retro did La Luz intend to initially go anyway? For sure you had the dreamy, psychedelic pop overtures and the surf rock nods, but the band's debut album didn't completely sell you on being there, in the era of mini-skirts and beehive hairdos. Which is understandable, La Luz undoubtedly concerned they'd seem more of a gimmick if they went all The B-52's with their presentation. They were already battling assumptions being an all-girl band to begin with. The indie rock scene is already a difficult one to crack with that feature over-hanging, so no need to complicating matters with pageantry. Get in, establish your stylee, then expand if the results turn successful.

I guess that's why I feel like La Luz' sophomore effort, Weirdo Shrine, hits so many similar beats as their debut, It's Alive, but does it all better. These gals are more assured of what their music can be, tighter as a unit, fully embracing the dream-surf rock jams such that they sound more attuned to the decade they're drawing influence from. It's to such a point that they even included chintzy 3-D glasses into the package, with art that pops at you from the second dimension! Well, kinda'. I don't think these glasses fit my face too good, seemingly made for petite ladies. Like, the little doggo figurine in the assemblage of knickknacks forming the inlay's weirdo shrine looks well removed from the pile, but not much else. To say nothing of the lack of depth from the hands playing cat's cradle on the cover. Maybe it works better with the larger vinyl canvas.

Anyhow, Weirdo Shrine opens with the dream pop of Sleep Till They Die as felt being sunkissed by California shores, then kicks out the surf jam right after with You Disappear. Okay, not a 'pure' surf jam, since this is still an actual song with actual lyrics and stuff, but its hard not to feel the waves beneath your plank of fibreglass as the splashy guitar reverb hits when it kicks off. And speaking of reverb, is it just me, or do the vocals sound more airy as well? Like, everything just has a richer texture about it, my ears breathing in the resonance as guitars and drums and organs sound both up front and distant as a canyon's walls.

It feels weird(o) to say this next: I'm not sure if there's anything else I can say about Weirdo Shrine. Detail all eleven tracks by track? So, Don't Wanna Be Anywhere does that Khruangbin loungey thing. I Can't Speak and I'll Be True slow things down, while I Wanna Be Alone and the titular song pep things up. Hey Papi and Oranges are the token instrumentals, while True Love Knows is the sort of ballad you can imagine swaying back and forth with your sweetie in your arms, as the malt shop nears closing. Mush, but eh, I'm sure I'll be able to relate again, one of these days.

VAST - Visual Audio Sensory Theater

Elektra: 1998

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I feel like I should know this album. Maybe not so much who the band is or what music is in it, but just the cover art alone. It's rather striking, the sort of eye-catching image that leaps out at you from store shelves, locking you in pupil-to-pupil, soul-to-soul. Okay, not that deep, but plenty 'nuff to grab wandering gazes in for a closer look. I never saw it though, and believe me, I was in prime territory to have spotted it somewhere in Vancouver shops when it first dropped. Did it languish in obscurity at first, only gaining notoriety once songs started getting featured in shows like Angel and Smallville?

But that's neither here nor there, as I usually like going into these albums as cold as possible, my initial impressions as pure as freshly fallen snow. And initial impressions sure had me transported back to the late '90s, opening song Here having heavy emphasis on industrial-grade rhythms, crunchy guitars, orchestral swells, and angst-ridden singing. This is the sort of stuff that, while I wouldn't say was popular, had more than enough grandiose production behind that it could get popular, if it got featured in the right movies or TV shows. Which is apparently what happened, after a while.

So I continue listening through VAST's self-titled debut (that is what 'VAST' stands for, right?), and I'm hearing an interesting mix of alternative rock, industrial production, and world music – so many looping Gregorian chant samples, I almost think I'm back in a rasion d'être album. And as is my tendency when listening to a new artist, my inclination towards comparison of other acts I'm familiar with begins. The one that first pops in my mind is Canadian band The Tea Party, who blended industrial and alt-rock as well, though that may be entirely due to the track Three Doors, which uses Arabic scales much like The Tea Party often did.

That's not quite right though. The Tea Party is a three-piece, where each member was part and parcel to the ensemble. Despite the expert production on Visual Audio Sensory Theater, I couldn't help but feel the songwriting was rather singular. Like, a Trent Reznor sort of deal, the music the vision of one man, with band members in support. Turns out that was absolutely the case, Jon Crosby the main mind behind VAST, and I'm far from the only person to make the Trent Reznor comparison. I just find it funny that I came to that shared conclusion before reading anything about it.

Does this put this album on the same plane as, say, The Fragile? Eh, not really. Though the NIN comparison is inevitable, Crosby isn't quite at the level at Reznor, especially in vocal delivery. It sometimes felt like he was struggling to reach the same level of angst ol' Trent effortlessly achieves. That leaves me with an album that sounds 'good enough', but not something I'm anxious for another playthrough anytime soon.

Eximia - Visitors

Cryo Chamber: 2018

Dark ambient covers quite a few topics within its bleak oeuvre, but alien invasion isn't very common. While I'm sure there are examples floating about, I've seldom stumbled upon them. This genre would rather crush your sense of being with dronescapes of a universe utterly devoid of life, an empty realm where conscious beings are more a fluke of incidental chemical reactions than part of a grand design. Where man may scream into the void all he wants, but there's no one to hear him, no one to respond back. Having aliens in your dark ambient, even hostile ones, defeats that concept.

Still, Cryo Chamber has never let a concept go untapped, and they found a worthy contender to explore an alien invasion album in Eximia. Lord Discogs doesn't list much of anything from the project, this here Visitors essentially a debut for Dominik Ragancík. The Slovakian has been busy elsewhere though, something of a sound designer and engineer for many other forms of media. Last-dot-FM lists previous credits such as car commercials and video games, including the Mass Effect series. Hmm, isn't that the one where an ancient Eldritch horror of a robotic space-faring race called The Reapers goes around exterminating all biological life, a purging of all organics from the cosmos? Sounds right up dark ambient's alley, that one.

So what kind of music is a sound designer inclined to make? None what so ever! There's barely a hint of any melody or even atonal drone throughout this album. Not until near the end of final track World Without End do we hear any sort of instrumentation, and it's discordant strings at that, not exactly the most cheerful of sounds.

Nay, Eximia has taken Cryo Chamber's 'cinematic drone' manifesto to its most extreme end, the bulk of Visitors consisting of sound effects and field recordings. There's little room for interpretation here, though plenty to tickle the imagination should you sit back with your eyes closed. Like, the opening track, Day One. Wide open spaces, shuffling feet in empty buildings, an eerie wind on the distant horizon, when a low, feral growl echoes upon the air, thunder crackling across the sky... Then, an ominous thrum pierces the atmosphere, a sound so strange, so foreign, so alien, it sets off all your primitive warning signals. Descending from on high, unknown and foreboding. What images play out in your mind as this unfolds will likely depend on what sci-fi you've consumed over the years.

So First Contact cranks the creep-out factor before seemingly going tits-up - guess Amy Adams didn't have much luck in this scenario. Abyss goes even further into the murk, sounding like you're stuck in some specimen vat while hearing horrors carry on from beyond. And if mankind's fate wasn't already clear, Extinction features the ghostly wails of a species in its last throes, muted sirens marking the end of everything. Well, it was a good run, while it lasted. So, which of you tripods has the tea?