Rio Toro

Album Reflection: Fennesz — Bécs

Fennesz: Bécs
Similar Artists: Eluvium, William Basinski, Steve Roach, Brian Eno
Genre: Isolation, Solitude, Anesthetics
Label: Editions Mego

90% of the time that I’m listening to ambient music, or new age, or any kind of soothing instrumental music for that matter, I’m unconscious — lost in some empty space where only faint remnants of the music can actually reach me. It’s those faint glimmers of warmth that provide a cushion for my dream world though, and they form a rather heavenly landscape for my mind to sanctify in. It’s a means of therapy above all else, as it keeps me in a state of floatation during the nights, and away from any unrelenting demon lurking in my mind who’s seeking for a way in during my weakened state. But as much as this music does provide a sort of safe haven for my mind and is greatly therapeutic, it simultaneously keeps me away from the reality of things, each lulling wave and static frequency pushes me down beneath the surface and into a realm of nothingness. It’s a predicament that I’ve become torn by: do I let myself become haunted by painful memories, or do I live in a fantasy world that eventually leads nowhere? If only I could relieve myself of this ancient fear I possess — one of the afterlife, of death, of suffering — then maybe my mind wouldn’t be such an awful place to succumb to.

Fennesz is an artist who I’ve been living with — both consciously and unconsciously — for quite some time. Endless Summer, his 2001 breakthrough and certifiable electronic classic, ushered me into a new phase of music appreciation. Where it was not uncommon for abstract electronic artists from the time to conjoin disparate genres (in this case, sunshiny, heavily processed guitar and sharp, layered noise), Fennesz was able to make each genre melt into the other, and not in a shoegaze type of way (although that is a noticeable influence as well), but in a way where sounds which would be described as harsh and ugly in isolation actually emanated a resounding calm, and made you re-think the meaning of the word “beautiful”.

Bécs is the apparent sequel to Endless Summer, and since it’s the artist’s first solo long player since 2008’s shade or two darker Black Sea, it’s quite the reason for excitement from an ambient aficionado like myself… Or maybe it’s not, because there has been no real shortage of Fennesz-like music in the past 6 years anyway. Matthew Cooper, whose Eluvium alias gained comparison to Fennesz, and was even hailed as “the American Fennesz” at the start of his career, has released a plentiful amount of serene and intricate soundscapes in that timeframe (including last year’s excellent double album Nightmare Ending); not to mention Christian Fennesz himself has released multiple collaborative albums (often more than one per year), so its hard to say he has truly been missed. Also, it’s not as if the appeal/novelty of his earlier works has worn dry, as I still revisit the likes of Endless Summer frequently, so calling this a sequel which draws from the same sound palette doesn’t do much to further any excitement. Or maybe my slight hesitation in approaching this record stems from being afraid of what extensive listening to this music will continue to do to me, or rather, what it will prevent me from doing in the long term. Do I really need to hide away from the surface anymore? Haven’t I hidden from my anxieties for long enough?

The first thing one notices when listening to Fennesz is how beautiful and intricate and detailed the sounds are, and how they form a mystical, yet never contrived or predictable world. After that feeling has worn off, however, they notice that the feeling it prescribes is truly one of emptiness. This is a strange word for me to use, as Fennesz is an artist I am continually intrigued and fascinated by, but it is not emptiness by way of loneliness that I intend to speak of, but instead emptiness by way of numbingness, and a lack of awareness for the outside world. It is music to initiate the drifting mind; a solitary stoner’s paradise that thrives on antisocial behavior and eventually, a loss of love.

It’s worth mentioning that Bécs does all of this gorgeously, even if it is exactly what one would have expected it to be. Through the 40 or so minute runtime our ears are treated to heavenly guitar strums shrouded in elegant cinematic hues, bright tones and crumbling static that slowly massages the listener into a state of empty bliss. And the thing is, each track does do this in a wholly different way, quite expertly in fact. There is no simple trick at play here, and it’s one of the reasons repeated listens don’t do much to reveal the fogginess of these compositions. Fennesz can use sounds that in isolation are eerie, mournful, perplexing, or even terrifying, but when lumped together they transform into a collage of carefully treated beauty that is as grand to listen to as it is hopeless to live by.

I don’t know exactly what I’m getting at with this review, and it’s because I’m at the crossroads in terms of my musical identity. This is my first review in over 4 months, and while part of my absence has been because I’ve been terribly busy with both work and school, and another has been because of a little something called Dark Souls 2, mostly, it’s because looking at art objectively is not something I feel is possible for me anymore, as my opinion and its meaning changes from day-to-day, listen-to-listen. This means that I didn’t have the chance to write reviews on some of this year’s most notable releases, of which there have been many — including The Body, tUnE-yArDs, Wild Beasts, and The War On Drugs to name a few — but that’s ok, because I’m not sure how I feel about any of them anyway. I’ve expressed this concern before, but I’m now more than ever in speculation about the point of a critic in today’s flooded musical landscape where countless music is released daily that will seldom he heard by but a few ears. What I do know, is that music is not something that can be experienced in isolation from the rest of the world. Contrary to my previous beliefs, music — no matter how original or well-written or well-produced — cannot last without contexts (friends, families, locations, real-world scenarios) and for that reason, it unfortunately cannot be solely listened to on headphones to and from your way to work. It is an element that must be consumed fully and discussed in detail with a range of real life people at concerts, festivals, and bars — not just through nameless online entities. Like myself, music is also in a bit of an existential crisis, trying desperately to adapt to its new set of criteria without outwardly admitting to it. It will survive, undoubtedly, but for now we’re both lost in a sea of information, trying to claw ourselves out and numb the pain with anesthetics all at the same time.

Track Listing:
1.) Static Kings*
2.) The Liar
3.) Liminality*
4.) Pallas Athene
5.) Becs*
6.) Sav
7.) Paroles*

Album Highlight: *

Album Reflection: Marissa Nadler – July

by Rio Toro

Marissa Nadler: July

Similar Artists: Neko Case, Sharon Van Etten, Leonard Cohen

Genre: Folk, Dream-Folk, Singer-Songwriter

Label: Sacred Bones

I’ve been on a mission for what feels like a very long time to find a piece of music that will make me cry. A piece with such resounding emotional intensity that it would cause me to break out into tears. I’m not even being greedy about it; even just one tiny droplet would be enough for me, just so I would have some kind of evidence that would prove an attachment to a piece of music was real, and not just implanted by my previous conceptions. While music does have its other ways of harvesting within me (the internal reaction that tells me when I’m really into a track is usually either goose bumps or uncontrollable laughter) crying I consider to be something different. And as much as “tear-jerker” has become a negative term in some respects, I can’t help but feel that if something can make you cry, it owns a part of you.

I’m not sure what my problem is with accomplishing this mission, because I tend to cry all the time during movies, TV shows and books — so what is it exactly that separates music from those other types of media? Some would say it’s because music is too abstract and open to interpretation; its messages are too muddled to cause most people to cry. Others would say the average length of a song is far too short for that kind of engagement, and although it may be steeped in sadness and mourning, the feeling doesn’t stay with us for a long enough period to build any significant attachment. Another theory is that music is just an extension of the mood we are already feeling, meaning if you are already sad, listening to music can make you sadder, but if you are in your normal state of mind it can only do so much in terms of changing your overall perspective. I’ve come to these as well as various other conclusions through the years to account for my lack of emotional activity, but I still feel that my lack of emotional engagement is somehow my fault: maybe I just haven’t been listening to the lyrics enough, and I just have to concentrate more on what is being said.

Anyway, when I listen to Marissa Nadler I really wish that I could cry along with her deeply passionate tales of woe; for I know I’m not alone when saying that few artists working today have such a deep understanding of sadness. Her stories are ones of entrenching melancholia, starved lovers whose pains grow deeper with age and characters who carry a pervading sense of loneliness with them until death. While her music does indeed cause me to get emotional — from her tenderly sung lyrics, winding acoustic melodies and aching voice — I always become disconnected right before I start to feel something building inside of me, which is frustrating to say the least.

It’s an infuriating process to me — losing track of what’s happening in a song — and it’s the reason that, for the most part, I try to stay away from dissecting lyrics in the first place. Radiohead were the first ones that taught me this, as I used to scurry for hours trying to make sense of a lyric to Pyramid Song or No Surprises with little to no avail. I think the reason this happens is because music — particularly singer-songwriter music — is built out of events that are very personal to the artist’s own life, and as much as the artist may be “giving away” their story when their music is released, I feel a part of it does remain hidden within the artist, and us listeners are left to blindly fill in the blanks.

This is ok though, because we don’t need that extra bit of meaning — in the end it’s the artist that does. Like many of the world’s most prolific artists, Marissa Nadler doesn’t create her art to make a living, but rather, she makes art so she can live. The universe she has created through her 7 full-lengths is her way of sorting through her endless well of emotions, and a way to escape herself as well as any inner turmoils she may be facing. This I feel is what folk music has always been about, and why it has progressed so minimally within the last several decades when compared to other genres. No matter what tag you put in front of it — whether it be freak, or dream, or fuzz — folk has always been about honest, unclouded expression, and Marissa Nadler continues to define that with each passing album. Now it’s our turn to make our own universe.

Track Listing:

1.) Drive*

2.) 1923

3.) Firecrackers

4.) We Are Coming Back*

5.) Dead City Emily*

6.) Was It A Dream

7.) I’ve Got Your Name*

8.) Desire*

9.) Anyone Else

10.) Holiday In

11.) Nothing In My Heart

Album Highlight – *

Album Reflection: Xiu Xiu – Angel Guts: Red Classroom

by Rio Toro

Xiu Xiu: Angel Guts: Red Classroom

Similar Artists: Suicide, Throbbing Gristle, Joy Division, Einstürzende Neubauten

Genre: Post-Punk, Industrial, Synth Pop

Label: Polyvinyl

If you hadn’t noticed upon clicking this page, I’ve changed the name of my posts from “Album Review” to “Album Reflection”, and in case you’re wondering, the reason is because I don’t believe I’ve written what one would call a “review” in quite some time. I haven’t really even been talking much about music in general (at least in its concrete form). Upon this realization, I’ve decided this space is from now on going to be dedicated towards my personal experience with a piece of music. Questions such as “what is the color of this music” and “what does the music look like” are ones I will be looking to address. Still, it will all be taken from my personal perception of the music at hand, as well as the social and cultural environment I happen to hear it in. My goal is to see what intensive listening sessions to particular brands of music will inspire me to write, and interpret whether anything artful comes out of the other end.

This movement has spurred from my inability to explain why music sounds the way it does, or even what it sounds like in the first place. I want to learn how to paint the picture of my experience with an album as vividly as possible; and seeing how everyone hears music in different ways, I believe this is a step in the right direction. I will warn you that there may be some pretentiousness here, so if you’re not into that kind of thing then I suggest you spend your time elsewhere. While under some circumstances I may go back on my word to write an honest to god “album review”, pretty much, you’ll just see a mix of short stories, personal anecdotes, and narrative driven imagery from me from now on. Thanks to anyone who’s followed my writing up to this point.

————––—————————————————————————————————————-

A Confession/ A Love Letter:

Xiu Xiu were the band that saved my life, or rather, they were the one that brought me into my truest form. There were acts that preceded them and acts that followed them that all lie somewhere in the ranks of my personal importance, but right now, Xiu Xiu — along with Antony & the Johnsons — lie pretty high up on that list, and I’m not sure where I would be today without them.

Before 2008 — the year I graduated high school — I would say I was (and still am to some degree) an abnormally quiet person. Of course, this was because I was a closeted homosexual; something I would find out was also true about many of my similarly quiet peers years down the road. I remember freshman and sophomore year, walking the halls beneath a veil, screeching alarms firing off in my head to tell me what I should and should not do to assure I would blend inconspicuously into the environment. I was terrified of humiliation, afraid it would rip me apart limb from limb and throw me into exile, causing me to lose the few close friends I had. Like many other struggling gay teens, I first thought it would be a certain substance that would relieve me from my internal pressures, which led me to experimenting with an assortment of uppers, downers and hallucinogens. This process went on for years until I realized the escape it provided wasn’t for me. In fact, It wasn’t until college when I discovered Xiu Xiu — a band who embraced a startlingly bleak and confrontational blend of confessional singer-songwriter and manic post-punk — when I started to realize that maybe it was okay to be as fucked up as I was.

And that’s the thing; as much as mine was a generation more accepting of gays in many ways, I still felt I couldn’t fit into any of the archetypes society had carved out for me. I doubted that any sane person could find my personality to be commendable no matter how tolerant they were, because no matter how hard they seem to be trying, the media still isn’t doing a very good job of showing how tortured the soul of a gay person is. It’s why such a large percentage of gays hate gay themed television shows (Looking) and why almost all of them hate Macklemore. With Xiu Xiu by my side though, it seemed okay, and at times even cool, to have an ugly and disturbing side that I had yet to unleash. The more I thought about it, maybe it was okay to be lustful over one of your closest male friends and think about them erotically every night before falling asleep. Maybe it was okay to want something so bad you were willing to bleed for it. Maybe it was okay to have gender dysmorphia issues, and to have twisted thoughts pop into your head, and to fantasize about who would be at your own funeral. Most of all, maybe it was okay to hate yourself, and to hate everyone around you, including your own family.

I’m dramatizing a bit, to be fair, but in essence it’s all true. Xiu Xiu were a group that took the self loathing elements I always loved from acts like Radiohead and took it to a visceral and painfully honest extreme, somehow helping me realize that maybe being myself wasn’t so bad after all. When many people talk about Xiu Xiu, they talk about how comical certain songs of theirs are; the song “Fabulous Muscles” being the clearest example. When it comes down to it though, I don’t think I’ve ever related to a song as much as I have to that one, as it perfectly encapsulates our tendencies to worship guys we know will never love us back. Jamie Stewart is a lyricist who is capable of so much, and although his words are initially penetrable for their inherent shockingness, repeated listens reveal deep insights, even for non-homosexual listeners.

While it didn’t hit me all at once like that explanation may have seemed, I do attribute the group to have provided me with one big push towards helping me be okay with the outcasted individual I was, and eventually, one that would be proud of it. In celebration of their new album, this is my dedication and love letter towards a group that I consider, quite inarguably, to be groundbreaking. No matter how many more albums Xiu Xiu ends up releasing, I will always listen to them, because as far as I’m concerned, they own my soul.

Track Listing:

1.) Angel Guts:

2.) Archie’s Fades

3.) Stupid In The Dark*

4.) Lawrence Liquors

5.) Black Dick*

6.) New Life Immigration

7.) El Naco*

8.) Adult Friends*

9.) The Silver Platter

10.) Bitter Melon

11.) A Knife In The Sun

12.) Cinthya’s Unisex*

13.) Botanica de Los Angeles

14.) : Red Classroom

Album Highlight – *

Album Review : Shackleton – Freezing, Opening, Thawing

by Rio Toro

Shackleton: Freezing Opening Thawing
Similar Artists: Muslimgauze, Peverelist, Demdike Stare, Pinch
Genre: Abstract Electronic, Jungle
Label: Woe To The Septic Heart

I washed up on the shoreline of this unnamable island around noon — or at-least, what I should say, is that the height of the sun at that particular time seemed to reveal it was noon. Otherwise though, it seemed as though I was stranded without a technological reference to my name. Yet within the short amount of time since my unplanned arrival, I had a sort of sense that time as a whole moved differently here. Not necessarily faster or slower, just different — perhaps more angular, or even on a different wavelength entirely. And despite the fact that this place was clearly an island, there was an instantly mechanical presence to it, and I was convinced that if I decided to burrow deep enough in the sand I would reach a high tech laboratory of sorts. In fact, everything I could tell about this island was rooted in a kind of fabrication; from the way the palm trees swept in the breeze so neatly, to the way the birds chirped at the most opportune of times, to the slightly altered coloration of the sand itself. It all seemed synthetic, as if this place I was on was not a true island at all, but one meticulously crafted to look like one. However, this realization didn’t prevent me from continuing to be drawn to it one bit. It was only at this moment that I stood up from the sandy spot I had been lying in since my arrival to inspect the borders of the surrounding area. It was indeed a fertile land, brimming with all sorts of exotic life. There were various coconut trees scattered around the shoreline, and I was able to see a variety of multicolored birds flying amongst the foliage.

As I approached the thickening shrubbery, I heard, only very faintly at first, the sounds of tribal drums emitting from the center of the jungle. They were increasingly violent sounds — mallets pounding erratically on bongos, congas, tympani, and countless other percussive instruments. The sounds instantaneously instilled fear in me and drew me closer into the chaos; I would even say they provided a sense of nostalgia for some unknown part of me. Had I possibly been to this place before in a vision or a dream? Or perhaps heard about it in some ancient folklore? As I drew closer into the eye of the jungle the sounds thickened immensely, and the fluttering patterns adopted polyrhythmic qualities. The brash chaoticness of the endless banging and clashing soon ushered me into a psychedelic haze, and I found myself stumbling to keep afoot. My eyes too, soon became watery and unresponsive, and I noticed I hadn’t been watching where I was stepping. Regardless of my condition, I continued on, and even with my fading peripheries, I felt as though I was becoming more cognitively aware — more intensely attuned to the reality of things.

At about a mile in from the shoreline I realized it was not only percussion that I had been hearing, but an entire ensemble of eclectic instruments — most of which I could not claim to know the origin of. Just like the coaxing qualities of the environment, these sounds were of the utmost intrigue to my senses, yet somehow stripped of their most innate and natural abilities. It was all just a mere fabrication of what I had previously considered to be music, and I could feel my innards shifting to make sense of this enlightening new information. I knew it from the second I stepped into the jungle; I was evolving.

As I continued to draw closer to the source of the music, a warping snake-like melody crept up my backside along the inner notches of my spine. A stinging sensation began ringing through the entirety of my body, as if I had been stung or bitten by a venomous scorpion-like creature. I looked down to see if I could catch a glimpse of anything moving, but it was too late. Everything, from my memories of the old world to my innermost private thoughts and emotions were replaced by a new identity. Stronger and more willful I felt, but also colder, more devoid of a self. Stripped of my humanity, I gathered myself into a stable upright position and continued on, knowing fully well where the path would soon lead me.

Track Listing:
1.) Freezing Opening Thawing*
2.) White Flower with Silvery Eye
3.) Silver Keys*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Actress – Ghettoville

by Rio Toro

Actress: Ghettoville

Similar Artists: Zomby, Lee Gamble, Lukid

Genre: XY2PQXX9

Label: Ninja Tune

It is now Tuesday, January 21st, 2013, the time is 4:25 PM, approximately 10 and 3/4 days since my initial voyage through Actress’ newest labyrinthine maze. While it’s no surprise that Ghettoville — Darren Cunningham’s 4th and apparently final album under the Actress moniker — is a strange and often confounding listen (considering the artist pretty much singlehandedly ushered in a new era of abstract techno) I admit that I underestimated the extent of his powers, and now, it seems I have befallen to them.

After incessantly listening to these 16 tracks repeatedly for 20+ hours, this marks the spot where I will begin my ~~third~~ fourth attempt to write this review. At this point in time, I am unsure if I will ever succeed in accurately conveying the themes of this cerebral minefield, and if this entrapping well I find myself in now continues to grow darker, I fear I will never be resolved of my duties as a music critic. Despite the increasing toll this experience has had on my well being, I must continue to stand by my duties, as mine is a profession relied on by many to provide satisfaction. However, if by some chain of events I am lead to deem my mission as being impossible, I hereby claim to hand over my prided music-reviewing degree and cast myself into exile. Thankfully, that day where I give up will never come, as I have taken an oath to continue to dissect this bold and insurmountable work until I can see it with eyes unclouded.

To prove my seriousness, I shall allow no other album — no matter how highly anticipated and readily available — to meet my ears until I have conquered this one. No dark crevice or subtle texture housed between the walls of this release shall pass by me without being factored into the towering equation. No lesser track shall be left out of the larger picture to allow for a quicker analysis, and most importantly, I shall blame myself and only myself for believing a track could be any less than absolute perfection.

There is no denying the brilliance of Darren Cunningham — I have moved past all thoughts of those kinds at this point in my journey, as I now know those thoughts are only a representation of the inherent mediocrity within myself. The only thing I must use now is patience, for it is the sole device necessary in unfolding the true meaning of this masterwork. Or maybe, just maybe, I will never be able to understand the whole of Ghettoville. Maybe the answer is that I’m just not smart enough to. This conclusion is something that in the long run I am not against saying, as a brain can only handle so much brilliance without overloading and crashing within itself. Sometimes, when I get caught up in thinking about it, I even fear the truth may be that I’ve never actually understood and properly enjoyed a single Actress track to date.

This self pity doesn’t even matter anymore though. It doesn’t matter whether I will or will not ever grasp the underlying themes of this record, as this infatuation of mine is about something bigger than proving myself to the music world. I could care less about how many more hours I will undoubtedly spend waiting for a grand realization or epiphany to form in my mind, because there is simply nothing about my existence that bears any more of an importance anymore. I am addicted, yes, a slave even, though not from any discernible enjoyment that I get from the act of continuously listening, but from the unrelenting curiosity that haunts my mind during the moments when I’m not. There is a feeling of some true underlying importance buried within this record, and one I refuse to dismiss as a production trick. This is a feeling that has been harvesting within Actress’ catalogue ever since he debuted with Hazyville in 2008, but now the feeling has become unavoidable and cemented within the productions. There’s nothing else to do now but wait and listen, and I gladly will until I find out exactly what it is that makes this music so spellbinding, for when that epiphany finally does arrive, I’ll know I’d have spent my life well.

Track Listing:

1.) Forgiven*

2.) Street Corp

3.) Corner*

4.) Rims

5.) Contagious*

6.) Birdcage*

7.) Our

8.) Time*

9.) Towers

10.) Gaze*

11.) Skyline

12.) Image

13.) Don’t

14.) Rap*

15.) Frontline

16.) Rule*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Steve Moore – Pangaea Ultima

by Rio Toro Leave a Comment

Steve Moore: Pangaea Ultima
Similar Artists: Zombi, Bookworms, Lovelock
Genre: Synths n’ Stuff
Label: Spectrum Spools

I originally intended for this review to be for L.I.E.S.’ Music For Shut Ins, as the compilation has been my revolving soundtrack for the better part of the last month. If you’re not cool enough to already know, just as American Noise was last year, Music For Shut Ins is an impeccably solid grouping of new and previously released tracks from the New York umbrella label that represents some of the most exciting experimental electronic music around. So it’s too bad that I eventually found the release to be too overwhelming to write a proper review on. Luckily, Steve Moore (an artist who released multiple 12 inches for the label), has just released his newest and arguably highest profile release to date, and with it consisting of 9 similarly produced tracks, it happens to be a much easier statement to digest.

Pangaea Ultima is Steve Moore’s first release on Spectrum Spools: a label curated by ex-Emeralds member John Elliott that has harnessed an ever-increasing array of talent ever since its inception in 2011. In addition to Moore’s plentiful amount of solo material, he has recorded as a member of Zombi, the bass guitarist for prog-rock outfit Titan, and has offered his multi-instrumentalist talents to groups such as Panthers and SunnO))). He’s also written his own film scores (mostly for low-budget horror films), proving he’s not only a skilled multi-instrumentalist, but a skilled composer as well. Thankfully, this prolificness isn’t a detractor from the quality of his work, as Pangaea Ultima emerges as only the most recent of this artist’s dense and masterfully coordinated projects. However, there is something about Pangaea that feels more assured and fully realized in comparison to many of the artist’s earlier solo ventures, and hopefully this means it will be the release to garner him the larger audience that he deserves.

The album itself happens to be a soundtrack to the theorized super-continent destined to re-emerge on Earth within the next 200 million years or so, and with track titles like “Planetwalk” and “WorldBuilding”, it’s no secret that this is representative of Moore at his most colossal. The tone here is dark, and admittedly, this tone changes only very slightly throughout the hour long running time. Despite the limited emotional and instrumental range though, the album unfolds masterfully — as you might expect from someone with the resume of a film composer. Furthermore, despite Moore’s electronic and even post-punkian upbringing, he pretty much strays away from anything that could be deemed danceable, and several tracks are even entirely beat-less.

While Pangaea Ultima is not entirely without a chugging pulse (“Planetwalk” and the title track are borderline techno), Moore is much more concerned with concocting a stable mood and ominous intrigue. This direction is not to be confused with ambient music though, as Pangaea Ultima is a work that is as engrossing to listen to in the foreground as it is to lay dormant in the background (I’ve also found that it makes for some killer tetris battle music). Similarly, although many tracks appear to be in the vein of minimalism (“Deep Time”, “Logotones”), they all eventually emerge as dense and extraordinarily epic; at the most intense moments it’s as if we can feel the weight of the continents shifting beneath our feet.

There are a lot of keyboards present at any given moment — all of them arpegiatting and oscillating onward into some infinite void — yet the pieces themselves are uncluttered and organically rich; of which I give credit to the superb mastering of Rashad Becker. The recordings of Krautrock pioneers Tangerine Dream are an easy comparison to Pangaea Ultima, and truth be told, similarly designed compositions have been available as early as the 60’s. More recently, we’ve had Oneohtrix Point Never, who thoroughly documented how gripping solo synth pieces can be with his extensive and career making Rifts compilation. However, while what Steve Moore is doing here may not be unique or even immediately ear catching, it’s far from artless, and shouldn’t be taken as a mere throwback LP. Within a scene of synthesizer fetishists who — with the more readily available recording technology of today — are capable of making monstrous sounding synth music on the fly, what makes Pangaea stand out is that it clearly isn’t the sound of some virtuosic talent recording a day’s worth of work, but a unified and wholly satisfying piece that’s filled with as much blood, organs and bodily fluids as the organism that made it.

Track Listing:
1.) Endless Caverns
2.) Planetwalk*
3.) Deep Time
4.) Nemesis
5.) Pangaea Ultima*
6.) Logotone*
7.) Aphelion
8.) Endless Mountains
9.) Worldbuilding*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Secret Boyfriend – This Is Always Where You’ve Lived

by Rio Toro

Secret Boyfriend: This Is Always Where You’ve Lived
Similar Artists: Helm, The Hospitals, 18+
Genre: Not-noise, Experimental, Shitgaze, Sound Collage
Label: Blackest Ever Black

Usually when I write a review, I try to focus on the emotional impact of the music, as well as the response the music is intending to make on the listener. However, with This Is Always Where You’ve Lived — the first true full-length from North Carolina’s Ryan Martin (AKA Secret Boyfriend) — nothing comes easy in terms of categorization. In fact, these mysterious and elusive tracks often resist words at all, which in my interpretation is one of the reasons so little has been written about the artist throughout his nearly decade long career. Until now, he has made ends meet in the music world through a limited run of cassette only releases, split LPs, and his own Hot Releases imprint. This release sees Martin combining his wide array of musical ideas into a concise and fully realized statement that borrows little and asks for nothing. Still, as big a statement for Secret Boyfriend as this is, these 12 largely dissimilar tracks — while somehow coexisting harmoniously within the same album — all contradict one another as pieces, and one by one will blank out your previous theories about exactly who this Secret Boyfriend guy is.

It turns out I’m not the only one having trouble pinpointing this artist either, as Ryan Martin has become known in the N.C underground for his unpredictable live shows which range from aggressive, anarchistic noise fests to creepy vocal modified acoustic numbers. While starting off as a kind of tongue-in-cheek performance artist looking to breed awkwardness, he has clearly moved on to bigger and better things in recent years. The music on this release is a combination of dreamy, painfully lo-fi (folk?) songs, divisively simple keyboard melodies, abstract electronic noodling/sampling, fuzz-laden ambient soundscapes, and the occasional detour into Japanese caliber noise. It’s quite possibly the most varied of the DIY albums I listened to in 2013, and certainly one of the most unusual to come out on Blackest Ever Black. Despite these contrasting elements though, the music works because all of these fragmented pieces join arms and unite to create a musical experience that’s quite unlike any other I’ve had within recent memory. It’s a bizarre, otherworldly venture that’s also strangely nostalgic; like we are being taken down a chain of childhood memories that we never actually had.

Calling Secret Boyfriend a collage artist might put it best, because his productions consist of around half a dozen simple elements that are loosely conjoined to form a new, alien-like identity. It must be said, even for music this independently based, the core musicianship here can be pretty lousy. Fortunately, it appears that Martin knows what he’s doing around 3/4ths of the time and for the most part what he’s doing remains impressive despite some obvious shortcomings. All the leading melodies are well thought out, and his occasionally shoddy guitar playing/keyboard skills actually end up adding personality instead of distracting from the experience.

Unlike most non-musicians working in the field of experimentalia — excepting the opening 5 seconds of “Summer Wheels/Mysterious Fires” and the battalion ready final track — Martin mostly strays away from anything violently harsh. All the haphazardous knob twiddling and amateurish discrepancies are reserved for the background, which is why these tracks happen to be such a warm and inviting bunch for a scene that prides itself with freakouts. As daunting a title as This Is Always Where You’ve Lived may seem, it wouldn’t be a bad place to settle down in for a few months, which isn’t something I could say about most music this daring and abstract.

The world that Martin has created here is one that’s steeped in fantastical daydreams and a youthful longing. Above all else, the album is defined by its hazy atmosphere and ultra loose feel that refuses precision as a means towards greatness. Only occasionally — such as on the Haxon Cloak-like “Remarkable Fluids” or the titular closing track — does this lighthearted mood transform into something nightmarish, and even then it remains an exciting detour. On the other hand, many tracks, including the 8 minute standout “Deleted Hill”, are so devoid of structure that they end up falling apart entirely, so it’s a good thing that watching them do so happens to be absolutely mesmerizing.

Upon closer inspection, Secret Boyfriend is far from lazy, and he has indeed put a plentiful amount of work and detail into these productions: his talent just doesn’t happen to be in the places you would normally look for it. Even after listening to This Is Always Where You’ve Lived for several days, I continue to be surprised at how Martin can be wondrously adept in certain fields (layering tracks, atmosphere) while being mindlessly incompetent in others (properly tuning a guitar, remaining on beat). Despite these factors though, listening to Secret Boyfriend is far from frustrating , and I would recommend taking a peek to anyone who’s looking for a journey through the strange and bewildering without wanting to sacrifice the chance to be uplifted.

Track Listing:
1.) Summer Wheels/Mysterious Fires*
2.) Silvering The Wing
3.) Form Me*
4.) Flashback
5.) Remarkable Fluids
6.) Beyond the Darkness*
7.) Dream Scrape
8.) Glint and Follow You
9.) Have You Heard About This House
10.) Last Town
11.) Deleted Hill*
12.) This Is Always Where You’ve Lived*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Clams Casino — Instrumentals 3

by Rio Toro

Clams Casino: Instrumentals 3
Similar Artists: Araab Muzik, Prefuse 73, Holy Other
Genre: Left-Field Hip-Hop
Label: Self-Released

When people say “this guy is one of the best producers in the world” — and that’s something people say a lot when referring to New Jersey’s Mike Volpe (AKA Clams Casino) — what about him are they exactly referring to? Now, I’m not saying that Clammy Clams isn’t one of the best producers in the world, as few really do compare to this one in terms of style and a sense of forward thinkingness in regards to hip-hop beats, but we also get the feeling that he’s capable of doing much more in the way of artisticness. As it stands now, Clams has put out only a small handful of tracks that have remained memorable as purely instrumentals, and the micro-genre he briefly enacted known as “cloud-rap”, can pretty much be named DOA. Maybe I’m demanding too much from a producer who has yet to release a full-length worth of original material, but despite the quantitative amount of work he has done, there has only been a marginal amount to truly sink our teeth into, and that really bugs me.

Of course, tracks don’t have to be memorable to be great, and for the most part, Clams Casino is still making music that is enjoyable to listen to. Unfortunately, this third (and apparently final) instrumental mixtape marks the blandest appropriation of his style thus far, and it would have been easy to dismiss entirely if not for some distraction worthy highlights. And the more I think about it, aren’t those occasionally stunning highlights — such as “Motivation” and “Realist Alive” on Instrumentals 1 and “I’m God” on Instrumentals 2 — what has really garnered Clams Casino so much attention in the first place? His incredible and even slightly under appreciated Rainforest EP on Tri-Angle is the closest he has yet come to putting out a coherently solid listening experience, and for now at least, that will have to continue being the only one.

Anyway, the highlights here lean towards the previously unreleased ones. There are three of these, three A$AP Rocky beats, three Mac Miller beats, one for DOOM, one for Mikky Ekko, one released for Flying Lotus’ radio station on GTA 5, and one remix. It’s an odd assortment of tracks to say the least, and since Clams has moved away from the outward and easily identifiable sampling (“Cold War”, “Illest Alive”), many of them leave little to hold on to other than a slyly choreographed production technique here and there. The best standalone track of the ones intended for vocals/rapping is the breath of fresh air that is “Pull Me Down” — a warmer and more smoothly paced track from the bunch that was also co-produced by Mikky Ekko. The definitive standout though — the one that can compare to his best productions to date — is “Cry For Me”, which places glitchy, warbling vocals over a solid kick drum based groove and some of the most pleasing textures yet heard from the producer. Aside from those two highlights though (plus the GTA V track, I suppose) there’s nothing here to sway your opinion on the producer one way or another. In fact, it’s way more likely to make you become bored with him.

What many people will, and should use this mix as — as it works much more smoothly than listening to the tracks in unison — is to combine it with all of Clams Casino’s other instrumental work and put it on shuffle. Here the wealth of his capability becomes more visibly apparent, and the compilation can work perfectly for night drives in urban environments (permitting that you have the car stereo to handle these often layered and uncompromising tunes). If this is the end of his instrumental mixtape phase though, we should be happy, because it’s a sign that Clams is moving on to bigger and better things. For now, listen to these instrumentals, be happy with them, but just don’t get your hopes up that they will offer you any more than a momentary glimpse into the power of a producer who will undoubtedly grant us more fulfilling statements further down the road.

Track Listing:
1.) Crystals*
2.) Hell
3.) Cry For Me*
4.) Pull Me Down*
5.) Lvl
6.) Bird Call
7.) Freeze
8.) Haunt*
9.) Melthru
10.) Bookfiend
11.) Cold Feet
12.) Wizard
13.) Youforia*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Beyoncé – BEYONCÉ- Queen is Back

by Rio Toro

Beyoncé: BEYONCÉ

Similar Artists: Janet Jackson, Ciara, Missy Elliott, Jenifer Hudson

Genre: Pop, Contemporary R&B

Label: Columbia

2013 is over, and overall, it’s been a pretty great year for me: I’ve started a new job, moved into a new apartment, and got accepted to graduate school. It’s been so good, in fact, that I think I owe it to myself to strip myself of my reservations and really fucking enjoy this new Beyoncé record. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve been known to enjoy a Beyoncé tune or two in the past, but digesting her work through repeated and immersive listens to one of her full-lengths is something that until now I didn’t have the effort to do.

And as it turns out, what a record BEYONCÉ is to finally become accustomed to this era defining pop singer through. The secretly released record is already being hailed as a career highlight for the artist, as here she dabbles in themes that are darker, more sensual, and more complex than her previous work — one such representable track being the monstrous and intricately woven highlight “***Flawless”. She’s returning to some of her grimier, more southern influenced sounds with big breakneck beats and ominous, ghostly textures on tracks like “Haunted”, which couldn’t be further from the soul bearings of her last record, 4. Here Beyoncé is proving that even though she may be a mother quickly approaching her mid 30’s, she can still sound young, modern, and increasingly relevant regarding the current state of femininity. In other words, this queen isn’t ready to retire quite yet, and as she points out on “Blow”, she can still get her ‘cherry turned out’ (whatever that’s supposed to mean). What BEYONCÉ is really about though, is the artist’s life cycle, and all the endless phases that have come along with it: hence her reasoning behind making this a ‘visual’ album. There’s quite a lot of Beyoncé backstory tucked into the corners of this release as well — told through cleverly placed vocal snippets — and it’s enough to make you feel a connection with a woman who otherwise lives a life that is incomparable to anyone else’s.

What I found to be the most striking with BEYONCÉ though, is how overtly sexual it is. Particularly on “Rocket”, which is gorgeous and sensual in the way that only D’Angelo can do better. At 6:32 though, it’s also too long, as you could say about the album in its entirety. With the bulk of these tracks being over 5 minutes, BEYONCÉ does occasionally fall into some of the same pitfalls of Justin Timberlake’s 20/20 experience — another 2013 album that proved to be a strong reevaluation of one of pop music’s biggest icons. I mean, how long can we truly continuously listen to someone with a perfect voice, singing about their perfect life, living in a perfect home with a perfect family?

But for the most part, it does work — mostly for the fact that we know Beyoncé has had to work violently hard to get to the point she is at now. As clearly told through the opening beauty queen inspired number “Pretty Hurts”, the main theme of BEYONCÉ is a debunking of society’s unrealistic interpretation of perfection. Beyoncé wants to show us how she’s just a regular human being: she gets jealous, she gets drunk, and she wants to impress people — specifically her husband, Jay Z: who unlike his wife, hasn’t done an adequate job of impressing us through his increasing age with a string of noticeably sour verses (including one here on “Drunk In Love”).

With the exception of perhaps “XO”, these 14 tracks are far away from the cookie cutter pop songs that have been endlessly rehashed through the decades in mainstream pop. Both in terms of spot on vocal delivery and interesting, layered production, BEYONCÉ — while not 100% perfect – pretty much beats out every other major pop release of the year. It might just be filled with more rawness and honest emotion than you’ll get out of Katy Perry’s Prism, Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP, and Miley’s Bangerz combined.

Track Listing:

1.) Pretty Hurts*

2.) Haunted*

3.) Drunk In Love

4.) Blow

5.) No Angel

6.) Partition*

7.) Jealous*

8.) Rocket

9.) Mine

10.) XO

11.) ***Flawless*

12.) Superpower

13.) Heaven

14.) Blue*

Album Highlight – *

Year End List: Best albums of 2013

by Rio Toro

Excuse me for the misleading title, but these are not the best albums of 2013 — saying something as extensive as that would be beyond my reason for making this list. Keep in mind, this is not necessarily because this year didn’t produce albums that could be called “the best”, but because of my predicament of being only 1 person, I clearly could not have listened to, as well as properly digested every single one of them. With that being said, these 10 picks are the albums I have deemed to be the most special; the ones which have impacted me as an individual and are perfect despite any minor or major flaws they may have. Through my travels, I have come to the conclusion that best-of lists aren’t about being “correct”, but about an expression of one’s individuality, and most importantly, a representation of our freedom to love any piece of crap we choose to.

So yes, I have decided to limit this year-end list to but 10 albums. I had originally planned for it to be 20, but then I thought it might as well be 25, and if it was going to be 25, it might as well be 30, or any other random number. So I decided to do away with attempting to commemorate every album I enjoyed this year (I only had about 5 negative reviews, so there were quite a lot) and instead focus on the ones that were always in the back of my head; the ones that happened to latch on to memories and grab hold of something real that was going on in my life through these past 12 months.

What writing album reviews has really taught me though, is that there is no album no matter how horrendously bad or typical, that I can’t derive some sort of pleasure from. Maybe this means that I shouldn’t be a critic, as when I think about it, there wasn’t one album I listened to this year that some part of me doesn’t love and admire. Even the ones I wrote negative things about I find myself returning to time and time again, and it really makes me feel bad for critics who are known for writing excessively negative and scathing reviews. I mean, music is supposed to be enjoyable right? Saying something like “we need bad albums to make the good ones be good” is just ridiculous, and can be equated to a religious conservative saying that gay marriage ruins marriage for everyone else. Anyhow, I sure am happy that I enjoy music as much as I do, and I continue to pray every night that I don’t wake up deaf. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my reviews throughout this year and can see why I’ve chosen these as my top 10.

P.S. — I cheated on this list, a lot… (There is a particularly ugly tie, I’ve included EPs, mixtapes, as well as lumped together releases from artists who had more than one release over the past 12 months)

Runner Ups: Kelela: CUT 4 ME, Neko Case: The Worse Things Get…, Baths: Obsidian, Julia Holter: Loud City Song, Forest Swords: Engravings, Wolf Eyes: No Answer Lower Floors, RP Boo: Legacy

10.) James Holden: The Inheritors

I still have yet to make up my mind between whether The Inheritors is a noise record, a chill out record, or one disguised as the other. I do know, though, that it’s the reason Boards of Canada’s Tomorrow’s Harvest didn’t come anywhere close to making this list. Built out of long, single take analog keyboard improvisations, these 15 tracks are all about balancing the unfolding chaos that ensues when an artist has access to such a massive horde of equipment. James Holden fully harnesses the ability to create stirring, raw, and off balanced compositions with his virtuosic talent. No matter whether he was chronicling free jazz, hauntology, krautrock, trance or techno, The Inheritors never once lost its drive/

9.) James Blake: Overgrown

This release doesn’t quite fit in with the others in my top 10. Unlike my other choices, Overgrown isn’t what one would call experimental. It’s not boundary pushing, and the sound it offers ventures closer to the mainstream than I’m usually accustomed to. But being the Blake fanatic that I am, I really forced myself to listen to Overgrown a lot, and its transformative secrets were soon revealed to me. Truly though, what we have here is actually a rather straightforward soul record that draws as much from Joni Mitchell as it does from the UK bass scene. If until now Blake has been in a state of constant flux, this is by far his most reserved and contemplative release yet. It’s no misstep for a producer as immaculate as Mr. blake though, as this is a record that proved to provide a draw unlike any other this year. With a chilly, isolated vibe that feels as though it was carved out of ice, to the deeply passionate and often profound lyricism, to Blake’s newfound vocal prowess that matches the oft used sub aquatic bass pulses with ease, Overgrown can stand right up with James’ greatest accomplishments.

8.) Arcade Fire:Reflektor/Kanye West: Yeezus (tie)

I find it funny that what were arguably the two most anticipated albums of the year also turned out to be the two most polarizing. Even a mention of one of these two albums on Facebook or Youtube will get you spammed by two varying sides to the unsolvable equation. You may feel like you’ve already heard enough about them, but the way I see it, whenever the line of approval is cut in a way like it is with these two albums you know something genius must be at work. Polarization isn’t the only thing these two masterpieces have in common though. In fact, besides Yeezus being brief and Reflektor being extensive, they pretty much offer identical listening experiences. Both are obsessed with pushing boundaries, draw heavily from the influence of their producers, have thematic elements about the warped state of humanity, and proudly declare themselves to be a work of art. When it comes down to it though, whether you liked these albums or not, these were the absolute essential albums you couldn’t not listen to if you were part of 2013. I’d personally argue that this also makes them two of the most important. If this is the sound of cockiness and overindulgence and pretentiousness, these words have never sounded better and meant more.

7.) Arca: &&&&&

This year saw some truly extraordinary and adventurous mixtapes — most notably from the likes of 18+, Le1f, and Kelela — but the most jaw dropping one for me was by far Arca’s &&&&&, whose alien tendencies have yet to diminish from my mindset throughout the extensive time I have spent with it. With this release, his production work on Yeezus and FkA Twigs’ EP2, the enigmatic producer dominated on all fronts this year and made a pretty undeniable case that he is one of the true forces to be reckoned with in electronic music. His music represents the current extreme of where beat making can go, and how far samples can be mutilated to the point of taking on entirely new forms. If you had half an hour to kill in 2013 , there were very few ways to do it that were better than this.

6.) These New Puritans: Field of Reeds

This spot was a fight between this album and Julia Holter’s Loud City Song for the year’s best orchestrally based indie record. To be honest, Julia Holter crafted an equally compelling statement, but for some reason, I’ve listened to Field of Reeds countless more times and feel an compulsive attraction towards it. The album has a certain elusiveness to it that I still to this date am unable to shake – and I’m happy continuing this undying trend until my listens reach the triple digits. Maybe it’s just my obsessive personality, but no matter how many times I listen to Field of Reeds I’ll still be dying to listen to it again in a week no matter how many other great albums I seem to find elsewhere. The orchestrations are the perfect mix of grand and minimal, the cast of characters is varied and cohesive, and I haven’t heard the type of rare beauty present here since Sigur Ros’ finest achievement, ( ).

5.) Oneohtrix Point Never: R Plus Seven

There were a whole lot of artist transformations that occured this year, but i’d say none were as fluent and as gapless as R Plus Seven. Daniel Lopatin’s new world was so fluent, in fact, that is was hard to see exactly how much had changed since the artist’s previous release, Replica, without comparing the two side by side. R Plus Seven brought all the abstract noises, found sounds, and vintage synthesizers of Replica hurdling into the 3rd dimension. These were some of the most labored over and sublimely intricate electronic manifestations of the year, as well as some of the most stripped down and otherworldly atmospherics — like a dystopian epic and a lazy Sunday wrapped into one. It’s the kind of music that makes my brain amazed it can even comprehend such a thing. It wasn’t necessarily the compositions that made this release so great though. For every time I listened to R Plus Seven, I found myself lost in existential thought, dreaming about some absurd idea that would never make sense within our world. This is music about escaping reality and concentrating on the components of life that aren’t really there. It’s the year’s best thinking man’s (or woman’s) record, in a sense.

4.) Dean Blunt: The Redeemer + Stone Island

Now this guy is a real screw up, isn’t he? Everything he puts out is sorely crafted, crumbling at the edges, only warranting a spin or two for a laugh. Only somehow, through our mocking, this music manages to grab a hold of something internal, and when it hits you it might just make you realize why you love music in the first place. All joking aside though, I always “liked” The Redeemer. Truly, I did. But I didn’t think it would be an album I would enjoy coming back to time and time again as the months went on. I thought of it as being too damaged to truly love. Admittedly, its impact didn’t entirely sink in until Stone Island: a secretly released sequel which furthered the majestic orchestrated sounds of its predecessor. These two releases together continue to stand as a grand expedition of heartache, lost souls, and the power of music in overcoming life’s greatest torment: the relationship.

3.) Burial: Truant/Rough Sleeper + Rival Dealer

The bookends of 2013 were over taken by surprise releases from London’s finest, AKA Burial. With Truant/Rough Sleeper in January and Rival Dealer in December, the producer took on a wealth of new ideas and crafted what I consider to be quite inarguably his two best releases to date. In fact, if this whole reviewing process were entirely up to me (god damn you editors!) this would have been at #1, as half of these other albums wouldn’t have even existed without Burial in the first place. Ok, maybe that’s a blanket statement, and I wouldn’t say it’s true for the next artist down the list who may have in fact…oops, I’ve already said too much! Anyway, read my reviews if you want to learn more about these stunning releases. Off to number…

2.) The Knife: Shaking The Habitual

No other album to come out this year feels as permanent as Shaking The Habitual. Contrary to popular belief, this is a complete, unmovable statement that is 100% worthy of its sky high ambitions. Not one sound or electronic ripple could be taken away or replaced to make this release any better than it already is. And although at its surface — the schizophrenic patterns, 20 minute ambient stretches, themes about gender/identity crisis — it may seem like a hard left turn for a supposed “pop” group, Shaking The Habitual is really just a continuation of what The Knife have always done best: atmosphere and sounds. Through their 12 year career they’ve continuously pushed and twisted and scrambled their formula until they’ve arrived at a new, ultimately meaningful destination to make an album (or opera) about. With its cinematic worthy running time and emphasis on extremely mutilated found sounds, Olaf and Karen have undoubtedly put out their most challenging and mystifying work yet, but unlike most double albums, it’s devoid of what one would call “filler”, and continues to be rewarding through innumerable amounts of playthroughs.

1.) Autre Ne Veut: Anxiety

This was an easy pick for me. Even if “Play By Play” was the only great song on this album — which it’s absolutely not — it still would have been album of the year for being the most groundbreaking and inspiring pop song of the last several years. Autre Ne Veut speaks towards the apex of human creativity and imagination just as Grimes and Death Grips did last year. But there’s something I find even more special about Autre though. The way he channels all his energy into belting out one awkwardly sung phrase after another; the way he grabs hold of the listener’s attention through abrasiveness, only to come off like Whitney Houston a moment later; and how he does all of this with a desperate, bleeding intensity that lays his innards scattered across the floor for us to inspect. As one would expect, the effect this sort of music has is beyond polarizing, but luckily, in my case, this demented form of pop music gives me insurmountable pleasure. These are the songs stuck in my head all day, the ones I (try to) sing in the shower, as well as the ones that inspire me to try my hand at creating my own “pop” music. Autre Ne Veut may not be the future of where pop music is headed, but with Anxiety, Arthur Ashin has made a perfect and masterful album of what pop music is truly about, as well as the heights that this tainted genre can still take us in 2013.

Rio Toro

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