And the sound. God, the sound. The screeching, screaming, wailing. The tinnitus drone, the whispering voices, the distorted, atonal instruments. The nth wave to enter the fray intent on atonal destruction. Together with the distorted vocals and the zombie vocals it’s an awesome Power Electronic track because it has it all. On a few tracks other instruments were used such as viola, Korg synth, and double-bass, the latter played by Mattija Shellander. ‘Storb’ features gauzy guitar harmonics over a bass drone background. You can also hear field recording of a barking dog, children’s voices, chirping birds, etc. Creating an atmosphere of multi-layered textures, the music swirls like the vapor of glum memories and settles in tiny droplets on the window of reality, distorting the present through prism of the past.
The short intro See Emptiness Directly blends guitar-derived cymbal, drone and bleep sounds to prepare the way for Kali Lamentation IV, a brooding narration about mortifying the flesh with blades, daggers, hooks, arrows, nails, needles, splinters, talons and teeth over resonating tuning forks or musical bowls. Black Dream II is a strange matrix of atonal instruments, wordless vocals harnessed like instruments and snatches of muffled voices. The tuning forks or musical bowls (they may be produced by a guitar for all I know) return on the concluding track Kali Lamentation VI where natural and whispered voices repeat a phrase in subtle tonal variations. The organ drones return and the voice shuts up again; then the soliloquy resumes with the same spastic company of guitar and drums; then the drone comes back and this time the voice cries over it. This cryptic piece ends with some childish drumming, a monster guitar distortion, and still that desperate voice trying to tell us something that is lost in its incomprehensible world. Eugene Robinson’s vocal art reached a new peak on Serenade in Red (SST, 1997), but what was truly expanding was the whole idea of how the vocalist can interact with the instruments. Again, Dubin’s delivery helps here, but so do the instruments. 4/4 meter structure, but that rhythm eventually gets distorted as the song goes on. It starts with Dubin’s sick whispering voice to really freak the listener the fuck out. Khanate are a drone doom metal band composed of Stephen O Malley from Sunn O))) (guitars), Alan Dubin (vocals), James Plotkin (bass), and Tim Wyskida (drums).
Perhaps in an attempt to recapture that sense of late night disorientation, they have opted to soak their sparing combinations of stringed and percussion instruments in the studio equivalent of natal fluids, which distort and distance what we hear so that we experience it in a state approximating sleep deprivation, where every irregularity makes perfect sense to the numbed mind. What we’re left with is a five part suite of shrieks, disturbing drones, gibbering voices, outbursts of chittering, insectoid percussion and sound effects (flowing water, and something that sounds like the clash of billiard balls, or possibly atoms). Melodic snatches rub up alongside atonal noise; tuneful proggy instrumentals vie with scrabbly, abstract sections. Blessed with one of the warmest, most readily-identifiable voices in Soul music, he carved out his reputation with a series of classic albums and singles in the early 70s, reemerging again in the 80s with his career masterpieces, The Poet and The Poet II, the latter achieving platinum status in Europe alone. The mood lightens for Icing Station and returns to the flowing textures experienced earlier before the 11 minute album closer Viking North combines elements of all the tracks that precede it; opening with languid ambient atmospherics, the track begins to become edgier and more urgent as it unfolds, developing a glowing electronic core before closing with the distorted voice of a radio shipping forecast. Nilsen s noise is not confrontational in the style of Japanese legend Merzbow, and he occasionally resembles a more abrasive version of ambient artists such as Tim Hecker, managing to create delicate structure from near atonality. Eastern Europe over studio recordings of acoustic and electronic instruments.
It sounds like a Mexican dirt road littered with mariachi instruments and broken tequila bottles. Me, I’m in love with the buzzes, the drum machines, the crude keyboards, the wheezy loops, the fibrillating trills, the frayed recordings, and the flutters in his voice that VanGaalen uses to sandblast his pretty melodies, abrasion creating its own natural smoothness and sheen. Gongs flange, distorted bass arches its back, organs blanket the room, the piano is half-swallowed. At points his music is harsh and distorted, a chaotic barrage of abrasive static crackles and aggressive shortwave squeals. Fan Club Orchestra involves more or less ten people playing a variety of instruments: guitar, harmonica, Gameboys, turntables the list goes on. The guitar is trebly and not very distorted so don’t look for heavy pounding math-metal here. Unfortunately, the parts that are just rock instruments make it clear that they’re actually quite banal songwriters. TURN THAT AWFUL SINGER DOWN!!!! SMACK HIS HEAD SAY NO!!!!! cLOUDDEAD – Three white guys with geeky voices singing and talk-rapping over gentle synth drones and slow beats. By precise control of his instrument’s tuning, Dwinell sets into motion a dynamic musical system of pressure, intensity, and calm. Golden Ratio incorporates both static pulsing drones and heavily arpeggiated passages, culminating in melodic lines that epitomize Dwinell’s unique musical vocabulary as developed over the last twenty years. In 2014, he teamed up with Factory Floor’s Dominic Butler to release two EPs of hardware-driven atonal techno on Powell’s Diagonal Records. On these tracks, as the musical backing gets harsher and more distorted, the voices reach toward deliverance; the results, even on wordless interludes like the string-based Bamboo Bound, can seem more approachable than other Muslimgauze works.