Cerca:balloon

Athens of the North is very pleased to introduce part two of our nod to the world of library. This time round Greg Foat journeys into the world of synthesis with good friend James Thorpe. This new LP was recorded in the old Bees Studio on the Isle of Wight earlier this year,a special, different piece of work which I was delighted to receive on ¼ inch tape without warning. Greg's output continues to be prolific without ever tiring, he never plays it safe and is always looking forward whilst having an ear for our musical heritage.

New Fly-Lo.. First outing since 5 years!

Drawing the lines between the galaxies of hip-hop, funk, soul, jazz, global dance music, tribal poly-rhythms, IDM and the beat scene of his hometown L.A, Lotus creates a universe that is uniquely his own. Calling on an all-star cast from the cosmos, Anderson .Paak, George Clinton, Little Dragon, Tierra Whack, Denzel Curry, David Lynch, Shabazz Palaces, Thundercat, Toro y Moi and Solange; Lotus takes these artists on an astral plane to explore his world of fire.

Sein letztes Werk "You're Dead" (2014) bescherte ihm eine Grammy-Nominierung, sein Brainfeeder-Label ist zu einem der innovativsten Klanglabors der Welt avanciert, er co-produzierte Kendrick Lamars mit fünf Grammies ausgezeichnetes Meisterwerk "To Pimp A Butterfly" (2015). Nun veröffentlicht Flying Lotus sein neues Album für Warp: "Flamagra" greift alle kreativen Quantensprünge und innovativen Elemente aus 12 Jahren FlyLo-Karriere auf und denkt sie weiter, größer, epischer und universeller: Hip-Hop, Funk, Soul, Jazz, Electro, IDM, die Ansätze der befreundeten Beatmaker aus L.A., Tribal-Elemente, Polyrhythmen. Aber selbst diese Liste reicht nicht aus, um "Flamagra" auch nur ansatzweise zu verorten, weil es immer wieder ausbricht aus diesem Koordinatensystem. Die Gästeliste liest sich wie ein Traum: Anderson .Paak, George Clinton, Little Dragon, Solange, Tierra Whack, Denzel Curry, Ishmael Butler (Shabazz Palaces), Toro Y Moi, sein musikalischer Stammesbruder Thundercat, ja selbst David Lynch ist zu hören. Der legendäre Regisseur steuert ein paar schaurige Worte bei, eine düstere Erzählpassage, mit der er uns eindringlich warnt: "Fire is coming". "Flamagra" ist die Essenz des letzten Jahrhunderts im Bereich der afroamerikanischen Musik, vollkommen neu und weitergedacht, kollektiv gefiltert und feingeschliffen. Auch wenn Flying Lotus ein Nachkomme seiner ehrwürdigen Großtante Alice Coltrane ist, die mit John verheiratet war (wobei auch Miles und Madlib, Dilla und DOOM als seine Vorfahren gelten dürfen), hat er inzwischen seinen eigenen Kult geschaffen: Eine Gefolgschaft, die alles Geniale aus der Vergangenheit absorbiert und in Bereiche überführt, die sich die genannten Vorfahren nicht mal im Traum hätten ausmalen können. Flying Lotus ist zurück. Fire is coming.

There have been millions of typical disco edits in the last years. But there is so much more interesting music from the late 1970s and early 80s yet to bubble its way to the surface. One of those lesser explored fields is the crazy funky side of Germany's underground disco and new wave from that period. At the time, many German bands were trying to make their own version of English and American styles. After Kraftwerk and Can had started to use the German language in a cool, new way, many bands that followed in their steps experimented with German new wave. Most of these bands didn't reach a bigger audience. Their records never got pressed to more than 300 - 500 copies as they were a number of years ahead of the huge commercial explosion of German pop in 1984: The NDW aka 'Neue Deutsche Welle", with Nena's humongous hit 99 Red Balloons. The bands featured on the compilation released their music before the NDW hype and later broke up. Plenty of these early bands are best forgotten but if you dig deeper you'll find the gems, bursting with style and attitude. And that's just what Toy Tonics heads Mathias Munk Modica & Kapote did. They hit gold.

Domestic Exile are proud to present the devastatingly deplorable and malevolent recordings (that are sure to corrode yet electrify your ears) by Glasgow's very own KLEFT.

KLEFT aka Vickie McDonald is rooted in and has actively propagated the underground DIY radical queer punk and feminist movement here in Glasgow. Their projects have included the skull crushing sludge doom of Cartilage, the unflinching and infamous multi- membered hard core stars that were DIVORCE and the sacrificial, druid drone glitch of MOURN. Alongside these projects they have uncompromisingly disrupted, motivated and facilitated collective endeavors to take down the capital power structure of the dominant system of patriarchal club venues and abhorrent fuckers in this town.

For this record 'H+ Sexualis', KLEFT explores the neo-modern space where flesh is left behind. Negotiating, analyzing and tearing to shreds the relationship and balance between flesh and technology. KLEFT's expansive and palpable sonic offerings delve into themes of transhumanism and body hacking and seep into our collective skin begging the question; can flesh ever be created digitally. Does a lack of physicality alienate human experience in a post transhumanism society Are we all destined to be skinless yet digitally connected Will the body become superfluous Toward "the utopian dream of the hope for a monstrous world without gender," as stated on Donna Haraway's essay ''A Cyborg Manifesto.'

From the opening track 'Ossein' the listener grasps a foreboding lethargic build up, lurking out of the spatial ritualistic shadows into a sea of suffocating nothingness. A void where there is no gravity. Skeletal and brittle shattering rhythms which echo DMZ / Skull Disco dubstep alongside the more frozen, glacial ominous explorations of grime are often felt proving KLEFT is an artist whose inspirations run deep and wide and generally exist in the darkest recesses of our subconscious. These fearful, disjointed rhythms are set against weightless atmospheric oscillated synths, as if roaming through bleakly opaque, claustrophobic narrow corridors on a first person survival horror video game such as Resident Evil.

Moving through to 'CMBR', KLEFT's dissonant, degrading soundscape ferociously ascends. The resilient kick drum is propulsive and pulverizing akin to 'ardcore tekno - or intense gabba if you have the guts to adjust the tempo up to +8 - aesthetics that overwhelm and agitate finally revealing it's grotesque biological / amorphous bio structure. Elevating the repetitive 4/4 kick to a destructive, distorted banger of a track as layers of converging atonal noise and sound design simultaneously further enhances the sense of imminent radioactive contamination.

Next is 'Writhe, Squirm, Broken' continuing the convulsive, nauseating permutations of the prior track but reconfigured like a mangled, gruesome Cronenberg-esque parasite that has infiltrated an open wound, excruciatingly feeding off of the inner anatomy of it's hosts body from within. Repulsively reformulating the shape and dimension. The intro is akin to a panic stricken bouncy ball contracting and expanding, the spring reverb building momentum and traveling further away in distance and speed.

'Hackfleisch Deluxe' is a muuurrderous stomper and is one of the more grime / bass orientated tracks that deconstructs and disrupts the tempo familiar to sub-low producers on Black Ops / Jon E Cash / DJ Dread D. The crawling, plummeting frequency of the synth is a nauseating rush of coagulating blood to the heed; a deep throbbing sensory depravation in sharp, paradoxical contrast with the driving harmony layered on top which proves to be infectiously addictive. Furthermore are splintering programmed vocal samples that gives a sense of artificial disorientation, mind over matter, a possible hint at our evolving sentient cognition within a nightmarish simulated, augmented reality

Second to last we have 'Keratin' which is filled with the near fatal dissolving thud of Djax-Up acid that gives the impression that you're a biologist peering through a microscope into a petrie dish and witnessing the rapid and furious genetic cellular replication of bacterial and viral organisms.

Culminating in 'Bruised and Bleeding Hands' where the squashed density of a deflated and depressurized helium filled balloon and elastic umbilical cords, barbed wire and copper wires grind n' coil around the lens of a zooming camera. Taking no prisoners, this is a punishing grime weapon. A phat, surgical kick drum bulldozes its way thru causing carnage, syncopated punching snares after every rave stab and dizzying third beat. It won't be long until ye hear this on Silver Drizzle's youtube channel in the near future.

This record transports us to the hyperkinetic mutation scene on the cult cyberpunk film Tetsuo The Iron Man where the organic flesh / mechanical rust of the Iron Man metamorphoses with the Metal Fetishist during the rebirth sequence and we say 'LONG LIVE THE NEW FLESH!''.

Lucrecia Dalt's Anticlines is a volume of bodily and geological substrates within poetic theory and sound. It is a place where skins and minerals dissolve and commingle, where gaseous subterranean leaks inflate lungs, where brain cavities echo interplanetary waves bent from passing through atmospheres.

A former geotechnical engineer from Colombia currently residing in Berlin, Dalt's concern with boundaries and edges shape the lyrics and music of Anticlines, her sixth album. Paying careful attention to pace, breath, and texture, Dalt microtonally shifts the distance between speech and song while using traditional South American rhythms to support her contemporary electronic composition.

Lucrecia arrived at the atmosphere of Anticlines after several months of studying and creating new patches for the Clavia Nord Modular, forming a rhythmic feedback flow with it, a Moogerfooger MuRF, and her voice. The overall effect of cavernous space backdroping Dalt's intimate vocal phrasing rewards contemplation, supported in the physical formats of Anticlines by a lyric booklet documenting Lucrecia's collaboration with Australian artist Henry Andersen.

The album opens with Edge,' bordering on a pathological circlusion of self upon other. The lyrics depart from the Colombian myth of El Boraro, an Amazonian monster who turns its victims insides to pulp before sucking them dry and inflating their bodies like balloons to lifelessly float away. Tar' ponders human dependence on earth at the boundary of the heliopause, where to inhale might be like breathing tar. Dalt's distant and obscured vocals end with, we touched only as atmospheres touch.'

The sonic rise and fall of Analogue Mountains' is inspired by martian traces found in Antarctica embedded by meteorite ALH84001, suggesting that we might well be living in mountains transferred from Mars.' The steadily winding music on Concentric Nothings' descends with the lyrical exercise of dissolution let my touch be indistinct and instinctive.'

Interspersed with the lyrical pieces of Anticlines are instrumental interstitials that demonstrate preceding concepts — as if to say, this is what antiforms sound like, and this is what the universe's indifference sounds like.' Dalt's ongoing experiments with visual artist Regina de Miguel support these ideas, their practice allowing the objects of their attention to slip in and out of being.

Mystic of matter, Lucrecia Dalt has previously performed and worked with Julia Holter and Gudrun Gut, her slippery spoken word and performative nature recalling the work of Laurie Anderson, Robert Ashley, Asmus Tietchens, or Lena Platonos. While touching stones, The Thing by Dylan Trigg, Cascade Experiment by Alice Fulton, and Wretched of the Screen by Hito Steyerl are but a few formative scripts that support Dalt's exploration of the betwixt and between.

In preparing a live set for Anticlines, Dalt plans to stage an uninterrupted configuration, like a kind of alienated lecture, aiming for gestures that create tensions with non-existent objects.' Dalt intends to provide meaning and a place for the listener to meditate or relate to the concerns and ideas' she presents.

- Lucrecia Dalt is a Colombian recording artist, songwriter, and producer.
- After studying civil engineering in Colombia, Dalt worked at a geo-technical company for two years and has since lived in Barcelona and Berlin, where she currently resides.
- She has released five solo albums and has collaborated with musicians Julia Holter, Laurel Halo and Rashad Becker, to name a few.
- Dalt has composed for sound design installations and performance pieces for institutions such as the Santa Monica Art Centre, Reina Sofia Museum and the Maisterravalbuena gallery of Madrid, in collaboration with visual artist Regina de Miguel.
- Anticlines is Dalt's sixth solo record, and her first on RVNG Intl., following the release of 2015's Ou.
- Anticlines explores the boundaries and limitations of human consciousness. The album's poetic lyrics were written collaboratively between Dalt and Henry Andersen during a weekend in Brussels, Belgium.

For this release Metrist delves into a set of carefully constructed and deeply rhythmic but ear-grabbingly idiosyncratic, mixed fidelity dancefloor-geared oddities.

The first three tracks are united, in a fashion, by the artist's skill at programming a series of drum tracks that set a definite tone for the productions. Within a quite partisan field of often microscopic generic variety, largely pinned down to the tempo and timbre of electronic drums, here Metrist has pursued a tricky-to-define path. The bounce of new jack swing is twisted amongst stripped back polyrhythms, equal parts groove and glitch seasoned by some futuristic acid filters that create a constantly shifting aura of space and textural nuance around the individual drum hits. Quite often arrhythmic interjections punctuate these 'grooves', be it the sawing bursts of noise and snarled, incoherent vocals on 'An Soaep', the non-language and playful, bubbling bass surrounding the half time feel of 'On Golden Seize' that builds to something approximating an industrial take on UK Funky or the brash sub-wobbles that intrude 'Pantomimer Tongue's juddering knife-scraping-on-a-balloon stutters.

'Caaacel the Horze' closes the record in a less weighty style, with crunchy arpeggios running on a synth that sounds like it's picking up interference from a radio channel, as snatches of moaned vocals allude to a deeply ambiguous yet chilling narrative behind the music. Thudding kicks intrude on the skittish melody but in a non-rhythmic way reminiscent of someone trying desperately to snatch your attention by banging on the adjacent wall. Gauzy melodic textures in the background provide a calming counterpoint to the uneasy qualities of the composition.