Buscar:th blisks

Efficient Space continues to bind its mind with Altered States Tapes, offering another service to How So?, Th Blisks' 2022 debut in home-cooked experimentation. A blurring of three vastly different heads into a single disjointed, but fluid organism, How So? finds Yuta Matsumura (The Lewers, Keanu Nelson), Amelia Besseny (Troth, Impatiens) and Cooper Bowman (Troth, CD3) working with vocals, melodica, deeply pulled samples, guitar, drum machine, synths and resourceful percussion. An Elixa-blueprint of sideways ambient rituals, fog-thick melodica dub and paranoid trip hop by way of Sydney's pioneering industrial collagists, the LP recirculates beyond its original 150-copy confines for those who missed its first apparition.

Efficient Space welcomes Th Blisks to the fold with their mutant strain of melodica dub, torched hip hop breaks, post-punk and procession song.

Th Blisks' members have many notches on their collective belt. Amelia Besseny and Altered States Tapes’ founder Cooper Bowman are prolific in their ritualistic ambient-pop duo Troth, while Yuta Matsumura holds a formidable Sydney punk band pedigree on top of his Low Company-backed solo work. A reward for those who took the time to dig it out, Th Blisks’ 2022 debut How So? was a DIY creation that fully embraced its outsider roots, revelling in opportunities for connection through pop flourishes. Feeling like it might have been a one-off, we proclaim their return with Elixa.

With an unseen clarity of vision, Elixa conjures its meticulously fleshed out world. Those familiar pieces are all there - the mystery, the patience, a cheeky pop hook - however this time there's an intentionality to it all. A blurred dialogue stretching across Australia, it was largely recorded remotely with tracks bouncing between Bowman and Besseny in Muloobinba (Newcastle) and Nipaluna (Hobart), and Matsumura stationed in Warumpi (Papunya). Every element is carefully considered, stemming from their individual time spent as lifers in the local DIY scenes. Through these tracks you can feel that history; echoes of Castings and Vincent Over The Sink in ‘Do You Bless It?’, Bowman's distinctive submerged tape loops gurgling away under boom bap and *that* Sydney guitar tone in ‘Esk’.

Elixa attempts to bottle some pinged-eye wonder at the magic surrounding, whether in the city or the bush. Informed by the old but drug into The New, it is a begrudgingly current Australien record that respectively nods at the UK’s sound history.

Slowly yet firmly blooming into focus, An Unfinished Rose is the new album from Australian duo Troth.

This is their first since relocating to Hobart, Tasmania and their introduction to Night School Records. With a detailed web of past releases on labels A Colourful Storm, Mammas Mysteriska Jukebox, Knekelhuis and Bowman’s own Altered States Tapes imprint, An Unfinished Rose is the group’s most realised and composed work thus far. While still drawing on the improvisatory and DIY practices that informed Troth’s beginnings, it points to a new incarnation of the duo’s music; an intentional language emerging from the fog of obfuscation and mists of uncertainty.

Over these 9 meditations on change, acceptance, renewal and rebirth, An Unfinished Rose finds Amelia Besseny and Cooper Bowman peeling back some of the roughhewn architecture that defined their earlier releases to reveal a masterful - if auto-didactic - use of space and melody. Composition and improvisation compliment and feed each other throughout, with locked-loop earworms providing the springboard for lines of clarinet or synth melody, and the negative space between chord clusters giving ample room for Besseny’s most confident vocal performances to date. Shaving off a little of the defining dissonance and tape compression of old reveals Troth’s music in radiant daylight, humbly accepting of its place in the world while yearning for better, more sympathetic modes of living. Leaning more heavily on acoustic instrumentation and post-production processes than previously, the result is a transcendent body of work infused with an almost zen-like presence.

Troth’s music exists in the border between forming and becoming, its goal to project a kind of preternatural beauty, leaving interpretation open to the listener. Field recordings, happenstance and improvisation may provide seeds for the duo’s compositions, particularly on Side A, but there is a deft touch of songcraft on show. Loam Loom Leaf Litter opens An Unfinished Rose, directly referencing natural cycles of life, death and regeneration, before the blissed-out drum machine groove of Gold Plum continues a discussion concerning the totality of nature and one’s place in it. Besseny’s vocal, swelling like an ocean churn in duet with itself is adorned with synthesised harp and a revolving synth pattern, conjuring plumes of medieval smoke. Thistle’s rounded, bass-heavy drums, nodding to the vast echo of dub, is a relatively new terrain for Troth. It’s propulsive and thumping, pulsing with a meaning and symbolism consistent with Troth’s past work, referenced overtly in Bessey’s lyrics - “Say it too much and it loses its meaning…”. Similarly, the sprawling modern-classical suite, Tides Reflected In Her Eyes, is intentional in its lyrical themes while traversing new ground, revelling in layers of bowed cello and vocal intonations. Side B’s 4 tracks feel like Troth’s most thoroughly accessible and affecting music to date. Leaning into their own detoured version of Synth Pop, Cocoonist explores downtempoisms via a crunchy low frequency synth, and dream-like, fuzzy trip-hop modalities, not unlike Besseny and Bowman’s other group, Th Blisks. Following on, Myrtle Mystes is an open and searching DIY pop song, forged out of drum machine, bass guitar and cello. (An) Unfinished Rose’s title-track is a clear stand-out, built upon an evocative rhythm sample that appears to change emotional resonance with each undulating repetition. Its cascading waves of affect, interjected with a subtle breeze of synth, bowed instrumentation and soaring, densely-layered vocals.

An Unfinished Rose is enveloping, warm, forgiving. Difficult, yet retaining a unique beauty. Troth’s music aims to celebrate the duo;s shared experiences of being in the world, despite the complexity often surrounding us all. Theirs is a message of hope and perseverance, learning and patience.

Listening to CD3, I'm reminded of how the Vincent Over The Sink record '22 Coloured Bull Terriers' made me feel all those years ago. There's a free ranging quality to it.

It feels calmly capable of doing whatever it wants. It feels mysterious and self-generating, almost aloof to the humans who made it. I adored that record; it cascaded into so many epiphanies.

I don't want to implicate Cooper and David's music in any fleeting desire towards currency, but listening to this CD3 record over the last few weeks has felt weirdly, thematically correct. There's an echo-ey kind of referentiality to it. Not to particular styles of music, but to the recently elapsed histories those styles of music evoke. It's something that Th Blisks kind of gestures towards, but which this project seems to own entirely.

It's a kind of melted reconfiguration of popular (occasionally popular-on-the-fringes) styles. These familiar sounds are reconfigured and muddied. Hindsight frames the sources in an almost primordial light, to the extent that they feel like folk art.

Glyphted and Franzbranntwein sound like pop songs stripped to their bones and distorted, as if the styles they vaguely recall are as old as time. It's a stunningly weird effect. Songs like The Duchess and Farmhand exacerbate this impression. The record comes to feel yearningly ahistorical. But in a way that feels pertinent?

It might just be where my head is at, but the implacable nature of the record feels important to me, somehow. It's something far, far north of post-modern but... ancient too. - Shaun Prescott

Debut collaborative album from Troth, the Nipaluna-based duo of Amelia Besseny and Cooper Bowman, and kindred spirit and legendary Mancunian free-form guitarist Jon Collin. A lavish dreamscape conjuring the dramatic beauty of uncharted mountains and streams, it documents both the crystilisation of ideas first shared during an Australian encounter in early 2023 and years of mutual appreciation.

Troth’s sonic universe, a constellation of drifting atmospherics, bedroom pop impulse and modern classical motifs, is deeply intimate and never rushed. Recent sides Forget The Curse and Idle Easel and live performances supporting the likes of Maxine Funke and Treasury of Puppies have seen Besseny’s soaring, celestial voice take centre stage, delicately adorned with Bowman’s synthesiser flourishes and homespun instrumentation. At their heart lies Bowman’s tireless collaborative instinct: his decade-long involvement in the Australian underground and his countless musical outfits (including contemporary trio Th Blisks, with Besseny and Yuta Matsumura).

Summer 2023 saw the duo host two shows for Collin in their former home of Mulubinba, regional New South Wales. Collin is perhaps best known for his playing, deconstructing and reconfiguring of the guitar and other stringed instruments, realised in solo works on his own Early Music and Winebox Press imprints, and collaborations on a trio of albums with Demdike Stare and live sessions with Sarah Hughes and Bill Nace. His unique style of playing, sometimes delicate, at other times frictional, refutes expectations of traditional instruments and fits perfectly within both Troth’s ethos and their lush sonic mise-en-scène.

The objects of devotion perhaps symbolise the group’s devotion towards each other during their music-making process, and the fruits from which they are borne. “I think, any music I have a hand in, is a dialogue with by the people I'm making it with. It's an ongoing conversation between people and sound”, reflects Bowman. The sacredness and ominousness of remote Tasmania is just as affecting, the interplay of Besseny’s haunting vocal washes, Bowman’s sparse instrumentation and Collin’s ritualistic strum evoking the eeriness that lurks beneath the seemingly limitless Australian landscape. “When I think about it, it sounds like being together at the bottom of the Earth. Watching, listening and playing together with no-one else in sight."