| [WTF Review] Os Almeida - O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) / The PSR-38 Sessions | |
| Double Review Aritst: Os Almeida WTF album: O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) Tags: Lo-Fi, Folk, Noise, Satanic WTF Quality: Purest sickest shit telling the life story of LFC, WTF legend and sovereign ruler of All. Lifespan: 2008 - Country: Brazil Link: http://www.osalmeida.net download http://www.osalmeida.net/site/download/osalmeida_cthulhucas.zip I am LFC I am Lucas Fucking Crazy This is my life. it is Poetry of ecstatic sickness. Fucked Sickness Beyond Experience. He becomes me and I him, through this metamorphic transformation in the sound pair-a-dice. I am all consuming. the snake  +QD+ Born from the infinite pure glowing blue. The pool of tranquil azure is the void from which I commence. Out of the blissful trance within the refraction of the sun and the water and the sky, I emerge. I scream electric static in your ears and at the celestial guitar harmonies. Os Almeida begin to utter my tale. Never satisfied I seek fulfillment like a child sucking at the tit, that's how I fucking feel. Until I shit rivers of milk and prematurely ejaculate a yellow flood of baby-spum at age 0.5. When it's done with me I start to feel the whiplash, like something is not right, to exceed is to incur pain on myself, too much is too much, any further and I drown in my own lust-fluids, I become what made me, the effervescent span of tranquil serenity. I drown it with abrasive noise. Unreasonable, unthinking, intuitive, primordial spum. It is not enough. A Criatura Anatomicamente Impossivel Pounding. Expended. Exhausted. In need of rest. In neutral. In fear. Drive is in reverse. Steady. Pulse. I am alive. And through all that. The throbbing gloom pulsating through this music is my black blood. Look at what I have become as I assume my metamorphosized adult form. I betray all beauties and ideals and hope. I have turned against my creator and seek only depravation of body and spirit. At this point in my life I am ready to take action. Still craving food and drink and chemicals in the brain. Escape. The deafening silence, I ROAR. ENOUGH OF THIS! DEFILE!!!!! A Noruega Paulista My friends the Almeidas have accurately depicted me, down to the last testicle hair. A thick thumping bass drives the crackling madness in my head. I am a scourge, I am evil, I am sick, I stand against all that is righteous and holy, I desecrate all that is sacred, I shit on you and myself, I love hate, I hate love, and I've had enough of this terrestrial space of flesh and grunt. Muck and Scum are merely not enough, the nauseating smell of boiling flesh and bone fumes are my next natural step. Descida ao Inferno (ft. LFC) I am LFC. Hear my voice. Whiskey. Tobacco. Various hard drugs of shady origin. Ugliness is the highest. I'm sure if you listen to this album, your journey will be different from mine, as I am the almighty LFC and you are an insignificant speck of shit hanging onto a flimsy anal hair. I reign over all in the sickest of shit. It is honestly the sickest of shit to ever grace the bowels of mankind and demonkind alike. Pesquisa Antropologica Sex. You want a love song? For you, my interesting sex story. Lyrics translation below. So tell me about your fantasies; are they anything like this? Just a few simple guitar chords, some tape hiss, melodica, and Portuguese lyrics, and of course the fascinating electronic toys that burn my erections to full throb. O Chamado de Cthulhucas And to suck it all off, my favorite party song. Oh love! Oh powerful joy! Mourn life! Celebrate dismemberment! Celebrate abortion! Celebrate the destruction of this Earth! Mourn the closing of this album! Celbrate LFC! For I represent the fucked up-ness in ALL!  -Jeemobon (Via invocation of LFC) From Richard Almeida: everyone must know more about the life of the great LFC. So here are the lyrics translated into English by the songwriters themselves. +QD+ (abbreviation for "more than too much" The boy dreams too much when he took off the mask was himself who was behind the boy drinks too much when he poured the burning water was himself Who is distilled behind the guy knows what he does when he took off his pants was himself who became behind the boys gets laid too much when he ejaculated semen was himself who became pregnant behind THE CREATURE ANATOMICALLY IMPOSSIBLE a claustrophobic space of pure cracked concrete moldy floors and walls of sadness the drain of a sink rusty filthy left a creature whose geometry defies nature twenty-three angles between the tentacles less solid consistency to creamy facilitated the passage of something so big that instead of mouth had green suckers some say that the sound made by the creature denounced the lack of soul in something so appalling because, instead of voice or anything approaching human what was heard was a deafening hiss and even today, many years later there is no way of knowing what was that sound if they were screaming or wailing, in pain or pleasure because certain stories are better not being told PAULISTA NORWAY ("paulista" = located in the estate of Sao Paulo) In the village dominated by seafood once existed a pagan kingdom in attacks in the current Christian reality churches are desecrated with graffiti and the ink's fire still burns in memory of those who witnessed a can in hand and two fingers making horns from the hairy who resigned god the eighth level of the flaming underground lucifer watched the action with mannerism and indeed, it was the devil himself who called 911 and reported the vandalism what no one could even imagine that on that small village would born suddenly, without blinking the Antichrist who would descend to Hell DESCENT TO HELL (INSTRUMENTAL) ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH "Sex?" Asks the monster with a thousand faces "In the section on teen age education" responds the 60 years old librarian. "Sex?" Insists the monster with a thousand erections "I leave here at 6," says the widowed librarian I'm so horny for you mam Making love will be groovy And then they go down to the ninth level, and a forró happens (forró: traditional brazilian northeast music ball) Tens of thousands of elderly women with flaming nipples dance The Monster copulates with all, through its thousand sexual organs While the librarian shakes in jealousy and murderous rage The widow's glasses fog up and break At the same time she drops her grocery bags into the ground Boxes of cake dough and tubes of vaselin jelly are spread The monster gives 500 winks in one eye and smiles THE CALL OF CTHULUCAS Tem cabra que passa a régua, tem cabra que risca o chão (this verse absolutelly doesn't come across with nothing in english... but this would give a vague idea: "there are cowboys who get laid, there are cowboys who get fights") There are matchmaker women, there are women who don't say no And without excusing himself, he cut off the head of the old librarian woman and oddly enough Her chopped-off head still showed naughtiness. With the blood gushing out and black eyes rolling The whole tongue out, three seconds choking But it was long enough for the Devil to intervene Trying to defend the honor of the widow who would give birth to another Devil's child for this world to destroy While cleaning his teeth with the aborted fetus Into the deeps of the underworld he was teleported To checkout his bill, without a chance pay later With the owner of Hell, no Savior can help you: Accepted the knife fight, took off his shirt and went to battle After a long battle with Satan himself He escaped from Hell and never looked back He kept crushing the Demon's head And with cowboy boots he galloped To prove to the world who was ruling. Right above the Hell there is a vast ocean And he got his sea horse galloping Loud rang his trumpet to warn the planet I tell you this, my friend: the world is gonna end Now it's all fucked... Cthlhucas rises from the sea! WTF album: The PSR-38 Sessions Tags: Lo-Fi, Lo-Tech, MoR, Easy Listening, Funny. Very, very funny. WTF Quality: Just a very strange thing to do. Done for the sheer hell of it. A piece of Low Budget Brilliance.  It was never going to be a fair fight. A bunch of lowly primates against the massed troglodytes of the mighty Yamaha Corporation? Os Almeidas have taken upon themselves here a worthy and noble task; to invade the enemy from within, to infect the host and let the virus spread from the micro chip to the processor, thence to the very brain of the beast; then to watch it tumble, humbled before the marauding horde. The PSR-38 is an evil piece of kit. The "samba" button alone has been scientifically proven to use ten times more energy than any other rhythm. This monster is not a friend to the environment. Os Almeidas, our hirsute Superheroes, have set out to prove that it can be tamed, and bent to the will of a skilled operative. Mission accomplished. 1./ Beber Pinga e Legal (Portugese:-Drinking Rum is Legal/Spanish:-Dick and Legal Drinking) Oily lounge-lizard shuffle with some frankly dangerous vocals recorded without a safety net. Plus lunatic solos clearly under the influence of one of the more fortified wines of the region. 2./ Eu Devia Ter me Casado (Portugese:- I Should Have Married/Spanish:- I Married and Deviated) Heavy Metal is up for treatment next. The PSR-38 handles this magnificently, with the aid of some frenzied guitar work that never quite musters the enthusiasm to melt your face. Splendidly done; the ending is a treat. 3./ A Velha Jovem Guarda (The New Old Guard) A spunky little blues, with manic "trumpet" interjections and some cheeky BV's, this chunters along nicely, but fear not! It then develops into a freaky "surf's up" solo; again, the ending is a doozy. 4./ Perdido, Nos te Amamos (Lost, We are in Love) Back to the Baroque here, which is deftly juxtaposed with an anti-social guitar solo. Delicious. 5./ Pereira E um Cara Batuta (A Pear and a Man-Wand) ...which frames off the suite beautifully. Well, it does; that - no more, no less. Although they are few in number, these pithy, witty, refreshing little sorbets are deceptively simple, deeply witty and darkly offensive all at one and the same time. Their brevity is testament to their humour and compactness. To flirt with so many styles, then to take them all home and bed them, is a tribute to the carefully cloaked skills of an unparalleled guerrilla force. To extract depth from an intellectually stunted instrument with the mental agility of a small soap-dish, is a tour de force greatly to be admired. It was never going to be a fair fight. A bunch of lowly primates against the massed troglodytes of the mighty Yamaha Corporation? My money's on the guerrillas, every time. ettuspadix | |
[WTF Review] Os Almeida - O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) / The PSR-38 Sessions
Richard There - If the World Calls, Please Leave a Message
Artist: Richard There
WTF Album: If the World Calls, Please Leave a Message
Tags: Singer/Songwriter, Outsider, Spoken-Word, Dark, Rock
WTF Quality: Accent, Demented Poetry & Lyrics, Childish
Lifespan: 2008 -
Country: There
Link: http://richardthere.blogspot.com
After a lengthy hiatus from writing record reviews I'm returning with a handful of very special records.
To start we have the much anticipated new Richard There album produced by Richard Almeida.
Anyone already use to his lo-fi bedroom approach to recording will be in for a big surprise.
While the majority of the vocals keep the unique grainy recorded sound he has done in the past the music itself is well executed and recorded, along with special effects, soundscapes, SFX, and many other various ear-candy surprises.
In reviewing this album I got help from a friend of mine from back in the states. I thought he could help supply opposing thoughts on this as he hates, and I mean really fucking HATES, anything out of the ordinary in music.
I had no doubts that he would give opposite opinions against mine.
I did this because after I reviewed each individual song I realized that it was all too positive. I was licking Richard There's asshole - up and down.
I love this damn album to death and my words reflected that too much that I couldn't take all the sunshine praise and decided to give this review a black and white make-over.
So, I emailed my friend and asked him to say a few words about each song of the album.
My attempt at creating a duel first reactions review.
Later I edited a few parts to shorten things between us.
My friend may seem a bit harsh here but I know Richard and his fans can take it. And in the end, after reading his words, I learned to appreciate this music even more.
Ladies and gentlemen of the WTFMusic world - it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the man himself - who insists that I'm wasting my time with WTFMusic and thinks it is all a big joke for people with nothing better to do: Mr. James Jeffery!
1. If you want to say something
OP: A surprising introduction to the album. Already I feel that this is going to be something different than what I'm used to from Mr. There. Perhaps some kind of concept album?
JJ: Nothing too offensive yet. Just a quick answering machine recording introduction gimmick. I've heard this done a lot on many rap albums. Is this gonna be some kind of experimental crazy rap thing?
2. Everyday
OP: Time for story time around the fire with Richard! It's the simplicity in songs like this that gives comfort and charm to the music here. This story is a loop in itself and peaks at the moment of the subjects inspiration. It'S good to hear Richard's voice again singing new material that I know I will return to again and continue to enjoy. It's just so warm and comforting!
JJ: Whoa accent! That was a funny surprise! Not as weird as I'd thought it would be. Boring as all hell though. A repeating guitar figure accompanying a story about some bored guy who gets a flash of realization that he's a procrastinator. Most likely the same thing will happen again the next day. And the next. And the next. Like the repeating guitar. Okay. Next song please.
3. I don’t know what you mean
OP: Patterns? The world is calling. Messages are being left. Is there a mystery to unravel here?
JJ: Okay, another answering machine skit. "I don’t know what you mean when you say hi (high?)" How high are you Richard?
4. Call you friend
OP: Instant classic! A genuine playful and colorful creative tune about friendship with children as guest vocalists. It has that Wild Man Fischer spontaneous quality with the ever present Daniel Johnston innocence. Love it!
JJ: Sooooo, this is what I was afraid of. My wife walked in during this tune. She asked why I was listening to children records and accused me of doing drugs. Thanks for that Richard and Marcus. And really, anyone can make shit like this and many people already have. My only question is why?
5. Silence Train
OP: Nice production with the SFX and musical atmosphere to help support the words. Richard has great delivery in his text here and his voice seeps deep into the underlying sounds around him. Very easily drawn in and captivated. I can imagine that this would be great live. Perhaps we need to organize a Richard Show performed on a train?
JJ: A holocaust train perhaps? That was my first guess at least. This one is not so strange or bad either. I can't imagine wanting to listen to it again. Again the story goes nowhere.
6. Now I’m fucked
OP: I dig the "fucked" pronunciation. Not much else to say. Nice transition into the next track and keeping with the theme.
JJ: Fuck-ed? Yes Richard. Yes you are fuck-ED! No argument there.
7. Sand in my mouth
OP: A delicate sounding Richard delivering a loose message of someone somewhere losing something - being shot down. Brings variety to the set so far. Short enough to be valid. Really digging the way this album is unfolding.
JJ: This is what Bob Dylan would sound like if he came from a third world country. Enough said. The song's already over.
8. Robots
OP: What is this? A very unexpected side of Mr. There. Wonderful sci-fi soundscapes. A vocoder laced Richard untangles the age old question: what came first - the robots or the humans? Richard seems to be taking on all kinds of characters these days.
JJ: Oh come on! What's the point of this? To see what your voice sounds like disguised as a robot? More boring shit. How are people supposed to enjoy this on repeated listens? Really.
9. Joke
OP: This might be the first stand-up Dadaist joke I've ever heard . . .
JJ: So now I know that not only is Richard There not a musician but also not a comedian as well.
10. Listening to my breath
OP: Words of despair filled with questions and the lacking of confidence mixed with optimism. Themes I love to hear Richard talk and sing about. At first I was disappointed at the 1:52 mark. That build up. "See how it builds up like Linkin' Park?" (Lame Zappa reference - sorry). But trusting Richard's judgement over mine I went back and listened to the track a few more times. The way it ends is what justifies it for me. Not taking itself too seriously.
JJ: English pronunciation problems aside, and perhaps some people see that as part of the art (?), this is not such a bad tune. It's trying at least. And it almost does something until it just stops and dies.
11. Find my way
OP: Huh?
JJ: What?
12. The same
OP: I wonder if this was improvised. Almost like Alexander "Skip" Spence or Bill Clint in it's candid approach. Something rarely put down on record. Many people could never pull this kind of thing off but Richard does it with his honest and deep story-telling technique.
JJ: Someone get that rambling stoned hippy off stage. This is a family oriented coffee house you know! And man is that voice getting annoying. Sounds like you had some tough luck in your life Richard, huh? Yeah, don't we all. This is the worse so far. Especially when you go off on Velvet Underground.
13. Happy Birthday
OP: A warm introduction for the next song.
JJ: Is the Richard he's addressing here Richard There? Is this a song to himself? And this raises another question. Just how old is Richard There?
14. Doesn’t matter much
OP: Another instant classic from the coasts of There! A life full of sin is the only life worth living. Adding voices onto of pre-recorded material is always a plus in my book. Especially when it pulls the possibilities of weirdness. Possibly the best closing song to any album ever!
JJ: WTF?
15. If you are there
OP: Is this real? Are you talking to Richard Almeida? I'd always answer the phone if you called man.
JJ: Yeah, I'd ignore your phone calls too Richard.
Final thoughts:
OP: It's the personality that always pulls me into Richard There's world. The candid honesty, creative playfulness, witty experimentation, delivery of stories, twisted gloom vs. bright hope - this all makes up the world known as There. Where Richard lives and is happy to come and take anyone along who wishes to get out of their own routine of serious adult business and everyday chores of typical logic and life. With the EP "Who touched my bones?" I felt as if I was in the same room with Richard and he was telling me all these little stories. With this new album I feel as if he is taking me on a guided tour by flying carpet and introducing me to various characters and tales of feelings and memories. Each turn drastically different than the next. It's a special thing when an artist can keep their personally attached yet create drastically different backgrounds to express themselves in. A very well rounded and coherent record of WTF proportions and thoughtful playful exuberances. Thanks for the journey Richard!
JJ: Listening to this album is like falling down a hole in MySpace music hell. Where everyone and their stoned mothers are experimenting with all the music software they pirated off the internet. The creators call it weird and experimental but how can it be either if it's being done all over the world everyday over and over again? Pop star sensationalist Kanye West is more weird and experimental than this. Lady Ga Ga is at least spending the money needed to try out new technology with top producers on her albums. And both play with the media in ways that haven't been thought up yet. Using the public as part of the art the way politicians do but in a more creative fashion. That's fucking experimental. Not this shit. I'm sorry Ricard There. I'm sure you're a nice guy but your music goes nowhere, at least for me. It was alright writing words about this music but I assure you that I will not return to it.
Please comment and let us know who you agree with more. Me, onionapalac, or James Jeffery, also known as JJ here.
I think I know the verdict.
While JJ may be harsh with his words on commenting on Richard's music it brings into perspective how "outsiders of the outside" view our music. Something that is very interesting to me.
How should we deal with these people? Should we even consider dealing with them? Is it important? Should we only talk to ourselves and people like us? Only making friends with those who we can fully relate to?
To tell you the truth - I'm more concerned with those who are unfamiliar or those who refuse to accept this kind of music than with those who already embrace it.
What do you think?
DOWNLOAD the album HERE:
http://www.mediafire.com/?d2s3556jafq4mnz
- OnionPalac
WTF Album: If the World Calls, Please Leave a Message
Tags: Singer/Songwriter, Outsider, Spoken-Word, Dark, Rock
WTF Quality: Accent, Demented Poetry & Lyrics, Childish
Lifespan: 2008 -
Country: There
Link: http://richardthere.blogspot.com
After a lengthy hiatus from writing record reviews I'm returning with a handful of very special records.
To start we have the much anticipated new Richard There album produced by Richard Almeida.
Anyone already use to his lo-fi bedroom approach to recording will be in for a big surprise.
While the majority of the vocals keep the unique grainy recorded sound he has done in the past the music itself is well executed and recorded, along with special effects, soundscapes, SFX, and many other various ear-candy surprises.
In reviewing this album I got help from a friend of mine from back in the states. I thought he could help supply opposing thoughts on this as he hates, and I mean really fucking HATES, anything out of the ordinary in music.
I had no doubts that he would give opposite opinions against mine.
I did this because after I reviewed each individual song I realized that it was all too positive. I was licking Richard There's asshole - up and down.
I love this damn album to death and my words reflected that too much that I couldn't take all the sunshine praise and decided to give this review a black and white make-over.
So, I emailed my friend and asked him to say a few words about each song of the album.
My attempt at creating a duel first reactions review.
Later I edited a few parts to shorten things between us.
My friend may seem a bit harsh here but I know Richard and his fans can take it. And in the end, after reading his words, I learned to appreciate this music even more.
Ladies and gentlemen of the WTFMusic world - it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the man himself - who insists that I'm wasting my time with WTFMusic and thinks it is all a big joke for people with nothing better to do: Mr. James Jeffery!
Hello fine people of WTFMUSIC.ORG!
I look forward to say a few words about each song from Richard There's new album "If the world calls, please leave a message."
I have never heard of this Richard There guy before but Marcus (onionpalac) asked me this favor and I'm more than happy to abide.
I can only imagine what I'm in for. God, I hope this isn't THAT painful on my ears.
Let's get it on!
1. If you want to say something
OP: A surprising introduction to the album. Already I feel that this is going to be something different than what I'm used to from Mr. There. Perhaps some kind of concept album?
JJ: Nothing too offensive yet. Just a quick answering machine recording introduction gimmick. I've heard this done a lot on many rap albums. Is this gonna be some kind of experimental crazy rap thing?
2. Everyday
OP: Time for story time around the fire with Richard! It's the simplicity in songs like this that gives comfort and charm to the music here. This story is a loop in itself and peaks at the moment of the subjects inspiration. It'S good to hear Richard's voice again singing new material that I know I will return to again and continue to enjoy. It's just so warm and comforting!
JJ: Whoa accent! That was a funny surprise! Not as weird as I'd thought it would be. Boring as all hell though. A repeating guitar figure accompanying a story about some bored guy who gets a flash of realization that he's a procrastinator. Most likely the same thing will happen again the next day. And the next. And the next. Like the repeating guitar. Okay. Next song please.
3. I don’t know what you mean
OP: Patterns? The world is calling. Messages are being left. Is there a mystery to unravel here?
JJ: Okay, another answering machine skit. "I don’t know what you mean when you say hi (high?)" How high are you Richard?
4. Call you friend
OP: Instant classic! A genuine playful and colorful creative tune about friendship with children as guest vocalists. It has that Wild Man Fischer spontaneous quality with the ever present Daniel Johnston innocence. Love it!
JJ: Sooooo, this is what I was afraid of. My wife walked in during this tune. She asked why I was listening to children records and accused me of doing drugs. Thanks for that Richard and Marcus. And really, anyone can make shit like this and many people already have. My only question is why?
5. Silence Train
OP: Nice production with the SFX and musical atmosphere to help support the words. Richard has great delivery in his text here and his voice seeps deep into the underlying sounds around him. Very easily drawn in and captivated. I can imagine that this would be great live. Perhaps we need to organize a Richard Show performed on a train?
JJ: A holocaust train perhaps? That was my first guess at least. This one is not so strange or bad either. I can't imagine wanting to listen to it again. Again the story goes nowhere.
6. Now I’m fucked
OP: I dig the "fucked" pronunciation. Not much else to say. Nice transition into the next track and keeping with the theme.
JJ: Fuck-ed? Yes Richard. Yes you are fuck-ED! No argument there.
7. Sand in my mouth
OP: A delicate sounding Richard delivering a loose message of someone somewhere losing something - being shot down. Brings variety to the set so far. Short enough to be valid. Really digging the way this album is unfolding.
JJ: This is what Bob Dylan would sound like if he came from a third world country. Enough said. The song's already over.
8. Robots
OP: What is this? A very unexpected side of Mr. There. Wonderful sci-fi soundscapes. A vocoder laced Richard untangles the age old question: what came first - the robots or the humans? Richard seems to be taking on all kinds of characters these days.
JJ: Oh come on! What's the point of this? To see what your voice sounds like disguised as a robot? More boring shit. How are people supposed to enjoy this on repeated listens? Really.
9. Joke
OP: This might be the first stand-up Dadaist joke I've ever heard . . .
JJ: So now I know that not only is Richard There not a musician but also not a comedian as well.
10. Listening to my breath
OP: Words of despair filled with questions and the lacking of confidence mixed with optimism. Themes I love to hear Richard talk and sing about. At first I was disappointed at the 1:52 mark. That build up. "See how it builds up like Linkin' Park?" (Lame Zappa reference - sorry). But trusting Richard's judgement over mine I went back and listened to the track a few more times. The way it ends is what justifies it for me. Not taking itself too seriously.
JJ: English pronunciation problems aside, and perhaps some people see that as part of the art (?), this is not such a bad tune. It's trying at least. And it almost does something until it just stops and dies.
11. Find my way
OP: Huh?
JJ: What?
12. The same
OP: I wonder if this was improvised. Almost like Alexander "Skip" Spence or Bill Clint in it's candid approach. Something rarely put down on record. Many people could never pull this kind of thing off but Richard does it with his honest and deep story-telling technique.
JJ: Someone get that rambling stoned hippy off stage. This is a family oriented coffee house you know! And man is that voice getting annoying. Sounds like you had some tough luck in your life Richard, huh? Yeah, don't we all. This is the worse so far. Especially when you go off on Velvet Underground.
13. Happy Birthday
OP: A warm introduction for the next song.
JJ: Is the Richard he's addressing here Richard There? Is this a song to himself? And this raises another question. Just how old is Richard There?
14. Doesn’t matter much
OP: Another instant classic from the coasts of There! A life full of sin is the only life worth living. Adding voices onto of pre-recorded material is always a plus in my book. Especially when it pulls the possibilities of weirdness. Possibly the best closing song to any album ever!
JJ: WTF?
15. If you are there
OP: Is this real? Are you talking to Richard Almeida? I'd always answer the phone if you called man.
JJ: Yeah, I'd ignore your phone calls too Richard.
Final thoughts:
OP: It's the personality that always pulls me into Richard There's world. The candid honesty, creative playfulness, witty experimentation, delivery of stories, twisted gloom vs. bright hope - this all makes up the world known as There. Where Richard lives and is happy to come and take anyone along who wishes to get out of their own routine of serious adult business and everyday chores of typical logic and life. With the EP "Who touched my bones?" I felt as if I was in the same room with Richard and he was telling me all these little stories. With this new album I feel as if he is taking me on a guided tour by flying carpet and introducing me to various characters and tales of feelings and memories. Each turn drastically different than the next. It's a special thing when an artist can keep their personally attached yet create drastically different backgrounds to express themselves in. A very well rounded and coherent record of WTF proportions and thoughtful playful exuberances. Thanks for the journey Richard!
JJ: Listening to this album is like falling down a hole in MySpace music hell. Where everyone and their stoned mothers are experimenting with all the music software they pirated off the internet. The creators call it weird and experimental but how can it be either if it's being done all over the world everyday over and over again? Pop star sensationalist Kanye West is more weird and experimental than this. Lady Ga Ga is at least spending the money needed to try out new technology with top producers on her albums. And both play with the media in ways that haven't been thought up yet. Using the public as part of the art the way politicians do but in a more creative fashion. That's fucking experimental. Not this shit. I'm sorry Ricard There. I'm sure you're a nice guy but your music goes nowhere, at least for me. It was alright writing words about this music but I assure you that I will not return to it.
Please comment and let us know who you agree with more. Me, onionapalac, or James Jeffery, also known as JJ here.
I think I know the verdict.
While JJ may be harsh with his words on commenting on Richard's music it brings into perspective how "outsiders of the outside" view our music. Something that is very interesting to me.
How should we deal with these people? Should we even consider dealing with them? Is it important? Should we only talk to ourselves and people like us? Only making friends with those who we can fully relate to?
To tell you the truth - I'm more concerned with those who are unfamiliar or those who refuse to accept this kind of music than with those who already embrace it.
What do you think?
DOWNLOAD the album HERE:
http://www.mediafire.com/?d2s3556jafq4mnz
- OnionPalac
Happy Fucking Birthday WTFMusic.org compilation album
We received 10 entries for this marathon and it's a WTFM birthday delight, thanks to all who participated:
Phooey - Happe Birthday
zipperhacker - HapiBerzdej
onionpalac - Three Cheers For WTFM!!!!!
ettuspadix - Sorry I'm Late
Bloopy - sleep
cutworm - seed frags
LFC - HFB
richardalmeida - Parabéns pra Você
jeemobon - wtfmusic.org meets the angel of death
ettuspadix - Only the Juggler Stayed to the Bitter End
download it here:
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=4ZSZMX6D
Berger Rond - Etrange en Compagnie close Artist: Berger Rond
WTF album: Etrange en Compagnie
Tags: spasmacousmatic, multi-threaded jump-cut, jazz, improvisation, free improvisation, experimental, spoken word, vocal
WTF quality: Intricately assembled with "no Bach shortcuts". Don't ask me.
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: Canada
Workshop Manual for:- Berger Rond - Etrange en Compagnie
For this project you will require:-
1. An industrial strength French-English-Swedish Dictionary.
2. A Clarinet Extractor (available from most good retailers, but we recommend the "Claristract" from Wal-mart - it comes with attachments for most of the wind instruments, with the exception of the Double-Contra-Bass-Piccolo).
3. Google Translate (for light relief).
4. A No. 17 Clamp (metric or imperial, I really don't care)
3. An Open Mind (these are unfortunately no longer available commercially).
Preparation:- Download album from http://www.freakywaves.com/vb/Vincent/music.htm, and gently insert into player of your choice by means of wires or otherwires.
Procedure:-Sit or stand in a comfortable but conscious posture, with eyes open or closed depending on light levels, security, temperature etc.
Carefully initiate Track 1, labeled clearly "Riant va sans l'autre" - mind those fingers!
You will now be immersed in a web-like structure, from which it is difficult to escape. The upside of this predicament is that you probably won't want to.
Observe that the web is constructed very carefully, by somebody who really knows what they are doing. The materials used are similar to those used in previous models, but put together in intelligent and surprising ways. The various threads and nodules that you encounter are knotted together manually by a skilled artisan by the name of Vincent Bergeron. These are factory settings, and should not be tampered with.
Moving further down the web, you will encounter some vocals that have been equally and unequally overlayed, underlayed and throughlayed according to whimsy. These glue the entire structure into a very palletable entity, and strengthen the whole, without restricting the natural flow of energy. Few filters have been provided as standard, thus giving a feel of the most intimate and enchanting chamber-music. These vocals are due to the talents of Viveka Eriksson and Daniel Knox, both of whom seem to have been apprenticed to jazz stylists. This has enabled the designers to enhance the elegance emissions by over a third.
Add to this a contribution by Frederick Szymanski on classical guitar, and you have an overview of of the themes fuelling this album; the breakdown of communication, abstractness, minute attention to detail and genrelessness.
Now insert the prongs of the Google Translate into the title. The reading should be "Laughing Goes Without the Other" +/-9.
Negotiating carefully to the next track, "Intention Dévorante". Put the Google Translate into "loosely" mode, and press button B. This will now read "Devouring Intention".
This is made from similar but subtly different materials, and a slight change in personnel. Liz Alice joins the throng on vocals, while Daniel and Frederick take a back seat. A slightly more folky influence will also be perceived. Do not allow this to foul the carburettor.
Proceed to "Me detester quand je l'aime", the reading here being "I hate myself when I like it". Daniel once again replaces Liz on the vocals, and the jazzish feel returns, with a kind of piquant, sado-masochistic air. This may appear to introduce timing errors, but these are intentional, and should not be compensated for.
The introduction of a spasmacoustic Berger Rond into the next track has allowed engineers access to the throbbing heart at the centre of this unstoppable machine. Reference to the tables at the back of this manual will give an expected reading to "Du noir marre j'en ai" of approximately "I'm tired of black". This is well within tolerances.
Resolutely clamping the spasmacoustic valve will allow music to escape from "Le monde se défait toujours tout seul", and this may choke off the Google Translate. Do not be alarmed. After a minute or so, and a good hard thrashing, it will eventually yield "The world always defeats itself on it's own", with a remainder of "of it's own accord" to the right of the decimal point. It will also spit forth a bonus track, "Spasmacousmatic", which does exactly what it says on the can. I think.
Dismantling is now complete. Prepare a surface on which to lie down, and rest.
In the meantime, re-calibrate the translator, and leave to stand in a bucket of clean Berger Rond. Berger is of course a Shepherd, but Rond takes a little more effort; it can apparently give "round", "circular", "rotund", or my own personal favourite, "blind drunk". Savour those images for a moment. Then finally unravel "Etrange en Compagnie" to complete the jigsaw. Results of "In the Company of Strangers" are not unusual.
Re-assembly is the reverse of removal.
Health and Safety:- Hypnotic experiences may result from overuse, but I've never really minded that. There may also be lurking pools of percussion, but the effects do not last long.
Notes:- Spasmacousmatic is probably the best adjective to use for this jerky but attention-grabbing music. Involuntary movements are it's inspiration and it's Muses, and you will feel yourself sucked into the vortex, possibly reacting physically after a while. I have no idea how or why this works, it just does. It's like trying to make love standing up in a hammock; difficult, but ultimately very rewarding.
-ettuspadix.
Tags: spasmacousmatic, multi-threaded jump-cut, jazz, improvisation, free improvisation, experimental, spoken word, vocal
WTF quality: Intricately assembled with "no Bach shortcuts". Don't ask me.
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: Canada
Workshop Manual for:- Berger Rond - Etrange en Compagnie
For this project you will require:-
1. An industrial strength French-English-Swedish Dictionary.
2. A Clarinet Extractor (available from most good retailers, but we recommend the "Claristract" from Wal-mart - it comes with attachments for most of the wind instruments, with the exception of the Double-Contra-Bass-Piccolo).
3. Google Translate (for light relief).
4. A No. 17 Clamp (metric or imperial, I really don't care)
3. An Open Mind (these are unfortunately no longer available commercially).
Preparation:- Download album from http://www.freakywaves.com/vb/Vincent/music.htm, and gently insert into player of your choice by means of wires or otherwires.
Procedure:-Sit or stand in a comfortable but conscious posture, with eyes open or closed depending on light levels, security, temperature etc.
Carefully initiate Track 1, labeled clearly "Riant va sans l'autre" - mind those fingers!
You will now be immersed in a web-like structure, from which it is difficult to escape. The upside of this predicament is that you probably won't want to.
Observe that the web is constructed very carefully, by somebody who really knows what they are doing. The materials used are similar to those used in previous models, but put together in intelligent and surprising ways. The various threads and nodules that you encounter are knotted together manually by a skilled artisan by the name of Vincent Bergeron. These are factory settings, and should not be tampered with.
Moving further down the web, you will encounter some vocals that have been equally and unequally overlayed, underlayed and throughlayed according to whimsy. These glue the entire structure into a very palletable entity, and strengthen the whole, without restricting the natural flow of energy. Few filters have been provided as standard, thus giving a feel of the most intimate and enchanting chamber-music. These vocals are due to the talents of Viveka Eriksson and Daniel Knox, both of whom seem to have been apprenticed to jazz stylists. This has enabled the designers to enhance the elegance emissions by over a third.
Add to this a contribution by Frederick Szymanski on classical guitar, and you have an overview of of the themes fuelling this album; the breakdown of communication, abstractness, minute attention to detail and genrelessness.
Now insert the prongs of the Google Translate into the title. The reading should be "Laughing Goes Without the Other" +/-9.
Negotiating carefully to the next track, "Intention Dévorante". Put the Google Translate into "loosely" mode, and press button B. This will now read "Devouring Intention".
This is made from similar but subtly different materials, and a slight change in personnel. Liz Alice joins the throng on vocals, while Daniel and Frederick take a back seat. A slightly more folky influence will also be perceived. Do not allow this to foul the carburettor.
Proceed to "Me detester quand je l'aime", the reading here being "I hate myself when I like it". Daniel once again replaces Liz on the vocals, and the jazzish feel returns, with a kind of piquant, sado-masochistic air. This may appear to introduce timing errors, but these are intentional, and should not be compensated for.
The introduction of a spasmacoustic Berger Rond into the next track has allowed engineers access to the throbbing heart at the centre of this unstoppable machine. Reference to the tables at the back of this manual will give an expected reading to "Du noir marre j'en ai" of approximately "I'm tired of black". This is well within tolerances.
Resolutely clamping the spasmacoustic valve will allow music to escape from "Le monde se défait toujours tout seul", and this may choke off the Google Translate. Do not be alarmed. After a minute or so, and a good hard thrashing, it will eventually yield "The world always defeats itself on it's own", with a remainder of "of it's own accord" to the right of the decimal point. It will also spit forth a bonus track, "Spasmacousmatic", which does exactly what it says on the can. I think.
Dismantling is now complete. Prepare a surface on which to lie down, and rest.
In the meantime, re-calibrate the translator, and leave to stand in a bucket of clean Berger Rond. Berger is of course a Shepherd, but Rond takes a little more effort; it can apparently give "round", "circular", "rotund", or my own personal favourite, "blind drunk". Savour those images for a moment. Then finally unravel "Etrange en Compagnie" to complete the jigsaw. Results of "In the Company of Strangers" are not unusual.
Re-assembly is the reverse of removal.
Health and Safety:- Hypnotic experiences may result from overuse, but I've never really minded that. There may also be lurking pools of percussion, but the effects do not last long.
Notes:- Spasmacousmatic is probably the best adjective to use for this jerky but attention-grabbing music. Involuntary movements are it's inspiration and it's Muses, and you will feel yourself sucked into the vortex, possibly reacting physically after a while. I have no idea how or why this works, it just does. It's like trying to make love standing up in a hammock; difficult, but ultimately very rewarding.
-ettuspadix.
Incubi - Cornucopia, The Magus, Sphinx, Les Catacombes Mortes
Artist: Incubi
WTF albums: Cornucopia, The Magus, Sphinx, Les Catacombes Mortes
Tags: jump cut, spastic, free, contemporary, chamber, lo-fi, 8-bit, herky-jerky, drone, prog, noise, diverse, electronic, junk, ambient, space, psychedelic
WTF quality: A cornucopia of weirdness served with the most peculiar array of cutlery and decorum, with sudden vector-jumps into parallel worlds
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
So I was in the process of listening to and reviewing Incubi's album "Les Catacombes Mortes" when suddenly the dude appears on wtfmusic and posts a new song, something assuredly from beyond this world, with a link to his new album, "Cornucopia."
So here comes your wtf quadruple shot baking chowder smocha stencil-ectomy operation with soy sauce.
I'm trying to remember when I first heard Incubi's music. I think it was several months ago, perhaps in the late Spring. It was in the beginning of July. I checked the records. I remember now our great guru onionpalac telling me that this guy says he makes music in the vein of Zorn's Naked City. Checked the email records. He specifically cited the "Absinthe" album as a major influence to the "Les Catacombes Mortes." In the last couple weeks I've re-listened to that album a couple times, forgetting that it's completely different from Incubi's more herky jerky lopsided drunken swirling dervishes of controlled chaos. I completely lost track of that side of his art and had to re-pin him in my mind as a pure noise drone artist. Y'all will have to forgive me, my mind has been a sludge of wtf and after months of not hearing from a musician, I forget wtf they are and where they come from. Apparently Mr. John Wight is from Alaska, according to his wtfmusic member profile. Fits, this music does not come from a person who is plugged in at the core of the bustle of civilization. If it did that person would have to be severely mentally disconnected from it all. I hear the powerful impression of pure raw nature in this music. It is not concrete and radio waves, it is tundra and cumulus clouds. And no, this is not ambient mood music or even remotely close, nor is it in your face piles of genres stacked up against you an a spinning dimension. It's not pistols and hookers, it's narwhal tusks and lupin spores. There is a power of beauty in the music which one should could better not dismiss as only attempts at being strangely weird fucked up man. Listen to the honesty in the music - no posing, no bullshit, no claims to any bogus grandeur or intellectualism or punk-ism or staring the gaze of the eyes into the vacuum of ego-centrism. I want to say that it is highly organic. It grows, and yes it is highly mutated as well.
Les Catacombes Mortes might be French. Maybe it means the dead catacombs? Shall I research it? Anyhow this work bears resemblance to some other wtfmusic reviewed musicians, namely Nokhoi (but less harsh), or the releases from the Ephre Imprint Label (but less ambient). Dig your ears into the eerie rumbles, the shrouded harmonies, the distant choir moaning from the treetops, the rushes of wind, the horror movie underscore atmosphere, and the buried souls. For those of you not familiar with the "Absinthe" album, it's got some of Naked City's longer tunes on it (of course they were famous for the really quick jump cut stuff), averaging about 5 minutes and much more darkly ambient than most of their extreme drug-induced rape-homicide fandangoes. Of the Incubi music on which I write, this particular album comes the closest to genre: dark ambient. But there are lots of loose hinges, breaks, and hidden trap-doors which lead me down narrow secret ways. I start to feel creepy, like some cold air is moving down my neck, or spiders are crawling somewhere around my head, but things start jumping out at me, at random intervals, startling me from chilled to chilling, chilly to chillified, snapped, cold, damp, started again, and perplexed. The atmosphere of gloomy comfort which wraps about the genre doesn't sustain. I am lost in the catacombs.
If we take a time warp back to July, when I first heard this altered beast, we come to The Magus and kind of sit at the foot of this stone megalith thing and vacantly stare upwards, in reverse, so that the top of it starts to appear first, breaking the sky. But no sooner than I am whisked away by helicopter. My former self remains there, with all of you, just kind of like peering up at this stone megalith but never looking directly. There are many faces to it, they rotate. They are all different sizes, some electric, some primarily black tar resin, others plant-like, and yeah, it's not really something we're gonna look at all at once. More like a door opens, draws our attention towards it, it sings a bit, we sit in the grass and talk about world events and history, someone farts, we laugh, a little bit of snack time, a wee bit of frolicking, ... meanwhile the helicopter has landed and I'm kicking in broken windows, throwing pebbles, noticing the far-faded graffiti. My mind wanders a bit. With my headphones on, you hear some heavily distorted object percussion sounds, on a rampage. You hear a little bit of 8-bit grooves, spun on vinyl to the jank of a busted ukelele. Someone screams, again and again, meanwhile our picnic has dispersed, we're all climbing up various small grass-covered altars and sacrimonial mounds. The sancro-sinct mood keeps us at our wits, and we notice things, like the blackbird which just swooped into a high perch of the aspen, the caterpillar wriggling through the ivy, the way the shadow of a hat stretches into a figure 8 shape, and all these things meet in the roof of the empty warehouse. We spontaneously begin dancing, then we fall lightly, and land on our knees where we trudge upon knees, shake hair, head gazing down. The helicopter is now a boat, now a three wheeled taxi cart, now a bicycle, now a log bridge. Incubi concocts the punch, he spares no details. Each batch is potent and small - jello-shot sized. All are variously colored and strong-scented. What is The Magus? Is it this thousand faced megalith? Does it thrash upon vintage stratocaster in polyrhythmic spurts? What about the tribal tiki digi-god wearing a silicon hat and zapping the bunnies, making them dance as well? Does The Magus weild it? Day-glo trousers certainly make the eyes sleepy don't they. We're going to have to head home eventually, but the journey is only just getting underway. Have I seen this face before? Maybe from another angle, at another speed of rotation. This time it is red and hot like fire. Where did you go? We were all together and carefree... ah there we are, just kind of like looking up at the blue sky, maybe it's too blue today, yeah definitely too blue, and the leaves on the trees definitely a stronger tint of green than usual. Hey I brought some mini-taikos and circuit-bent tablas, wanna drone out on irregular rhythms? This album has 46 tracks. I better not spoil it all for you. You can definitely listen to this shit and fall victim to the flange-distortion. Total running time 51:39. The artist describes it as more a series of demos than a coherent album. It's a lot like deluxe granola cyber-gorp. Anyone ever eat that stuff when you go hiking? I know there are various names for it. The base of it is raisins and peanuts, often with m&ms. One thing I really can't tell but just assume to be, is if this was made by one single person. Let us take, for example, track 29, Meccatron - I can hear maybe two tracks of junk percussion, maybe two tracks of junk guitar, some junk bass, probably a couple junk tin horn things. Anyway I'll just plainly say that this album jumps around a lot, never lands anywhere for too long, is the work of a very hyperactive short attention span, and is heavily disjointed, in need of a good oiling but we can all appreciate that rustic squeak can't we.
Put on Sphinx now and listen with your ears. Maybe you think this sounds like The Magus. I did too, for a banana split second. But it's not, man, it's Sphinx. What does Sphinx eat? Magus? Dig the cryptic mythological nonsense sounding song titles. Notice a difference in sound quality here too. Also notice a change in density. The gritty dirty deep rumbly stuff got deeper and grittier and dirtier. The mystical shamanistic free-floating space rituals got more paisley coatings and neoclassical flourish, counterpoint, retrograde inversion, a more refined sense of orchestration if you will. Oh yes, we are still trodding, clunky, trumbling, trundling, flumbling, and not exactly light on our feet, but that doesn't mean this isn't "tight," the way a squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag is. Not only fast and bulbous... These are definitely controlled compositions, not flailing freely improvised romps. Again, the artist, on his blog, describes these works as a collection of separate works not intended for an album. Well screw this guy, he's written all about the works, I'm writing a review here, something from another viewpoint, go to the damn blog and read all about these works: http://incubiincubi.blogspot.com/
download his albums from there too.
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=9FEMXDAG
Okay and now we're headed full circle to Cornucopia, a Thanksgiving Season feast of treats from nature's bounty. Have ritual sex on the altar of cornucopia. I love the album art on this one and I hope you do too. This is wtf gold right here. Incubi has found a world! Established base camp, integrated with the natives, conjured the spirits, been poisoned and purged, basically died and told the story of the impossible.
Okay I'm gonna pause now, I've been jumping around, and point out that I have been scouring incubi's blog as I write this, checking for facts and shit, and I just noticed two other albums not mentioned or linked on wtfmusic.org, one is an unfinished album which is based off of the artwork by "Nabraxis."
And the other is an electronic album, Eureka.
Yeah so Cornucopia wasn't mentioned anywhere on the blog. I'm gonna assume the guy is extremely prolific, all of this stuff having been made in this year, all of it extremely diverse, and that the new unreleased album is yet another fruit in the orchard not yet ripened, and the guy hasn't updated his blog since he suddenly found this massive cornucopia lying at his doorstep.
As for Eureka, well I'm downloading it now and will write about it shortly. Ok, unraring ... importing to itunes ... first thing I noticed is the lovely nature bird sounds and the calming ambience. I could sink into this and be at peace. I don't think this music is special taylored for wtfmusic.org, but it shows more of Incubi's diversity, another fascinating facet to unfold. I recommend this download. But I will move on back to Cornucopia, as it is this particular work that I intend to feature as the WTF spotlight of epic glory.
What I wanted to say about this, is that this plays like an album, the tracks settle into a nice narrative flow. So we got a little taste with The Magus and Sphinx, we got our dark atmosphere with Catacombes, and now we're in that distant universe of Incubi's mind. Taste the plenty. Imagine the hallucinogenic, distorting landscape, close your eyes, and open them to suddenly find yourself in a room, looking through a window at the land from another angle. Close and open again. This time in an inverted plane, where the land is behind our field of vision, in front is a view into an elliptical mirror. Stand up, turn to the side, now you find yourself in the eco-habitation, in the undergrowth. 9 tracks this time, with longer playing times, which means the music has more time to develop, achieve is space, settle into its drone, mutate accordingly, and carry us fully mind and body into its abyss. The jump cuts are still there, in full force, sometimes ripping us out of our socks and into the slushy ice, but they are contained, not overdone, and pull the tension strings of our mind just enough for us to string along without losing our balance and falling flat on our asses. Man just look at this fucking spread in front of you. Tastes you never imagined, crunchy delicious buttery textures, savory flavors, sparkling spices, and luscious delicacies. Oh shit, Uncle Jim farted again. Doesn't matter, we all laugh, smile as we point in memory of the stone megalith we once all picnicked in front of, make table percussion ragas with our silverware, speak gibberish, and throw the bones to the dog-romulus. Leave room for seconds, followed by dessert and a ritual appetizer. We drink some mystic concoction, and yes fumes are pouring forth from it. This time we gone too far. Are we at a table, or in the innards of the altered beast? Who the fuck is singing that goofy spiritualistic drawl with the fiddle faddle? Yeah we're still in low-fi DIY territory. It tells a story of pain and loss, agony, loneliness, despair, mirth, curiosity at life, fondness of the ecosystems and the microcosmos, and a will to sing, an overflowing passion for What The Fuck. See if we haven't returned to the catacombs by the last track. For a moment you will wonder if what you are hearing is the hum of your electronic devices or if the music has stopped.
Let's wash those pots and pans.
- Jeemobon
WTF albums: Cornucopia, The Magus, Sphinx, Les Catacombes Mortes
Tags: jump cut, spastic, free, contemporary, chamber, lo-fi, 8-bit, herky-jerky, drone, prog, noise, diverse, electronic, junk, ambient, space, psychedelic
WTF quality: A cornucopia of weirdness served with the most peculiar array of cutlery and decorum, with sudden vector-jumps into parallel worlds
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
So I was in the process of listening to and reviewing Incubi's album "Les Catacombes Mortes" when suddenly the dude appears on wtfmusic and posts a new song, something assuredly from beyond this world, with a link to his new album, "Cornucopia."
So here comes your wtf quadruple shot baking chowder smocha stencil-ectomy operation with soy sauce.
I'm trying to remember when I first heard Incubi's music. I think it was several months ago, perhaps in the late Spring. It was in the beginning of July. I checked the records. I remember now our great guru onionpalac telling me that this guy says he makes music in the vein of Zorn's Naked City. Checked the email records. He specifically cited the "Absinthe" album as a major influence to the "Les Catacombes Mortes." In the last couple weeks I've re-listened to that album a couple times, forgetting that it's completely different from Incubi's more herky jerky lopsided drunken swirling dervishes of controlled chaos. I completely lost track of that side of his art and had to re-pin him in my mind as a pure noise drone artist. Y'all will have to forgive me, my mind has been a sludge of wtf and after months of not hearing from a musician, I forget wtf they are and where they come from. Apparently Mr. John Wight is from Alaska, according to his wtfmusic member profile. Fits, this music does not come from a person who is plugged in at the core of the bustle of civilization. If it did that person would have to be severely mentally disconnected from it all. I hear the powerful impression of pure raw nature in this music. It is not concrete and radio waves, it is tundra and cumulus clouds. And no, this is not ambient mood music or even remotely close, nor is it in your face piles of genres stacked up against you an a spinning dimension. It's not pistols and hookers, it's narwhal tusks and lupin spores. There is a power of beauty in the music which one should could better not dismiss as only attempts at being strangely weird fucked up man. Listen to the honesty in the music - no posing, no bullshit, no claims to any bogus grandeur or intellectualism or punk-ism or staring the gaze of the eyes into the vacuum of ego-centrism. I want to say that it is highly organic. It grows, and yes it is highly mutated as well.
Les Catacombes Mortes might be French. Maybe it means the dead catacombs? Shall I research it? Anyhow this work bears resemblance to some other wtfmusic reviewed musicians, namely Nokhoi (but less harsh), or the releases from the Ephre Imprint Label (but less ambient). Dig your ears into the eerie rumbles, the shrouded harmonies, the distant choir moaning from the treetops, the rushes of wind, the horror movie underscore atmosphere, and the buried souls. For those of you not familiar with the "Absinthe" album, it's got some of Naked City's longer tunes on it (of course they were famous for the really quick jump cut stuff), averaging about 5 minutes and much more darkly ambient than most of their extreme drug-induced rape-homicide fandangoes. Of the Incubi music on which I write, this particular album comes the closest to genre: dark ambient. But there are lots of loose hinges, breaks, and hidden trap-doors which lead me down narrow secret ways. I start to feel creepy, like some cold air is moving down my neck, or spiders are crawling somewhere around my head, but things start jumping out at me, at random intervals, startling me from chilled to chilling, chilly to chillified, snapped, cold, damp, started again, and perplexed. The atmosphere of gloomy comfort which wraps about the genre doesn't sustain. I am lost in the catacombs.
If we take a time warp back to July, when I first heard this altered beast, we come to The Magus and kind of sit at the foot of this stone megalith thing and vacantly stare upwards, in reverse, so that the top of it starts to appear first, breaking the sky. But no sooner than I am whisked away by helicopter. My former self remains there, with all of you, just kind of like peering up at this stone megalith but never looking directly. There are many faces to it, they rotate. They are all different sizes, some electric, some primarily black tar resin, others plant-like, and yeah, it's not really something we're gonna look at all at once. More like a door opens, draws our attention towards it, it sings a bit, we sit in the grass and talk about world events and history, someone farts, we laugh, a little bit of snack time, a wee bit of frolicking, ... meanwhile the helicopter has landed and I'm kicking in broken windows, throwing pebbles, noticing the far-faded graffiti. My mind wanders a bit. With my headphones on, you hear some heavily distorted object percussion sounds, on a rampage. You hear a little bit of 8-bit grooves, spun on vinyl to the jank of a busted ukelele. Someone screams, again and again, meanwhile our picnic has dispersed, we're all climbing up various small grass-covered altars and sacrimonial mounds. The sancro-sinct mood keeps us at our wits, and we notice things, like the blackbird which just swooped into a high perch of the aspen, the caterpillar wriggling through the ivy, the way the shadow of a hat stretches into a figure 8 shape, and all these things meet in the roof of the empty warehouse. We spontaneously begin dancing, then we fall lightly, and land on our knees where we trudge upon knees, shake hair, head gazing down. The helicopter is now a boat, now a three wheeled taxi cart, now a bicycle, now a log bridge. Incubi concocts the punch, he spares no details. Each batch is potent and small - jello-shot sized. All are variously colored and strong-scented. What is The Magus? Is it this thousand faced megalith? Does it thrash upon vintage stratocaster in polyrhythmic spurts? What about the tribal tiki digi-god wearing a silicon hat and zapping the bunnies, making them dance as well? Does The Magus weild it? Day-glo trousers certainly make the eyes sleepy don't they. We're going to have to head home eventually, but the journey is only just getting underway. Have I seen this face before? Maybe from another angle, at another speed of rotation. This time it is red and hot like fire. Where did you go? We were all together and carefree... ah there we are, just kind of like looking up at the blue sky, maybe it's too blue today, yeah definitely too blue, and the leaves on the trees definitely a stronger tint of green than usual. Hey I brought some mini-taikos and circuit-bent tablas, wanna drone out on irregular rhythms? This album has 46 tracks. I better not spoil it all for you. You can definitely listen to this shit and fall victim to the flange-distortion. Total running time 51:39. The artist describes it as more a series of demos than a coherent album. It's a lot like deluxe granola cyber-gorp. Anyone ever eat that stuff when you go hiking? I know there are various names for it. The base of it is raisins and peanuts, often with m&ms. One thing I really can't tell but just assume to be, is if this was made by one single person. Let us take, for example, track 29, Meccatron - I can hear maybe two tracks of junk percussion, maybe two tracks of junk guitar, some junk bass, probably a couple junk tin horn things. Anyway I'll just plainly say that this album jumps around a lot, never lands anywhere for too long, is the work of a very hyperactive short attention span, and is heavily disjointed, in need of a good oiling but we can all appreciate that rustic squeak can't we.
Put on Sphinx now and listen with your ears. Maybe you think this sounds like The Magus. I did too, for a banana split second. But it's not, man, it's Sphinx. What does Sphinx eat? Magus? Dig the cryptic mythological nonsense sounding song titles. Notice a difference in sound quality here too. Also notice a change in density. The gritty dirty deep rumbly stuff got deeper and grittier and dirtier. The mystical shamanistic free-floating space rituals got more paisley coatings and neoclassical flourish, counterpoint, retrograde inversion, a more refined sense of orchestration if you will. Oh yes, we are still trodding, clunky, trumbling, trundling, flumbling, and not exactly light on our feet, but that doesn't mean this isn't "tight," the way a squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag is. Not only fast and bulbous... These are definitely controlled compositions, not flailing freely improvised romps. Again, the artist, on his blog, describes these works as a collection of separate works not intended for an album. Well screw this guy, he's written all about the works, I'm writing a review here, something from another viewpoint, go to the damn blog and read all about these works: http://incubiincubi.blogspot.com/
download his albums from there too.
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=9FEMXDAG
Okay and now we're headed full circle to Cornucopia, a Thanksgiving Season feast of treats from nature's bounty. Have ritual sex on the altar of cornucopia. I love the album art on this one and I hope you do too. This is wtf gold right here. Incubi has found a world! Established base camp, integrated with the natives, conjured the spirits, been poisoned and purged, basically died and told the story of the impossible.
Okay I'm gonna pause now, I've been jumping around, and point out that I have been scouring incubi's blog as I write this, checking for facts and shit, and I just noticed two other albums not mentioned or linked on wtfmusic.org, one is an unfinished album which is based off of the artwork by "Nabraxis."
And the other is an electronic album, Eureka.
Yeah so Cornucopia wasn't mentioned anywhere on the blog. I'm gonna assume the guy is extremely prolific, all of this stuff having been made in this year, all of it extremely diverse, and that the new unreleased album is yet another fruit in the orchard not yet ripened, and the guy hasn't updated his blog since he suddenly found this massive cornucopia lying at his doorstep.
As for Eureka, well I'm downloading it now and will write about it shortly. Ok, unraring ... importing to itunes ... first thing I noticed is the lovely nature bird sounds and the calming ambience. I could sink into this and be at peace. I don't think this music is special taylored for wtfmusic.org, but it shows more of Incubi's diversity, another fascinating facet to unfold. I recommend this download. But I will move on back to Cornucopia, as it is this particular work that I intend to feature as the WTF spotlight of epic glory.
What I wanted to say about this, is that this plays like an album, the tracks settle into a nice narrative flow. So we got a little taste with The Magus and Sphinx, we got our dark atmosphere with Catacombes, and now we're in that distant universe of Incubi's mind. Taste the plenty. Imagine the hallucinogenic, distorting landscape, close your eyes, and open them to suddenly find yourself in a room, looking through a window at the land from another angle. Close and open again. This time in an inverted plane, where the land is behind our field of vision, in front is a view into an elliptical mirror. Stand up, turn to the side, now you find yourself in the eco-habitation, in the undergrowth. 9 tracks this time, with longer playing times, which means the music has more time to develop, achieve is space, settle into its drone, mutate accordingly, and carry us fully mind and body into its abyss. The jump cuts are still there, in full force, sometimes ripping us out of our socks and into the slushy ice, but they are contained, not overdone, and pull the tension strings of our mind just enough for us to string along without losing our balance and falling flat on our asses. Man just look at this fucking spread in front of you. Tastes you never imagined, crunchy delicious buttery textures, savory flavors, sparkling spices, and luscious delicacies. Oh shit, Uncle Jim farted again. Doesn't matter, we all laugh, smile as we point in memory of the stone megalith we once all picnicked in front of, make table percussion ragas with our silverware, speak gibberish, and throw the bones to the dog-romulus. Leave room for seconds, followed by dessert and a ritual appetizer. We drink some mystic concoction, and yes fumes are pouring forth from it. This time we gone too far. Are we at a table, or in the innards of the altered beast? Who the fuck is singing that goofy spiritualistic drawl with the fiddle faddle? Yeah we're still in low-fi DIY territory. It tells a story of pain and loss, agony, loneliness, despair, mirth, curiosity at life, fondness of the ecosystems and the microcosmos, and a will to sing, an overflowing passion for What The Fuck. See if we haven't returned to the catacombs by the last track. For a moment you will wonder if what you are hearing is the hum of your electronic devices or if the music has stopped.
Let's wash those pots and pans.
- Jeemobon
Lezet - INVASIVE, MELD4, CAGED?, DISTORTED PIANO RECORDINGS
Artist: Lezet
WTF albums: 1.ANDRE VIDA & LEZET - INVASIVE
2.LEZET - MELD4
3.LEZET - CAGED?
4.LEZET - DISTORTED PIANO RECORDINGS
Tags: jazz, improvisation, guided improvisation, free improvisation, experimental, spoken word, avant-jazz, avant-garde, jazz-electro, free jazz, eclectic
WTF quality: Strange but humorous amalgamations of familiar and unfamiliar sound materials, some live, some data-mined, some electronic, all mixed together and left to marinade in their own juices.
Lifespan: 2009 -
Country: Serbia
Some people might see Lezet as just another Serbian bloke who makes sound sculptures, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, hear in his work a craftsmanship and sheer stubbornness far beyond the everyday, and, if we can be bothered, set about proving it.
He is most definitely not an easy creature to catch, and struggles furiously when you try, occasionally biting back.
He is certainly prolific (38 albums, as of today's date, but what's today, Thursday? I expect one around half past two); but does quantity mean quality?
I'm delighted to say in Lezet's case the answer is a jubilant "yes"; variety, brevity and quality of source material contribute to an astounding array of challenging, not to say (indeed as he says himself) annoying music that gets both into your head like a manic weevil, and up your nose like a cotton bud wrapped in steel wool.
He bills himself as a "one-man music project", and enjoys being likened to John Cage, or "Zorn without the Saxophone", but these are not fair representations of his style and energy, and certainly not his individuality.
First up:-
Andre Vida & Lezet - Invasive.
http://www.archive.org/details/ca222_avl
Here's how I imagine it went down:-
1. Andre Vida and Lezet met for brunch.
2. They consumed a quantity of diced, raw cheetahs, with rocket-propellant sauce.
3. Someone said "Let's make an album, now."
4. Lezet won the toss, and got use of the scalpel.
The result of this dangerous game was a three-piece suite; two matching armchairs ("Bastardation" (sic) and "Bastardation (variation)") flanking a hefty sofa ("Warped"), but what's "Invasive" about that? Simply the fabric in which they are covered; a sort of gnarly, irritating moquette commonly used in station waiting rooms, or to make you feel even more uncomfortable at the rash clinic. The threads of this curious cloth are provided by the transients, key-clacks and mouthpiece chewings of Andre Vida, who is doubtless a stirring saxophonist; it's just that Lezet has not left enough of Mr. Vida's work to allow an opinion to be formed. I am glad though that there are a few tempting morsels of riffs and nitrous-oxide fueled high-end runs, sufficient to entice me into further acquaintance with his output.
This is the kind of intricate upholstery on which several TV dinners have been spilled, on which much fumbling love has been made by carefree teenagers, and within which opinion is divided as to the size, density and potency of the microbes that are an inevitable result. If you are the gambling type, though, it's well worth the risk of contagion to lounge around in it for the nearly 31 minutes of it's duration, if only to boast that you have passed the "aural challenge".
The overall effect of Lezet's take on furniture music is to make you fidget, but that's a good thing. It makes you pay close attention to what might be crawling up your trouser leg. That's what is "Invasive" about it.
Lezet - MELD4
http://www.archive.org/details/ca285_l
And so we move on to lot Meld4, a nest of occasional tables constructed lovingly in the style of the early 21st century. Notice, if you will, the discreet, understated design, with each piece growing progressively in size and complexity. (At this point (I'm glad to relate) our furniture correspondent takes a well-earned sabbatical.)
This work approaches a more "does what it says on the tin" attitude, and Lezet has mind-melded (cf. Star Trek) with a whole bunch of other musicians to produce four pieces in a host of mouth-watering combinations of artists and styles. The roll-call here is impressive:- not least John Hughes on Double Bass and Lars Scherzberg on Saxophone, but also the "lesser luminaries"; Frederique Bruyas (France), Xabier Iriondo (Italy), [-hyph-] aka Nicolas Wiese (Germany), Total Oral Maniac (France), Bryan Lewis Saunders (USA), Josep Damman (USA), Matthias Boss (Switzerland). Don't be fooled into thinking that this is just another homage to free-jazz, for Lezet puts his own very individual stamp on it from beat one, and doesn't once loosen his Vulcan Death Grip on the virtual baton.
I have to be honest and say that I still prefer the earlier Meld2, but 4 does have more depth spatially, and is not quite as "in your face"; 2 is like being attacked by Spanish hornets on crack, whereas 4 is more like being jeered at by Jamaican ants on weed. It's just a matter of how you prefer your infestation.
Again this is challenging; again it rewards patience; again you will be dazzled by the rapid restlessness and jittery brushstrokes of a man armed with nothing but some soundclips, an industrial bacon-slicer, and a dream.
Lezet - Caged?
http://www.archive.org/details/sPE_0001
This time Our Hero takes on the Holy of Holies, John Cage no less, but fear not. This is a cheeky "tip o' the hat" to Cage's prepared piano works.
It appears that no innocent pianos were harmed in the making of these ten short pieces, as Lezet seems to have sampled a pre-prepared piano previously in preparation or post-produced a posted prepared piano or not. You work it out.
This is not an entirely serious work, as you can gather from the blurb uploaded by the "long-awaited" netlabel that it purports to launch, but I'm not going to hazard a guess as to where the samples themselves originated.
This is well worth a listen, if you have 15 minutes to spare, if only for the unexplained use of "the first sound file ever, recorded by Edouard-Leon de Martinville on the Phonoautograph (1860)" in the last track on the EP.
Lezet - Distorted Piano Recordings
http://www.archive.org/details/MTR-011
This is a recording of piano music...erm....distorted. So what?
Wait. That isn't the only point he's trying to make. This is probably the biggest challenge of the lot.
Although he's left the piano tracks in there, he doesn't want you to listen to them. They're only in there as a guide. There are further instructions from His Majesty:- listen to the distortion. Listen carefully to the distortion. You will start to notice that although the levels on the distortion don't change, the distortion itself changes in texture, the piano lines do different things. Playing chords introduces harmonics into the distortion; playing counterpoint introduces sidebands that change the output "in surprising ways".
The annoyance here (and I don't know whether it's intentional) is that all these tracks are recorded at approaching 0db, and just stay there. It's very difficult to follow the instructions when your eardrum membranes are getting peeled away one layer at a time. I urge you to turn the volume down to 4% (not by, to) before pressing play.
Otherwise, it's a beautiful use of a known phenomenon. The track lengths vary; the first is just over 16 minutes, but the next is only 3 or so, and the last only 1' 22'', but what the fuck, come on, feel the noise.
Lezet's work is available on several different netlabels, among them the embryonic suRRism-Phonoethics, and the more mature Meatronic, both of which hide a wealth of material for your further edification.
-ettuspadix
WTF albums: 1.ANDRE VIDA & LEZET - INVASIVE
2.LEZET - MELD4
3.LEZET - CAGED?
4.LEZET - DISTORTED PIANO RECORDINGS
Tags: jazz, improvisation, guided improvisation, free improvisation, experimental, spoken word, avant-jazz, avant-garde, jazz-electro, free jazz, eclectic
WTF quality: Strange but humorous amalgamations of familiar and unfamiliar sound materials, some live, some data-mined, some electronic, all mixed together and left to marinade in their own juices.
Lifespan: 2009 -
Country: Serbia
Some people might see Lezet as just another Serbian bloke who makes sound sculptures, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, hear in his work a craftsmanship and sheer stubbornness far beyond the everyday, and, if we can be bothered, set about proving it.
He is most definitely not an easy creature to catch, and struggles furiously when you try, occasionally biting back.
He is certainly prolific (38 albums, as of today's date, but what's today, Thursday? I expect one around half past two); but does quantity mean quality?
I'm delighted to say in Lezet's case the answer is a jubilant "yes"; variety, brevity and quality of source material contribute to an astounding array of challenging, not to say (indeed as he says himself) annoying music that gets both into your head like a manic weevil, and up your nose like a cotton bud wrapped in steel wool.
He bills himself as a "one-man music project", and enjoys being likened to John Cage, or "Zorn without the Saxophone", but these are not fair representations of his style and energy, and certainly not his individuality.
First up:-
Andre Vida & Lezet - Invasive.
http://www.archive.org/details/ca222_avl
Here's how I imagine it went down:-
1. Andre Vida and Lezet met for brunch.
2. They consumed a quantity of diced, raw cheetahs, with rocket-propellant sauce.
3. Someone said "Let's make an album, now."
4. Lezet won the toss, and got use of the scalpel.
The result of this dangerous game was a three-piece suite; two matching armchairs ("Bastardation" (sic) and "Bastardation (variation)") flanking a hefty sofa ("Warped"), but what's "Invasive" about that? Simply the fabric in which they are covered; a sort of gnarly, irritating moquette commonly used in station waiting rooms, or to make you feel even more uncomfortable at the rash clinic. The threads of this curious cloth are provided by the transients, key-clacks and mouthpiece chewings of Andre Vida, who is doubtless a stirring saxophonist; it's just that Lezet has not left enough of Mr. Vida's work to allow an opinion to be formed. I am glad though that there are a few tempting morsels of riffs and nitrous-oxide fueled high-end runs, sufficient to entice me into further acquaintance with his output.
This is the kind of intricate upholstery on which several TV dinners have been spilled, on which much fumbling love has been made by carefree teenagers, and within which opinion is divided as to the size, density and potency of the microbes that are an inevitable result. If you are the gambling type, though, it's well worth the risk of contagion to lounge around in it for the nearly 31 minutes of it's duration, if only to boast that you have passed the "aural challenge".
The overall effect of Lezet's take on furniture music is to make you fidget, but that's a good thing. It makes you pay close attention to what might be crawling up your trouser leg. That's what is "Invasive" about it.
Lezet - MELD4
http://www.archive.org/details/ca285_l
And so we move on to lot Meld4, a nest of occasional tables constructed lovingly in the style of the early 21st century. Notice, if you will, the discreet, understated design, with each piece growing progressively in size and complexity. (At this point (I'm glad to relate) our furniture correspondent takes a well-earned sabbatical.)
This work approaches a more "does what it says on the tin" attitude, and Lezet has mind-melded (cf. Star Trek) with a whole bunch of other musicians to produce four pieces in a host of mouth-watering combinations of artists and styles. The roll-call here is impressive:- not least John Hughes on Double Bass and Lars Scherzberg on Saxophone, but also the "lesser luminaries"; Frederique Bruyas (France), Xabier Iriondo (Italy), [-hyph-] aka Nicolas Wiese (Germany), Total Oral Maniac (France), Bryan Lewis Saunders (USA), Josep Damman (USA), Matthias Boss (Switzerland). Don't be fooled into thinking that this is just another homage to free-jazz, for Lezet puts his own very individual stamp on it from beat one, and doesn't once loosen his Vulcan Death Grip on the virtual baton.
I have to be honest and say that I still prefer the earlier Meld2, but 4 does have more depth spatially, and is not quite as "in your face"; 2 is like being attacked by Spanish hornets on crack, whereas 4 is more like being jeered at by Jamaican ants on weed. It's just a matter of how you prefer your infestation.
Again this is challenging; again it rewards patience; again you will be dazzled by the rapid restlessness and jittery brushstrokes of a man armed with nothing but some soundclips, an industrial bacon-slicer, and a dream.
Lezet - Caged?
http://www.archive.org/details/sPE_0001
This time Our Hero takes on the Holy of Holies, John Cage no less, but fear not. This is a cheeky "tip o' the hat" to Cage's prepared piano works.
It appears that no innocent pianos were harmed in the making of these ten short pieces, as Lezet seems to have sampled a pre-prepared piano previously in preparation or post-produced a posted prepared piano or not. You work it out.
This is not an entirely serious work, as you can gather from the blurb uploaded by the "long-awaited" netlabel that it purports to launch, but I'm not going to hazard a guess as to where the samples themselves originated.
This is well worth a listen, if you have 15 minutes to spare, if only for the unexplained use of "the first sound file ever, recorded by Edouard-Leon de Martinville on the Phonoautograph (1860)" in the last track on the EP.
Lezet - Distorted Piano Recordings
http://www.archive.org/details/MTR-011
This is a recording of piano music...erm....distorted. So what?
Wait. That isn't the only point he's trying to make. This is probably the biggest challenge of the lot.
Although he's left the piano tracks in there, he doesn't want you to listen to them. They're only in there as a guide. There are further instructions from His Majesty:- listen to the distortion. Listen carefully to the distortion. You will start to notice that although the levels on the distortion don't change, the distortion itself changes in texture, the piano lines do different things. Playing chords introduces harmonics into the distortion; playing counterpoint introduces sidebands that change the output "in surprising ways".
The annoyance here (and I don't know whether it's intentional) is that all these tracks are recorded at approaching 0db, and just stay there. It's very difficult to follow the instructions when your eardrum membranes are getting peeled away one layer at a time. I urge you to turn the volume down to 4% (not by, to) before pressing play.
Otherwise, it's a beautiful use of a known phenomenon. The track lengths vary; the first is just over 16 minutes, but the next is only 3 or so, and the last only 1' 22'', but what the fuck, come on, feel the noise.
Lezet's work is available on several different netlabels, among them the embryonic suRRism-Phonoethics, and the more mature Meatronic, both of which hide a wealth of material for your further edification.
-ettuspadix
Pilesar / Daniel Euphrat - Chamber of the Egg
 Artist profile - - - ..... Syntax()_+|}{":\=-3357**4dqueeeznn.n.nnn appellation: Pilesar / Daniel Euphrat product format: Digital silicon encoded sound reproduction total running time: 25'26" product title: Chamber of the Egg implements used: various shaped metallic objects including heat-forged and curved discs rods and irregularly shaped resonators, smaller sphere-like chambers assembled into string mesh and shaken, large cut and polished tree-slabs shaped into curved box-like hollow resonator apparatuses with tight metal strings attached harmonically excited with human finger or plastic plectrum, other similar stretched-string devices with thin copper wire wound around magnets used to transfer electromagnetic waves from the string vibrations, plastic digital silicon encoded white and black spring levered key machines processed through software manipulation and pushed with human fingers, a complex mechanical device utilizing air pumped via cloth and animal hide in a serrated elastic pattern through very thin synthetic polymer reeds which vibrate intensely, various dried plant material such as seed husk gourd and stalk material which generate rather inharmonic high frequencies when shaken or struck with long thin tree fragment cylinders, further electronic devices also utilizing silicon encoded algorithms for transferring vibrational energy through rubber coated copper wiring from thin membranes vibrating over magnets transferred into further silicon data storage mechanisms, various lengths of long flat rectangular tree fragments lined in rows and struck with long sticks with hard spherical terminuses, circular sheets of plastic stretched tightly over a short and wide cylindrical metallic frame and beaten with tree sticks, similarly shaped but taller cylindrical hollow tree trunk frames stretched over with animal hide, hollowed elongated cylindrical tree sticks with several holes pressed and released by human fingers while air is blown from the lungs and vibrates through a notched cut in the chamber, human vocal cord vibrations through lung pressure time period: 2008 Earth rotations after an arbitrary and inaccurately measured historical event Earth location: The North American continent, in the cold far Eastern region purpose of creation: excitement of brain activity induced by the process of sound manipulation and storage for reproduction. Increased and stimulation of cortical zone interchange from audial perception of the finished product streamed from digital core into interface magnet cone amplification devices. subtle effects of amplified audial stream: tested on a control group of randomly chosen subjects wearing cupped plastic magnetic membrane over the ears and strapped over cranial area devices, effects included closed eyes, increased toe and finger movement, slight pupil dilation, heart rate slightly decreased, breathing at a regular stasis rate, slow swaying of body and rotation of upper spinal column, generally relaxed seating position. Subjects also reported a feeling of comfort as well as curiosity and bewilderment. analysis: the two humans plus auxiliary third responsible for the creation of this digitally silicon based encoded information stored on various chips spread throughout the planet, show signs of abnormal but generally peaceful behavior, through the expression manifest in this particular sound reproduction. They tend to produce sounds layered in harmonically and timbrally interrelated formations of spectral integration. A pattern of regular intervals of time is prevalent in many of the subdivisions of the whole body of work, of which there are 9. These intervals have been calculated to be repetitions of groups of 8, 6, and 14, occasionally with irregularities in which the patterns are varied in length but maintain regularity of the pulsation of time intervals between amplitude peaks. The patterns of the various implements are interlayed and vary at intervals usually several times within the confines of one interval of subdivision of the whole. On some of the subdivisions the regularity of repetition is approximated over several seconds and may very in overall length, causing the effect of a sense of protruding amplitude peaks over time as rolling through more complex curve analysis. Thus pulsation, while occurring in a sequential array of similar timbral results from a continuation of vibration effected on the implements used, is variable in time intervals on many of the subdivisions of the whole. The result of this whole is what humans speak in their tongues as word in the English language known as drone. Transmission received from Jeemobon from the planet Hintra link to digitally encoded upon silicon storage mechanism: http://pilesarmusic.com/album/egg/egg.html | |
Object Music
The Everyday Household Objects Marathon has run its course and is now downloadable in album format. The concept was simple - record music with objects. Obviously.
Thanks to all those who entered submissions!
I love object sounds and and it is no hyperbole to say that this marathon has been a big influence on my life. I love resonating objects baby . . .
To download this as an album, click here:
DOWNLOAD
This was great fun and hopefully some day we can make a volume 2.
So break out the utensils and start pounding out some rhythms.
Thanks to all those who entered submissions!
I love object sounds and and it is no hyperbole to say that this marathon has been a big influence on my life. I love resonating objects baby . . .
To download this as an album, click here:
DOWNLOAD
This was great fun and hopefully some day we can make a volume 2.
So break out the utensils and start pounding out some rhythms.
TUMBLEWEAVE - DEMON SQUEEZE
Artist: TUMBLEWEAVE
WTF Album: DEMON SQUEEZE
Tags: progressive, synth, duo, hyper, electronic rock, cartoon, noise
WTF Quality: Concise, quick to the punch, windy grindy mind jabbing music
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
Well fuck, here we go.
And how can you say can you say how can an album that is so short, an album under 10 minutes, really be an album? What the fuck is that?
That's right assholes. Listen to this shit for 9 minutes and 34 seconds and jiggle your body and be done with it. Come back when you get a chance!
Have some fun with it too.
God damned motherfucking breakdancing clowns from hell.
When you're ready for action get into the DEMON SQUEEZE and purge them shits cause it's like your tripping down a roller-coaster highway on the tip of a vinyl needle under the spell of an evil sorceress who wants your blood.
Pulse it through your veins and try not to succumb to the urge to drive head into oncoming traffic while screaming the surrealist manifesto at the top of your lungs. If you can muster up such guster, which I doubt, but try anyway,
When the purple onions arrive from their cribs in the subatomic chamber, attempt to be friendly, feign interest in their foreign drawl about motorcar racing and subterranean scuba diving bearing in mind all the while that they are putrid and must return to their realm of degeneration and decay so that they might not stink up your life too much. It's worth it in the end, trust the words of the forgotten fiddle salesman.
That is not to say that it will not last an eternity and several percentages thereof while you put on the headphones and say fuck all to all, say fuck you to the businessman and the schoolboy as they innocently plot their journey. Fucking scream at them that all is love and maybe somehow one or two of them might get the mirage, sing in their soul for half a moment, make you step out of your ego trip.
TUMBLEWEAVE through your day. Collect detritus through static electricity and plow fields of old clover, the ambient shit is over there in the left aisle, the forgotten whirlpool of deceased rocking chairs.
Put your beats in this basket and crush them with your toes. Looks like some messy gory disaster don't it. Tweak. Asylum of fools in the south corner and framework of pulsation driving the geese into the outer chamber. If it was a modular synthetic FM additive envelope filter charging plutonic jiro-beams into your soup, you better eat it. Best that way.
TUMBLEWEAVE both tumble and weave. In your soup as you taste the salty bits. And just put it in a fucking blender anyway, cause all is malevolent compassion from the bits of nothing that formulate the little jiggly seeds of the strings.
DEMON SQUEEZE might alter you in some way, but it might not. When you listen through speakers, the sound that comes out reverberates through the air-space of the chamber in which those speakers are placed, so there is likely to be some sort of ambient effect. When listened through headphones or earphones, the bulge pops out.
It's a big fucking bulge, it might even infiltrate your pants. Scary as that may be, the bulge is like a saucer of milk to your kitten. The ambiance was fed to the dinosaurs and the moon came howling at your door. You were like Fuck Off Moon, but the dinosaurs begged for seconds and were relieved of their urinal duty. Then finally the foxes came to shine. They shone so brightly in your eyes that you suffered an attack of tunnel vision, and at the far side of that vivid pulsating light was a spectrograph, indicating all states past present future sideways through the 11th dimension and inner that could be represented by your garden variety hardware store navigation system, suffering from poor radio wave transmission and dying batteries. Which is quite a lot anyway.
When TUMBLEWAEVE roll lazily into your town, you'll be like, well there goes another day, another whisp in the breeze for old life of mine here that trundles forth from the plasma drip goo of civilization, and the frontiers of everglade spaces where frogs chirp to the trees and we all feel like getting high. Another wave upon the ripple in the pool of undermined minted pure crave sanitation veins of gas electric septic drainage other concrete yo mama gosh gosh gosh hitherto unfolded paper pears with wholes sticking out of their reptile crotches, crocheting to the beat of a million synthopedes. Proto chimp clandestine spaz blistic brazen grolst pentagonal glyph apocalyptic crypt swift drip slinky brink glade freeze pylon break stem quiff dronst bragnol gwarf trimp splode
Download or buy - http://tumbleweave.bandcamp.com/album/demon-squeeze
-Jeemobon
WTF Album: DEMON SQUEEZE
Tags: progressive, synth, duo, hyper, electronic rock, cartoon, noise
WTF Quality: Concise, quick to the punch, windy grindy mind jabbing music
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
Well fuck, here we go.
And how can you say can you say how can an album that is so short, an album under 10 minutes, really be an album? What the fuck is that?
That's right assholes. Listen to this shit for 9 minutes and 34 seconds and jiggle your body and be done with it. Come back when you get a chance!
Have some fun with it too.
God damned motherfucking breakdancing clowns from hell.
When you're ready for action get into the DEMON SQUEEZE and purge them shits cause it's like your tripping down a roller-coaster highway on the tip of a vinyl needle under the spell of an evil sorceress who wants your blood.
Pulse it through your veins and try not to succumb to the urge to drive head into oncoming traffic while screaming the surrealist manifesto at the top of your lungs. If you can muster up such guster, which I doubt, but try anyway,
When the purple onions arrive from their cribs in the subatomic chamber, attempt to be friendly, feign interest in their foreign drawl about motorcar racing and subterranean scuba diving bearing in mind all the while that they are putrid and must return to their realm of degeneration and decay so that they might not stink up your life too much. It's worth it in the end, trust the words of the forgotten fiddle salesman.
That is not to say that it will not last an eternity and several percentages thereof while you put on the headphones and say fuck all to all, say fuck you to the businessman and the schoolboy as they innocently plot their journey. Fucking scream at them that all is love and maybe somehow one or two of them might get the mirage, sing in their soul for half a moment, make you step out of your ego trip.
TUMBLEWEAVE through your day. Collect detritus through static electricity and plow fields of old clover, the ambient shit is over there in the left aisle, the forgotten whirlpool of deceased rocking chairs.
Put your beats in this basket and crush them with your toes. Looks like some messy gory disaster don't it. Tweak. Asylum of fools in the south corner and framework of pulsation driving the geese into the outer chamber. If it was a modular synthetic FM additive envelope filter charging plutonic jiro-beams into your soup, you better eat it. Best that way.
TUMBLEWEAVE both tumble and weave. In your soup as you taste the salty bits. And just put it in a fucking blender anyway, cause all is malevolent compassion from the bits of nothing that formulate the little jiggly seeds of the strings.
DEMON SQUEEZE might alter you in some way, but it might not. When you listen through speakers, the sound that comes out reverberates through the air-space of the chamber in which those speakers are placed, so there is likely to be some sort of ambient effect. When listened through headphones or earphones, the bulge pops out.
It's a big fucking bulge, it might even infiltrate your pants. Scary as that may be, the bulge is like a saucer of milk to your kitten. The ambiance was fed to the dinosaurs and the moon came howling at your door. You were like Fuck Off Moon, but the dinosaurs begged for seconds and were relieved of their urinal duty. Then finally the foxes came to shine. They shone so brightly in your eyes that you suffered an attack of tunnel vision, and at the far side of that vivid pulsating light was a spectrograph, indicating all states past present future sideways through the 11th dimension and inner that could be represented by your garden variety hardware store navigation system, suffering from poor radio wave transmission and dying batteries. Which is quite a lot anyway.
When TUMBLEWAEVE roll lazily into your town, you'll be like, well there goes another day, another whisp in the breeze for old life of mine here that trundles forth from the plasma drip goo of civilization, and the frontiers of everglade spaces where frogs chirp to the trees and we all feel like getting high. Another wave upon the ripple in the pool of undermined minted pure crave sanitation veins of gas electric septic drainage other concrete yo mama gosh gosh gosh hitherto unfolded paper pears with wholes sticking out of their reptile crotches, crocheting to the beat of a million synthopedes. Proto chimp clandestine spaz blistic brazen grolst pentagonal glyph apocalyptic crypt swift drip slinky brink glade freeze pylon break stem quiff dronst bragnol gwarf trimp splode
Download or buy - http://tumbleweave.bandcamp.com/album/demon-squeeze
-Jeemobon
Ghouls 'n Eggs - Monsters At My Door
Artist: Ghouls ´n Eggs
WTF Album: Monsters At My Door
Tags: horror, dark, ambient, industrial, noise, electronic
WTF Quality: A nightmarish series of visions
Lifespan: 2008 -
Country: Brazil
Enter the nightmare
perdido has graced the halls of WTF for some time, assuming the moniker of "Ghouls'n Eggs", assumedly a reference to Edith the egg lady from Pink Flamingos (in his avatar), and ... ghouls, which are like ghosts I think. It all makes sense.
With the computer paint style cover art drawn by LFC, the fucking crazy lucas himself, a longtime friend and fellow of perdido, master of fucked up sick ass imaginary worlds of hellish chaos and cartoonish fantasy terror, how can this possibly go wrong??? It can't!!!
Traces of horror film ambience, dark winds, ghostly howls, chilling wind, mist, haunted groves, clinking bones, burning synapses, piles of shit, horrendous demons the mere sight of whom arouses an intense spasm of vomiting, decrepit souls in a constant state of hopeless despair and decay, endless evil lurking around every corner and behind your shoulder, doom doom and a hyper-accelerated sucking vortex of doom doom and doom, zero gravity, a skeletal hallucination, a heavy weighing layer upon layer of the approaching of something much more hideous than death itself, and the heavily approaching pounding mathematical juggernaut who enslaves you into a beyond infinite nay multi-infinite matrix of impossible tasks which if failed will be duly punished with the cruelest and most insidious infliction of pure pain the likes of which you even in your worst moments in this mortal coil could never have imagined, all permeate.
perdido is something of a techno wizard, which is apparent as an influence in this music. There are no beats, no hooks, no buildups, no breakdowns, no typical trappings of a techno artist, but the sounds themselves are the workings of an electronic musician. It starts with the quarter note bass octaves on the first track, "lullaby for old people," a very synthy techno in an otherwise dark atmospheric track. With the almost whispered, childlike, close-miked semi-moronic vocals, we are primed for the fucked up journey that is to come. In other tracks, there is a layering of percussiver rhythms, as in the deep throbbing booms, muted train-like drones, and insect-like click-rhythms of "reaching for the abyss." Every track is such a hidden mechanical chamber in a labyrinthine dungeon of a very fucked up universe.
WTF music is very excited that this album has been made specifically for our freaky ass website. A great WTF blessing of madness upon us. perdido, from his haunted crib of egg loving, creates nightmarish monsters. "Monsters at my Door" has a narrative feel from track to track, each tale connecting fragments of a disturbed mind, lost and without a trace of hope.
Then we wake up.
- Jeemobon
Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?antgst3hx7n67da
download all of perdido's albums!
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs (2007) - 4 tracks (11 mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/ghoulsandeggs.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs Revenge (2008) - 6 tracks (Vangelus with LFC) (10mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/ghoulsandeggsrevenge.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs 4 (2008) - 4 tracks in collab with LFC (9mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/GNE4.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - PPPOOORNNNNSTAAARS (2008) - 5 tracks (10mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/gne_pornstars2008.zip
[EDIT] - How about some Ghouls 'n Ghosts shots to get us in the scary mood!
WTF Album: Monsters At My Door
Tags: horror, dark, ambient, industrial, noise, electronic
WTF Quality: A nightmarish series of visions
Lifespan: 2008 -
Country: Brazil
Enter the nightmare
the story about a man who enters other dimensions while sleeping and encounters worlds of unspeakable horror.
perdido has graced the halls of WTF for some time, assuming the moniker of "Ghouls'n Eggs", assumedly a reference to Edith the egg lady from Pink Flamingos (in his avatar), and ... ghouls, which are like ghosts I think. It all makes sense.
With the computer paint style cover art drawn by LFC, the fucking crazy lucas himself, a longtime friend and fellow of perdido, master of fucked up sick ass imaginary worlds of hellish chaos and cartoonish fantasy terror, how can this possibly go wrong??? It can't!!!
Traces of horror film ambience, dark winds, ghostly howls, chilling wind, mist, haunted groves, clinking bones, burning synapses, piles of shit, horrendous demons the mere sight of whom arouses an intense spasm of vomiting, decrepit souls in a constant state of hopeless despair and decay, endless evil lurking around every corner and behind your shoulder, doom doom and a hyper-accelerated sucking vortex of doom doom and doom, zero gravity, a skeletal hallucination, a heavy weighing layer upon layer of the approaching of something much more hideous than death itself, and the heavily approaching pounding mathematical juggernaut who enslaves you into a beyond infinite nay multi-infinite matrix of impossible tasks which if failed will be duly punished with the cruelest and most insidious infliction of pure pain the likes of which you even in your worst moments in this mortal coil could never have imagined, all permeate.
perdido is something of a techno wizard, which is apparent as an influence in this music. There are no beats, no hooks, no buildups, no breakdowns, no typical trappings of a techno artist, but the sounds themselves are the workings of an electronic musician. It starts with the quarter note bass octaves on the first track, "lullaby for old people," a very synthy techno in an otherwise dark atmospheric track. With the almost whispered, childlike, close-miked semi-moronic vocals, we are primed for the fucked up journey that is to come. In other tracks, there is a layering of percussiver rhythms, as in the deep throbbing booms, muted train-like drones, and insect-like click-rhythms of "reaching for the abyss." Every track is such a hidden mechanical chamber in a labyrinthine dungeon of a very fucked up universe.
WTF music is very excited that this album has been made specifically for our freaky ass website. A great WTF blessing of madness upon us. perdido, from his haunted crib of egg loving, creates nightmarish monsters. "Monsters at my Door" has a narrative feel from track to track, each tale connecting fragments of a disturbed mind, lost and without a trace of hope.
Then we wake up.
- Jeemobon
Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?antgst3hx7n67da
download all of perdido's albums!
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs (2007) - 4 tracks (11 mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/ghoulsandeggs.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs Revenge (2008) - 6 tracks (Vangelus with LFC) (10mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/ghoulsandeggsrevenge.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - Ghouls ´n Eggs 4 (2008) - 4 tracks in collab with LFC (9mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/GNE4.zip
Ghouls ´n Eggs - PPPOOORNNNNSTAAARS (2008) - 5 tracks (10mb)
http://roqueealfredo.com.br/gne/gne_pornstars2008.zip
[EDIT] - How about some Ghouls 'n Ghosts shots to get us in the scary mood!
Gonken - Mechanical Christ In My Basement
Artist: Gonken
WTF Album: Mechanical Christ in my Basement
Tags: noise, bent circuit, radio, collage, spoken word, christian, mockery
WTF Quality: A Christian noise album inspired by an unintended radio signal
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
My brothers and sisters in Christ,
A most grave and disturbing matter has come to my attention that we must together face with the steadfast belief in the power of our Heavenly Father, for it is this unshakable faith that forms our rock, our foundation which will always prevail in the face of adversity.
A young fellow, a troubled soul and reckless heathen by the name of J. Gonken has desecrated our divine sanctuary and our covenant. Our church and our congregation has been ridiculed and cursed, and it is now our responsibility to evangelize and set straight he who has trespassed against us.
Some days ago, my friends, I received a copy of an audio recording, a CD bearing the name of "Mechanical Christ in my Basement." And it is full of hate, sin, and the vilest sounds that I personally have ever heard in the entire time that I have walked this Earth. It is satanic and poison, and I dare not let anyone else hear it for fear that it may be heard by some of the impressionable youngsters among us. The sounds themselves are too many and too wicked to mention, but I will provide you with a small depiction of their venomous effect.
Imagine the howling of a demon, a damned soul. Picture and hear in your mind, for a moment, the flickering sun-hot flames of hell. Imagine the unspeakable depravity: a horde of writhing serpents, the clash and grind of chains and whips, a bacchanalian orgy of sinful pleasure, a dark mass held in a luciferian hall of worship. This is what I see when I heard this CD, something I can only refer to as an insult to God's beautiful gift of music. It is anti-music, just as the devil is anti-god. The sounds grind against the ears, damage the senses, undoubtedly and maliciously inflicting wounds to the ears and to the soul. They may not be the loudest or heaviest sounds, and believe me, I know what heavy metal rock and roll can sound like: awful repetitive pounding infantile hateful nonsense music, but this heavy metal music I speak of at least uses musical instruments and some semblance of melody and rhythm, thus it can at least be called a distorted form of music. But this Gonken CD I hold here in my hand, this atrocity, can not even rightfully be called music. Honestly folks, I think at times it may be the voice of an evil machine, a satanic computer. It is unwholesome and unnatural. I couldn't listen past the second track - after that I had to skip through them. All the same. All nonsense. No redeeming qualities whatsoever.
But not only that, my friends, not only is this the most offensive kind of sound imaginable, but this man who calls himself Gonken, this minion of satan, has stolen our voice. It is true. He has somehow eavesdropped in on our services and recorded the sound of my sermons, unbeknownst to us all. Perhaps he is among us at this very moment! [hushed gasping and curious gaping from the congregation]. Yea, one must never underestimate the deception of the dark lord of hell. He can assume any form, and he can blend into any situation, even in the holiest of earthly places. Thus we are never safe, never entirely free from his grasp. And he will tempt you to a life of sin, and that is why we must resist. By capturing the sound from this hall of worship and splicing in with his anti-music, he has committed a most grievous offense against us. It is a spit in the face of our heavenly father. As followers of the teachings of Christ I urge you to search your souls and pray for this demented creature.
Now we as Christians must search our hearts and ask ourselves - can such a soul truly be redeemed? Can we evangelize and convert him, show him the light and the truth of God's eternal love as expressed through the death of his only son? Can he open his heart and beg for forgiveness for his sins, cleanse his soul, and be baptized in the holy waters? Or is he too far gone, forever a spawn of the devil? For his transformation must be perfectly complete, otherwise he will surely slip into the lake of fire with the other tortured souls.
I say that if he does indeed walk among us, we must fear him, we must not be caught by his clutches, for even if we read the most enlightening passages and convey God's love, surely he will laugh at us and mock us as he has with this CD. Do not let him corrupt us, we are the pillars of the house of God, and we do not shake. If he is to willingly convert and confess to his innumerable sins, we are to accept him as a brother in Christ. Notwithstanding such circumstances, he is to be banished from our sight, that he may never set foot or microphone upon these premises again.
In God's name we pray:
Dear Heavenly Father, let us be strong in our faith and steadfast in our ways. We pray that you through your infinite wisdom can shine your light of truth upon this lost soul who calls himself J. Gonken.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
-Pastor Jeemobonus
[WTFmusic.org admin's editorial comment - This review by Pastor Jeemobonus does not reflect the opinions or religious views of this site's creators, which are basically magick ritual orgy. We follow up on this sermon with a review by Jeemobon]
As the legend goes,
And what could be more fucked up than the bible, or firebrand preachers sermoning about the bible? In the glory of all that is WTF, now we have an album of noise music to accompany these crazy sermons.
From the opening track of the album we have this glorious teaching:
The words became babble, like the sound of rain or insects. Meaningless. And God did it to confuse us! But Gonken does it to mock, to play, to have fun with it because it's all so weird and WTF. To the uncompromising noise musician, all sound is available to be used, as sound, to create music. But to the hardcore Christians, everything fits into the perspective of Christ, as the quote about wives illustrates, and just as is mentioned in the last track on the album: "and so this love has to be a sincere love." Believe with all your heart and be saved. Another sermon quote from the album:
Which you can see in the world around us very easily. Politicians and people in power throughout history and even today hold these very beliefs, take them very seriously, and take these beliefs to the extreme of holy wars, and other bullshit like teaching creationism in science class. Well shit, that's debatable, isn't it, there's no proof for evolution! Right, that's why we have so many religious freaks in the world ...
Eventually as the album progresses, Gonken's music takes over, but still the many appearances of the sermon pervade the whole listening experience, and it seems that they are lurking behind the textures and more thickly layered sections. As stated earlier, it's all noise. "Mechanical Christ In My Basement" strikes the chord of absurdist resonance within the zealous voice of Christian doctrine.
The album will be made available for download shortly.
http://gonken.moonfruit.com/
I leave you with some fucked up quotes from the bible, many gleaned from other community message boards, and the particularly useful wtfbible.org
-Jeemobon
WTF Album: Mechanical Christ in my Basement
Tags: noise, bent circuit, radio, collage, spoken word, christian, mockery
WTF Quality: A Christian noise album inspired by an unintended radio signal
Lifespan: 2010 -
Country: USA
My brothers and sisters in Christ,
A most grave and disturbing matter has come to my attention that we must together face with the steadfast belief in the power of our Heavenly Father, for it is this unshakable faith that forms our rock, our foundation which will always prevail in the face of adversity.
A young fellow, a troubled soul and reckless heathen by the name of J. Gonken has desecrated our divine sanctuary and our covenant. Our church and our congregation has been ridiculed and cursed, and it is now our responsibility to evangelize and set straight he who has trespassed against us.
Some days ago, my friends, I received a copy of an audio recording, a CD bearing the name of "Mechanical Christ in my Basement." And it is full of hate, sin, and the vilest sounds that I personally have ever heard in the entire time that I have walked this Earth. It is satanic and poison, and I dare not let anyone else hear it for fear that it may be heard by some of the impressionable youngsters among us. The sounds themselves are too many and too wicked to mention, but I will provide you with a small depiction of their venomous effect.
Imagine the howling of a demon, a damned soul. Picture and hear in your mind, for a moment, the flickering sun-hot flames of hell. Imagine the unspeakable depravity: a horde of writhing serpents, the clash and grind of chains and whips, a bacchanalian orgy of sinful pleasure, a dark mass held in a luciferian hall of worship. This is what I see when I heard this CD, something I can only refer to as an insult to God's beautiful gift of music. It is anti-music, just as the devil is anti-god. The sounds grind against the ears, damage the senses, undoubtedly and maliciously inflicting wounds to the ears and to the soul. They may not be the loudest or heaviest sounds, and believe me, I know what heavy metal rock and roll can sound like: awful repetitive pounding infantile hateful nonsense music, but this heavy metal music I speak of at least uses musical instruments and some semblance of melody and rhythm, thus it can at least be called a distorted form of music. But this Gonken CD I hold here in my hand, this atrocity, can not even rightfully be called music. Honestly folks, I think at times it may be the voice of an evil machine, a satanic computer. It is unwholesome and unnatural. I couldn't listen past the second track - after that I had to skip through them. All the same. All nonsense. No redeeming qualities whatsoever.
But not only that, my friends, not only is this the most offensive kind of sound imaginable, but this man who calls himself Gonken, this minion of satan, has stolen our voice. It is true. He has somehow eavesdropped in on our services and recorded the sound of my sermons, unbeknownst to us all. Perhaps he is among us at this very moment! [hushed gasping and curious gaping from the congregation]. Yea, one must never underestimate the deception of the dark lord of hell. He can assume any form, and he can blend into any situation, even in the holiest of earthly places. Thus we are never safe, never entirely free from his grasp. And he will tempt you to a life of sin, and that is why we must resist. By capturing the sound from this hall of worship and splicing in with his anti-music, he has committed a most grievous offense against us. It is a spit in the face of our heavenly father. As followers of the teachings of Christ I urge you to search your souls and pray for this demented creature.
Now we as Christians must search our hearts and ask ourselves - can such a soul truly be redeemed? Can we evangelize and convert him, show him the light and the truth of God's eternal love as expressed through the death of his only son? Can he open his heart and beg for forgiveness for his sins, cleanse his soul, and be baptized in the holy waters? Or is he too far gone, forever a spawn of the devil? For his transformation must be perfectly complete, otherwise he will surely slip into the lake of fire with the other tortured souls.
I say that if he does indeed walk among us, we must fear him, we must not be caught by his clutches, for even if we read the most enlightening passages and convey God's love, surely he will laugh at us and mock us as he has with this CD. Do not let him corrupt us, we are the pillars of the house of God, and we do not shake. If he is to willingly convert and confess to his innumerable sins, we are to accept him as a brother in Christ. Notwithstanding such circumstances, he is to be banished from our sight, that he may never set foot or microphone upon these premises again.
In God's name we pray:
Dear Heavenly Father, let us be strong in our faith and steadfast in our ways. We pray that you through your infinite wisdom can shine your light of truth upon this lost soul who calls himself J. Gonken.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
-Pastor Jeemobonus
[WTFmusic.org admin's editorial comment - This review by Pastor Jeemobonus does not reflect the opinions or religious views of this site's creators, which are basically magick ritual orgy. We follow up on this sermon with a review by Jeemobon]
As the legend goes,
The subject matter of this release was born of a freak accident. I was practicing for a noise show that I got asked to perform at and by doing so in my basement with a combination of a circuit bent keyboard and a cheap radio shack cable, I picked up a broadcast from a local church down the street. So I decided to record the practice set and this is what I got. The more I listened to it, the more I was drawn into it. A real modern miracle.- J. Gonken
And what could be more fucked up than the bible, or firebrand preachers sermoning about the bible? In the glory of all that is WTF, now we have an album of noise music to accompany these crazy sermons.
From the opening track of the album we have this glorious teaching:
Wives submit yourselves into your own husbands as under the lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church, and he is the savior of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything.Yes, this is what many Christians believe. Soon the preacher's voice becomes morphed into a synth-like unintelligible garble. And it is this morphing that defines Gonken's personal aesthetic and response to this teaching. Mockery through noise. If we think about typical stereotypes of the kind of emotions usually conveyed by noise musicians, some of the first things that usually spring to mind: darkness, insanity, aggression, fuck you and fuck it all, despair. Of course, there is much more to electronic noises (just listen to some member music from this site), and Gonken is not simply a sneering, angry, raving hater who destroys the sermon with walls of destruction. A lot of it is done in a sparse way. The message is vaguely understandable and Gonken plays around the words with beeps, swoops, hisses, low tones, rumbles, and mini-drones. The voice bubbles out from muddled tones, becomes engulfed by static, is twisted and filtered, until it too is nothing more than noise. A fucked up quote from the bible to expand on this idea:
‘Look!’ he said. ‘The people are united, and they all speak the same language. After this, nothing they set out to do will be impossible for them! Come, let’s go down and confuse the people with different languages. Then they won’t be able to understand each other.’Genesis 11:6-7
The words became babble, like the sound of rain or insects. Meaningless. And God did it to confuse us! But Gonken does it to mock, to play, to have fun with it because it's all so weird and WTF. To the uncompromising noise musician, all sound is available to be used, as sound, to create music. But to the hardcore Christians, everything fits into the perspective of Christ, as the quote about wives illustrates, and just as is mentioned in the last track on the album: "and so this love has to be a sincere love." Believe with all your heart and be saved. Another sermon quote from the album:
the word of god declares that the way of sin is [???] that there is going to be damnation for your sins, and that cannot be mutated, that cannot be changed, that cannot be set aside in any way ...I will interject at this point that when I grew up I was taken to church every sunday and taught this exact lesson - that there will be hell to pay for your sins. And of course the church has used this line for centuries to scare people into following and believing. There it is, again and again, right until this modern age and doubtless into the future. There are all kinds of Christians, a rainbow of beliefs, some very loose and vague, like the universalist unitarians who allow total room for personal interpretation and barely even mention Jesus at all (I played organ for one of those churches for a while). And then there are the ultra-conservatives who seem to carry out every action as if their life is dictated by Christ's teachings and the bible. The sermons on "Mechanical Christ" would fall into this category. (Also let's not forget the nuts who hand out pamphlets about the coming apocalypse, and rave on and on about the evils in the world). Oh wait, those nuts who rave on the street and the conservative well-dressed clean cut baptist minister preach the same thing! Also quoted in the album:
And in this time when we're living, when we're right near the end and we see that marvelous statement of Revelations ...So in everything we do, from our daily family lives and in all our activities, we must follow Christ. Because if we give in to a life of sin, we will be damned to hell. Also, time for this world is running out, and soon we will all be judged. But what does Gonken have to say about all this? "People get too wrapped up in what they believe is right."
Which you can see in the world around us very easily. Politicians and people in power throughout history and even today hold these very beliefs, take them very seriously, and take these beliefs to the extreme of holy wars, and other bullshit like teaching creationism in science class. Well shit, that's debatable, isn't it, there's no proof for evolution! Right, that's why we have so many religious freaks in the world ...
Eventually as the album progresses, Gonken's music takes over, but still the many appearances of the sermon pervade the whole listening experience, and it seems that they are lurking behind the textures and more thickly layered sections. As stated earlier, it's all noise. "Mechanical Christ In My Basement" strikes the chord of absurdist resonance within the zealous voice of Christian doctrine.
The album will be made available for download shortly.
http://gonken.moonfruit.com/
I leave you with some fucked up quotes from the bible, many gleaned from other community message boards, and the particularly useful wtfbible.org
-Jeemobon
There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horsesEzekiel 23:20
If, however, the charge is true and no proof of the girl's virginity can be found, she shall be brought to the door of her father's house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death. She has done a disgraceful thing in Israel by being promiscuous while still in her father's house. You must purge the evil from among you.Deuteronomy 22:20-21
Women should learn quietly and submissively. I do not let women teach men or have authority over them. Let them listen quietly. For God made Adam first, and afterward he made Eve. And it was not Adam who was deceived by Satan. The woman was deceived, and sin was the result.1 Timothy 2: 11-15
So Judah told Onan, “Go and sleep with your brother’s widow; it’s the duty of a brother-in-law to keep your brother’s line alive.” But Onan knew that the child wouldn’t be his, so whenever he slept with his brother’s widow he spilled his semen on the ground so he wouldn’t produce a child for his brother. God was much offended by what he did and also took his life.Genesis 38:8-10
If a man practices homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman, both men have committed a detestable act. They must both be put to death, for they are guilty of a capital offense.Leviticus 20:13
If a man beats his male or female slave with a club and the slave dies as a direct result, the owner must be punished. But he is not to be punished if the slave gets up after a day or two, since the slave is his property.Exodus 21:20-21
If two Israelite men get into a fight and the wife of one tries to rescue her husband by grabbing the testicles of the other man, you must cut off her hand. Show her no pity.Deuteronomy 25:11-12
David and his men went out and killed two hundred Philistines. He brought their foreskins and presented the full number to the king so that he might become the king’s son-in-law. Then Saul gave him his daughter Michal in marriage.1 Samuel 18:27
Don’t have sex with your father’s wife. That violates your father.Leviticus 18:8
From there Elisha went up to Bethel. On the way some boys came out of the city and made fun of him. They said to him, “Go up too, you baldhead! Go up too, you baldhead!” Elisha turned around, looked at them, and put a curse on them in the name of the Lord. Then two mother bears came out of the woods and tore forty-two of the boys to pieces.2 Kings 2:23-24
If a man happens to meet in a town a virgin pledged to be married and he sleeps with her, you shall take both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death--the girl because she was in a town and did not scream for help, and the man because he violated another man's wife. You must purge the evil from among you.Deuteronomy 22:23-24
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