Slight Nightmare is the experimental ambient project for Nick Bunting. His recent release Context is a cold, tense, sometimes anxiety-ridden collage of soundscapes that bear comparisons to artists such as Tim Hecker and Kevin Drumm to name a few. Bunting’s music isn’t exactly hard to listen to with those familiar with the darker aspects of ambient music but also isn’t something you will want to pop in during your next meditation session unless you want to have nightmares. That being said there are levels to the dissonant and dark aspects to the music. “Cut Beasts” starts off with a low octave synth tone slowly fluctuating back and forth. The ominous cloud is immediately apparent and only enhanced by the bending slivers of sound. Harmony couldn't be much farther from the truth with this song. As the song progresses an impending sense of doom intensifies as more elements do little to ease the pain. “Shell” offers a slight sense of relief even if it’s brief. It starts off rather hypnotic and singular relying on soft pads to create the mood. Things start to take a turn for the “worse” when the music starts to hyperventilate. The end of the song sounds like young birds begging for food on a dark planet. “Subtle Presence” is arguably the centerpiece of Context. It’s textural and explores an ever-changing soundscape. The transitions are seamless and I felt they were an impressive aspect of Bunting's paint brush. The other highlight was the closer “Next Wave.” It sounds like the primordial soup in which ancient life was born only to spread darkness and strife into the world. Interesting territory he explores here. Context isn’t for the faint of heart. You have to be in the mood for it and it is hard to listen to with multiple people. That being said I enjoy releases like this that are so far removed from the mainstream the general population will automatically disregard it. It is hard to experience the darker side of art but the fact is that it can just as rewarding as something that makes you feel good.
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The latest EP entitled The Switch by The Fluffy Band was recorded three floors underground in a bomb shelter from WWII. That thought alone makes me feel claustrophobic, anxiety- ridden and a bit creeped out. You can imagine that the sound of The Switch might reciprocate some of those feelings. The reality is it doesn’t really have any of those attributes The Switch is basically an off-kilter experimental pop album that flirts with shoegaze. Tero Loennblad, Jussi Tuomola and Teemu Viljanen make up The Fluffy Band and are creating an original style that is a pleasure to listen to. The first track “Isolation” is the highlight of the EP. Shards of metallic white noise brush, percussion, and distorted bass create shoegaze inspired canvas that supports the manipulated female vocals. This style sounds great on the band and I was surprised that the remaining songs strayed from this footprint. “Blind” creates a combination of instrumentation that creates a sense of sadness and isolation. As it progresses shades of hope manifest themselves in the form of orchestral strings. The most inspired moments are toward the end of the song, which are nostalgic but refined. ”Moonshine” sounded the most commercially viable but wasn’t as successful in a number of ways as some of the other songs. “Party Time” is an atmospheric closer and contains a couple of inventive production techniques that made the song pop. The Switch has a couple of bumps in the road but is a formidable EP. The flow of the four songs feels a bit jagged but the band made up for it with dense production. There were some good ideas implemented throughout which make it worth some of your time.
Get ready to rock your face off to a dance party put on by some hyped up robots. At least that’s the initial punch in the face waiting in store on The Stolen EP. The rest of the album takes different turns, but you won’t be able to shake “Hans & Franz.” It’s the black sheep, but it goes hard, kicks ass, and doesn’t care what you think. As one fan noted, “Was not expecting this. F***ing nice.” That pretty much hits the nail on the head. If this song is a testament to this band’s attitude, it stands as showing they are “live in the now” and make the best of what you’re given. The Stolen EP is in literal reference to their recordings being….stolen. The cuts were about to be finalized, but the iPad they were stored on was jacked, leaving them with only the semi-finished product. So Tiger Castle kicked some walls, dropped some shots, and just went with what they had. Maybe not exactly like that, but they pressed on nonetheless. And honestly, I wouldn’t have guessed this album was unfinished – it fits the bill in my eyes. So let’s move ahead to track 6, “Gopher Wood.” It’s the closest resemblance to that killer of an opener. I do this because this is where Tiger Castle hit their stride. I was impressed with “Killed It” and it’s reserved character, but those few cuts were kind of just there and then gone. A song makes its impact more when you’re not listening to it than when you are. That’s speaking to longevity not necessarily direct listening pleasure. And that’s a lot of what I look for in albums to really gauge my take on things. “All Summer In A Day” is a banger of punk attitude and pop orchestration. Following the chorus, the keys squeeze out a cute and irresistible little lick that sounds like a whimsical taunt. The guitar rips and squeals as the drums bash without a care, setting the stage for a wild party that needs to happen. And now. And last but not least, I will call upon “Plinks & Plunks,” a delicate and treble-fueled package of bells and dual melodies. The track is solid musically and really activates a lot of movement and counterpoint with such unconventional instrumentation. It’s like Tiger Castle is saying, “You don’t know us, you only think you do. Check this out.” And I dig that. Eclectic and maybe a little strange, but this stuff is worth every minute. Sigmund Freud theorized that trauma was the origin of all art. He considered art to be a subconscious repetition and projection of unresolved trauma. In his 1920 text, "Beyond The Pleasurable Principal," he discussed the re-occurring nightmares of soldiers returning from World War I, and the transference of patients he analyzed who "repeat the repressed material... rather than remember it." (Freud, pg. 20) This suggests that some things are too much for the mind to bear, and we employ different methods of dealing with them. If it were not for the blunt force trauma of life, perhaps there would be no art. Perhaps it's the strife that sharpens our knives. Art born from strife raises interesting questions about what purpose art serves in the first place. It's a murky and fascinating grey area. Are we reveling in another's misery? Preparing ourselves? Relating? I don't mean to suggest that the Green EP by Berlin electronic musician Jessica Nay, who makes music under the name Noah's Tape, is all doom and gloom and ashes and rust. In fact, it sounds quite friendly and danceable. Tight, punchy kick drums and partytime hand claps meet tasty, poppy, catchy synth hooks, as big as Mount Rushmore. But when sings, "And then you grab (grind?) my head and said/I just want to be with you/Well if you wanted to/why did you/pin me to the ground?" It's not entirely clear what's going on, but it sounds somewhere between a fistfight, an abusive relationship, or just putting up with someone's clueless emotional bullshit. It doesn't sound pleasant, whatever it is. Jessica Nay captures something people don't talk about that much in life, or in art, however. Pain can call the world into startling clarity. When you're heartbroken, shocked, unbelieving, it's almost like an intense acid trip. Your mind is utterly still. You may walk the streets for hours or days. You are in the opposite of a rush; you're trying to kill as much as possible, waiting for the hurt to stop. It's oddly beautiful and moving, but you hope to never experience it firsthand. Music captures and channels those moments, however. Those tragic, abusive relationships. Those car wrecks. Those drunken nights in jail. They may be moving memories, but you wouldn't wish them on your worst enemy, or want to ever experience them. Noah's Tape is an example of a new school of electronic producer, containing elements of synth pop, r&b, and straight-up dance music. It's an insanely full sound, with a full sonic spectrum of drums, fuzzy basslines, and tasty squelching leads. It sounds like a full band - and a talented one at that - but most of these sounds are eked out be Nay herself, although she has collaborators on "Renegade" and "Waltz With Me". The solitary nature makes for a more removed and personal feeling than would be possible with a band. Even miserablist bands are taking comfort in one another, even if they'd never admit it. But Noah's tape is a peak into the heart of one. A soundtrack for dancing in your bedroom, or out with the crowds, when you feel like it. Nay's pop sensibility really makes the most of the electronic tapestry. Dance tracks have a tendency to just grind on for hours and days, designed for people to freak out on MDMA. I'm a devoted techno warrior, but you have to be in a mood for it. Jessica Nay takes the sound shaping and multi-tracking potentials of electronic music, but then breaks it up with insanely catchy hooks, that makes us yearn for a big beat revival. (if it could be done tastefully.) She's also an insanely good producer - everything is well recorded and hangs well together, and the programming is top notch! The drums never get static - you never get the sense that some preset or loop is just banged on a track and left to run. She's carefully selected each element, and done her homework to get it sounding right. Well done, Jessica Nay; you get an A. Fans of The Postal Service, Portishead, James Blake, Fever Ray, New Order and purveyors of futuristic pop music, turn here. Short and indispensable. Maia and the Pilots bill themselves as folk-pop-rock. The group of five utilizes a gentle, spacious sound that serves as a stage for Maia Pillot's stories of love and longing. If you can imagine the lyrical content of ‘50s pop songs—those that exist outside of specific places and times but are instantly relatable—combined with a more modern soft-rock sound, you've got a good idea of what Taking Off has to offer, though there are a few touches of flair sprinkled about to keep the listener on their toes. The first two tracks do well to define the band's style. “I Would” has a slow pace paired with an unusual atmosphere, feeling something akin to flowing water; Pillot's vocals pull the listener in while rippling chords and soft splashes from cymbals create a constantly-shifting environment. Even the guitar riff during the song's last half-minute, rising and falling around Pillot's voice, gives off the impression of liquid, floating, being carried by some other force. “Come Home,” the second track, is more traditional in sound and falls closest to being a nostalgic throwback, seemingly being stylized after lounge jazz. The piano plays a prominent part here creating a fuller sound and Kane Basler's backing vocals play a big role in the song's warm tone. The songs all carry a positive outlook, if not a positive feel. The only moment where any sort of trouble enters the equation is “Can't Hate You” where Pillot struggles (but can't bring herself) to hate a former lover. At points she acknowledges that her feelings will pass but still wishes she could embrace the anger expected of her. But it's not meant to be a serious moment of distress and I doubt anyone who hears it would interpret it as such. Between the music and the vocals it's too relaxed, too relaxing, to stir any genuine negativity in the listener, nor does Pillot make a ploy for sympathy by making herself appear helpless. She's just having a back-and-forth with herself and invited us to be the audience. The album does feature one cover, and a rather surprising one: R. Kelly's “Ignition (Remix).” The song is played straight as a slow jam. On first listen I thought it might have been done for comedy's sake, but there's nothing in the performance to suggest that. The band put their full effort into it and the end result, strangely enough, fits in with the rest of the album in every way. Though some will be amused by the song's inclusion it does nothing to disrupt how everything plays together, something that couldn't be said if it were done just for a gag. Taking Off should have no problem finding fans among a casual audience. There's no attempt to make plays toward the extreme ends of the emotional spectrum. That, I think, is the key to its appeal: it's lightweight enough to be enjoyed whenever but has enough care and depth to the music itself to avoid being bland and vapid. Catholics conclude their mass by saying "Go in peace." It's less a commandment than a benediction, that wherever you may walk in the coming week, that it be peaceful. That is not to say that nothing distressing will happen. Life has a way of happening, throwing us screwballs. We probably wouldn't need comforting benedictions, if it didn't. But peace is an elusive thing, not a destination so much as a way of looking at things. You can maintain peace through anything, if you look at things the right way. In Peace is the third record from French singer/songwriter Alex Shelter. Shelter is currently based out of Paris, although much of In Peace was written and conceived in California, between San Fransisco and Los Angeles. Much of the material on In Peace deals with this trans-Atlantic odyssey. In Peace begins with the crunchy, downtrodden piano dirge "I Want To Live Where The Ocean Meets The Sun," which we can take to mean California. Shelter looks up to San Fransisco, inspired by its music and its idealized state. He would follow this vision to travel thousands of miles, to follow his muse, in service of his creativity. That's not to say the voyage was all pleasant sunshine daydreams; pilgrimages seldom are. Both "I'm A Fool" and "Sorrow" seem to detail a somewhat damaged relationship, although they could be looked at as the rise and fall of that relationship. "Is it love or is it lust," he wonders in a Serge Gainsbourg croon on "I'm A Fool." By "Sorrow", he's whispering, "Sorrow/You're Killing Me," over a brooding flamenco guitar and crestfallen cellos, which says a lot about how impromptu hookup decisions tend to work out. But there is a loveliness, a soothing mellowness, to both sides of the fall - the romance and the tragedy. Alex Shelter takes benediction from his creativity, transforming the gravel of experience into diamond necklaces. That's the kind of peace that is possible, when you follow your vision to the end of the Earth. In Peace was recorded in Kingston, NY with longtime engineer/producer Malcolm Burn's personal studio, La Meison Bleue. Burns collaborated with Daniel Lanois on the Bob Dylan album Oh Mercy, and Emmylou Harris on Wrecking Ball, as well as self-producing Iggy Pop's American Caesar and Patti Smith's Gone Again; an impressive pedigree of country royalty and weathered experimentalists. You can really hear the influence in the strings, the twinkling honky tonk piano, and close vocal harmonies that surround Shelter's skeleton of vocals and acoustic guitar, giving it a real Sam Cooke classic Motown vibe, to sparkling results. Here is an example of producer and musician working in twin-headed tandem, to produce something innovative and new, much like Eno's work with the Talking Heads or James. I didn't have to check the fact sheet to discern an appreciation for Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits, in the vocals of Alex Shelter. He has the same warm, smoky rasp in his throat, which is given even more charm with a slight French lilt. One of the finest things I can say for In Peace is, at moments it could be an outtake from Cohen's Various Positions, although given a much needed remastering job, shaving the brittle edges off of the synth banjos and background chorus. There are no rough edges to In Peace, it maintains a warm, swaying swagger, whether detailing tears or tea. This one really grew on me. I ended up listening to it over and over, getting more and more attached to Shelter's heartfelt tales of rootlessness and wandering wonder. I've had the experience of running away to California to find myself (several times, actually); it's a very singular one. Of feeling like an alien, like the world is drifting past you like the clouds. Everything is insanely detailed, and a complete blur, all at the same time. Thankfully, Alex Shelter had his notebook and guitar, and a musical vocabulary to translate this state into this collection of folk-tinged, motown soul. For fans of Leonard Cohen, Serge Gainsbourg, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding The genesis of the New York City duo Marion Avenue was sparked in 2013 when singer songwriter Juan I. Garcia asked fellow singer songwriter Tracy Mackay to form a band with him. There was a small stipulation Garcia had behind this invite. That stipulation was to make music that combined modern sounds and effects with acoustic guitars, live drums, et al and set original and deeply emotional lyrics to this new sound. The effort was a gamble for both Mackay, who had already established herself as a Celtic music singer in Chile, and also for Garcia who had left a rock band that he was playing in. By early 2014 Marion Avenue had already started recording their first few tracks with producer Jamie Muffett at New York’s Mercy Sound Studios. During the recording process they found themselves wanting to explore more sounds and textures than just the ones they already had laid down. The pair decided they wanted to incorporate saxophone and clarinet into the mix and so invited multi-instrumentalist Matt King to record along with them. Though still not completely satisfied, the band and producer both decided on adding a bass player, which is how a friend of Garcia and King, Robin Mayer, was asked to join in on the recording sessions. The result of those recording sessions finally resulted in the six-song EP In Transit, which clocks in at just under a half hour’s worth of music. After a brief interlude intro track, In Transit kicks off with “Plastic Light.” The instrumentation, shadowy electronic noise creeping in the background and the fingerpicked tinny guitar, coupled with Garcia’s scratchy and effects heavy vocals, recalls the sound of early Sparklehorse albums. Though as “Plastic Light” moves on, it gets poppy rather quickly with up-tempo though shadowy electric guitar hidden in the background, as Garcia’s voice takes most of the songs precedence, with Mackay backing him up. One thing to note here is how well the two harmonize together. This harmonization continues on the psychedelic slow rock jam “The Caveman.” In my opinion the best song on the album, due not only in part to the aforementioned harmonization, but also because it really sees the band combining the earlier talked about electronic elements and mixing them here with a bit of alt folk. The catchy chorus of “And I’m worn out and insecure” plays out like a heartfelt lullaby. The album closes with the folk rock “One Suitcase” on which Mackay finally gets her time to shine in the lead vocal spot. She doesn’t waste it either, as her powerful and beautiful vocals float above the acoustic alt country twang that drives the song ahead. In the end, In Transit is a good starting off point for a new band. For as short as the EP is, each of the songs is able to stand out on its own, and in that way the songs on In Transit contain a diversity, which is something that many artists who release a first record or EP fail to realize. Though to play a slight devil’s advocate to my own phrase, In Transit, for as short as it is, the songs are all over the map musically which lends to a mixed bag feeling overall. Although one thing is solid, and that is that Garcia and Mackay have a definite chemistry and they know what they’re doing musically. Now all they have to do is to get it all to sync together. This group’s name (Porcelain Siren) has to be one of the coolest names I’ve heard in a while. The album Organized Chaos opens with a haunting descant melody that tempts as much as it threatens especially as the waves start to build upon the shore and the dark drone of electronics are introduced. At this point, you feel yourself propelled into the trap; the sirens waiting amongst the rocks are the final scene. A warning was given and yet the music wouldn’t allow escape. Organized Chaos isn’t very chaotic at all, but it isn’t necessarily uniform. The alternative culture and mood inspired writings leave the ears piqued and on the edge of something just beyond the song. It’s impressive to note how the tracks cerebrally stimulate and explore the psyche without hitting the listener over the head with provocative lyrics or over-extended instrumental meandering. Each song has a core and builds from there; tame at first then subtly enriched with intensity and anticipation. The percussion on this album hits at the right times, bringing to life a full sound. Although it’s constantly submerged in a tone of reserved power, never meant to overwhelm or drive, we lose ourselves in the sway, in the waves, in the void. Where there is calm, there is always an element of suspense and where there is darkness, light always seems to peak through if only just to bear witness. “Mess” is our introduction to a seductive female lead, light and breathy while also bold and soaring. She pulls so much emotion out of the sparing instrumentation, dancing along with the piano as it grounds firmly this sense of discord. On “Hide” she accentuates her ability to find madness and intrigue in hushed tones, whispering of an unforeseen force, coming ever closer. It climaxes softly, but you’ll feel a chill nonetheless. “Swirls of Grey” sounds a touch Evanescence and has a beautiful resolving progression, which fits so well in range and timbre. “Unreborn” is one interesting title and word invention at the same time. You can’t help but read into this one and find some kind of meaning beneath the drifting synths and intimate vocals. On this album, Porcelain Siren succeeds in demonstrating just how much less can be more. Bravo. Become A Fan The married singer songwriter duo Nate and Stephanie Esau are the founding members and principal songwriters for the Vancouver based folky and Americana influenced Coalmont. The five songs on their debut EP Chronicles, are very much odes to lost loves. This may have something to do with the fact that the couple did not get together until nearly four years after meeting. Upon the couple’s first meeting, Nate had inquired after Stephanie to see if she was available, only to be shot down and sent away. So it is no surprise that nearly every song has that heartfelt melody to it, the sad and slow twang of the banjo strings which tug at the listener’s heartstrings. And another not so surprising thing about Chronicles is that given Coalmont’s influences which include bands such as The Civil Wars, Johnny Cash & June Carter, Fleetwood Mac and Mumford & Sons that these influences have worn themselves perhaps a bit too deeply into the fabric of Coalmont’s songwriting process, which after a while becomes astoundingly clear. But this is not technically a hindering factor for listeners who are big fans of the folk and Americana genres or any of the aforementioned bands. This is because from a technical standpoint Chronicles is classic Americana, subtly beautiful instrumentation, with storied lyrics, peopled by characters that are at an impasse in both love and life. In this way Chronicles takes on a double meaning as the album acts as book of musical short stories. For live performances, Coalmont often performs as just a duo with the absence of a backing band leaving just Nate on banjo and Stephanie on accordion to provide the instrumentation. And often times folk and Americana sound better the more stripped down the instrumentation is. I could see this working especially well for the pair, because their voices blend together as sweetly as any two I’ve ever heard. However it is a little disappointing that the rather large backing band, which includes, bass, steel guitar, electric guitar, cello, piano and xylophone is largely I feel underutilized, on Chronicles. I felt they could have been more utilized if the couple wrote a few more upbeat songs, which would help to broaden their sound a little bit. They get close on the beautiful and sweeping epic, “Rivers Rush.” There is nothing wrong with an album full of well-crafted sad songs if you are a lonely singer songwriter type. Though if you choose to take on a more expansive genre, such as folk and Americana, it seems to me that you need to draw elements from a broader range of that genres expanse, especially if you have such a large group of well-trained musicians to play on your album. My only advice for a full length is pretty simple; now that you got the girl, maybe write a few more happier sounding songs. That being said Chronicles is an exceptional EP and highly recommended An owner of a brick 'n mortar record shop would have to order five copies of Flipswitch's Catharsis, to file in different sections: one for sound collage, 3 for various sub-sections of metal, one for punk. Or they could simplify if they simply have a "wtf?" section. Flipswitch are a young band of metallic experimentalists, based out of Fairmont, WV. It would be fair to call them metalheads, but it would not prepare you for the ? minutes of lowing cows, wind chimes and Tibetan chimes that begin the album, with "Catharsis". The title track began life as an introduction to the band's live show, but has been expanded to its current state of bizarro bricolage and down-tuned riffs, clocking in at a stunning and mind-melting 16:30. If Flipswitch owe an allegiance to any metal bands, it would be The Melvins and Neurosis, both of which have defied genres, pushing the tradition into every direction it would possibly go, and are both rugged sound experimentalists in their own right. Flipswitch seem to share a similar sense of uncanny humor with The Melvins, and a sense of genre hopping. I may be emphasizing the metal, and it definitely comes around, but a great majority of Catharsis is sound experimentation, weirdo sound collages of chapel bells and radio static, underpinned with new age synths, that is likely to turn off the straight metalheads. I enjoy this kind of thing, as I feel it is more representative of many of our listening habits; people that dig on Penderecki and Jon Oswald and Necronaut, frequently in the same sitting. And when it comes time to make something, all of the listening and the influences and even the structure of music itself go out the tower, and you have to decide for your self what your musical vision is. Even if you're a guitar player, that doesn't mean you have to start with a guitar; or that your guitar has to sound like one, for that matter. Flipswitch are trying things out, and they're quite good at each style they're pursuing. Their sound collage is lovingly warped, never harsh or digital, masterfully mixed and manipulated. It's impressively accomplished, for being a band less than a year. After the weird cough syrup mental journey of "Catharsis", the band detours into sludgy metal geography on "The Praynor", which is a salvaged live track from a doomed recording, which is then reversed and cloaked in pillowy reverb. It is a satisfying, shivering spectre of a headbanging, which is both lowdown, odd and eerie, all at the same time. Then the band hypnotize you with tones for a minute, on "Crank The Cane Toads", only to finally bust out with "Quiet," their best Pink Floyd moment yet. It's a mixture of the ominous echospace of "One Of These Days", and the tropicalia mesmerism of "San Trope". "Quiet" will quiet the detractors, the impatient who aren't willing to adventure and explore. This band can, and does, write killer psych rock metal tunes, but that is not their sole reason for existing. Catharsis is exciting. It's got me jazzed. There may be life in the old six strings yet, and opportunity in the mind-melding of the analog and the digital. With Mastodon going all Steely Dan, this last year, it's nice to hear some metal warriors plunging ahead, still diversifying, still mutating. "We never went away," they sing on "Quiet". And we will never will. Rock and roll is here to stay.
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