Boom Edan

Boom Edan - Hangman Pulley [w/ Smell The Rope]

no label CDR

The Crown versus Boom Edan

The scene: an English court room, Oak panels, dust motes, a scattering of assembled functionaries and in the dock PC Tone Deaf who is looking down at a flip top note book whilst scratching his ear with a Bic. The judge looks down at him ...

Judge: So you’re saying that this noise CD is a crime against the Crown PC Tone Deaf?

PC Tone Deaf: Yus, you Honour.

Judge: Could you explain to the court exactly why it is you feel this release should receive a custodial sentence.

PC Tone Deaf [adjusting stance to face the jury whilst reading from his notebook]. Well, your Honor ... it’s rubbish.

Judge [sounding a little exasperated]. I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more detailed in your evidence PC Tone Deaf. I can hardly pass sentence just because you say its rubbish can I? I What is it that offends your ears so?

PC Tone Deaf; [nervously casting a look across the courtroom to a thin youth who’s sat arms folded with a scowl] it was about five minutes into the first track and I thought [reads carefully from notebook] that this sounds almost like The Incapacitants except its rubbish.

Judge; Now we’re getting somewhere. To me The incapacitants are the epitome of what psychedelic noise is all about; transcendental phases of mind altering bliss that carry the listener along as if in some kind of drugged fug and you’re saying that this, this [picks up CD from bench] this isn’t like The Incapacitants at all and that it’s rubbish?

PC Tone Deaf: [triumphantly] Yes, your Honour.

Judge: Let me get this right. All of this release sounds like a crap version of The Incapacitants?

PC Tone Deaf: [nervously] er ... no your Honour.

Judge: Explain yourself then.

PC Tone Deaf: [more confidently now] The second track of this two track release tries to be Neil Campbell when he was setting off in search of the early drone mother lode in the early nineties.

Judge [looking quizzical] So I’d hear lots of buzzing and the keys of a cheap keyboard pressed into clumps in a bid to secure a certain levitation of the soul?

PC Tone Deaf: [more triumphantly now] yes, your Honour!

Judge: Its a game of two halves then Tone Deaf. Do you feel that the better second track outweighs the, as you call it ‘rubbish’ on the first?

PC Tone Deaf: Only slightly your Honour. It’s not as if we’re entering new territory here and as good as it is, it’s not going to get the noise/drone punters all that excited.

Judge: [squinting at the tiny writing on a CD sleeve over the top of his half moon glasses]. and who is this Smell The Rope?

PC Tone Deaf: I’ve no idea your Honour. An extensive search was taken of the Myspace website but no person of that name was forthcoming. I can only assume that Smell The Rope is a collaborator in the so called Scottish noise scene thats now taken root in certain Scottish cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh.

Judge; [having now taken his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his noise with thumb and forefinger, eyes shut, pondering his next question] … From what I can gather then Tone Deaf this is neither one thing or the other?

PC Tone Deaf: [seriously, with jutting chin] That about sums it up yes.

Judge: [To clerk of Court] Please bring forward the defendant. Thank you for your evidence PC Tone Deaf. What you do is of great service to us. [then almost to himself] I shudder to think of the crap that comes out of your speakers. [ then to the defendant who’s now stood in the dock staring down at his shoes hands behind back]. Boom Edan you are charged with bringing into this world a ‘rubbish’ noise/drone CD of uncertain provenance. It is granted that the burgeoning Scottish noise scene needs all the help it can get but as has been shown, your release is what could be coined ‘a bit dodgy’ and remedial only in patches. I sentence you to one week of listening to the Der Blutharsch without breaks.

[Defendant leaves the dock screaming whilst having to be restrained by PC Tone Deaf].

Contact http://www.myspace.com/tuckerock

Adrian T Lakey

Adrian T Lakey - On My Way Out

no label CD

Contact: adrianlakey [at] yahoo.com

I take no great pleasure from dishing out venomous reviews. I’d much prefer to receive material of the highest quality, composed by artists who have a well rounded view on life, have natural talent and an ability to explore the nether regions of the experimental noise drone world and come back with a work that stands the test of time, leads the listener down different genre avenues, becomes a classic, an oft repeated spinner that brings tears of joy to dreamy eyes.

Unfortunately none of this will apply to Adrian T Lakey and On My Way Out.

Why? because this is the biggest pile of shit it has ever been my displeasure to listen to. It’s not often I have to recourse to such rudimentary language but in this instance there really is no other word that will suffice. Think of the worst release you ever heard in your life and multiply it by 28 bazillion and you may come close to On My Way Out. But don’t take my word for it. Get hold of this CD skip straight to track seven [it’ll be far less painful believe me] and imagine the soundtrack to a SNES game, say Zelda: Links Awakening over which someone sings in a deep voice a load of bollock lyrics and you have the title track. Dear reader to say that I listened to this mish mash of styles and pap with ever growing incredulity is to do this release an injustice. It is so bad, I have to say, without a shadow of a doubt, that its the worst thing I have ever listened to in my entire life and I have listened to plenty of shit.

Things begin ominously enough with some strummed acoustic guitar and singing, not exactly singing but more like the devil talking in a deep scary voice kind of way. Next track begins with piano and a voice sung in a ‘I’m so sad’ kind of way, there’s background synth swirls too to add that extra special doomy kind of atmosphere and then for no explicable reason some field recordings taken in what sounds like a car compacting scrap yard.

Things start to go really downhill though around track three [Bad Skin Forever] when a rapid Eurotrash synth pop intro gives way to the lyric ‘Bad skin forever, germs will focus in between icicles and oil’ ‘Outsider’ was lifted straight from an eighties computer game in which you’re a little elf looking for hidden coins in a forest littered with friendly crocodiles [er.. that’ll be Zelda again]. It was around this time that I began to wonder if this was a joke release sent to me with the intention of seeing just how far my spleen could vent when faced with such utter ridiculous garbage. If it was then it worked. This is worse than bad. Its the work of someone who has no grasp on reality. They think adding samples of spacemen communicating whilst singing in a deep scary voice is somehow entertaining. And what’s with the eighties computer game soundtracks? Is this retro and avant garde at the same time? It sounds like Schloss Tegal made and album using a SNES. It’s awful, every last second of it and I never want to hear it ever, ever, ever again

Above all I fear for Adrian’s mental well being. No, I really do. I shudder to think what may be behind the person that put this together. At least they have a sense of humour as evinced in the press release; a satirical affair that was a template on how to construct a press release and then there’s the word search puzzle entitled ‘Something to do n the Bathroom’ in which you could search for everything from Mahmoud Ahmandinejad to Whitehouse to Black Sabbath, So far so good and then and then and then …

It sounds as if Arian T Lakey once spent too much time with early Nintendo games before going on to discover indie strum and maybe somewhere along the line Illusion of Safety and Schloss Tegal. Thats not the end of the world of course but if I had to listen to On My Way Out again it could be the end of mine.

BRB/Voicecall//Spoils And Relics

BRB/Voicecall - Valmara 69

Spoils And Relics - Alsation Download

Harbinger Sound Split LP

The UK practitioners of electro-acoustic minimalist experimental fluxus music concrète [if thats not too convoluted a term] has, by its very nature, never had a massive audience. But that doesn’t mean that their work should be underestimated or taken lightly. The likes of Morphogenesis and The Bohman Brothers play to audiences whose rapt attention and appreciation bely the fact that this kind of music can, at times, be very hard to listen to and I don’t mean that because its difficult music. I dare say watching The Bohman Brothers play The Tate Modern is a vastly different experience from listening to one of their releases in a council flat with thin walls and noisy neighbours. Quite often your electro-acoustic minimalist experimental fluxus music concrète journey is likely to be interrupted by the sound of the outside world passing you by. I remember spending a pleasant summers afternoon listening to early Jim O’Rourke stuff through my Walkman only to realise halfway through the experience that most of what I was actually listening to was ambience; hedge clippers, birds, slamming doors, aircraft.

A new breed of people working in this arena is coming to light though. Usurper spring easily to mind and you could find any number of small run CDR labels kicking out material that could fit into one of those neatly phrased pigeon holes too. The spill is spreading.

A year or so back I stumbled blindly into the dark confines of the Common Place in Leeds to be met by what could have been a Spoils and Relics gig. Jonny Scarr’s neatly clipped mustache was the giveaway. They played a barely audible set to the light of candles and very good it was too. Scarr is joined here by Myles and Piercy for the 17 minutes that is Alsation Download. The vast majority of which appears to be tape manipulation with a bit of gadgetry thrown in for good measure. Tape spools appear to be pulled through with merry gusto, symphonies go in reverse, voices Pinky and Perky quick to Mogodon slow, then radios, static, ethereal voices, someone rubbing a balloon with wet fingers, someone trying to get a heavy box down some stairs.

BRB/Voicecall hail from the North East and have the 3” CDR label MuzzeDia Verhead with which to exhibit their wares. A region rich in the history of challenging music keeps on producing interesting and challenging work. Valmara 69 sounds like it was recorded using a disused concrete multistory car park as an instrument. The TNB influence must run freely through the North East like piss down a urinal on a Friday night in Gateshead. A flapping of broken belts on flywheels serves as an intro before we settle into dropped iron bars, ominously clanged pipes and an undertow of rumble. The final section is scored by picture frame glass being marked by a six inch nail and the echo of a large rubber ball being s-l-o-w-l-y bounced in the distance. As desolation goes it sums it up pretty well.

I have my caveats though. Both sides want to end on high so we get a slow build of noise before a cut and silence. It sounds impressive but it feels almost cliched. You wouldn’t catch The Bohman Brothers doing climaxes.

Usual paste on covers from Harbinger Sound but once again a label that makes its mark by giving valuable vinyl air time to outfits who may otherwise languish forever on CDR.

Contact:

BRB/Voicecall http://www.myspace.com/muzzediaverhead

Spoils And Relics - http://www.myspace.com/spoilsandrelics

Smell & Quim/Priest in Shit

Smell & Quim/Priest In Shit - Rough Skin

Little Mafia Records

If this record had some point of sale material it would be an arse with the record shoved between its cheeks. If it was a bad stain it would be one you found in the gusset of your knickers. If it was a disease it would be flesh eating bacteria. If it was a pain it would be kidney stones. I don’t think Richard Ramirez has ever been involved in an LP of ballads and I don’t suspect he’s going to start soon. Having said that Ramirez had been involved in literally dozens of projects and maybe buried in there somewhere lies the Nancy Sinatra/Lee Hazelwood covers LP … but I doubt it. His involvement with Priest in Shit, like most of his other work is confrontational. Smell & Quim then are ideal bedfellows.

Rough Skin is ugly as sin degraded loops of muck ground down to nth degree mulch in which only the bad bits are left stuck between the grooves. I feel that this has been plucked from some unreleased mid 90’s work. It bears similarities with what Smell & Quim were up to then. Side one is a mass of disintegrating loops of run off fluff, a free-fall elevator ride in which you pass various levels of hideousness. Its like having one ear filled with water whilst the others been used as punch bag. Side two is a howling squawk fest in which small piles of dynamite are regularly detonated. The picture disc itself gives you some indication; the distorted face of a leering priest and what looks like a gynecological close up.

I’m assuming that this has laid dormant in someones cupboard for the last 15 years as its nothing like what Smell & Quim are up to these days. As for Ramirez, well who knows. To be honest I’m not that familiar with his work and his back catalogue gives me the horrors. A worthwhile document and a good indicator as to what used to come through your door in jiffy bags circa 1995.

Contact: www.myspace.com/littlemafiarecords

Emeralds

Emeralds

Hanson CD. HN200

Why is it that a group whose sound is so distinctly 70’s synth oriented finds itself at the centre of attention in 2010? Emeralds are regularly compared to Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Harmonia, Ash Ra Tempel and Kluster. I would add Fripp & Eno, Jean Michelle Jarre, Tomita, Terry Riley, the looping guitar work of Mike Oldlfield, the melancholy strumming of Genesis’s Mike Rutherford and even Pink Floyd. Whereas Astro has made the synth sound dated and lumbering Emeralds have revitalised their sound making them sound fresh, melancholy, vibrant, alive, thrilling, sensuous and totally relevant. Be they drenching you with ever increasing drone gushes that spread out over entire sides of vinyl [Allegory of Allergies, Solar Bridge] or drilling for three minute pop perfection, the more recent Mego release Does It Look Like I’m Here contains a couple of shining examples. Emeralds have found for themselves a willing audience for whom puny MP3’s and pick and mix iTunes comps appear about as inviting as a wet weekend in Bognor Regis.

These three young Americans have created quite a stir over the last four or five years. After dabbling with TV sets and getting their hands dirty with the American noise crowd they now find themselves feted by the European cognoscenti. World domination seems within their grasp. Already their ridiculously limited self released cassettes and CDR’s are swapping hands for large sums of money. Hanson has managed to grab three of their releases so far, including this one. And along with Solar Bridge and Under Pressure [also featuring Hanson chief Arron Dilloway on tape manipulation] you could argue it has the best of the bunch. Solar Bridge was a tsunami of crashing drone waves. Two tracks of skull tightening wash that got under the skin like a deep spell. Under Pressure weaved Dilloway’s tape splurges and loops in with the finest celestial drone works you could wish for. The sunburst finish that is the final track is the kind of thing you want to hear on a summers dawn after a memorable night out. If it was the last thing you ever heard in your life you wouldn’t be disappointed.

All of their major works differ slightly in style; What Happened [No Fun] sounds like huge improvised squelching throbs the sound of a dying Swamp Thing, star dust sprinkled over everything, flickering lights, heavy loops of oscillating whorls, fat reverberating echoes that fill up the entire room, desolate wind swept scrubland, aching voids of serenity. Its Mark McGuire’s guitar-work that combines to make the three what they are though. Be it a gentle finger picked melody, a gentle strum or a deftly plucked phrase the end result is always one of exquisite beauty.

On this particular release their is but 35 minutes of music but you’d never feel short changed. The opener [Overboard - Off The Deep End] is a four minute aperitif of bubbling analogue gurgles, Geode is pure pulsing Schulze, Diotima reverberates along like a wobbly mirror with McGuire gently nudging a few strings in accompaniment but the real star is an 18 minute epic. Passing Away is a ghostly Gregorian analogue ohm chant that folds out into a driving pulse beat whereupon McGuire hunches over his Les Paul and works his fingers into knotty shapes delivering a crystal clear note a second fusillade of delight. As the guitar work gets ever more impassioned the synth drone builds and pans out into a huge vista of blinding white light. The whole thing fades to the sound of the Ganges and a Buddhist creation ceremony [again courtesy of Dilloway].

I was lucky enough to catch Emeralds at the 2007 No Fun Fest. A rabid group of noise freaks swamped the meagre stage and took them to their hearts. Last year I saw them play a well attended gallery space and the walls shook. If I was you I’d be seeking them out.

I see Emeralds as one of the few hopes for a music industry keeping itself afloat with a leaking lifejacket that is downloads and ringtones. Listen to any of their work from beginning to end [preferably on vinyl] on a decent stereo stack and you will experience the thrill of hearing music that is genuinely emotional and involving. My only fear is that this good work cannot continue. The recent Mego release contains some splendid shorter outings but for the first time I was left underwhelmed by tracks that appeared to be just plain meandering. Whatever, hopefully the continuing rerelease of their back catalogue will continue apace. I’m here, waiting.

Contact: www.hansonrecords.net

Stählerne Lichter

Various Artists - Stählerne Lichter

Licht Und Stahl CD. Licht006

300 Copies.

I watched The Road last night. Not as good as the book of course, Cormac McCarthy’s bleak prose described a post apocalyptic world in ways that Hollywood will never match but it did get me thinking about Stählerne Lichter and its end of the world soundtrack. 

Post apocalyptic industrial ambience has its fans and I count myself amongst them. In the right hands a sense of foreboding can be a profound experience but when it goes wrong it does so in spectacular style. For every Dieter Müh you can count any number of outfits producing sounds that are tired and cliched. Think role playing computer game soundtracks, hackneyed samples stuck on groaning metal, crap that makes you think its creator has an entirely different concept of the apocalypse than the makers of The Road ever did. 

Most comps usually carry the odd dud and its no disgrace, tastes will vary of course. The duds on Stählerne Lichter stand out like sore thumbs though. Not even fifteen tracks spread across eighty minutes of CD is enough camouflage for some.

Maybe thats the way forward? Fill your comp to bursting with similar sounding material and hope nobody notices? Alas Erdlicht, Le Syndicate and Galerie Schallschutz protruded too far for these seasoned ears. Le Syndicate’s track is the twin to Nurse With Wound’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Station; lolloping beats which inexplicably speed up towards their conclusion. Erdlicht go for the Nintendo 90’s role playing game experience in which you try to find the key to a door in a lonely castle. Terrible. The title of Galerie Schallschutz track is ‘Electro Convulsive Therapy’ which I think tells you everything you need to know about that track. Nothing wrong with going for the 1990’s Cold Meat dollar but amongst this sea of industrial ambience it just doesn’t sit right. 

Thats the bad stuff out of the way though. The rest sails by in a sea of surreptitious ethnic drumming, Z’ev like spring clangings, meditative atmospherics and a delightful ditty containing simple strummed guitar, birdsong and the chimes of small xylophone. Standout tracks belong to Dieter Müh, Atrox, Wach and Fieberflug with maybe a few other contenders thrown in for good measure as well. 

Dieter Müh’s five minutes of fame is a sublime mind sweep of treated samples covered in Arctic waste. Their use of a barely audible vocal sample is perfectly crafted and should be used as an example to all those who litter their work willy-nilly with every Charlie Manson soundbite they can lay their hands on - it could be a serial killer mumbling their most inner thoughts but likewise it could also quite easily be your mum leaving a shopping list on your voicemail. Flutwacht follow it up with some splendid treated clangings. A little like hitting a five mile long piece of six inch steel pipe with a wrench. N.Strahl.N contribute two tracks which causes me no end of confusion, the second track isn’t credited and appears as the last track thus throwing my meticulous research into chaos - am I crediting Fieberflug with the strumming ditty or is it Sturmkind? Have I wronged Le Syndicate when I should be nailing some uncredited bald headed bloke with a funny beard in Cologne? I work it out, eventually, but minus two points to Licht und Stahl for making me do the leg work. Back at N.Strahl.N’s first offering, the ritual drumming of ‘Blutleuchte’ is sublime, the last ‘Inwedig’ a desolate symphony of reverberating junk, not dissimilar to early Neubauten. The strumming belongs to Sturmkind. It shouldn’t work but it does. It should have been the last track too and it would have saved me all the head scratching. Pick the rest out yourself. Its worth the investment, despite the duds.

Contact: www.lichtundstahl.blogspot.com

Milovan Srdenovic

Milovan

In an era where noise releases appear with all the regularity of sliced salami, its refreshing to have a new Smell & Quim release around. Powerfuck is seminal Smell & Quim and a massive return to form. Original and surviving member Milovan Srdenovic has put together a band that has already caused controversy by getting the 2007 Deaf Forever all day noise festival in Leeds abandoned after complaints about misuse of a pigs head [this in a venue only a couple of hundred yards away from a mosque] they were the first and last act.

I’ve been a fan ever since I saw them play the Bradford 1 in 12 Club back in the mid 90’s. An epiphany for me and a loss of hearing for many. Couple the noise with a sense of humour that is British postcard surreal dipped in shit and you have one of THE great English noise bands and one that I hope is around for a while longer yet.

Tracking Srdenovic down to his West Yorks bolt hole I asked him about what inspired Powerfuck and to how big a debt it owed to an ancient 72 year old mad cap English comic called Ken Dodd.

IT WAS THE COMING TOGETHER OF THE CURRENT SMELL & QUIM LINE-UP IN 2007, AND THE SUBSEQUENT LIVE OUTINGS IN THAT YEAR THAT PLANTED THE SEEDS OF DESIRE TO RECORD NEW MATERIAL. THE ENSUING NOISE THAT WE MADE WHEN WE CAME TOGETHER IS "POWERFUCK" THE CULMINATION OF OUR UNION THUS FAR.

THE FIRST TRACK ON THE ALBUM IS TITLED "DODDY'S COCK" AND IT WAS INDEED INSPIRED BY A DREAM I HAD, WHEREIN I REALISED THE TRUE MEANING OF THE KEN DODD HIT FROM THE 1960's "HAPPINESS". DODD (HE IS ACTUALLY 81 YEARS OLD) IS PROBABLY OUR ONLY REMAINING LIVING CONNECTION TO THE BRITISH MUSIC-HALL TRADITION, AND THE USE OF THE DOUBLE ENTENDRE IS LEGENDARY IN THAT TRADITION.

The recent Smell & Quim live shows have been pretty spectacular, even by Smell & Quim standards. Everybody goes on about the pigs head at Deaf Forever but for me the sight of Gillham swinging a ten pound lump hammer in a confined space was equally as disquieting. Then there was the fish incident supporting Citizen Fish and the last time I saw you Gillham cut himself quite badly and managed to spray blood everywhere via his drums. Is the live craft still important to Smell & Quim and how hard is it to get gigs with the reputation Smell & Quim have - I’m reminded of the time you were booked to play in Belgium as a duo and about twelve people turned up.

INDEED. I COULDNT SEE WHAT ALL THE HOOHAR WAS ABOUT THE FUCKING PIGS HEAD.

WE JUST HAD A PIG THEME GOING ON. WE WERE WEARING PIG MASKS AND WE HAD A PIGS HEAD THERE.

GILLHAM WITH A SLEDGE-HAMMER IS FAR MORE DANGEROUS THAN ANY DEAD PIG-PART THAT YOURE GONNA ENCOUNTER, BUT HIS BLOOD IS GOOD.

WE ARE ENTERTAINERS FOR GODS SAKE.

THE PERFORMANCE ASPECT OF A SMELL & QUIM GIG IS INTRINSIC TO THE WHOLE. HOW LONG CAN PEOPLE ACCEPT SOME GADGER SAT INPUTTING DATA INTO A LAPTOP AS PERFORMANCE. PEDALS AND LAPTOPS ARE USEFUL TOOLS, BUT TWIDDLING ALONE DOESNT MAKE A SHOW. COME ON. WE ALL KNOW THIS!

IT IS TRUE THAT IN THE PAST PEOPLE BOOKING SMELL AND QUIM LIVE HAVE EXPECTED A DUO TO TURN UP, ONLY TO FIND 15 PEOPLE ON THEIR DOORSTEP. THIS IS NO LONGER THE CASE. S&Q ARE CURRENTLY A MERE 5 PIECE OUTFIT, AND WE COME CHEAP. WE SEEK ONLY EXPENSES AND A BIT OF HOSPITALITY FOR THE MOST PART. WE ARE FRIENDLY AND EASY TO GET ON WITH. ENTERTAINING TO HAVE AROUND EVEN. PROBABLY BETTER THAN YOUR REGULAR MATES.

BUT YES, PEOPLE SEEM RETICENT TO BOOK US.

IT IS A BIG WORRY. WE REALLY WANT TO PLAY SOME FUCKING GIGS, BECAUSE WE'RE DOING THE BEST SHIT THAT WE'VE EVER DONE, AND THERES CRAP LOADS OF NEW STUFF IN THE PIPELINE MAN.

Along with Whitehouse, Smell & Quim are creating work which is instantly recognisable and has song like structure to it. Would it be fair to say you draw inspiration from Whitehouse and would that explain the appearance of Sweet Tooth and Fuckseed on the new album?

EMBARKING ON THE NEW RECORDINGS WE DECIDED THAT WE WANTED TO REALLY GET BACK TO SMELL & QUIM BASICS. WE WANTED FULL-ON BRUTAL NOISE, POWER-ELECTRONICS, AND THE ELEMENTS OF VARIATION AND HUMOUR THAT ARE UNIQUE TO OUR BEST WORK. YOU ARE CORRECT TO PERCEIVE SONG-LIKE STRUCTURES, AND EVEN IN THE TRACKS WITHOUT WORDS, THERE IS ALWAYS A DYNAMIC AND A DEVELOPMENT ALONG THESE LINES. OFTEN A THEME, OR A BEGINNING, MIDDLE, AND AN END.

I THINK PRETTY MUCH EVERY BAND WORKING IN THE NOISE AREA HAS GAINED AT LEAST SOME INSPIRATION FROM WHITEHOUSE. THEIR BEST STUFF IS SO ARCHETYPAL. IN RECORDING "POWERFUCK" AND THE MATERIAL THAT IS TO FOLLOW WE JUST SET OUT TO PRODUCE THE BEST THAT WE COULD COME UP WITH, AND WE'RE VERY PLEASED WITH THE RESULTS.

Do you draw any inspiration from the current noise scene?

I DO PERCEIVE A RESURGENCE IN THE NOISE GENRE, AND THIS IN ITSELF IS INSPIRATIONAL, BUT I'D HAVE TO ADMIT QUITE A LEVEL OF IGNORANCE AS TO WHAT EXACTLY IS OUT THERE, AND WHY IT IS RISING AGAIN. THERES A WHOLE NEW GENERATION OF ACTS THAT I KNOW NEXT TO NOTHING ABOUT.

NOISE IS A THING BEST EXPERIENCED IN THE LIVE ARENA, AND ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT PLAYING ON A LIVE NOISE BILL IS THAT YOU GET TO SEE OTHER PROJECTS, AND I GUESS S&Q DONT REALLY GET TO PLAY ENOUGH SHOWS, SO OUR INSPIRATION IS LARGELY SELF GENERATED.

There seems to be a lot of interest in re-issuing cassette material from the mid 90’s and beyond. I have here Goldenrod; a collaboration between Smell & Quim and Streicher which has appeared on the Freak Animal spin off Industrial Recollections and captures perfectly that fertile mid 90’s industrial noise period. Is there any other S&Q back catalogue material destined for re-issue?

INDEED THERE IS, AND UNDERSTANDABLY SO. IT WAS REFRESHING TO LEARN THAT THE THREE GOLDENROD CASSETTES WERE GOING TO BE RE-ISSUED ON INDUSTRIAL RECOLLECTIONS. I MUST SAY THAT I LIKED THE STREICHER/MACRONYMPHA ONE BEST OUT OF THE THREE.

THERE ISNT ANYTHING FIRMLY ARRANGED AS REGARDS S&Q RE-ISSUES, BUT I THINK IT COULD WELL BE OVERDUE. IF NOT RE-ISSUES OF WHOLE ALBUMS, THEN MAYBE AT LEAST SOME KIND OF BEST OF COMPENDIUM, AS A SORT OF RETROSPECTIVE. MEANWHILE WE ARE REALLY CONCENTRATING ON THE NEW STUFF.

When relaxing in my Shackletons high seat chair on a night, I like to slip on a Smell & Quim platter and pour myself a drink. I find digestifs such as Unicum or Jagermiester a fine post prandial snifter when soaking up the vibes and if its earlier in the day then a fine Belgian ale such as Westmalle or Kwak always hits the spot. I wondered if you favoured any particular form of John Barleycorn and whether alcohol plays a major part in the recording or live Smell & Quim situation?

I'VE TRIED THE SHACKLETON MYSELF, BUT FOUND THAT IT GAVE ME KNOTS IN THE TRAPESIUS, SO NOWADAYS I FAVOUR A CHAISE LONGUE WHILST QUAFFING DIGESTIFS IN MY NEGLIGEE.

ALCOHOL HAS INDEED PLAYED AN INTRINSIC PART IN THE SMELL & QUIM HISTORY. INFACT BOTH LIVE, AND RECORDING ASPECTS OF THE BAND ONCE VERITABLY SWAM IN THE STUFF. NOWADAYS JOHN BARLEYCORN STILL PLAYS AN IMPORTANT PART IN ACTIVITIES, BUT IS USUALLY ADMINISTERED IN A MORE CONTROLLED MANNER. I MYSELF FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN PLAYING LIVE, LIKE TO GET MY MISE EN PLACE FULLY ORGANISED BEFORE HITTING THE STAGE, SO WILL ONLY HAVE A FEW GRAILFULS OF ESSENCE WHILST ACHIEVING THIS. WHEN THE SHOW HAS BEGUN, THE PROCEEDINGS CAN BE URGED ALONG FURTHER BY VARIOUS OTHER STIFFENERS AND REFRESHMENTS. AFTERWARDS IT IS ALWAYS NICE TO RELAX WITH A FEW POST-GIG WIND-DOWN BEVERAGES WHILST SOCIALISING AND SCHMOOZING WITH WHOEVER IS AVAILABLE FOR THIS PURPOSE.

RECORDING.

THESE DAYS IT IS A MUCH MORE GENTEEL PROCESS, WITH ONLY CIVILISED LIBATION BEING EMPLOYED AT THE CAPTURE STAGES, AND COMPLETE SOBRIETY AT THE MIXING STAGE.

RECENTLY I WAS INFORMED THAT THERE EXISTS SOME KIND OF FORUM ON THE INTERNET WHERE A FEW TALES OF MY DRINKING ESCAPADES HAVE BEEN POSTED. IF I MANAGE TO FIND THIS RESOURCE I MAY AT LAST MANAGE TO PIECE TOGETHER SOME MISSING CHUNKS OF MY PAST.

FAVOURITE DRINKS.

ANYONE WHO KNOWS ME WILL CONFIRM MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH TEQUILA AND MEZCAL. AS APERTIFS I FAVOUR ANY PASTIS, ABSINTHE, OR BECHEROVKA. GOOD RED WINE IS AN EVERYDAY STAPLE, AND WILD TURKEY, AND WRAY AND NEPHEWS RUM ARE FINE POST PRANDIALS. AS TO BEER, MY PREFERENCE IS FOR THE FINE BELGIAN ALES, ESPECIALLY THE TRAPPIST ONES. IN MY ESTIMATION WESTMALLE TRIPEL IS THE FINEST BEER IN THE WORLD. RECENTLY I HAVE ALSO BEEN ENJOYING LA TRAPPE DUBBEL

(NETHERLANDS TRAPPIST ALE) ON DRAUGHT.

There are rumoured sightings of you having been spotted propping the bar up in the Grove at Huddersfield. Has The Duncan [once favoured haunt of Smell & Quim in nearby Leeds] been shut down or has the smell of stale ale and pie farts driven you away?

IN RECENT YEARS PUBS IN THE UK HAVE BEEN CLOSING AT A RAPID RATE. THE GROVE IS A PRIME EXAMPLE OF HOW TO MAKE A PUB A SUCCESS. THAT IS, HAVE LOTS OF DIFFERENT DRINK. YOU COULD GO IN THERE EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR AND HAVE A DIFFERENT BEER EACH TIME WITHOUT EXHAUSTING THE MENU. THERES NOTHING SPECIAL ABOUT THE AMBIENCE OF THE PLACE, INFACT ITS QUITE NAFF IN MANY RESPECTS, ITS JUST THE QUALITY AND RANGE OF GOODS ON OFFER THAT PUT IT IN SPOT NUMERO UNO (PERHAPS IN THE ENTIRE COUNTRY) FOR A SWALLY. THE RANGE OF BEERS MEANS THAT YOU GET BORING CAMRA FUCKERS TALKING INCESSANT SHITE ABOUT BEER TRAINSPOTTING, BUT YOU ALSO GET THE ODD INTERESTING CHARACTER IN THERE FROM TIME TO TIME.

AS FOR THE DUNCAN, I DO NOT KNOW. I SELDOM GET TO LEEDS ANYMORE AS IT SEEMS TO BE A PLACE DEVOID OF ANY SOUL AT ALL. IN GENERAL SAM SMITHS (THE DUNCAN IS/WAS OF COURSE A SAM SMITHS HOUSE) PUBS ARE WORTH LOOKING OUT FOR DUE TO THE SENSIBLE PRICING. IF YOURE EVER IN LONDON CHECK OUT THE PRINCESS LOUISE IN HOLBORN WHICH IS A WONDERFULLY UNSPOILED ARCHITECTURAL GEM.

Anything else you’d like to add before I copy and paste all this into the websphere? Favourite grapes? Cities? West Yorkshire towns? [I always favour Batley due to the bat sculpture - I’m a sucker for modern gargoyles].

ALL FRUIT IS REPUGNANT UNTIL FERMENTED OR DISTILLED. ALL WEST YORKSHIRE TOWNS SHOULD ALSO BE FERMENTED OR DISTILLED. AS FOR CITIES, GENERALLY THEY ARE PRETTY GOOD IF THEY ARE, OR THEIR ORIGINS WERE, AS PORTS. A RIVER FLOWING THROUGH A CITY IS USUALLY A GOOD SIGN FOR ME, AS I HAVE A THING FOR RUNNING WATER.

Dieter Müh

Dieter Müh - The Call

Haemoccult Recordings 

LP 230 copies/white vinyl 

It is with these two 23 minutes tracks [natürlich] that Dieter Müh now enter the pantheon of great Industrial artists. That is not to say that what they have proffered us before is of a substandard rating and not worthy of inclusion into such a genre, far, far, far and further away from the truth could a statement ever be less true and smite me Holy Father for even thinking such a thing. But after listening to The Call since its release many moon since now it is with hand on wallet that I do solemnly swear that this is one of the best listens of my life and as good as anything else on the Industrial calendar, now, before, hence for ever and ever amen. What we have here is not simply the best Dieter Müh release to date but probably one of the best Industrial/ambient albums of all time. Let us not stop there though for the Mighty Müh have not only delivered one of the best industrial ambient releases of all time they have now firmly carved their names onto the walls of Industrial Culture there for all to see for eternity, one inch deep in granite never to be removed. It’s Mount Rushmore time in Müh land.

So why the superlatives? 

This is a timeless piece of work built on a steady trickle of studio and live performances as evinced over the last 15 years or so [and thats not including previous projects]. Dieter Müh’s live appearances are sporadic at best. Their recorded material comes in fits and starts too but it is with a measured hand that this material is laid upon us. The forming of their own label allows them to limit this to 230 copies [oh lordy] and issue it on thick heavy weight white vinyl thus ensuring that this is probably already sold out and gathering cult status as I tap. 

Everything fits, there’s no compromise. You have here not just a mere record but a historical artifact a piece of history a fucking heirloom ferrcristsakes.

So what’s it sound like?

Fans will be familiar with the way Dieter Müh build their sound out of treated samples, broken bones, spoken words and [occasionally] the odd electric string. Sounds unfamiliar to everyday hearing are commonplace here thus making every DM release a rewarding experience to your sonic spaceman. No cut and paste software here you honour. Organic is in laptops are out.

The masterstroke here is the inclusion [on the title track] of spoken word text by occult author and OTO member Lon Dilo DuQuette. This is a deft piece of association that fits like hand in glove and is the keystone that holds this whole thing together. Side two [Sutreworde] is a live outing of controlled evolving sound that explores everything from a struck bell to Lecter like jaw chatter. Every sound, note, movement and sample connects perfectly forming a complete whole that lifts this into exalted territory. 

The Call appears in five parts; each one a soporific drift of awing treated sounds that holds your attention like a hypnotist gaze. Adrift on the good ship industrial ambience and soaking up the effortless bowl drone this listener was shot bolt upright by the softly spoken lilting sound of DuQuette intoning an Enochian mantra. In a language I don’t understand DuQuette speaks gently, his words coming clearly in the manner of a torturer placating someone he’s just about to electrocute. Such are the impeccable production values that its as if DuQuette was in the room with you whispering his words an inch from your ear. Its an eerie and disquieting experience but still a thrill.

Sutreworde is a live recording from 2003. In Ausburg, Germany they flow effortlessly through a slew of perfectly fitting treated vocal samples and heartbeat rhythms. Lunatic screams, a bucket struck chime, a feeling of being slowly anaethatised, pulled under with a pillow held over your face. Towards your journeys end comes the DM mantra “we’re not happy ... ‘till you’re not happy”. There’s what sounds like power station outages, a heavy blast of residual force ebbing away into the emptiness.

Revelations From The New Silence

Revelations From The New Silence

Volume 1

Wholeness And The Implicate Order

Kovo CDR-051

Revelations From The New Silence

Volume 2

The Scalar Temple

Kovo CDR-052

Originally conceived as a meeting place for civil servants of the recently formed Indian nation The India Club now proves to be one of the cheapest and best curry houses in central London. Tucked away up a flight of narrow stairs on the Strand, the main dining room looks as if little has changed since it opened in the late 1940’s. Formica topped tables, odd chairs, pictures of Ghandi and window frames that have seen more than their fair share of Dulux one coat gloss make this as near to an Indian eating experience as you are likely to get without visiting Dehli. The menu is ‘veg’ and ‘non veg’ as are all true Indian menu’s, the prices are cheap, the waiters all have wobbly heads, you can bring your own beer or you can nip downstairs to the bar and buy bottled beers for reasonable prices. When I first came here about ten years ago the bar was run by an old lady called Doris who looked like she had become one with the tatty surroundings, sadly she’s been replaced by a young girl of eastern European descent but at least she now presides over a bar that has seen the tatty wing-backed leather chairs replaced with something that wouldn’t put a tear in your best slacks.

AA Gill once ate here and described the deep fried chillies as worth the trek alone. I once ate a plateful and thought my tongue was dissolving. This was after bumping into Gary Simmons in the Tate Modern resulting in an impromptu afternoon session in the Bath House in Soho. Tonights food was as good as you get in Bradford which is the highest compliment I can give an Indian Restaurant. It was nearly as good as what I’ve eaten in India but with eating in India you have the ambience and the added delight of running the gauntlet that is a bacterial infection. At least the toilets in the India Club have improved. Initial visits involved venting the bladder in a urinal with walls no further than two and a half feet apart.  It must have been the only toilet in London that you had to reverse out of.

The menu contains all the usual fare but with added mysteries like Uppuma, a semolina dish that can contain every vegetable under the sun depending on your mood but here comes with coconut, which Indians usually eat for breakfast, but the Indian Club doesn’t do breakfast, just lunch and dinner with dinner having last orders at the unusual time of 10.50pm. There are other rarities too including lemon pickle, Rasam [tomato soup], tomato omelet [?], egg curry, dahi vada [deep fried dall balls served with yoghurt] and those incendiary chilli bhajas. My lamb bhuna was excellent but what else we had is lost in a haze of beer. It was just like being in Bradford in the early 80’s, half cut, a waiter stood in front of you memorizing the orders of six different drunks without the aid of pen or paper and delivering it all without fault.

Corrigans in Mayfair is at the other end of the spectrum but equally worth your time and money. For those of you who judge a restaurant on its ability to stuff your gut at least cost Corrigans isn’t for you. I parted with the best part of £200 for dinner and if that figure makes you wince then I suggest you stick to making toast.

This was my first experience of fine dining and I must admit to being a little nervous. Maybe I should wear a tie? Maybe I wont be able to understand the wine list? What if the place is full of moneyed upper middle class posh bastards who’ll look down on us and will be able to tell instantly by our dress and brogue that we’re Northerners who got lost? I made only two gaffs. I ordered main courses assuming vegetables would accompany it but of course they don’t and I had a whisky as an aperitif. Not exactly a big a social gaffe say as necking wine from the bottle but the waiter did give me a funny look. After ordering our meal I almost shouted the waiter back saying he hand’t asked us about the wine but then thats the sommeliers job and he appeared soon after all efficient in blue apron accommodating my clumsy pronunciation [‘reezling’ or ‘rizling’ I never know which is which]. A close call. Then it all started, pure theatre. Amouse bouches that were deep fried olives stuffed with feta cheese, tiny cakes of deep fried bread covered in paprika. All heavenly. Then there was bread that tasted like chocolate. Starters were risotto, Mrs. Fisher with pea and mint and me with eel. Main courses of wild Irish salmon with Jersey Royals washed down with a superb Alsace Riesling. Puddings were vanilla ice cream with prunes marinated in Armagnac and all of it was a delight.

We went back last week for lunch. They’re doing a mid week lunch deal with three courses and a carafe of wine for £27 and if that price sticks in your craw then theres no hope. The French maitre d’ was just as hospitable, the receptionist equally so and with a smile that would have put a Colgate ad to shame. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an impressive set of teeth. The room was just as elegant in its understated art deco way and the food just as sublime. Being waited on hand and foot in such impressive surroundings is something that needs to be done. If the highlight of you dining out experience extends to Greggs then you are seriously missing out.

This time I ordered an Amontillado for aperitif. It did the job better than a whisky. The amuse bouche’s also did their job. The fish pie was incredible in its simplicity. When we both ordered the fish pie the Maitre d’ leant into me and whispered in a confiding way ‘the fish pie arnd the steak arnd kidney pie ur chefs favoreets’ and when it came to puddings and finding ourselves spoilt for choice he said nonchantly ‘eets a bank erliday so there eez no rush, I weel kerm back later’. It was all I could do to stop myself standing up and singing the Marseillaise. I wanted him to be my friend. I wanted to take him out for a drink and ask him why it is that in a country where for years the food was rightly derided the world over we now have chefs and restaurants that are capable of holding Michelin stars. Its hard to convey how welcoming a place Corrigans really is. I should never have felt intimidated that first time around but with hindsight maybe I shouldn’t have had the whisky, especially as how I finished off with one too.

All this apropos of nothing really. I’ve been listening to these two disc for days now and they wash over me with all the simplicity of a refreshing shower after a hot day. What made this such a weird package to receive though is described as follows; about ten or fifteen years ago I was put in touch with an American named Anthony Washburn [I think that was his name?] he ran a label of drone like proportions called Wholeness Recordings and released material of his own work under the name The Implicit Order. I submitted a track of my own humble work for consideration on a compilation he was collating and then heard nothing. Until a few weeks ago when I received a link to a site where said comp has been posted as a download. Listening to what I was up to all those years ago was slightly embarrassing what with me being a naive and unversed soul with a four track and too much beer in the house, but it was fun to hear it again.  Then these two discs appeared. I haven’t begun my investigations yet but the coincidence is remarkable. What is also remarkable is that Lea Cummings who once wielded an axe in Opaque and has made quite a name for himself with his one man noise terrorist act Kylie Minoise has now released two excellent drone albums. These works are more in the continental drift mould. Slowly shifting motifs of held down keys underpinned with ever so slightly oscillating motes of dust. A scared female wanders a house in a sci-fi film where you just now something awful is about to happen. You get the idea. If you told me these were snippets of La Monte Young’s longer works I wouldn’t have argued with you. Each track emerges like a distant vista in widescreen, the sun beating down melting your eyes. There is the odd track that ventures into more rhythmic, pulsing territory [The Third Coming on Volume One, The Pathway To Surrender on Volume Two] but I’ll remember these two releases for their ability to rinse away stress and for the fact that Lea Cummings has once more gone up in my estimation.

www.kovoroxsound.com

www.strand-continental.co.uk

www.corrigansmayfair.com