Tashi Dorji and Tyler Damon — Leave No Trace: Live In St. Louis (2018, Family Vineyard)
Listen [F.V. Bandcamp]
Tyler Damon’s glassy opening cadence on top of Tashi Dorji’s hazy guitar swells form an eerie sonic vignette which gingerly filters into the listener’s ears. One cannot help but recall the lowering gate arm and ringing bell at a level crossing. An apt notion indeed, as the train that approaches is the tandem sounds of Dorji and Damon who set out to incinerate the air as they blast forth from the stereo, full-speed ahead on their second long playing release on Indianapolis’ Family Vineyard. Leave No Trace is two tracks -that’s all the duo need. This release is devoid of any bullshit. “Calm The Shadows” is the sound of meditating heavy machinery. If one listens beyond the immediate bombast, there remains an unmistakable serenity. The flip side of the slab is the titular “Leave No Trace.” At times sparse and reminiscent of the blurred swagger of the A side’s opening bars, yet unafraid to meander into dangerous territory. The duo possess the ability to bewitch and entrance the listener, yet do not shy away from exploring the shadowy interstices which fleetingly appear in their sonic traversals. Few contemporary outfits can take up the platitudinous tools which rock’n’roll has worn down to the point of absolute banality and so masterfully repurpose them to craft something so wholly original, enthralling, and incendiary. Remaining in the discursive universe of rock music(s), one must recall Black Flag vocalist Henry Rollins’ remark that the first time he saw the Clash in the late 1970s. Rollins recalled the group played with such unrelenting ferocity, that it seemed impossible that there would be any corporal or sonic remnants left of the band by the end of the set. Listening to Damon and Dorji, one is able to appreciate these sentiments in a contemporary context. The title isn’t merely a descriptor, rather it’s a statement of intent. As is the case with any collaboration between Dorji and Damon Leave No Trace is not to be missed.
Akira Sakata & Chikamorachi with Masahiko Satoh — Proton Pump (2018, Family Vineyard)
Listen [“Proton Pump” and “Voyage of Eukaryote” available to stream on F.V. bandcamp]
2018 is off to a cracking start, no thanks to the Family Vineyard label, who are quickly becoming a mainstay at Marginal HQ with their steady supply of superlative sounds. This latest release by Japanese stalwart, alto saxophonist Akira Sakata, sets 2018 smoothly in motion. Falling somewhere between Coltrane’s Village Vanguard releases and his final work with Rashied Ali, Akira Sakata along with Chikamorachi (aka Chris Corsano on drums and Darin Gray on bass) and Masahiko Satoh on piano, take up the mantle as standard bearers of contemporary free musics. The title track, ‘Proton Pump’ manages to traverse varying sonic milieus of intensity: at times the ensemble sound-off with such ardor, they sound as if they are ready to burst clean off the stage, fragmenting in the process into interminable specks of aural detritus. At other times, canyons of breathing space remain for Sakata to amble over (listen to the massive, sustained piano bit at the 8:05 mark from Satoh). ‘Bullet Apoptosis’ recalls Dolphy’s film noir suite-cum-masterpiece Out to Lunch with all the intensity of Last Exit (minus the latter’s cloying 1980s production). Part spiritual reckoning, part Corsano masterclass, and part exorcism, ‘Chemiosmotic Coupling of Acorn’ might be the most solid cut on an LP of most solid cuts. Satoh’s playful piano drives the piece, while Sakata employs howls, yells, throat singing, and chanting. Corsano rips through every piece of kit available belling, bowing, slashing, and rolling along the way. Gray’s serpentine peppering on the low end stretches the tune in a way that threatens to bring the universal percolator to a boil and reorder the cosmos—Charlie Haden’d be proud. If Proton Pump is at all indicative of the shape of musics to come in 2018, this year is going to be an absolute cracker.
Chicago/London Underground — A Night Spent Walking Through Mirrors (2017, Cuneiform)
In the Chicago/London Underground’s A Night Spent Walking Through Mirrors, the group’s hazy, playfully meandering performance recalls the convivial, unfettered spirit of 1960s free jazz. Whilst ‘breezy’ may not be the first word one has in mind when listening to free musics, the group swagger through the titular track and justify the performance’s title — they sound entirely capable of seamlessly walking through mirrors, perhaps unsurprising when one sees the strength of the players (Chad Taylor, drums; John Edwards, double bass; Rob Mazurek, cornet; Alexander Hawkins, piano). One hears definite reverberations of early Ornette Coleman/Don Cherry work, Archie Shepp’s late 1960’s BYG Actuel records, and Cecil Taylor’s Conquistador. The ensemble’s use of electronic treatments and/or guitar stompboxes — a technique that is thankfully under utilized in most improvisational circles — is tastefully and effectively employed here by Mazurek. Such effected passages provide a subtle nod to trip hop and at times recall British trumpet/drum duo Spaceheads. ‘Something Must Happen’ exposes the listener to the group’s sonic and textural range: at moments it’s positively Burrell-esque (perhaps not as tempestuous as Echo, but one can confidently utter the LP in the same sentence); the end of the track however showcases both electronic psychedelia and mbira(!). The recording’s fidelity creates no artifice: the album is well recorded, but not glossy. Audience reactions are not redacted. Mixed with the ensemble’s cohesion the listener could easily transport themselves into the low-ceilinged, cramped quarters of Cate Oto on a full night. Arguably one of the most exciting contemporary Free Jazz recordings we’ve experienced in awhile at Marginal HQ, A Night Spent Walking Through Mirrors, is indeed a night well spent.
Andy Moor and Yannis Kyriakides – Rebetika (2010, Unsounds)
Whilst homage can often feel pastiche, derivative, or just lazy, Andy Moor and Yannis Kyriakides’ (re-)interpretation of classic Greek rebetika guitar works is instead rather fascinating and wholly original. Featuring Moor on guitar and Kyriakides on computer, Rebetika captures the duo in live action in Glasgow, Groningen, and Amsterdam between 2006 and 2007. The pair combine to de/re-construction classic Greek rebetika recordings and in the process craft pieces from the source materials that are at times intuitive and ruminative and other moments fragmentary and alien with the results bearing little resemblance to the source materials. The opener, “Minores” (using “Minores Manes” by Stratos Pajiomdsis) begins unassumingly featuring only subtle manipulations of Pajiomdsis’ original work. As the seven minute track unfolds, Kyriakides forges labrynthine paths that entrance the listener without overpowering the innate solemnity of the original tune. Moor sprinkles the piece with some tasty and odd interjections: full and half-note plucks along with nauseating harmonic barbs, both of which add a surprisingly percussive sense of unease and disquiet. By the time the listener has arrived at track four, the album’s nine-minute centerpiece, “All is Well,” one has been fully pulled down the rabbit hole. Dimitirs Kontogiannis’ “Eimai Finos Magkas” provides fodder for Kyriakides glitch-laden affair which is an unholy amalgam of early-Cluster and Greek broadcasts on a shortwave radio that is ready to give up the ghost. Moor continues to possess an astounding awareness, realizing all the while that his guitar must simply be a passenger and conduit and not take center stage (no pun intended), as the guitar so often does. Moor and Kyriakides’ Unsounds label has no shortage of excellent releases, but this one certainly ranks among the best in their catalogue.
Chris Watson — El Tren Fantasma (2011, Touch Music)
Having visited field recording mastermind Chris Watson’s superlative Weather Report in July, today felt like an excellent day to bring the English recordist back into rotation. While his ability to identify, capture, and edit sounds into new artistic works is largely unparalleled, one point that goes largely overlooked is Watson’s abilities as a storyteller. Using sounds (and occasionally speech) in place of written words, Watson manages to craft a deeply immersive and stimulating narrative that captures the listener’s imagination. 2011’s El Tren Fantasma is haunting mix of archival recordings and sounds captured while Watson traversed Mexico on the now defunct Ferrocarriles Nacionales de México as a sound-recordist for the BBC. The listener becomes a passenger on a thrilling ride across a country of diverse landscapes. Boarding announcements feel as frantic and coarse as if one were on the platform; the anticipation of the journey upon hearing diesel engines come to life is equally tangible and immediate. Insects, birds, wind, and the twitch and spark of steel on steel all contribute to the journey and dually reinforce Watson’s creative prowess and the affectivity of sound. While few tracks match the musicality (in the most reductive sense of the word) of “El Divisadero” with its Cascading strings coupled with the rhythmic thud and clack of a train wheels soaring over lengths of track, the abundantly rich sounds captured by Watson take the listener on a thrilling voyage. As the N de M has since been dismantled and/or privatized, the recordings are something of a sonico-historical document which evokes questions related to memory, space, development and how these factors impact acoustic phenomena. As is the case with most of Watson’s work, a brilliant release.
Charlie Ulyatt — Shifting (2017, self-released)
English guitarist Charlie Ulyatt’s Dead Birds was largely characterized by a languid, yet focused series of solo guitar anti-études. In place of demonstrating earth-shattering virtuosity, the Nottingham-based guitarist more interestingly showcased a meditative awareness which honed in on the precise meeting point of timbre and temporality. In listening to Dead Birds, one quickly comes to recognize Ulyatt’s tone—lightly treated with reverberation and tremolo—as his own distinct voice. One also quickly picks up on the tranquil patience the artist possesses, made evident by the simple and soporific nature of the pieces. Impressively, the Ulyatt’s forthcoming cassette, appropriately titled, Shifting, opts to change direction. In place of the breezy, repetitive style found on Birds, the listener encounters tensile, sometimes percussive, almost always inquisitive pieces, whilst not jarring per se, do ask something more of the listener than Ulyatt’s preceding album. “A Taste of Ore” invokes the hypno-drones of “Venus In Furs” with Ulyatt effectively standing in for both Lou Reed’s “ostrich guitar” and John Cale’s imperious and jagged viola, all the while, leaving the Warhol Factory pretense at the door. Fleeting moments of slide guitar on “Ah Moses” harken back (even if unwittingly) to the blues of the Mississippi Delta, creating a fascinating lineage from Robert Johnson’s crossroads covenant with Old Scratch to the post-industrial experimentalism of the East Midlands. Elsewhere, tracks such as “Dry Lake Piss Flow” and “Daisy Chain Burns” recall the grit of Skullflower, but manage to replace the dark and dirgy overtones with something that, despite its abstract qualities, is surprisingly joyful. In all, Shifting is a fascinating series of tunes, that whilst lacking the accessibility of Dead Birds, remains an artistic testament to the importance and inevitability of change.
Godspeed You! Black Emperor — Luciferian Towers (2017, Constellation)
Canadian symphonic rockers, Godspeed You! Black Emperor return with their first record in x years with Luciferian Towers. Having not listened to Godspeed! much since Yanqui U.X.O, this listener was taken aback by the collective’s drastic departure from the brooding and sparse compositional work littered with field-recordings, monologues, etc. Instead, the group’s modus operandi has evolved into one which is jubilant, airy, and fairly wide-open. The musicianship remains top-notch, as do the politics. Sonically, however, the results leave much to be desired. This release largely underscores that Godspeed You! Black Emperor operate almost entirely within the idiom of rock’n’roll —a fact, that their musicianship has long done well to obscure. The opening piece, “Undoing a Luciferian Tower” is a sprawling, cinematic piece, that while decisively executed, is at times almost humorous in its unabashed bombast. Again, noting that the group operate largely within the idiom of rock’n’roll, their sonic vocabulary often ends up coming off like an indie-version of Trans Siberian Orchestra. The instrumentation is never lost or bizarre (in a pejorative sense), but the aesthetic framings that the group operate within, coupled with the aforementioned bombast, comes across as fairly mawkish. The third track, “Fam/Famine” is perhaps the best of the LP. Structurally, less predictable than the multi-movement crescendo/apex/release employed throughout the rest of the LP, the album’s shortest tune instead opts to explore sensibilities that closely resemble the collaborative proto-ambient work of Brian Eno and Robert Fripp à la No Pussyfooting. Not a bad direction and one that the group pull-off masterfully. While praise for this release has been virtually unanimous, here at Marginal HQ, we’re a bit more skeptical. Despite the group’s well documented political stance(s), the adherence to convention and accessibility, again casts doubt on western music(s)’ ability to catalyze or embody substantive social change.