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Bad Psychic / Diva 93 / Sara Century / Syko Friend 4-way split
11.10.15 by Scott Scholz

Chicago label Hairy Spider Legs must throw great parties, if their new “Party Music” double cassette is any indication. A four-way split release uniting artists from Seattle, Minneapolis/St. Paul and Bloomington, Indiana, “Party Music” takes you on a sonic soiree from the beat-oriented fun of the early evening to blankets of guitar feedback perfect for keeping you warm on the couch overnight.

Each artist takes a side of this split, and we launch with Bad Psychic, whose opening tune starts with a relaxed sort of vibe that takes on a driving double-time feel when the drums take over. The assertive basses of “See Me No More” vibe nicely with sweeping synths and hard-hitting chorus vocals, like Gary Numan sitting in with The Contortions. On the B-side, Diva 93 opens with the great “Punish/Abandon/Reward”, which contrasts uneffected tribal-sounding drums with cosmically tweaked vocals. Her other 2 tunes are filled out with pensive synth work and nimble vocals, making the vibe of the first tape an interesting blend of no-wave and new-wave approaches.

Things get weirder on the second cassette:Sara Century turns in four playful tunes with slinky chromatic riffs trapped in lots of reverb and delay. My fave of her jams, “I Wait For No One,” uses a good measure of distortion on a percussion loop that takes on a bit of pitch content in its overdriven fuzziness, with mostly spoken vocals lurking in the shadows. These tunes are all considerably more low-fi than the rest of the album, though, which definitely has its vibe, but I wish the vocals were a little higher in these mixes–there are cool things happening with the lyrics, but I can’t quite make them out.

Syko Friend takes over the last side of the album with a pair of wild pieces that are my favorite kind of Party Music. “Tupelo’s Tell” uses tons of reverb and delay with whispered and moving-liquid sounds. Looped/manipulated sections start to take shape, teasing toward a “tune”, but the piece stays a little nebulous. And “Fly Canyon” turns into an unexpectedly rad out-guitar jam. There’s definitely a song form in the canyon, and vocals periodically reach upward in the mix, but this becomes a great noise guitar workout, with layers of amp-melting textures letting the song peek through and decisively blanketing it again.

Party Music comes in a vinyl 2-cassette album, on a pair of metallic gold and silver tapes. This one won’t last long, but you can still snag it directly from Hairy Spider Legs.

Giant Claw – Deep Thoughts
11.5.15 by Scott Scholz

Orange Milk’s Keith Rankin has dropped a serious grip of tapes as Giant Claw in the last half-decade. From the poly-prog of “Midnight Murder” to last year’s heavy foray into sample-based music with “DARK WEB”, Rankin is always up for new adventures. And with the new Giant Claw tape, we get a chance to peer directly between his ears and pluck out a fine set of “Deep Thoughts“.

“Deep Thoughts” is a significant departure sonically from “DARK WEB”, whose dominant R&B samples made the album a very percussion-driven affair. It’s quite different from earlier Giant Claw jams, too, which featured all kinds of funky synth tones and a fairly pianistic approach. The timbral palette of “Deep Thoughts” draws from mostly vanilla general MIDI tones, and there is little in the way of percussion. Instead, the focus is on the detailed compositions themselves, created by painstakingly entering notes directly into ye olde piano roll screen, and like you might expect of a digital corollary to Conlon Nancarrow’s player piano studies, the clean and simple sounds help you to focus directly on the wild arrangements themselves.

Conceptually, though, there is a fascinating relationship to sample-based music going on here: when Giant Claw was on tour with Darren Keen a few months ago, Rankin was talking about a concept of “soundfonts” that makes a lot of sense while jamming out to this tape. His “soundfont” concept is different than the old Creative Labs file format from the 90s. In this case, a “soundfont” is like the set of musical information that underlies the basics of a particular style or specific composer: the harmonic and melodic tendencies, the go-to rhythms, that sort of thing. You might have a piece that uses a Glass soundfont for the main section with a Gershwin soundfont in the outro, a Mozart soundfont, an Art of Noise soundfont. You can write through-composed music, using blocks of distinctive kinds of harmony, and the “soundfonts” behave much the same way that samples are used.

In “Deep Thoughts”, you’ll find that Giant Claw can acrobatically deploy almost as many soundfonts as there are general MIDI sounds to play them back with. These pieces plunder familiar flavors of harmony from throughout the 20th century and a few even earlier, deftly pulling them all into a unique, unified whole. And they’re not all “art music” (de)composers brought back to life in MIDI – many pieces, like my favorite, #09, nest their compositional complexity between opening/closing themes that sound like 80’s cop shows or game show themes. Commentary on the utility of “art music?” Aural critiques of appropriation in Western music history? Blurring the lines between sample-based and through-composed music? Deep Thoughts, indeed.

You can snag “Deep Thoughts” on cassette from the Giant Claw Bandcamp page right here, or if you’re into the compact discs, head to Virgin Babylon in Japan.

Wozzeck – 6
10.28.15 by Scott Scholz

Wozzeck, a Russian composition/improvisation project based in St. Petersburg, has been one of the most unpredictable weirdo bands of the last several years. While appearing on a number of splits and compilations with noise/contemporary-classical bands and solo artists, their “proper” albums have all followed a numerical naming convention: “Act 1,” “Act 2,” and so on. The early “Acts” focused on gritty improv jams or guided improvisations, blending skronky jazz and metal outbursts into paroxysms of tension not far removed from John Zorn’s Painkiller or Naked City projects.

But founding members Ilia Belorukov and Mikhail Ershov are music-on-paper cats, too. Starting with “Act 5,” Belorukov began composing formally for Wozzeck, which resulted in an immense 5-section, 200-minute behemoth that was released on DVD to accommodate its sheer size. On that album, each movement lasts precisely 40 minutes, carefully proceeding through a series of very gradual micro-changes that evoke minimalism sonically and maximalism through the sheer forces of endurance and concentration needed to play them.

Wozzeck’s new tape, simply called “6” this time around, further refines the minimal/maximal impulses of “Act 5,” this time deploying very mellow timbres that nudge the music toward a meditative/trance-inducing vibe. “6” is divided into six sections of 15 minutes each, perfect for circling the globe on a simple C90.

The concept here is fairly straightforward: the piece runs through a set of rhythmic figures played with a single pitch at a time. Starting on G, each section slowly speeds up across the A-side, and every 15 minutes, the single pitch used is raised a half-step. On the B-side, the opposite unfolds, gradually slowing down and descending chromatically back to the starting point. The sonic effect is more complex: with soft, unobtrusive bass punches, carefully restrained drum work, and delicate piano tones, the first impression is a very gentle piece, perfect for zoning out. But this is no drone: with no dynamic shifts or pitch changes to follow, your focus will eventually settle on the pointillistic rhythmic architecture of the piece. On that level, it feels oddly insistent, like being poked in the same spot zillions of times.

You may find it relaxing, boring, annoying, or transcendent–and you may find it to be all of those at once, depending on your mood–but you’d better find it quick. This one’s available in a tiny edition of 25 on Russia’s spina!rec. Like the other fine noise, post-rock and avant-classical jams on this rad little label, “6” is packaged in an o-card and tape-sized ziploc baggie.

Film Review – The Great American Cassette Masters
10.23.15 by Scott Scholz

The last few years have borne lots of articles and video clips about the resurgence of cassettes and cassette culture. You’ve probably caught a whiff or two of the “official” narrative by now: cassettes were almost gone, but labels like Burger Records and Kissability have brought them back from the brink of extinction, they’re cheap and great and “gritty” and nostalgic, etc. Upon closer inspection, of course, one will find that cassette labels and cassette-centric artists have been toiling away all along, and sometimes it feels like there’s more of a resurgence in the composition of articles about a resurgence. But it’s fair to say there’s been an uptick: consider National Audio Company’s increasing production, stores like Urban Outfitters getting in on the cassette retail biz, and the appearance of Cassette Store Day, a retail-holiday whose annual repressed offerings can’t help outnumbering “cassette stores” themselves.

Pro or con, most articles about neo-cassette-culture focus on the retro technology involved with tapes, the technical and aesthetic differences between various formats, and the novelty underlying the idea of “resurgence” more generally. What they haven’t investigated in any depth is perhaps the most fundamental element behind cassette culture: community. Most Tabs Out readers and listeners are probably already down with community aspects of tapes, part of a long and humble tradition going back to the early 80s. But if we’re going to ride the waves of some “resurgence,” for better or worse, it’s pretty crucial to have some understanding of where this scene comes from. To that end, my favorite resource has long been the Cassette Mythos book of primary-source essays edited by Robin James, which was first published toward the end of the Golden Age for home-dub tape labels. If you haven’t gripped it yet, DO. Autonomedia runs reprints of it occasionally, and presently, you can pick it up direct from them right here.

Now there is a great new resource in town: filmmaker William Davenport and Talk Story Films have just released a feature-length documentary called The Great American Cassette Masters, full of interviews and music/performance clips by folks who were there from the beginning of the cassette underground. As the former publisher/editor of Unsound, a classic early industrial and cassette networking zine active from 1983-1987, and founder of the band Problemist, Davenport is uniquely qualified to produce this documentary. This film is rich with insights from almost a dozen wonderful early cassette artists, and since most of them continue to be musically active, it also serves as a great update to the threads of activity found in Cassette Mythos.

You’ll find multiple perspectives on the relevance of experimental/noise music and its circulation in the cassette underground throughout The Great American Cassette Masters. I don’t want to get into detail about the many personal experiences and observations you’ll find throughout the film, as you should really give it a hard look and digest it all for yourself. But suffice it to say that if you’re not familiar with the work of folks like Debbie Jaffe, Randy Greif or Mike Honeycutt, you’ll leave this flick with both a sense of the collective efforts that went into 80s cassette culture and a new list of artists to dig into. I know I’m going to be catching up on Big City Orchestra, Architects Office, and Randy Grief’s music myself in the coming months. And If, Bwana and Little Fyodor?–damn. Legendary. So much good music represented here.

While the internet has obviously altered the flow of music in the cassette underground–with contemporary cassette labels, pro-dubbing has largely taken over for home-dubbing, and lots more folks like National Audio Company, Bandcamp and Paypal all take a cut of the action along with the post office–you’ll find that much of this tradition continues intact. I was struck by how many of the interview subjects consider themselves non-musicians who work in various forms of “audio collage” or “sound art,” for example. That’s certainly carried on through many artists who come to the music through fine art or graphic design backgrounds. And Hal McGee’s “four pillars” still resonate through most of the underground: “contact, community, collaboration, and compilations.”

I found the continued efforts of these “cassette masters” toward nurturing community especially heartening. Most of these folks still work in music themselves, but much of their current activity collectively helps to document the past and inspire the present. Hal McGee’s recent work with HalTapes and microcassette compilations, for example, has collected excellent, very personal work from several generations under one aural roof. Don Campeau’s Living Archive of Underground Music deliciously blurs timelines into a rich continuum as well, further reinforced through his radio programming for No Pigeonholes. And Big City Orchestra has also become heavily involved in radio, including the UB Radio Salon and Radio Trouble. Encouraging newcomers while continuing to make compelling sounds, the folks interviewed throughout the film are equally fascinating as historical figures and contemporary artists.

Pick up your own DVD copy of The Great American Cassette Masters directly from Davenport’s Talk Story Films right here. Eventually it may turn up on Hulu or iTunes, but you don’t want to wait around for this. And spread the word–if this film is well received, there may be an International Cassette Masters sequel in the future, and that would be rad beyond belief. If you don’t know your history, after all, you’re doomed to tape-loop it.

New Batch – Orange Milk
10.19.15 by Scott Scholz

Orange Milk Records returns for autumn with a wicked batch of artists working at and above the 40th parallel. Grab a light jacket and take a stroll with four freaky neighbors to the north:

The second Man Made Hill tape for Orange Milk, “Totally Regular” features gritty recordings of smooth jams. Man Made Hill loves mad flow and wasp-attack envelope filters, and you can get your groove on while occasionally finding yourself pushed into old-school Ralph Records territory. Double and triple-dip as prescribed, and consult “Spoiled” for the best in contemporary luxury shopping lists.

Also returning to Orange Milk for a 2nd full-length (but don’t miss his killing track on last year’s 4-way split on OM, too), Larry Wish lays down a new set of overdubbed lounge-prog funhouse mirrors. Sprawling arrangements melodically twist through a series of forgotten side alleys, making the longest tunes feel like their own Choose Your Adventure novels (minus the sudden death pages). Wish knows his way around the drum kit, and his tempo shifts keep these jams from standing still no matter how far away from home they wander.

A striking followup to last year’s “AG_GREATESTHIT” on Umor Rex, “ad.sculpt tutorial” lives up to its name perfectly with a quartet of sculptural sound pieces. Created via MaxMSP coding, G.S. Sultan works with short bursts of rapid-fire electronic blips that nervously arrange themselves into the aural equivalent of Calder mobiles, well-balanced but sensitive to the slightest pulse of energy to burst into hyperactivity again. Serious rhythmic workouts for your brain, this is the perfect digital process-generated composition freakout companion to last year’s “Zones of Influence” by David Rosenboom on Pogus.

Tendencies brings us a 20-minute taste of Edmonton future funk on “Waterbed”, subtly drawing from the looped phrase manipulation of vaporwave (you get the chopped/screwed overcast skies most prominently on “その蒸気 2”), but with a focus closer to dance floors than closed dorm room doors. The last two tunes head way down tempo from the rest of the album, so don’t worry about getting your groove on as hard as you’d like right out of the gate—you’ll get a chance to catch your breath.

All four tapes are available individually, or in a four tape bundle, from Orange Milk Records.