Gig #64: Of late 13: Croatian Amor, Carla Bozulich, James Hoff, Dan’l Boone, This Will Destroy You, Helen Adam, Grouper, Kemper Norton, The History of Color TV, Krieg, Shellac, Ice Orgy, Call Super

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Croatian Amor Slim Stomachs
‘Loke Rahbek is a busy man indeed – as if Sexdrome (RIP), Var, Damien Dubrovnik and Lust For Youth (plus running a record label) weren’t enough work. But here we are with Croatian Amor, the self styled ‘bubblegum industrial’ project of the aforementioned Dane. Genitalia Garden is a collage comprised of field recordings, samples and warm bubbly synth that comes together to form the soundtrack to a grimy European arthouse flick that doesn’t exist yet.’ — Fucked by Noise

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Carla Bozulich Deeper Than The Well
‘Never fenced in by genre, Bozulich has been an art punk (Ethyl Meatplow), an avant-garde country crooner (The Geraldine Fibbers), a noisy improviser with one of the world’s greatest guitar players (Scarnella), a storyteller capable of reimagining a classic Willie Nelson album (“Red Headed Stranger”), and the leader of a misfit trio that creates intense, uncomfortably dark music (Evangelista). The only constant is her unflinchingly honest point of view. “Deeper than the Well” is taken from her upcoming fourth solo LP Boy and indicates that despite being in the fourth decade of her career, Bozulich isn’t close to losing any steam, delivering one of her most left-field compositions yet, as well as a clever and intensely sexual set of lyrics.’ — collaged

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James Hoff Blaster
‘New York based conceptual artist James Hoff returns to PAN with Blaster, a document of his explorations of computer viruses as agents within the composition process. Specifically, Hoff used the Blaster virus to infect 808 beats and then utilized the mutated results as building blocks for seven new compositions. Hoff’s interest in computer viruses lies in their ability to self distribute through (and ultimately disrupt) networks of communication and Hoff’s agency as an artist centers on placing these parasitic forms into pre-existing genres, such as dance music. Blaster is a timely exploration of the infectious qualities of sound, and how it too, as a carrier, makes it’s way through social networks, reduced to bits and programmed to infiltrate and replicate.’ — p-a-n.org

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Dan’l Boone Part 2
‘Uniformly adventurous musicians Nate Young (Wolf Eyes), Neil Hagerty (The Howling Hex, formerly of Royal Trux), Alex Moskos (Drainolith), and Charles Ballas (Formant) have just formed Dan’l Boone, and nothing makes any sense. “I’d come downstairs into Charles’ basement and Nate and Neil would be making competing diagrams that represented the record. I was so lost,” says Moskos. And to supplement the visual philosophizing, Hagerty stated the following, “cryptically,” in a voicemail to Ballas: “To create music by reverting to zit-popping thrash, you must believe that the prognosis is so dismal that it takes time to hear them retain enough for your face before summary dismissal.”’ — Tiny Mix Tapes

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This Will Destroy You War Prayer
‘There’s rattling, dubbed-out drums, unhinged strings, levigating shoegaze guitars, electronic drifts and blowouts, synthesizers that seem almost sentient, and layers of gentle, toy-box notes over woozy, kitchen-sink noise. The jazz of “Mother Opiate” evokes Bohren & der Club of Gore, and on opener “New Topia”, deep synthesizer washes and plaintive guitars build up for a minute and a half, before slow-motion drums march in front of friskier noises towards a huge, blissful, earplug-rattling wash. “Serpent Mound” offers twisting, churning electronics and aching guitars worthy of My Bloody Valentine and the ghosts that band’s known to pack into their sprawl; “The Puritan” is an ambient refrain that feels like wind drifting across a burnt-out prairie, and the explosive martial pace and windy space ringing inside “War Prayer” send chills. Some songs make me think of laying on my back in a planetarium, wondering about friends who’ve died.’ — Brandon Stosuy

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Helen Adam Fearless Junkie Song
‘A ‘bardic matriarch’ to the San Francisco Beats and, in her narrative voice, ‘a sorceress with distinct powers over and within [that] community’, Helen Adam’s early life as the daughter of a Presbyterian minister in the north-east of Scotland appears to offer little indication of what was to come. Having moved to America in the 1930s, she settled some years later in a community in which formal experimentation was often the poetic mode-du-jour. Adam’s reputation, however, rested on her retention and mastery of the ballad forms of her native land. Her importance was crystallised in her inclusion in Donald Allen’s seminal collection The New American Poetry 1945-1960, and she was to extend her artistic vision into experimental filmmaking and collage production, as well as the writing of a successful opera. Personal circumstances hindered her endeavours in later years, precipitating a slide into obscurity. Indeed, it is only since her death that Adam has begun to receive once more the recognition her work merits.’ — Spl

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Grouper Call Across Rooms
‘Recorded almost entirely in Aljezur, Portugal while Liz Harris was taking part in a residency, Grouper’s new album Ruins might be the most stripped-down set of songs she’s released so far. The songs came about when Harris happened upon a room with an upright piano – she had a 4-track Sony recorder with her, so that became her setup. After long walks through the ruins of a small village nearby, she would sit at the piano and process, in her own words, “a lot of political anger and emotional garbage.” The result is the most naked, raw recordings we’ve heard from Harris – a far cry from the comparatively sunny Dragging a Dead Deer up a Hill.’ — Fact Magazine

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Kemper Norton Her
‘The music of Kemper Norton streaks across the ages like a tipsy beach-comber, enthusiastically and expertly skipping across time’s tide and handpicking an array of instruments, contexts and influences to form what he succinctly describes as “coastal slurtronic folk”. Far from being a romantic nostalgia trip, like the rash of recent releases that turn today’s laptops into yesteryear’s Radiophonic Workshop to relive their youths spent watching cult TV, Kemper Norton’s music exists within the continuum, encapsulating a free range of sounds and stories spread throughout history. Here, medieval mandolins meet modular synths, or a 19th century harmonium harmonises with its future cousin the Casio keyboard, evoking anything from pre-Christian myth to post-modern polemics.’ — The Quietus

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The History Of Colour TV 1-800-BADNITE
‘The History of Colour TV is a Berlin-based shoegaze outfit whose origins began in 2010 as a conceptual audio-visual project of musician Jaike Stambach. After self-releasing several experimental cassette-only EPs and accompanying videos, the project began to take on a fuller shape as Stambach brought in additional bandmembers to color his dreamy, darkly textured pop songs. Their first release as a group was 2011’s Colour TV EP, which still incorporated some of the more abrasive ambient textures of Stambach’s earlier solo work, but was far more anchored in song format. A deal with Texas-based indie Saint Marie Records was struck and they released their debut album, 2012’s densely layered Emerald Cures Chic Ills. Stripping down their sound, while keeping it no less potent, they returned in June 2014 with When Shapes of Spilt Blood Spelt Love.’ — collaged

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Krieg Ruin of Our Lives
‘Krieg has returned. For anyone even remotely familiar with US black metal this demonic wrecking crew needs no introduction. Over the course of their 19-year career they have produced some of the finest albums to emerge from the US black metal scene. And their latest is no exception. Transient, which is being released by Candlelight Records, continues their tradition of challenging and expanding the boundaries of the genre. Jameson’s vocal performance is gut wrenching throughout. Some of his side projects and previous works have suffered from a lack of variety, but this is definitely not the case with Transient. You can feel the venom and vitriol oozing from every syllable. His vocal attack fits perfectly into each of the songs. From deathly bellows to throat shredding growls, Jameson puts in the vocal performance of his career. It’s a far cry from the standard black metal screech we have all heard a thousand times since the dawn of the second wave in Norway.’ — metalbandcamp.com

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Shellac Dude Incredible
‘You know the Shellac drill by now: born of Albini’s very own recording Arcadia, Electrical Audio studios; the extrapolation of simple practice-ideas that gradually become live staples; recorded without question to analogue tape; aluminium-bodied Travis Beans (this isn’t some kind of metaphor); nothing really resembling a chorus; tangerine trousers; sombre yet mirthful; released, as always, on Touch And Go; and a carefully considered artwork package, which this time is a chipboard square and glossy macaque print (more about them later). Whatever you want to call their shtick – math-rock, post-hardcore, minimalist jugular-cutting, or just a white, angry man talking with style – it remains just that. Dude Incredible sounds “like a Shellac record” according to Bob Weston, and he’s right. Not that that’s a bad thing of course. When I eat my once-yearly Cadbury’s Cream Egg I expect the sugar content to make me feel dizzy and I’d be irked if it didn’t. And similarly, when I hear a new Shellac record I expect it to kick me in my imaginary balls.’ — The Quietus

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Ice Orgy live in Brooklyn
‘Ice Orgy is about as cold and indulgent as the name suggests. These crawling drones come courtesy of an autoharp and electronics, painting grainy streaks of disharmonious tones, and gently throbbing them into your ear holes with a plodding, pounding pulse that gradually doubles-down into a rolling rollick – the kind of thing that you’d imagine zombies dancing to. The upper register is a swarming mass, a cloud of uncertainty and unknowing seeking out any relaxed corner of your brain and infecting with a discomforting notion of simple dread. Ice Orgy is pure anxiety in sound, a cold sweat for the ages.’ — collaged

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Call Super Coney Storm Drain
‘Since I’m reviewing a techno long-player, I’m supposed to make some sort of comment about how it bridges the theoretical gap between the club and bedroom/headphones/whatever, right? It makes sense, given how many artists botch the album thing on a regular basis by just going the banger-interlude-banger route or toning down their club sound into inoffensive nothingness, but Call Super is one of the few who doesn’t even need to distinguish between the two, creating a self-sustaining space so unique that the two collapse into each other. Unlike, say, Kassem Mosse’s brilliant record from earlier this year, Suzi Ecto isn’t just a collection of well-engineered cuts that work outside the dancefloor, but a world unto itself, full of unnaturally iridescent chimes and hissing, crunchy sound design. Its neon skylines work wherever, alien enough to remain interesting after the umpteenth listen but comforting enough to make you want to spin it that many times.’ — Tiny Mix Tapes

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p.s. Hey. I’m sick with a bad cold or the flu or something, so this p.s. is probably going to really suck, sorry. ** David Ehrenstein, ‘He can move stuff around but … he has no real ideas of his own:’ that makes sense to me. Early on. when he’d only made ‘Seven’, ‘The Game’, and ‘Fight Club’, I’d expected differently. ** Jeffrey Coleman, Hi. When my brain returns, I’ll try that lecture. Thank you. I hope your email to your friend gets something going. Doll Food, cool, yeah, as soon as my ears aren’t all clogged up, I’ll check that out. Thank you again. ** Damien Ark, Hi. Cool that the post triggered art making longings. Sometimes pauses can be the best medicine. Yeah, thank you a ton for the posts! So great! Peter’s really nice. He’s pretty easy talk to about anything. We talked about The Rolling Stones, whom he loves, for instance. ** Misanthrope, Dig, about the ghost stuff. I’ve never been so scared that I lost control of my bodily functions. I was so scared once when I was a little kid that I went into shock, though. Eragon, what’s that, oh wait, I remember, never mind. ‘Cecil B. Demented!’ What an underrated wonderful movie. ** Steevee, I love being pleased by your reviews, so cool. ‘ … it’s very mainstream (in the UK tradition of THE FULL MONTY & BILLY ELLIOT) and suffers from a formulaic screenplay’: that’s a flashing red light of a blurb if I ever read one. ** Thomas Moronic, Thank you again, man! So lovely. Oh, I’m going to run your gp #2 (EIF#7) on this coming Friday. My weekend was varying degrees of ruined by sickness, but it was okay within that context, I guess. The webpage for that collaborative art group is really nicely designed, and I’ll check it out once my brain cells cooperate. ** Dan, Hi. Oh, cool. Shit, I’m toast above the neck, and pretty much below it too, but I’ll cast my hazy eyes over the email and get back to you as best I can today. Thanks! ** Kyler, Good about the southern quiet. Oh, okay, I see, about ghosts being able to die or ‘die’ or die again. Weird, cool. ** gucciCODYprada, Hi, man. I’ve started, but it’s going to take me a while. Sorry. But I’ve started, and it’s too early on to say much, but it’s awesome. I did like Gesaffelstein. I listened to a bunch more in fact. Might put some on the blog in fact. Love from sluggish, feverish me. ** Hyemin K, Hi. Yeah, sure, okay about the no interview thing. They’re usually red herrings anyway. So are solid perspectives. I’m into confusion, you know. Definitely don’t risk an unfortunate accident. I’m trying to avoid them myself until I can actually think clearly again. ** Keaton, Sculpture is God’s Halloween candy. Satan’s too, I guess. ‘Paper craves design’: whoa, that’s nice. ** Kier, Hey, buddy boy! Record fairs! I love them. I miss them. I don’t think they have them here. Or maybe they do. LA had/has great ones. Yay about the great drawing day. Too bad that the other day didn’t work out that way, but that happens, right? Uh, this will be a shitty report because my head is shit, but … Kiddiepunk, yes. First I saw him on Friday. We hung out. We hung out with Peter Sotos. PS is visiting Paris right now. Well, duh, how else could we have seen him? Kp and I saw Stephen O’Malley’s drone symphony performed at a church. That was beautiful. I started getting sick then. The next day I really getting sick, but I drank coffees with Kiddiepunk anyway, and that was nice. Then I got sicker and sicker. I couldn’t see Lust for Youth and Croatian Amor because I was too sick, and that was very depressing. While I was sick, I did minimal things not very well and blew my nose and coughed and felt like crap. I’ll spare you the sickness details. So, now I’m sick, but I need to get better today somehow because at 10 am tomorrow morning this film crew is coming over to shoot a giant interview with me for a new JT Leroy documentary. Ugh. How was Monday? For sure it will be a billion times better than mine no matter what happens. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi. Oh, shit, more Art 101 delays? Sorry, man. It’ll be so worth it all, though. ** Sypha, Oh, I remember that character existing, but I don’t remember what he looks like. Oh, wait, that’s the guy who’s seen giving someone a blow job with smoke coming out of his mouth in that amazing brothel scene at the end, right? Nope, I’ve never seen that band’s name written anywhere. Usually, I at least know boy bands’ names. Yeah, I probably won’t pick that album up, ha ha. ** Derek McCormack, Hi, Derek! Cool, so weird about Giles being on my doorstep, no? I tried to ask around and find out why he was here, but no one knew anything. That dark ride really, really looks like a dream. I bookmarked that page, and I keep looking a it. Oh, that’s sad you won’t be here this fall, but, yes, spring! Spring in Paris is famously and justifiably beautiful. And I have so much to show you, so do make sure to come. I’ll go to David’s show for completely sure. Oh, man, I so hope the surgeon can clear up your guts’ problems. Whoa you finished your novel! And you’re finishing the Count Chocula book! Holy shit, Derek, that’s such amazing news that I literally feel like I’m not sick at this very moment. Seriously, I could climb to the top of this gigantic tree outside my window in the pouring rain — it’s raining right now — and … do whatever one would do at the top of a gigantic tree. Scream in terror to be rescued? Anyway, you get the picture. Tons and tons of love to you! ** Jonathan, Hi, man! Stephen’s thing was really beautiful. I have 24 seconds of surreptitious video of it on my phone I can show you. Super sucks that I didn’t see Croatian Amor ‘cos I’m sick as a dog. I’m glad your Friday thing was at least fun enough. I’ll so go get matcha cake with you if you can wait a day or two for me to be normalized again. Or just go yourself asap, and I’ll drag you back there again. ** Right, well, that p.s. sucked. You don’t have to be nice and tell me it didn’t, but thank you for the thought if you did think that. The gig today is quite good if I don’t say so myself, and find out why I said that if you want. I’m going to go try to get well now. See you tomorrow.