Does the value of a remastered collection lie in its ability to provoke, or in its contribution to historical musical appreciation? No, you just sit down. The essence of this atmosphere has its blueprint in a Faulkner-ian scenery, with a subtly dark element. The ritual noise artists drew upon arcane magickal terminology. At that moment, Falk as Mikey looks up from the handkerchief and casts a maniacal look at Nicky, he appears crazed. That shift opens up new possibilities for what a listener might expect from Cabana Wear, indicating the depth of the sources they might draw from should the band continue to record. This feels like a musical highlight of the album somehow, constituting as it does a wild and slamming mini-mix at what is almost the heart of the proceedings.
The dust jacket for hard covers may not be included. It's a reminder to let loose and not deny yourself the things that make you smile. His tight knowledge should be tempered by a campy loosening of its display. There are also sequences of songs here that are utterly entangled with each other so that it is impossible to speak about them in isolation, but only insofar as they are connected to their immediate predecessors and successors. You know you're weak because your friends, by contrast, seem so strong, so popular, so charismatic. You don't have to care about their history, or even about emo at all, to appreciate this record. May clearly chose to intercut the crazed look within the main take that features a more deliberate Mikey.
And part of you realizes that. It is through this exploration that Turning Jewels Into Water find a place where the ritualistic origins of music and rhythm meet with the digital realm. She and her friends spend their days in classes learning about the history of the Abyss while also exploring the relatively safe upper reaches of the chasm. Mikey becomes frustrated and threatens to leave, only to discover they are standing at the exact location. So Resnick sends a hitman Ned Beatty out to kill Nicky and Nicky, aware of the ordered hit, is in hiding.
These are some of the monikers of Japanese experimentalist Masami Akita. Williamson isn't telling us so much as he is showing us, and in this respect, he most resembles Mark E. At the same time that there is an underlying tone of sinister threat that never fully materializes into an all-out assault. For years Riko has quietly harbored ambitions of going into the pit and finding her mother, and the arrival of Reg gives her the excuse she needs to finally do it. Today their restaurants are the toast of Los Angeles, but Jon and Vinny still remember what it was like to cook with a minimum of space, time, and equipment. That is a hard trick to pull off and Hand Habits does it with consummate aplomb. They know you weren't the hero but rather the patsy.
The record is both bewitching and not quite like anything else out there, then or now, and while the context is fascinating in its own right this is also the kind of work that rewards being encountered on its own singular terms. The book opens on a linguistic critique of current media scholarship and proceeds through an excellent analysis of sitcoms that's too frequently marred by long dependent clauses, passive voice syntax, and needlessly academic vocabulary. They are ineluctably tied to us even while we hope to distance ourselves from them, because they are an aching reminder of all the things we could have been if we had not been this. I find that I'm happiest when I'm at a balance. They're most likely going to be hearing this on headphones, on a train or a bus, or at home, disconnected from the communal setting in which one might hope to find oneself to experience this carefully curated emotional journey.
So all you were left with, in the end, was the music. It doesn't use reverb and distant samples in the way ambient music does, to suggest the world opening up around it. Make no mistake, they have had, and continue to have, plenty of agitprop moments. The name of his project is Merzbow, taken from the title of a Dadaist painting by Kurt Schwitters and this is no surprise, considering Akita's artistic sensibility lies somewhere on the spectrum between subjective abstractionist and unforgiving provocateur. Their music contains no clean lines or pat conclusions. Often even better than the old ones.
You try to tell it like it was but it keeps coming out closer to how you wish it had been. That makes the childhood friend a figure of death because the acknowledgment of death involves acceding to the fact that one makes only one twisted path through life; we are essentially and irrevocably limited by our mortality. In bridging the past and future Turning Jewels Into Water create a type of temporal dissonance, as modern techniques invade past traditions. French album titles denoted neofolk. She shoots the film as one long night's journey into day and there are very few sets of any sort involved. And that's just from being lifted up a few meters from a relatively shallow point in the Abyss.
There are compelling arguments both ways. The difference was all but inevitable, given all the intervening years of songwriting under his Owen identity. All of this happens, by the way, without the album losing a shred of dignity or integrity. At this point we are right at the heart of the mix, the range of sounds to which we have been exposed has been dizzying and the time has flown by. There was, of course, no online music in those days to sample a band or album; not even a Wikipedia to read about them. Mikey now holds a handkerchief that Nicky attempts to snatch out of his hand. Ambient electronic bands seemed to love astronomical references.
They search for relics of a lost civilization that once inhabited the Abyss; even the most common of relics can later be sold in the outside world to support the orphanage and the town itself. One imagines a vast plain, studded with druidic monoliths, with the dark sky and slit moon glaring overhead. Winter fennel salad with cinnamon vinaigrette has a subtle sweetness that jars with its shavings of pecorino. Matmos' new record is an anthem to one of the leading causes of pollution to the planet in all its various forms. The pair's use of the title phrase shifts from the hope of aesthetic expression to the recognition of a domestic muse that sparks a fullness. I left when I was 19, just wanting to escape. Indeed, he has contributed to his demise.