Showing posts with label Amanda Berlind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amanda Berlind. Show all posts

Sunday, January 08, 2023

Best Of 2022: Electronic


My interest in this genre leans closer to soundscapes that create an imaginary environment or persona rather than the more popular beat-driven expressions. But there are still a few jams to be had here, where songs emerge out of the synth-based constructions. At the top are previously covered releases followed by pocket reviews of other things that caught my ear and demanded repeat listening. Get the flavor of each album in this playlist or below. 





Ben Seretan - Sandhills Music As he proved on 2021's wonderfully immersive Cicada Waves, singer/songwriter/guitarist Seretan also has a gift for putting a structure around the sounds of nature by combining them with electronics. Ambient music, then, and worthy of the legacy of Brian Eno's Ambient 4: On Land. Whether viewed as landscapes in sound or travels in the mind, these pieces, recorded both in Sanford, NC and Troy, NY, have a way of redefining the space around you.

Nick Storring - Music from W​é​i 成为 Made up of layers of piano sounds (both from an old upright and a computer-controlled Yamaha Disklavier), Storring's latest album is marvelously evocative. Nearly symphonic in scope, each emotionally-driven track leads to the next with a steady inevitability. The level of invention in Storring's approach is quietly astonishing, with plucking, preparations, E-bow, and other techniques deployed with remarkable assurance - never more so than in movement VI, when things really take off! The Chinese characters in the title relate to the verb "to become" so maybe that's a clue to the story being told, but any interpretation that meshes with your life is valid and may change over time. Either way, it's an album that has continued to reveal itself over many listens - compelling stuff, indeed. 

Amanda Berlind - Mousemilk As on her delightful debut, 2021's Green Cone, this EP often combines hazy atmospherics with off-kilter rhythms, for an experience not unlike standing between rooms playing different radios - but it works. The longest track, Wand, is 13 languorous minutes of piano, guitar, wordless vocals, and reverb, perfect for staring at the rain or the inside of your eyelids. While this is only available on streaming services (including YouTube) it seems it may be forthcoming as a cassette, which would be the perfect medium for these rich but low-fi audio collages. Berlind is also a witty and wonderful visual artist so be sure to keep up with her on Instagram.

Sophie Birch - Holotropica There is a lush, almost humid, enveloping quality to Birch's work here, created with electronics and occasional sax, flute, and harp, that connects it to those "rainforest" cassettes you used to find in crunchy stores in the 70s. But that reference does little to reveal how musically astute Birch is as a composer and sonic sculptor. Birch, who hails from Denmark, also collaborated with Polish vocalist Antonina Nowacka on Languouria, which has a bit more forward motion than Holotropica on some tracks and features the voice as another instrument, sometimes soothing, sometimes startling, always wordless and expressive.

Various Artists - A New Age For New Age, Vol. 5 Launched in 2019, this series has become a durable fixture on the electronic scene, with each volume having something to offer. Expanding their brief, they collaborated with the University of Michigan's Modern Percussion Lab to have students create the eight tracks featured here. From Paul Puleo's Non-Frontation, which opens the album with Harry Partch-like resonating percussion, to the space-station corridors of Chris Sies' Radiant Streams, the collection is compelling and fresh throughout - yet another new age for new age!

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith and Emile Mosseri - I Could Be Your Dog/I Could Be Your Moon I seem to have lost track of Smith since I noted the "rich and rewarding" experience of her album, The Kid, in 2017. But this collaboration with Emile Mosseri, a composer known for soundtracks for such excellent movies as Kajillionaire and Minari, caught my attention quickly. A two-part collection that feels like a story, the first few songs seem to transit us gently through the clouds, as if on a butterfly’s back, and when we finally touch down during the sun-kissed groove of Shim Sham, it’s a marvelous sensation. Smith's latest solo album, Let's Turn It Into Sound, also has a sense of narrative, if in a more oblique way. A venture into near hyper-pop, it's full bright textures and sunny moods. Dazzling and entertaining in equal measure.

Yeule - Glitch Princess Opening with a haunting and halting spoken word piece that seems to come over a fraying ethernet cable, this remarkably assured debut introduces us to Nat Ćmiel, a creature of the internet who is looking for love, acceptance, and community. Or is Yuele the creation? In their bio,  Ćmiel calls Yeule "a portal or riff" created to "communicate their art to the outside world..." The mind-bending conceptual underpinning only adds a kick to the album. The songs are indeed glitchy, and very artfully so, conveying nuanced emotions and fractured melodies. And when they go full pop on Bites On My Neck, it's wonderfully celebratory and conjures a vision of Bowie's Earthling-era self dancing in the wings. It's an immersive album, like a trip to the metaverse without a headset, and the digital and streaming versions end with a nearly five-hour bath of dreamy ambiance, the perfect way to process everything that's come before. 

Claire Rousay - Everything Perfect Is Already Here Rousay is prolific enough that it almost seems as if the steady flow of albums and EPs may be acting as some sort of diary for her. There certainly is a lived-in quality to the two 15-minute pieces that make up this album, which not so much creates an environment but comes from one, and a Cageian dwelling at that. It feels like entering a sprawling apartment filled with musicians, but as pure consciousness, allowing you to hear all sound as music and all music as sound, without making any noises of your own. Joined by Alex Cunningham (violin), Mari Maurice (electronics, violin), Marilu Donovan (harp), and Theodore Cale Schafer (piano), Rousay maps out a place of memories you never had or haven't had yet. Captivating, witty, and utterly unique.

Dawn Richard and Spencer Zahn - Pigments As much as I wanted to love 2021's Second Line, Richard's sixth album since making her name as a member of Danity Kane, the intrigue created by her trajectory from pop star to indie artist was not enough to counter the frequent nods to convention on the record. But there was the kernel of something that made me keep trying, an effort that was finally rewarded by this spacious, drifting collaboration with Zahn. While Zahn's bass, vibes, and keyboards underpin everything, the mix also includes guitar, strings, sax and flute, with the clarinets and bass clarinets of Stuart Bogie and Doug Wieselman are nearly as prominent as Richard's strong yet diaphanous vocals, creating a blend of jazz, chamber, and electronic musics. Zahn has also been busy on his own and I'm looking forward to delving into his solo work, including Pale Horizon, a delicate series of pieces for bass and piano with some of Vince Guaraldi's wistfulness, which came out in May 2022.

Snowdrops - Missing Island Featuring Christine Ott on Ondes Martenot, an early electronic instrument, harmonium, and piano, Mathieu Gabry on piano and electronics, and Anne-Irène Kempf on viola, this album continues the marvelous thread from 2020's Volutes more so than the darker and occasionally explosive Inner Fires from last year. Over 41 minutes, the players build up velvety layers of sound, creating a space for reflection just structured enough to avoid collapsing under its own weight. I note that this was recorded in 2020 - what more wonders does their seemingly bottomless archive hold? I can't wait to find out!

Finneas O'Connell - The Fallout OST From his work with his sister, Billie Eilish, you could guess that O'Connell understands how to create drama and emotion out of minimal gestures, which he does throughout this elegantly melancholy score for the 2021 film about the aftermath of a school shooting. With treated piano leading the way, you can hear echoes of the late, great Jóhann Jóhannsson, which is not bad company to be in on your first outing as a soundtrack composer. There are also a few sweetly hymn-like songs sung by Maisy Stella with and without her sister Lennon. While his own pop music is hamstrung by his all-too-obvious lyrics and all-too-anthemic choruses, this would seem to be a worthy direction for him when he's not producing the next blockbuster for Eilish. 

Transport yourself further into these realms in this archive playlist and keep up with 2023's excursions here.

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Sunday, February 13, 2022

Best Of 2021: Electronic


From playful abstraction to sleek sound baths, and from abrasive to soothing, the world of electronic music is filled with limitless variety. Here were a few releases that rose to the top in 2021, starting with those I already covered and then moving on to new reviews. I should point out that four records in my Top 25 would fit nicely here, namely albums by Jane Weaver, Elsa Hewitt, Wavefield Ensemble, and Ben Seretan. Make sure you don't miss those either! Listen to tracks from nearly everything here in this playlist or below.

Celebrating 2021: New Year, New Music 
Amanda Berlind - Green Cone
Foudre! - Future Sabbath

Record Roundup: Novelty Is Not Enough
Various Artists - A New Age For New Age Vol. 3

Record Roundup: Americana The Beautiful
Corntuth - The Desert Is Paper Thin

The Best Of 2021 (So Far)
Mndsgn - Rare Pleasure

Record Roundup: Plugged In
Matt Evans - Touchless
Luce Celestiale - Discepolato Nella Nuova Era

Phong Tran: High Tech, High Emotion
Phong Tran - The Computer Room

Adam Cuthbert - Transits Modular synths, field recordings, and a trumpet like liquid gold make up most of these sublime soundscapes by the founder of the Slashsound label, now based in Detroit. Every track is a highlight, but Yin, which features the questing violin of Kelly Rhode, is sheer heaven. Perhaps being in a strange new city led to the reflective yet powerful concision of these pieces, as if Cuthbert had to be most fully himself so he wouldn't get lost in an unfamiliar environment. But it's not for me to psychoanalyze what makes this album so fantastic - I just know that it is. Part of a banner year for the label, too, alongside terrific releases from Phong Tran (see above), Daniel Rhode (see below), and Miki Sawada & Brendan Randall-Myers (see here). More to come in 2022 - keep an eye and ear out. 

Daniel Rhode - Electrical Interaction Systems With three works of generative electronic music, this latest from Rhode finds a series of happy intersections between Terry Riley, Brian Eno, and Cluster. The title piece is four movements of immersive minimalism - think Baba O'Riley if the rest of The Who never started playing - while Gen1 is an atmospheric conversation between an irregular heartbeat and a witty, squirrelly synth that gains excitement as it goes on. The album closes with the wistfully titled What If We Had More Time, which matches that mood with gently pulsating clouds of electronic sounds that traverse a slow-motion melody for you to drift along with. 

Dylan Henner - Amtracks This four-track EP takes a "memory journey" across Pennsylvania, propelled by Henner's beautifully balanced blend of percussion, electronics, and field recordings. Whether despite or because of his UK origins, Henner seems to have sincere appreciation for the natural beauty of the land he saw from his train windows, lending his music an aura of hope and optimism. It's a lovely trip.

Ibukun Sunday - The Last Wave Like the Henner album above, this is part of Phantom Limb's Spirituals series, but the emotional impact couldn't be more different. Hailing from Lagos, Sunday takes a dark view of the changes he sees around him in Nigeria. Titles like Burn It All Down and Last Earth give the general idea yet the austere drones, sometimes incorporating field recordings and viola, are also languidly seductive, like slipping under black water and just drifting. Don't worry, however, you'll come up for air - at least long enough to hit "play" again.

Arushi Jain - Under The Lilac Sky This divine interweaving of modular synthesis and Indian classical music, tied together by Jain's flowing vocals, sounds as if it has always existed. Richer Than Blood, the opening track, serves as the perfect overture to her project, with her voice soaring over spacious clouds of sound, vibrating woodpecker-like sounds tickling the back of your neck. Look How Far We Have Come, one of the longer tracks, also shows Jain's abilities to through-compose, taking us through moods, modes, and textures in a musical narrative that will keep you riveted. Trust me, you will not want to press pause throughout this marvelous debut.

L'Rain - Fatigue I admit to being a little put off by L'Rain when I saw her open for Crumb back in 2018, partly because she asked us all to sit on the floor and partly because what followed did not seem to justify that imperiousness. She was the opening act, after all! But the buzz over this, her second album, was too intriguing to ignore and I am so glad I bent an ear, if not a knee, to listen. The opener, Fly, Die, is a dazzling rush through phantasmagoric electronics, air horn, spoken word (the powerful Quentin Brock), and chopped up beats - all in exactly two minutes. Jangled nerves are then soothed by Find It, a mantric piece of near-pop that could almost come from an Alice Coltrane cassette - until it abruptly changes to a rhythmless but no less hypnotic exploration of synth clouds, horns, and wordless vocals. A third section is a bit of haunted-house gospel, Travis Haynes reaching for the sky on vocals and organ. With all the sheerly protean talent on display on this occasionally overwhelming album, the end result is the opposite of fatigue and instead, pure energy. I'm expecting a symphony, or maybe an opera, next time - and I will happily sit on the floor to hear it.

Christine Ott - Time To Die If you're like me, you might have heard the title to this spoken in the voice of Roy Batty, the murderous yet noble cyborg played by Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner, even before knowing there was a direct connection. The album also has a dark, rainswept, cinematic sweep, combining electronic sounds of various vintages (including the ondes martenot, a cousin to the theremin) with piano, harp, and percussion. Voices appear on some tracks, including a recitation of Batty's "I've seen things..." speech by Casey Brown on the throbbing, dramatic title track. By beginning at the end of Blade Runner, the album could be seen as an exploration of an alien afterlife, but its attachment to languorous beauty is all too human - and gloriously so. Moreover, there's is no need to be a sci-fi fan to fall for this album - my wife is living proof of that! Also highly recommended is Inner Fires by Snowdrops, Ott's more collaborative effort with multi-instrumentalist Mathiu Gabry, who also plays on Time To Die. Both albums were recorded over several years before final mixing in 2020 and release in 2021 - catch up with them before they catch up with themselves.

Alex Rainer - Harbor When I last reviewed Rainer, I noted that he was an "exceptionally fine folk singer/songwriter," and that Time Changes, his 2020 album, was "loveliness itself." That's all still true, but there's an entirely different side presented here, on this collection of "ambience and soundscapes." Each brief track is a snapshot, catching a mood rather than an image, skillfully interweaving electronics, percussion, and field recordings. There's a sense throughout that Rainer is an observer of the world around him and that to listen is an act of witness. 

Various Artists - Music From SEAMUS 30 These collections from the Society of Electro-Acoustic Music in the United States are always worth a listen, but this one is especially scintillating. Whether the  comic-book inspired bombast of Christopher Biggs' Monstress (2019), with Keith Kirschoff's virtuosic work on piano and Seaboard Rise MIDI-controller, Joo Won Park's cheeky Func Step Mode (2019) for no-input mixer and drum machine, or Heather Stebbins' unsettling Things That Follow (2018), commissioned and played by percussionist Adam Vidiksis, there's a kaleidoscopic selection of approaches, methods, and emotional impacts here, mapping out a broad range of territories for electroacoustic music. There's no better guide to a fascinating landscape.

For similar noises, check into this archive playlist with much more where these came from and follow the 2022 playlist to see what this year brings!

You may also enjoy: 
Best Of 2020: Electronic
Best of 2019: Electronic
Best of 2018: Electronic
Best of 2017: Electronic
Best of 2016: Electronic

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Sunday, March 14, 2021

Celebrating 2021: New Year, New Music


Like a drone in the intro to Painting With John (essential viewing, btw), I have flown free of 2020's music only to crash in a dense thicket of 2021 releases. And it's not that I haven't been listening, it's that I've been listening to SO MUCH. Where to begin? For this first post, I'm going to wend my way instinctively through what has captivated me the most for a multi-genre celebration of the year so far. I'll catch up with more later!

Tak Ensemble - Taylor Brook: Star Maker Fragments “All this long human story, most passionate and tragic in the living, was but an unimportant, a seemingly barren and negligible effort, lasting only for a few moments in the life of the galaxy." Only the most arrogant among us would argue with this sentiment from Star Maker, the 1937 science fiction book by Olaf Stapledon that provides the basis for this latest gem from Tak and Brook. But I will say that if this "barren and negligible effort" we're all living through includes sublime art like this album, I'm good.

From the off-kilter clarion of the opening chord, it's obvious that you're in the hands of a masterpiece - and one that's masterfully performed. The toughest part for others to imitate will be Charlotte Mundy's delivery of the spoken word excerpts from the text. Her voice is both perfectly controlled and naturalistic, with enough musicality that you can let your mind touch down on the content or just let it become part of the sound world. Brook's ingenuity in scoring is critical, too, of course, and you will marvel at how he "plays" the ensemble (Laura Cocks, flute; Madison Greenstone, clarinet; Marina Kifferstein, violin; and Ellery Trafford, percussion) like more keys on his synthesizer, eliciting novel blends of sound at every turn. In 2016, I sang the praises of Ecstatic Music, which was a remarkable collection by these same collaborators, but I was still slightly unprepared for how great this is - don't say I didn't warn you!

Sid Richardson - Borne By A Wind This captivating debut portrait album from Richardson also features a piece inspired by literature. In this case it's the poetry of Nathanial Mackey, whose radio-ready narration enlivens the five-movements of Red Wind. The words are as evocative as the music, which moves in cinematic fashion through different scenes and moods. The performance by Deviant Septet could not be improved and Richardson's writing for jazz in a classical setting is the equal of Shostakovich's, except it swings a little harder. The album also includes There is no sleep so deep, and elegiac piece for solo piano, played here by Conrad Tao, and LUNE, for violin and fixed media, including field recordings of loon cries, which are perfectly integrated into the sounds of the violin. Lilit Hartunian's performance is deeply engaging. Finally, we have Astrolabe, a sparkling piece for six instruments given a dazzling run by the Da Capo Chamber Players, who gamely shout and whisper the excerpts from Chaucer and Whitman sprinkled throughout. I note that the most recent recording here is from 2017 so all gratitude to New Focus for bringing this remarkable music to light.

Susie Ibarra - Talking Gong While I'm distressed to see how much I've missed from this marvelous percussionist and composer (including an album with genius pianist Sylvie Courvoisier in 2014!), this album ruthlessly dispels negative thoughts. Whether through minimalist, modal or even romantically lush piano (Alex Peh), playful flute (Claire Chase), or inventive percussion - or all three at once - there is much bliss to be had by immersing yourself in Ibarra's intersectional vision. 

Patricia Brennan - Maquishti Despite its gentle sonic profile, this is a bold album that will likely define the vibraphone and marimba for our current era. Like Michael Nicolas's Transitions did for the cello in 2016, Brennan's music both exemplifies the qualities of her instruments and moves them into new territory. For the latter, look no further than Episodes, in which woozy electronics transform the vibe's tones into gooey lozenges of sound that you may find yourself reaching for in the air. For a more classic, er, vibe, the opening cut, Blame It, seems to pick up where Dave Samuels left off, for a deeply chill exploration of hanging notes, meandering chords, and glittering arpeggiations. While each piece is no longer than your average indie-rock song, Maquishti adds up to an hour-long sound cycle that rarely flags in interest and provides a much-needed oasis in these anxiety-ridden times.

Adam Morford & Anne Leilehua Lanzilotti - Yesterday Is Two Days Ago In which stellar violist Lanzilotti collaborates with Morford, guitarist and creator of the Marvin series of sound sculptures, for a series of improvisations that are unafraid of the dark. The title track is a droning and atmospheric epic that conceivably could have inspired Scott Walker to follow up Soused by working with these two. Never less than fascinating, this shows off a side of Lanzilotti's interests that feels completely new and one that should attract listeners from an array of genres - I know it hits more than one of my sweet spots.

Amanda Berlind - Green Cone A hazy combo of low-fi piano, electronics, voice, and field recordings, this reminds me a bit of Elsa Hewitt - but in all the best ways. There's also a visual album and a comic book - feast your eyes - and a bonus track commissioned and played by the Bang On A Can All-Stars that explodes into jazzy instrumental pop (albeit with loud birdsong), further proof that Berlind is one to watch.

Foudre! - Future Sabbath With a title like that you may be expecting starlit drones to accompany some new, previously unimaginable ritual. And you would be dead-on, as this band of European electronic experts (including Nahal founder Frédéric D. Oberland and Paul Regimbeau of Good Luck In Death), improvises their way into a gleaming web of sound. It also seems tailor-made for a space travel epic, especially one populated by murderous machines or alienated astronauts. You may want to keep the lights on.

Madlib - Sound Ancestors Selected and sequenced by electronic musician Kieran Hebden (Four Tet), this is as cogent and concise a representation of Madlib's divine madness as we're likely to get. And by that, I mean it's wonderfully all over the place, weaving together everything from obscure psych-rock to the Young Marble Giants and field-recorded urban chants, for a more than persuasive rattle around the master's head.

Shame - Drunk Tank Pink Shame made a splash across the pond and in my world with their 2018 debut, Songs Of Praise, which hit my Top 25 for that year with its canny update on post-punk. Three years later, their confidence has grown and they are now able to dig into and expand on their angular grooves in a way that's even more deeply involving. While the lyrics sometimes seem simplistic ("What you see is what you get/I still don't know the alphabet" is the opening line of the album), there is character and conviction in Charlie Steen's vocals as he seeks to pare communication down to only the essentials. No sophomore slump here - Shame seem to be in it for the long haul and, on the back of this terrific album, they are even higher on my list of post-pandemic must-see bands.

Cassandra Jenkins - An Overview Of Phenomenal Nature Jenkins has a dusky, intimate voice and seems to be singing to one person at a time on this gorgeous and, at 31 minutes, too-brief album. With production (and most playing) by Josh Kaufman, the sonic environment is sensitively built around Jenkins' singing and songs, with the instruments forming an almost distant bed of sound. Her melodies are sturdy enough that no more is necessary to define these personal vignettes. But as personal as they feel, the spoken-word of Hard Drive serves as a reminder that Jenkins is at heart a storyteller. As Stuart Bogie's sax wends its way through the changes, Jenkins talks us through her day and the people she encounters, gradually building to an incandescent finish. This whole album shines quietly.

Fruit Bats - The Pet Parade People are saying this is a high watermark in the 20-year career of Eric D. Johnson and Fruit Bats. I wouldn't know as I have allowed myself to remain only dimly aware of his progress over the years. I'm not really sure why - maybe it was the name, or maybe I heard an early song and couldn't get into his quirky voice. It wasn't until I fell desperately in love with Bonny Light Horseman, the alliance between Johnson, Josh Kaufman (him again!), and Anais Mitchell in 2020, that I was like, this is him, the Fruit Bats guy? So, when the first single was released from The Pet Parade, I was on it and loved it right away. Kaufman's production could not be more beautiful, with rich skeins of acoustic guitars, dazzling instrumental touches (the guitar solo on Holy Rose is a tiny, intricate wonder), and, only when called for, a certain grandeur. 

Johnson's songwriting draws from a deep well of Americana and British Folk, but his melodies feel both fresh and completely inevitable. Lyrically, he manages to convey a lot with a few words, as in the opening of Cub Pilot: "She is looking out the living room window/Watching Saturday become Sunday/Coyotes by the garbage cans/Howling in the driveway." He is also unafraid of going right for the gut, as in this verse from On The Avalon Stairs: "Today a little further from the shore/And maybe tomorrow/Into the volcano you go/It's hard to say, but all you know/Is that you got no kids to take/Your ashes to the lake." As for his voice, it's still highly distinctive, but he is in complete control and his inventive phrasing makes nearly any words intensely moving. For a perfect example, listen to how he turns "Gullwing doors" into an incantation in the song of the same name. I can't speak for his previous albums (give me time), but Johnson takes a firm place in the front ranks of American songwriters with The Pet Parade.

Find songs from all these albums and follow along with my 2021 listening in these playlists:

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