Photo: MYSELF AND BEN VIDA AT NOWNOW…. http://t.co/5yF66Wm4
Photo: MYSELF AND BEN VIDA AT NOWNOW…. http://t.co/5yF66Wm4
RT @rarefrequency: Pimmon “Archangel in Reverse” video via @foxydigitalis http://t.co/60qYGobG LOVE THIS VIDEO!!!!
new anonymeye video goes live at mess and noise - http://t.co/SPem8WJ5
Photo: HOBART IN JANUARY http://t.co/OWSuSmQx
Video: THIS IS YOUR GOLD WATCH, IN VIDEO http://t.co/GMDktBGW
fyi, all those peregrine delux packs are gone….
Two shorter excursions, a reference to format perhaps as this also appears on wax. Rum Jungle is a thicket of activity. Buck’s drums commandeer the piece, layering and building into an imposing and forceful wall of cymbals, shakers and skins. Abrahams is like an underground stream, craving its way with subterranean stealth, whilst Swanton pulses away without hesitation.
Daylight, is a counterpoint – a dreamy and ironically (to my ears) nocturnal affair. It’s a drifting scatter of electronic debris, sparse piano, tempered percussion and gentle bass. A piece that churns with haunting mood.
Graceful seems the most apt adjective for this recurring meeting. Each artist is engaged in a sound choreography – a movement of sound objects – tonal, rhythmic and textural within a darkened stage.
Light chorus effects gloss over Sakamoto’s piano, creating a watery nausea that is oddly pleasurable. Fennesz lifts and submerges these passages through clouds of unfamiliar sources. It’s as if you are listening at great distance – nothing is close and in the macro view a fresh perspective is revealed. Soft focus sounds.
The untitled series grow. A new palette appears, the emergence of an instrumentalist in Lopez’s repertoire, a curious and welcome variation. Reiner Van Houdt activates the piano like a groaning, clunking mechanical beast in Movement One. A crude, and brutish pulse of hammers and keys – a piano reduced to its most simple mechanical capacity.
Movement Two traverses into a wholly more beautiful landscape – a middle passage of distant drifts and notes concludes with an insectivorous climax of clicks. A wonderful refocusing of Lopez’s aesthetics.

Oh how expectations can be denied! It’s a cruel situation - anticipation of music is a rare thing in this day and age and Washed Out’s EPs showed such promise. Here , half washed out sounds and uncomfortably unresolved melodic passages plonk alongside one dimensional drum patterns. The big issue is in the lack of ‘washing out’…that simple lo-fI saturation is gone.
If the album cover represents the music, then indeed this is missionary - nothing that you’ll rush back to, but maybe just enough to get your rocks off just this one. You won’t even stay till morning.