Hello everyone, and welcome to issue #89 of Crow’s Nest. I think I’ve got a good bounty of material for you below for this one, with some of the roots of selections going back over a decade. I hope you’re enjoying the nice weather now that the heat has largely broken, great for Labor Day celebrations here in the States. I’m getting antsy about choosing to be cooped up in my apartment writing this for you today, so I will definitely be getting some steps in along the lake after this.
As a housekeeping note, I’ll likely not be getting an issue out in September. Next week is my usual post-issue off week, I have Sound & Gravity and Plantasia the week(end) after, then Making Time the week after that … I wouldn’t rule out one for the 28th esp. if I get my stuff together somewhat in advance, but no guarantees there. That next issue, whenever it comes, should make up for the light number of show-going photos in this issue though.
For those of you concerned about getting your semi-regular fix of me next month though, fear not: I’ll be on the radio again! Those of you who knew me earlier in undergrad might recall the radio show program I held down for a couple semesters, and on September 16th I will be guesting on San Diego-based Particle FM’s Just A Dilettante show, alongside regular host sold. Many thanks to Glorbis for inviting me to join them … now I only need to figure out what to play for my hour of airtime. I wonder if there might be something I could consult for selections …
‘A 1970 funk record by Berklee students reinterpreting a 1958 record of children’s music by Hoagy Carmichael’ sounds like a parody of crate-digger pretension and excitement over their grails; I can imagine my friends who clowned me recently when I described Sátantángo to them when talking movies would have another field day with that. And yet. This is a deep, funky record well worth your attention not only for the singularity of the concept, but just how incredible the music is. At times when listening I can barely believe there’s only 4 people playing on it. Sure, the lyrics aren’t the prime selling point, and I imagine a lot of the depth to this material is easily lost on the intended audience. Still, coming across a record like this is one of the great joys of digging for music, being restless with your listening, and always on the hunt for something exciting you’ve never encountered before.
Layering a clap-and-chant-along commercial jingle on top of New Age-y ambient synth is definitely not a conventional start to a record, but I don’t think anyone has ever accused Pamplona-via-Davis, CA duo Mondo Lava of conventionality. On their latest record for Hausu Mountain, the pair throw seemingly every disparate freak folk and/or psych-synth trope they can muster—and more—to tape across over an hour of material. ‘Animal Collective in a blender’ also comes to mind when I spin this. It’s a woozy, engrossing odyssey of a listen, captivating in its own regard for those not repulsed by my description. Angel Marcloid, who mastered this record, noted on social media that “I worked hard on this master so you could safely do drugs to it”. It’s indicative of what state you should be in for this, and for that alone I’m deeply grateful.
RXM Reality has long been a part of Chicago’s glitchy, experimental underground, and is a mainstay of Hausu Mountain as well. Appearing on netlabel offshoot Blorpus Editions here, this record is a one-take live hardware recording. Masterfully executed, it’s an hour-long dance set with scarcely a moment that gets too far off from the appropriate peaks and troughs one would hope for from such a premise. It’s conveniently divided up into mostly 2-3 minute sections if desired, but I’ve found the best way to approach it is to let it rip in full and power through whatever you have going on at the moment. If I don’t find time to see aya at Making Time in a few weeks, I’ll make sure to roll up early to the Empty Bottle the Tuesday after to catch his opening set.
Whenever I notice similar runtimes on subsequent tracks on a record, I get a little skeptical. I’m well aware of conventional song structure and formulas but, like, the exact same structure and tempo back-to-back? On those grounds you might expect me to readily dismiss Blackploid’s latest for CPU Records, and yet the quality of these dozen tracks, each one about 5 minutes long, is unmistakable to my ears. It’s nothing revolutionary per se—sci-fi space travel-esque electro—though producer Martin Matiske keeps things interesting with flourishes like the violin-scratch distortion to the synths on ‘Trouble’. I find myself reaching for this record long after similar ones have been relegated to the void.
I wasn’t familiar with Bristol-based producer fka boursin when he was DJ Boursin, but this single on Scissor and Thread captivated a few people whose taste I respect. If you’re into the deep, dubby, aqueous sounds of ambient electronic music that folks like Brian Leeds put out, you’ll find a lot to love in the A-side; if you prefer a detailed yet relaxed dance sound in the deep house or dub techno realm, the B-side by label mainstays Frank & Tony will be your go-to. In keeping with the name, if there was any cheese to this act perviously, that’s a thing of the past, but you can still savor it similarly.
Iranian-born, London based artist Ash Koosha’s work has spent over a decade balancing the artificial with the natural, attempting to tease out something new from that which already exists. This record, self-released quietly in celebration of 4 full decades on earth, is some of his best. The earlier material sounds like chamber music with contemporary production replacing the pristine acoustics of conventional presentation of the music. Over the course of the record, the material takes on the characteristics of wide-screen IDM, and transforms even beyond that into the glitchy territory of Squarepusher or Venetian Snares. In his description, Koosha notes this record is intended to “to trap those tiny moments that make life feel infinite”, and by my account I think he’s succeeded.
I’m going to do my best to resist Orientalizing this record because it and the Iranian people deserve better than another American promulgating stereotypes about them. The first couple tracks on this record by Farshad Akbari are patient, ambient affairs, slowly developing and changing over time, evocative of the dunes on the cover, and they make me think of art akin to Picasso-in-the-desert or O’Keefe after dark. ‘Manifestation’ marks a pivot in the sound, towards the rural electronic psychedelia of Boards of Canada—with an arpeggiator in the signal chain running amok. After ‘Cycle’ becomes a not-quite-quantized cut you can’t sit still through without grooving, the more eerie ambient-adjacent numbers return for the rest of the runtime. While its release within 48 hours of the end of this summer’s Israel-Iran war ending might be suggestive of certain themes, Akbari maintains his music and art is primarily about self-exploration. To that end, it’s a reminder of the deeper, human and supra-human currents we all participate that extend far beyond the day-to-day of our existence and our political leaderships’ desire for pain and suffering, and how fortunate we are to have artists like Akbari to remind us of this.
Since first recognizably encountering her on Pattern Gardening earlier this year, Polygonia has been a producer I’m keeping an eye on. Dream Horizons is a great record that, alas, will slip through the cracks of a full writeup here despite being worth your time. She also runs the QEONE label, and this EP from Berlin’s Marie Tjong Ayong marks a great introduction to it to me. These tracks could easily slot into a Wisdom Teeth release, no doubt: opener ‘freshelle’ sounds like it was (unfortunately) cut from Club Moss, ‘tiger balm’ could easily fit into an amapiano set, and the other two numbers are clicky and steppy yet low-key affairs. Great grooves all around.
The perennial cicadas have been buzzing a lot outside my windows recently, but I don’t really mind. I’m quite used to their hum as a soundtrack to life in the outside world, living in the city means I only encountered one (1) cicada during the 17-year brood swarm cycle last year, and frankly the insectile buzz is a great accompaniment to this new No Joy record. Jasamine White-Gluz’s project has been on my radar for over a decade but never really stuck with me, but here, teaming up with Angel Marcloid in a producer role, the pair expand out the project’s shoegaze/confessional indie rock into new and intriguing territories. Primarily, this comes from applying the chintzy, out-of-fashion sound palettes that are Marcloid’s bread and butter across her constellation of projects to a more conventional base. The dayglo textures and 90s sounds, as applied here, sound refreshing even as the current era is awash in them, a reminder of how reductive our understanding of past eras can be even when we’re drowning in said fauxstolgia.
If you, like me, have a fascination with minor outlying geographic islands, the idea of music coming from Kerguelen Island is an intriguing prospect if only for the novelty. I won’t rule it out completely, but I’m inclined to think First Epoque is more likely a pseudonymous project by a British producer who shares the interest. That being said, this EP here is 4 tracks of pretty good, percussion-heavy bass numbers, not a million miles away from the output of Nervous Horizon, Livity Sound or someone who’s spent time listening to DJ Plead. It’s an intriguing prospect no matter who or what’s involved, and wherever they might be operating from.
If keeping up with Bandcamp Daily’s endless editorial output isn’t too much of a challenge for you, they’ve added a ‘Cool Band Alert’ Substack vertical spotlighting slightly under-the-radar material you’d generally need to be in the know about to uncover yourself (ex. Michael Beach). A recent issue highlights the synth-pop project San Gabriel. Named for when the one-man project of James Bookert would primarily write and record this material while working in a liquor store, this album hearkens back to the chillwave moment of last decade. I’m not finding it to be a nostalgic exercise though: perhaps we need a bit more distance from the era before full reviving it, or, perhaps, Bookert’s songwriting skill gives it a timeless appeal. Despite being 14 tracks long, the sense of pace of them enables them to practically rush by when I listen. If you’re looking to refresh your summer playlist as you try to grab a couple more beach days out of the season, look no further.
Well, closing in on 2,000 words across 11 entries where my ability to write is outpacing my ability to re-listen to the records on here—guess which artist(s) I didn’t listen to today when prepping this—so I’ll call this issue #89 of Crow’s Nest. Enjoy the nice weather, enjoy the great tunes within, and I hope you have a good rest of the season, no matter how you measure it. See you on the 16th—and yes I’ll be sure to send out a reminder via the usual means. Until then!
