The best new albums this week

by Juno Daily on 21.02.2022 at 14:40pm.
Last edited: 22.02.2022 at 10:29am.

The top layer of this week’s album cake

ALBUM OF THE WEEK

The lockdown album. Three words that are guaranteed to illicit heavy sighs and the rolling of the eyes. When the entire world shut up shop in 2020, what other sort of album did we think would appear when we emerged blinking into the light?

Initially, at the height of the pandemic, there were the gentle soothers, lots and lots of gentle ambient sounds, coming at us from all angles. And then there was the strange kind of freedom that emerged with some artists who found they had nothing to do but record. Take Cate Le Bon’s ‘Pompeii’ – recorded while holed up in a rented house in Cardiff with just her co-collaborator Samur Khouja for company. The result? A high watermark of her musical journey so far. Here, Metronomy bring a new kind of lockdown album to the party. ‘Small World’ is not so much a ray of sunshine as a full force blast of radiance.

Let’s start with the artwork, created by frontman Joe Mount’s dad. He’d help his son out with sleeves for demos and CDs early doors and so it comes full circle on this, their seventh long-player. The photo – of lush, green gardens near where he grew up in Totnes in Devon – was taken by his mum in the 1990s. “Those gardens don’t look like that anymore,” offers Mount. “They’ve sort of gone to shit.” And there we have ‘Small World’ in a nutshell. In the jaws of an unimaginable global health crisis, what’s important? Where are the glimmers of hope? What do we hold onto? Where are the simple pleasures to get us through?

Bookended by two pensive ballads, ‘Small World’ opens with the simple piano motif of ‘Life And Death’ and asks what we were all asking initially – “I don’t know life and death / I get a go at both I guess” – while ‘I Have Seen Enough’ sums up that moment of realisation. The pandemic showed us what was important. Really important. Not busting yourself up for The Man, not your faced pressed against a train window on a packed commute, none of that. It was the little things in our own orbit, our own small worlds – “We could pick the fruit in autumn / We can turn the ground in spring / And I’ll watch another sunset, by your side / And together we will sing / I have seen enough / but I just can’t look away”. “It’s life, isn’t it?” says Mount, “there’s all kinds of horrible stuff, but you’re compelled to keep looking and be involved.”

In between those moments, Metronomy really bring that sunshine. And it’s dazzling. You’d be forgiven for being blinded by their 2011 Mercury-nominated crossover release, ‘English Riveria’, but it seems that’s where things stopped despite a steady drip of classy releases since – 2014’s ‘Love Letters’, 2016’s ‘Summer 08’, 2019’s ‘Metronomy Forever’. What’s happened here, and it’s not anything musically that’s been lacking in previous long-playing outings, is they’ve tapped into the Zeitgeist, which they last hit in 2011 when the reviews glowed hailing them as “expansive” and “visionary”.

‘Things Will Be Fine’ bounces out of the traps with its message of hope. What do you do when things seem to be going in the wrong direction? “The sooner you tell someone / The better you will feel”. And as if to prove the point, we get the hands-in-the-air sing-along euphoria of single, ‘It’s Good To Be Back’ – “I see the world / But sometimes not what’s right in front of me”.

What really delights here though is how Metronomy dip in and out of influences. It’s a flourish here and there, but it works like a comfort blanket. ‘I Lost My Mind’ has the feel of ‘The Bends’-era Radiohead. You can almost see Thom Yorke shaking his little head around to it. Halfway, there’s a whistling solo (not very Thom) after which the track locks the groove right down and continues to swell. The breakdown on ‘Loneliness On The Run’ where everything drops out returning for a final 40-second run-out with just a growling bassline and snappy drum licks, makes you want honk like a seal. Elsewhere we get a rush of sweet Steely Dan vocal harmonies on ‘Love Factory’ and there’s the stabby ELO chorus of ‘Right On Time’. The standout, among and album of standouts, is perhaps ‘Hold Me Tonight’, featuring guest vocals from Porridge Radio’s Dana Margolin. Somehow she’s channelling Robert Smith, invoking the spirit of The Cure’s snappy ‘Close To Me’ when it comes to her turn.

Hands down, this is the record I’ve listened to most so far this year. And I feel immeasurably better for it.

Zeal & Ardor – Zeal & Ardor (MVKA)

Zeal & Ardor is the brainchild of Swedish-American artist Manuel Gagneux, combining elements of black metal with African-American spiritual and gospel music.

While initially conceived as a solo project, the group has since expanded across its near decade of activity. 2016’s debut, ‘Devil Is Fine’, provided a window into Gagneux’s twisted vision; marrying shrieking howls, tremolo picking and blast beats, with hypnotic, powerful gospel vocal refrains and hooks that feel so hauntingly authentic one would be forgiven for assuming they’re samples, when in actuality everything is written from scratch.

2018’s follow-up, the ambitious ‘Stranger Fruit’, would open many a door for Gagneux and his cohorts, but it’s their new self-titled third full-length effort that could arguably elevate the project to a place of revered status.

Leaning ever further into combining the warring sonic agendas as opposed to segregating, the cohesive fusion of two utterly differing styles to conjure up an ethos independent of either is commendable on its own merit.

The immense yet catchy gospel-death of ‘Death to the Holy’ or the bruising maliciousness of ‘Run’ paint a surreal alternative history where freed slaves turned to Satan and the dark arts after their emancipation instead of following God. Not only does it add a sense of the macabre to the proceedings while confronting listeners with the true horrors of history, but it does so in a manner that links each preceding work together in the form of an ever shifting narrative.

Toying ever more with industrial soundscapes, moments like the shimmering post-rock predominantly instrumental ‘Emersion’ uncover the light bleeding out through the cracks. It’s these moments of emotive respite that allow more tumultuous segments to earn their demanded catharsis.

The fact that the band have chosen to self-title this third album should be a clear enough statement in and of itself: this is Zeal & Ardor in their purest, most fully realised form (and they’ve already made a strong case for best metal album of the year thus far).

The Detroit Escalator Co. – Soundtrack [313] (Musique Pour La Danse)

Neil Ollivierra’s music has been quietly, patiently observing the renewed embrace of ambient techno and waiting its turn. At least, that’s how it seems from the outside. As no stone gets left unturned in the long look back over the rolling hills and placid pools of mellow machine soul, it was inevitable Soundtrack [313] would get a reissue. When so much of the attention is focused on Europe and labels like B12, Likemind, A.R.T. et al, it’s easy to forget techno’s hometown harboured downtempo sounds as well as peak time trailblazers.

But Soundtrack [313] transcends alignment either with the Detroit techno legacy it emerged from, or the ambient movements incubated elsewhere. Olliviera was deeply entrenched in the Detroit techno phenomenon after having his mind blown by an early trip to The Music Institute and winding up as the iconic club’s promoter, but this debut album didn’t seem to respond to that scene in any obvious way. In its scenic passages it plots an individual path with tender melodies which nod to new age and sci-fi, but a pronounced rhythmic interest which steps to the side of most ambient. The beats remain lightly applied, but they’re a fundamental part of Soundtrack [313].

At times there’s an electro-acoustic tint to the album, most explicit on ‘Tai Chi and Traffic Lights’ thanks to its plucked string harmonics. On ‘Shifting Gears’ the more pronounced ripples of drum machine pulse teeter towards electronica. There’s no apparent forced position on how the music got made, just an impression of what a particular scene required. In that sense it really does function more like a composed soundtrack, and Olliviera guides us from one vignette to another. There’s an abundance of distinct moments which take place within this narrative, and such is the artist’s compositional vocabulary, even the shorter tracks seem to ebb out into the far distance. What doesn’t falter is the exquisite mood – an eternal chill which never slips into banality but rather carries you, engaged, through its contented storyline.

God Is God – Metamorphoses (Bureau B)

You don’t get very far into reading the press blurb about God Is God before you’re thinking, ‘Well, this is interesting’. “A duo,” it says, “consisting of Turkish musician, producer Etkin Çekin and Belarusian multi-instrumentalist, composer and singer Galina Ozeran”. As the slow-built swells and haunting vocal of opening track, ‘Behind The Heroes’, melts into the silky bassline and Peter Gabriel-ish drum licks of ‘The Song Pt 1’, it is indeed interesting.

This debut outing on the ever-reliable Bureau B is quite the melting pot. Ozeran grew up in Belarus before heading to St Petersburg to study. With classical piano lessons onboard, she formed improv dreampop solo project Chikiss, which she says was influenced by “Soviet synth pioneers Eduard Artemiev and Alexander Zatcepin as well as Angelo Badelamenti, Laurie Anderson, and early Warp Records”. And then we move to Çekin, whose aural joyriding was honed in Istanbul and Germany, siting Turkish 90s experimental indie outfit ZEN, Roedelius, La Düsseldorf and Suicide as his touchstones.

I mean, even if you’ve not heard a note, that’s a potent brew, right?

Ozeran’s vocal, a “liquid language”, is used Liz Frazer-like as an instrument, picking out words, sometimes in Russian, sometimes in English, rather than leading the way as a vocalist would. Only on the last track, ‘Song To The Siren’ (not that one), do you get close to a “traditional” song structure that skirts the edge of dancefloor. Elsewhere, ‘Drops’, which is as anthropomorphic as they come, has bright bells landing sound onto depth-charged bass, while ‘Metamorphoses Pt 2’ starts out heavy as rocks before giving way to tinkling beats, heartbeat pulse and bright strings. Did we hear mention of Warp earlier? We did.

And all this comes as a result of improvised sessions laid down in 2018. Flicking back to the wise words from their people, it’s all “grounded in contemporary dance music, yet also steeped in Eastern European and Turkish psychedelic electronic traditions”. ‘Metamorphoses’ is mind-expanding stuff that only rewards repeated listens.

Venom Prison – Erebos (Century Media)

Since bursting onto the UK extreme metal scene with their ferocious 2016 debut, ‘Animus’, there’s been much allure around Venom Prison.

The group’s dizzying technicality, mixed with grindcore speed and brutal death metal aggression, along with vocalist Larissa Stupar’s impassioned lyricism tackling subjects of animal rights, racism and misogyny, make for a combustible, cataclysmic sonic assault.

They’ve also connected with their audience on a deepening level with Stupar’s history of activism adding sincere weight to the malicious critiques she shrieks and lambasts.

‘Erebos’, their fourth full-length and debut release on iconic metal label Century Media, is the gargantuan swing for the fences it needed to be. With an increase in budget and production values, there’s no ignoring the sheer sense of vicious scale on each track, meandering with fluidity between tech-death infused hardcore punk or blackened melodic deathgrind. There’s a lot to unpack in other words.

At well over three quarters of an hour, there’s no denying the sheer scale of the project which in the death metal/hardcore world can often be more of a get in/get out affair. Venom Prison opt to take their time with ‘Erebos’, crafting a sense of audible dread to encompass their complex, brutal yet earnest tendencies.

Various Artists – INDEX07 (DiN)

Founded in 1999, Ian Boddy’s north-east-based ambient label DiN has recently hit the impressive landmark of 100 releases. For those who have been oblivious to the charms of this analogue synth label, boy, have you missed out. Thing is, you’re in luck because this sampler – the seventh in the iNDEX series, which I’m sure you’ve already worked out from the title – is the perfect route in.

The idea of the series is to look back on the label’s last 10 releases and draw two tracks from each, with Boddy crafting them into a continuous mix. It’s become quite the calling card, working not only as a label sampler, but also as a body (excuse the pun) of work in its own right. The range, the versatility of the instrumentation and the sheer quality of DiN releases is always impressive and ‘iNDEX07’ is no exception.

The compilation opens and closes with label mainstay and frequent Boddy collaborator Nigel Mullaney (‘Dusk Is The Musk’ comes on like the soundtrack to night fall, while the gentle caress of ‘Nostalgia Bomb’ wraps proceedings up nicely). Lyonel Bauchet, a Parisian library music composer who specialises in the quirky Buchla synth, arrives from the noisier end of the spectrum, with the tense ‘Ambient Pressure’ doing what it says on the tin. Elsewhere, DiN regular Dave Bessell appears on his own (the driftily spooky ‘The Fountains Are Singing’) and in collaboration with Greece’s Bakis Sirros who works as Parallel Worlds (the filmic string-soaked ‘Empire’), while Scanner tunes in from planet found sound with the mellow ‘The Ascent’ (the angry-sounding voices-off really unsettle) and the sleek drift of ‘Stranice’.

Boddy’s two tracks, as always, find him leading by example. ‘From Here To There’, taken from DiN’s 100th release, ‘Nevermore’, comes fully fitted with an ambient groove, while ‘Nitro’ bows to the Berlin School. Oh, and as his is privilege, he appears for a third time here, collaborating with German touch guitar specialist Markus Reuter on ‘Parallels’.

DiN is one of the UK’s foremost independent electronic labels and deserves wider appreciation. Do yourself a favour, eh?

Gina X Performance – Nice Mover + Voyeur (Remastered) (Les Disques Du Crepuscule)

There is already a cult buzz around Gina X Performance. Short-lived like all the best early synthwave deviants, the Cologne-based trio were right on the money as electronic music started seeping into club culture, releasing their debut album Nice Mover in 1978 when most were just coming to terms with the likes of Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder blowing the doors off disco tradition. By 1984 they were already history, but in the meantime they managed to slip out three records of proudly queer, brilliantly produced nachtmusik with an arch pop twist.

The centre of Gina X is Gina Kikoine, whose thick German accent contorts her English lyrics without a shred of modesty, not dissimilar to the likes of Nina Hagen and Ari Up in her theatrical, imposing presence. Meanwhile Zeus B. Held was responsible for the majority of the production duties, and his work in the group sent him on to work with Dead Or Alive and John Foxx amongst others. This is foundational synth pop with a noirish twist, and it sounds devastating from the opening strains of ‘Nice Mover’ onwards, forever prodding at the tension between light and shade and confidently wielding the melodic parts with an accomplished, high-end studio sound. This was no minimal wave chancers endeavour, or at least it sounds far too plush to be a DIY effort.

‘No GDM (Dedicated To Quentin Crisp)’ is generally considered the group’s biggest hit, and it’s got everything a disco-not-disco classic should have. Kikoine’s chant-a-long lyrics are instant earworms, and the rubbery synth bass line wraps itself around the slow n’ sultry disco drums with ease. It could almost pass for casual and nonchalant in a Downtown way, were it not for the sparkling arpeggios and flourishes which take the tune skywards.

This expansive reissue packs a lot more than the biggest tunes in for those new to Gina X Performance. Their third album Voyeur gets represented in full (although it’s not clear why X-Traordinaire got wholesale overlooked), and there’s a generous raft of remixes from the likes of DJ Hell, Psyconauts and Red Axes commissioned at various times over the years. While not quite definitive, the lions share of the group’s legacy gets represented here, with all the most important bits sounding their best thanks to a shiny new remaster.

Kit Grill – Spirit (Primary Colours)

Swiftly following up last October’s ‘Fragile’ album (which featured on the more discerning end of year lists), London-based producer and NTS radio host Kit Grill chucks a proper curveball with ‘Spirit’. Anyone who heard ‘Fragile’ will be rightly excited that there’s a second helping so soon. But where the last outing was all retro New Order edges and fat synth hooks, here Grill serves up a record that comes from the much gentler side of town.

Recorded at the same time as ‘Fragile’, ‘Spirit’ is the polar opposite. The yin to its yang. It’s like Grill has taken the warm synth lines of his previous outing, and, erm, well, that’s it. ‘Somewhere’ has something of the ‘Smokebelch’ about it, while ‘Winter Sky’ is a super slowed down beatless ‘Born Slippy’. We do still slightly touch on the New Order-isms, in evidence here in the gentle looping string sweeps of ‘Passing By’. Indeed, even the tracks titles – ‘Winter Sky’, ‘After Dark’, ‘Orchid’ – when compared with those on ‘Spirit’ – ‘Crash’, Carousel’, ‘Endless’ – seem calmer.

Where ‘Fragile’ was bursting with energy, ‘Spirit’ is a soothing balm, the Sunday morning to the Saturday night of ‘Fragile’.

Various – Gangster Music Vol. 2 (All City / Gangster Doodles)

Marlon “Gangster Doodles” Sassy might best be known for his graphic picturebooks, which contain his own original ‘bust’ drawings of famous rappers, singers and other public figures, all scrawled out in his cutesy style. But perhaps lesser known to the public is his compilation series, ‘Gangster Music’, which puts together exclusive cuts from many of the hip hop artists he’s drawn over the years – the result of much “badgering and prodding”.

We imagine most of these artists wouldn’t bat an eyelid at any old poser on Instagram begging for a compilation feature, but Sassy is clearly different, as his distinctive manner of characterising hip-hop lends just as well to the cassette tape as it does to the canvas.

Bits from Dam Funk, Iman Omari, Ohbliv, Open Mike Eagle, Gaslamp Killer and even Mike G adorn this 28-tracker. But they’re not the main stars of the show. If anything, it’s the lesser-known names who stand out, treating this one as an opportunity to shine rather than dump out an old cut that would never see the light of day otherwise. Our favourite is the unprecedented wonk that wafts from Zeroh’s ‘Don’t Play It Safe’, while Ozoyo’s ‘Astro Boy’ and Kyeoshin’s ‘s.w.i.m.’ are among the many later tracks that charm us with their unrivalled swing and vocal breath. This tape is a dream, and feels like a blast from the past, centring on the sound that came out of the LA beat scene 10 or so years ago.

JIJ

Worm – Foreverglade (20 Buck Spin)

20 Buck Spin have become one of the most vital labels in the exposure of immense extreme metal talent. The last few years have seen phenomenal works come from an increasingly impressive roster of acts such as Bedsore, Skeleton and Gravesend to name but a few.

It’s a total no brainer then that Florida doom-death aficionados Worm would find their gloomy home here. ‘Foreverglade’, the group’s third full-length, is a macabre opus that showcases their dynamic range of previous and current styles meshed together in a symbiotic stew where ambient doom, sludge, death and black metal all coalesce into one funereal abyss of despair.

Following on from the newly established formula of 2019’s ‘Gloomlord’, the band’s decision to re-examine their frosty black metal beginnings via interpolation into their present sonic skin allows for some truly boundary pushing moments of beautified anguish like the 11-minute epic, ‘Cloaked In Nightwinds.’

However, cuts like the brief (by their standards) three-minute ‘Subaqueous Funeral’ provide a maelstrom of metallic psychedelia and haunting, ethereal arrangement bolstered by jilted strings. There’s maybe 30 to 40 seconds of abrasive bedlam before the hypnotic soloing and occult repetitions return in full (gloom) bloom.

While not necessarily a starting point for the unfamiliar, those with a predilection for their extreme metal on the bleak and trippy side will find so much to marvel at in ‘Foreverglade.’

Rapoon – Fallen Gods (Abstrakce)

Zoviet France’s drone music dealt in gristle and grit, but founding member Robin Storey had different ideas when it came to his own solo work. Fallen Gods, his third solo album and often the most lauded of them, homed in on classical Indian instrumentation, blended with electronics; as was always endemic to his sound, as well as his contemporaries Lustmord and Psychick Warriors ov Gaia.

Indian ragas are difficult to replicate electronically, so Storey worked around that by stripping the style back to its ‘bare drones’, washing out any additional layers in textural ambience or reverb. This doesn’t seem like anything spectacular by today’s standards, but when listening from the A1 ‘Sanctum’ all the way through to the D3 ‘Valley’, something ineffable pokes its way through the wash, gripping us more than any old dub drone album might do normally.

‘Iron Path’ recalls Vladislav Delay or Muslimgauze in its endless traversal of infinitely unfolding sonic doorways, while smaller interludes pepper the spaces between the long droners. The minute long ‘Khomat’ is the purest raga piece of them all, with its ensemble of guitars remaining untainted by processing. ‘Dusk Red Walls’ might best be the album’s microcosm, meanwhile, being a breathy dub drone weaving in and out of a tripletting, dubious riff.

In this LP’s strange fusion zones, it summons images of repeated passages, but we’re not sure whether we’re skulking down the hallways of a Cairo catacomb, or simply witnessing our own minds unravel geometrically, having just taken a dark musical psychoactive.

JIJ

Keith Seatman – Sad Old Tatty Bunting (Castles In Space)

Keith Seatman’s world is simultaneously charming and more than a little unsettling. On previous outing, 2020’s ‘Time To Dream But Never Seen’, it was all faded seaside glamour. Here he arrives riding a Chopper, giving a seater to formative, half-remembered 1970s nostalgia.

Inspired once again by fading memories, this time it’s old, shabby bunting in a pub beer garden that he began to notice on early morning walks. “I realised that ‘Sad Old Tatty Bunting’ could refer to many different concepts,” he explains, “ideas, places, books and thing. What, who or even where was Sad Old Tatty Bunting?”

So what is it? Musically, it’s a world of psychedelic whimsy that’s neatly summed up in the rich song titles. Opener ‘A Swish Of The Curtain’ is kind of ‘Silver Machine’ meets JAMC with added synthy swirls and curls, ‘The Gnome Zone’ a squelchy melodic theme tune to a lost 70s show about, I dunno, topiary, while ‘In The Fields Round The Back’ is a sinister creep through the woods to reveal a derelict house – a common experience among those who grew up in the 70s. Or is it? Who knows. ‘Jumpy’s Playroom’ features Ghost Box/Belbury Poly’s Jim Jupp, while Broken Folk’s Douglas E Powell adds spooky spoken word to ‘Burial At Bevil’s Leam’. Both collaborations only add further weight to this already impressive adventure.

Like all Castles In Space releases, the vinyl release is lush. Nick Taylor’s bold artwork and illustration is as eye-catching as ever, while the hyacinth coloured vinyl will have you cooing in appreciation. ‘Sad Old Tatty Bunting’ then, not so much an album as a transmission from another time.

This week’s reviewers: Neil Mason, Zach Buggy, Oli Warwick, Jude Iago James