The best new albums this week

The albums that matter

ALBUM OF THE WEEK

Danny Elfman – Bigger. Messier. (ANTI)

The name Danny Elfman has been burned into the cerebellum, ingrained into the psyche, and plastered over the television screens of the collective zeitgeist for the better part of the last three decades. Whether this fact is obvious or utterly bewildering, is solely down to individual experience.

Known today, first and foremost, for his whimsical film scores and seemingly endless collaborations with director Tim Burton, Elfman’s first foray into silver screen musicality was on the 1985 comedy, Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, which would forge his newfound path.

What’s followed since has been a major career in television and film, with Elfman’s name adorning the credits of such projects as Beetlejuice, Batman, Edward Scissorhands, Spider-man, Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, and arguably most vital of all, the iconic opening them tune for The Simpsons. Not to mention the stop motion macabre musical that could, ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’, which saw the composer not only penning and scoring every piece, but offering his crooning vocals to the central character of Jack Skeleton.

Many are quick to forget, however, that before the awards, red carpets, and cinematic synonymous nature of his name, Elfman fronted the hyper-strange, bizarre new wave outfit, Oingo Boingo, in the early eighties. Their material was bonkers, to put it mildly, with their biggest hit, ‘Little Girls’, sporting an accompanying video of a sweaty, overtly smiley Elfman dressed in a wifebeater vest, pulling the strangest moves and facial expressions man has ever witnessed. It exuded a subtle sleaze and cynical debauchery that seemingly went over the heads of the masses granting the single heavy rotation upon its release.

With this frankly strange career trajectory, as well as his self-aware nature, last year felt like the perfect time for the man to return to his absurdist beginnings with, ‘Big Mess’; his first solo endeavour since 1984’s, ‘So-Lo’.

Signing to ANTI, the sister label of punk, hardcore and emo home, Epitaph, which sports a dynamic array of artists from Tom Waits to Deafheaven to Xenia Rubinos, would serve as an immediate indicator of the particular sonic bedrock Elfman found his new creations. What transpired was an avant-garde, industrial-tinted noise-rock cacophony of the most theatrical, absurd, and unnerving variety, with the project landing on several end of year lists.

‘Bigger. Messier.’ is precisely what it says on the tin, with Elfman extending invitations to a truly vast array of alternative artists, offering them the chance to retool, re-imagine, warp, and destroy his creations.

The lead single rebirth of, ‘Kick Me’, features punk icon, Iggy Pop, snarling and rambling in truly unhinged fashion while dissecting the fascination with celebrity and fame.

The sole solitary piece of direction Elfman would grant his collaborators, was to “imagine me through your own eyes”, granting free reign to bastardise his original material with whatever felt most instinctive.

Make no mistake from the outset, this is a collection of a truly complex, challenging, and often intimidating nature. One glance at the tracklist is enough to comprehend the vast roster of genre experimentalists brought into the fold.

Opening with the digital soup clusterbomb of, ‘We Belong’, (mutilated beyond recognition by the incomparable Squarepusher), the lengthy ordeal careens into a neon nightmare of experimental glitch-pop, avant-noise wonderment.

Zach Hill of underground math-rock heroes, Hella, and, more notably, alt-noise hip-hop outfit, Death Grips, offers his own warped interpretation of, ‘Kick Me’, while LA hardcore mob, FEVER333, take the same track down a two-minute barrage of accosting violence.

Elsewhere, you have the type of extremists that on one hand appear totally at odds with Elfman’s tenure, but on the other, seem apt when considering the dark horse hiding in plain sight guise he’s operated under since being pushed onto a more communal platform all those years prior.

Industrial coldwavers, HEALTH (‘In Time’), post-rock giants, Boris (‘Everybody Loves You’), breakcore duo, Machine Girl (‘Insects’), mathematical noise-punk lunatics, The Locust (‘Cruel Compensation’), and art-pop outlier, Xiu Xiu (‘Serious Ground’), are just a handful of the ludicrously diverse, caustic acts granted total carte blanch across the 70+ minute runtime.

The most hyped, lauded, and intriguing contributions come from one, Nine Inch Nails mastermind, Trent Reznor, whose features on, ‘True’, and, ‘Native Intelligence’, as well as those features being further remixed by Ghostemane, and Stu Brooks, respectively, add even more sinister attitude where there was genuinely no need.

Even Juno Daily – In The Mix contributor, LITTLE SNAKE, who delivered a head-melting set direct to our digital doorstep last summer, offers up two conflicting yet equally bonkers double takes on the original album’s lead single, ‘Happy’, that bookend the project.

Elfman has admitted his total surprise and near shock upon learning that each artist his team reached out to, was more than ecstatic to have their talents enlisted by such a musical legend. Stating “I didn’t think anyone knew the fuck I was”, seemingly doubting his own status and downplaying his legacy, it goes without saying that the vast majority of today’s artists would pounce at the chance to collab with such a unique veteran.

Even his recent performance at Coachella speaks volumes to Elfman’s rebirth as a modern artist, whereas, ‘Bigger. Messier.’, is a project not necessarily designed to separate the wheat from the chaff. It’s a rather niche, unfriendly, often harsh, dissonant, hallucinogenic ordeal, made for the joy of self-satisfaction, and sharing of ideals.

It will feel like an endurance test to some, but for those who happily tumbled down the rabbit hole of last year’s original release, this sister remix monstrosity will envelope and bemuse to kaleidoscopic depths, and serves as easily, assuredly, one of the strangest major releases of 2022. You’ve been warned.

ZB

Coil – Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil (Dais)

Dais Records, amongst other labels, continues to lead us into the catacombs of Coil’s legacy with a reissue of their 2001 masterpiece, Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. Calling a Coil record “their masterpiece” is perhaps too definitive, given the wildly varying nature of different albums. For some, Constant Shallowness… was an unwelcome swerve after the relative calm and melodiousness of Musick To Play In The Dark the year before, darting headlong into abstraction and further from the discernible form of earlier albums such as Scatology, Horse Rotovator and Love’s Secret Domain.

With hindsight, the idea of being miffed at Coil going weird feels somewhat ridiculous, but die-hard fans don’t always like to be surprised. Constant Shallowness… sets its stool out early on with the heavy emphasis on extended, richly overtoned waveforms, but it doesn’t start out in complete shapeless abandon. ‘I Am The Green Child’ is obtuse in some ways, clad in aggravated squeaks and squeals of analogue frequency modulation, but there’s a looped up percussive undercurrent which gives the track form. In its creepy duality and uncanny elegance, it’s pure Coil. Lurking around amidst the mix, Balance pitches himself way down low and becomes the ring leader of this strange circus.

From there though, the album takes a sharp upward curve into tonal extremity, coursing through the searing sawtooth waves of ‘Beige’ to the grungy, submerged ‘Lowest Common Abominator’ and the rippling buzz of ‘Free Base Chakra’ – essentially a three tone suite covering 15 minutes of unrelenting but strangely energising, modulating waveforms. But that’s just the warm up for ‘Tunnel Of Goats’ a 27-minute brain rinser that pummels an endless, infinite torrent of distorted snarls at you and somehow creates a narrative out of it. Balance enters the piece in a relative lull in the midsection before the long stretch of sonic abandon beyond.

One of Coil’s great strengths was in their exacting use of frequencies to elicit almost physiological reactions, and ‘Tunnel Of Goats’ especially feels like a pointed exercise in experimenting with such sounds and the effect they could have on the listener. Surrendering yourself to the intensity of the experience isn’t as hard as it might seem –  Coil’s magick lay in making these extremities strangely inviting and approachable.

OW

Carlos Niño & Friends – Extra Presence (International Feel)

As a leading light of the West Coast beat scene, Carlos Niño is as tricky to pin down as the sound of his peers in LA and beyond. Under names like Ammoncontact he offered a slant on hip-hop-rooted expression that pushed the musical possibilities of downtempo production into wild new spaces. At heart, he’s always been a conduit for the tradition of spiritual jazz although never beholden to one sound. He’s dabbled in the minimal and maximal edges of sound and taken in a legion of collaborators in pursuit of soul-enriching music, not least in his run of Carlos Niño & Friends albums reaching back to 2009.

In 2020 Niño released Actual Presence, an album which drew on recordings from a prior concert and blew them wide open with progressive overdubs from a heavyweight cast of collaborators. In a continuation of that practice, Extra Presence expands on that record with remarkable results. In its opening stages, the album feels poised for a challenging but illuminating ride through free jazz experimentation as Devin Daniels, Randy Gloss, Jamael Dean and Miguel Atwood-Ferguson lend their respective instrumental touches to skittering, rhythmically dexterous pieces with a dissonance at their heart.

But Niño is not the kind of artist to rest in one monotonic mode, and Extra Presence blooms in myriad ways within individual pieces, and as a whole. The surprise crescendos of glissando piano and flute which grace the run out of ‘Explorations 7’ act as a softener before the positively dreamy beatdown of ‘Actually’, with Deantoni Parks, Jamael Dean and Nate Mercereau fed into the mix. From this point, the mind relaxes to expectation and the various dimensions of the album reveal themselves with a freewheeling grace. Sam Gendel’s distinctive wind treatments glide over sparkling shimmers and woozy swells on ‘for the Shapalaceer’, and the seasick chimes of ‘Luis’s Special Shells’ cascade outside standard grid formations. Shabazz Palaces make a welcome appearance on the mic for the heady lilt of ‘Dreamishappening’, the perfect flow for the mellow hum of human harmonies.

The experience is disorienting in the gentlest of ways, encouraging you to cast adrift and take each new turn without judgement. Niño and his friends travel far out, but always remain centered – no mean feat when dealing with such exploratory material, but delivered with an elegance which seems effortless.

OW

Todh Teri ‘Deep in India Vol 10’ (Todh Teri)

Publicity shy scalpel master Todh Teri returns with the tenth instalment of his polychromatic ‘Deep In India’ series, where once again he delights in repurposing bygone sounds of the subcontinent via a contemporary dancefloor gloss. Little is known about the being behind the project, but suffice to say he, she, or they have most certainly paid due diligence to India’s boundless musical heritage. The latest chapter is a double-pack featuring the latest ‘Sampadan’ numbers alongside some favourites from previous EPs. Skilfully skirting the line between editing and sampling, Teri reframes long-forgotten Bollywood and Indian classical sounds through production processes that render the originals barely recognisable.

The collection begins with the wigged-out acid dub of ‘Sampadan 34’, where atmospheric swells bubble and brood over an undulating 303 line before dissipating into a dusty breakdown, only to rise again as the epic arrangement unfurls. ‘Sampadan 35’ maintains the sinister mood, with wonky synths blending with distant samples as throbbing bass drives the nocturnal groove.

The Indian theme is nudged forward on the acid-fuelled psychedelic mutations of ‘Sampadan 36’, as we head deeper still into the heat of the night, before ‘Sampadan 37’ breaks up the rhythm via broken drums and reverb-soaked samples. The second 12” revisits a set of archive classics from the series, upping the tempo considerably with the high-energy disco flex of ‘Sampadan 1’.

The disco theme is given a tropical flourish on the feel-good caper of ‘Sampadan 9’, echoing back to a time when Todh Teri was perhaps in a less introspective mood. For the final stretch, ‘Sampadan 7’ injects a full-bodied club edge, thanks to its frantic tempo, robust bass, and filtered samples, before ‘Sampadan 12’ utilises a familiar-sounding synth riff to accompany a terrifically divergent bass part. Fine work here across the board, demonstrating Teri’s production journey from buoyant parter-starter to late-night psychonaut. Highly recommended.

PC

Mares Of Thrace – The Exile (Sonic Unyon)

If there’s one stern example of the unkempt vehement potential seeping its way out of the true north (that’s what the Canadians like to call it), it’s the duo of Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers, better known as Mares Of Thrace. 

The pair deal in a ferocious, bruising blend of sludge-laden crusty noise-rock and hardcore punk, with their latest EP/mini-LP/opus, ‘The Exile’, limping a barefoot trudge over broken glass with violent, cacophonous results. 

Take the thunderous malevolence of ‘Mortal Quarry’, which unpacks the loss of a friend to mental health struggles while also espousing the disillusionment in the shared political exhaustion of the past decade. The track careens with devastating heft; simultaneously too dynamic to be considered straight doom metal, but far more cavernous than a hardcore project should ever feel. 

After a near decade long hiatus, an uprooting from her US home due to increasing hostility, and a line-up shift, Lanz doesn’t just sound revitalised or vindicated, but reborn with a seething purpose, offsetting her throat-shredding howls and despair fuelled lyricism with churning, trudging riffage.

Rogers’ drumming and additional bass playing provide a concrete backbone which Lanz utilises to bounce every warring, embittered, pummelling sonic emotion she can muster off of, with their dynamic evoking the likes of dance-punk duo, Death From Above 1979, only if they were jumped by Kylesa. 

By the Time doomgazing catastrophic closer, ‘The Thread That Will Unravel You’, fades out, there’s an undeniable sense of oppressive, defeatist dread, with the primary source of peace emanating from the fact you made it of ‘The Exile’, somewhat unscathed.

ZB

Various – Afro Psych: Journeys Into Psychedelic Africa 1972 – 1977′ (Africa Seven)

London-based label and diggers collective Africa Seven have made it their mission to shine a light on little-known jewels plucked from Africa’s vast musical universe, and their latest collection of curios is every bit as alluring as the best of their growing catalogue. The simplest of prerequisites guard the label’s curatorial gates: the music has to be of African origin; contain a beat; be loved by the A&R team. With this in mind, an almost endless mine of musical gold awaits, and improbably desirable titles have already been resurrected from the likes of Pasteur Lappe, Eko, and Jo Bisso – saving collectors not insubstantial amounts of currency in the process.

While African disco, funk, boogie and high life are among the continent’s treasures to have received plenty of re-issue attention over the last decade or so, Africa Seven’s latest focus has remained comparatively overlooked. As the title suggests, ‘Afro Psych: Journeys Into Psychedelic Africa 1972 – 1977’ takes a deep dive into the hallucinatory world of tripped-out rock music. Inspired by stoner rock gods like Jimi Hendrix and The Doors, among many others, outlying African-based bands began experimenting with thick guitar leads and saucer-eyed distortion, adding aberrant leads to the funk-fuelled musical beds.

Predictably, some of the results were mesmerising, and the ‘Afro Psych’ compilation offers an eye-opening snapshot into the form. Highlights include the mystical fusion of The Lijadu Sisters’ ‘Bayi L’ense’, the brooding atmospherics of ‘Bokonor’ from Bunzu Soundz, and the rousing fuzz-funk of Aura’s ‘Ariya’. Submerging deeper still, those with a thirst for unabashed deviance should head for the fierce distortion of War Head Constriction’s utterly mischievous ‘Graceful Bird’, and the free-flowing organ solos and lead guitar shreds of Celestin Nyam’s ‘M’bembe’. Truth be told, there’s barely a dull moment across the collection, rendering this yet another unmissable offering from the ultra-diligent Africa Seven camp.

PC

Rich Ruth – I Survived, It’s Over (Third Man)

A versatile, Nashville-based session musician of some note, Michael Ruth turned to making ambient music after a traumatic armed car jacking experience outside his house. What started by way of therapy has turned into a neat side hustle and I Survived, It’s Over is his second album, this time under the patronage of none other than Jack White of White Stripes fame, via his Third Man label.

The result is exquisite and highly individual, a blend of synth meditations run through with Ruth’s own sometimes soaring and celestial, sometimes caustic guitar playing, with equally lush additional instrumentation makes its way in here and there – a saxophone on ‘Desensitization & Reprocessing’, a gently frenetic flute on ‘Angel Slide’. Without resembling them, it evokes the genre crossroads reached by albums like ‘Bitches Brew’ and ‘Headhunters’, fluttering in the space somewhere between jazz, rock and leftfield and enjoying every minute of the freedom it allows.

It’s the kind of album that will work equally well as a post club comedown or a sunset soundtrack, but don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s background music. It couldn’t be further from it – give it a chance and you’ll be drawn in and enveloped. Nice work.

BW

Power Inc.  – Opfern (Concrete Cabin)

You’d normally find Calum Mcleod shelling down blistering big room techno alongside Liam Robertson in Clouds, He’s taken a break for this record and wound up on Concrete Cabin, a label run by Mark ‘Mother’ Maxwell out of Rubadub, well and truly a Glaswegian product.

The last few releases from Hamilton Scalpel to DJ Skift have snuck around murky corners of rave-geared music, and Mcleod’s approach to ambient on Opfern more than suits the mood of the label. This is grainy, blown-out stuff wrought from what sounds like extraneous tape processing.

It’s not all moody – ‘Recognition Effect’ is positively bright in its disposition, albeit with a certain washed out wooziness around the edges and bleeding inwards. ‘Herz’ opens the album in a thoroughly pleasant, distinctly alien bath of aqueous sonics. But there are more mysterious spaces explored on ‘Zischensynthese’ and ‘Angel’s Basin’, while ‘Band’ teeters on the edge of desolation. Even in these more obtuse moments, there’s a pervading sense of warmth folded into the mix. Whether a submerged melodic hum or shifting sands of processing, these threads weave life into the sparsest stretches of the album.

Overall, Opfern feels distinctly out of time, both ancient and immediate with a patina like mouldy tape reel lifted from the bottom of a swamp and teeming with micro-organisms. It’s inwardly focused like so much cassette music, making no hint at being concerned about engaging with the wider world. Whether that was the intention or not, that’s how it sounds.

OW

Faust – The Faust Tapes (Bureau B)

If you’ve ever seen a photo of Faust from the early 70s, around the time they made this masterpiece breakthrough LP, then you’ll have noted the shellshocked thousand yard stare on their collective faces. It’s remarkably similar to the look on the members of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band on the rear sleeve of the even more legendary Trout Mask Replica. It’s not, we’d protest, due to the imbibing of illicit substances, but rather the product of exposure to genuinely bizarro music for week after week. In the case of the Magic Band, only one person per week was allowed to leave the house, in order to fetch the food for the next seven days. By the look of Faust circa 1973, even that would have been considered a little lax.

The 26 tracks collected here are often pigeonholed as Krautrock, and indeed the band were part of the creative explosion in post-war Germany that also spawned Kraftwerk and Can. But you’ll find little sign of the economic, linear grooves that typify the genre. Rather, the likes of ‘Flashback Caruso’ and ‘Stretch Out Time’ have one foot in the 60s hippy daze, while the other stomps its personality all over the newly emerging experimentalist world. It’s like hearing Barrett-era Pink Floyd after they quadrupled their narcotic intake and let Throbbing Gristle into the studio for a jam. Yes, that weird, and that good at the same time.

BW

This week’s reviewers: Oli Warwick, Patrizio Cavaliere, Zach Buggy, Ben Willmott.