Review: Based out of Melbourne, Australia, Takiaya Reed (better known as Divide & Dissolve) is a one-woman monolithic force of industrial-tinged, neo-classical leaning instrumental doom metal. Originally a duo, 2023's fourth full-length Systemic marked the first effort from the project following the departure of percussionist Sylvie Nehill (of M?ori and White-Australian heritage), with guitarist/saxophonist Reed (of Tsalagi and African-American heritage) embarking on a solo venture from there on out. Her second singular display of overtly political, droning sonic dread comes in the form of Insatiable, which coalesces mercurial beauty with bombastic abrasion, almost as if sonically illustrating the warring of mindsets active in our collective conscious. From drawing ire back in 2018 for their controversial music video for 'Resistance' which featured spitting and spraying urine-coloured water on monuments of colonial figures such as Captain James Cook and John Batman, Reed has made it clear ever since that their punishing instrumentals are designed with the artful intention of "decolonising, decentralising, disestablishing, and destroying white supremacy", which she makes overwhelming ends to accomplish without a single word uttered.
Review: Talk about appropriate names. There's something about Helen Island that sounds as though it has been cast adrift, washed up, and left to establish its own thing. The Parisian enigma's work feels ghostly, haunted by a past that has vanished into the ocean mist. Whether they'll ever be reunited is the real question, but mystery is the joy here. Whether it's at the uptempo, synth pop hued 'Hot Zone Regular Day', or the weird and wonderful psyche-electronica-field style 'Forever Starts Today', breathy samples on 'Indivisibl' or the innocent contemporary classical-cum-ambient plucked strings and keys of 'Restless Lovers' and 'Gore Lore', the whole thing is a strange and beguiling ride through the outer reaches of popular music.
Review: Some 37 haiku poems are given an avant-garde, 64-minute musical backing with translations from poet Harry Gilonis, on this unique project by composer and multi-instrumentalist Tim Hodgkinson (Henry Cow) and vocalist Atsuko Kamura. We hear a vignetting lingual interplay, with lines in English by Hodgkinson sung in Japanese by Kamura, as a wide instrumental span covers percussions, violin, viola, harp, clarinets, guitars and electronics result. Recorded between Tokyo and London, the album offers a startlingly satisfying sonic renga (a Japanese poetic form encompassing a succession of haikus), lending the brevity of classic haiku an expansive, stretched-out prosthesis. From the 17th through to the 20th-century, this is a subduing but still irregular experience, as it formally demonstrates the laconic and aphoristic essence of the haiku.
Review: As they mark over two decades of collaboration, HTRK continue to thread past and present with a new, upcoming reissue of Rhinestones. First self-released in 2021, the album marked a stylistic turn for Standish and Yang, embracing a sparse and haunted approach to songwriting inspired by gothic country and Western folk minimalism, contrasting their earlier dub-punk dramatics. More emotionally forthright as their records go, it drifts over echoic acoustic textures, hushed vocals, and a characteristic metronomic pulse, conjuring a shadowy, intimate atmosphere. A landmark release epitomising their noted progression out from minimal-wave origins to "gentler, more inviting" territory, Rhinestones motivated a quiet resurgence for the band. This reissue follows the 2024 repress of their debut Marry Me Tonight and the collaborative 'String Of Hearts' EP, with reinterpretations from peers like Loraine James and Liars, reaffirming HTRK's strong creative orbit.
Review: Rhode Island post-metal avant-garde duo The Body have made a name for themselves due to their caustic maelstrom of harsh, brutalist experimentalism as well as their prolific output and collaborative nature, releasing collab albums with the likes of Full Of Hell, Thou, Uniform, and most recently, Dis Fig. Their latest endeavour sees the pair link up with another duo of musical extremity, Toronto, Canada's recently reformed industrial two-piece Intensive Care. Was I Good Enough? has been on the cards since the artists first began making plans as far back as 2018, trading, warping and ruining mutual sessions with layers of loops, distortion, samples and even dubs, constantly striving to find the ideal haunting balance between both of their sonically hideous, oppressive worlds. For all of our ears' sakes, they just might have succeeded.
Review: Icelandic experiment Low Roar heard Ryan Karazija, Leifur Bjornsson and Logi Gudmundsson indulge a transoceanic collaboration, extending many a riotous yet sensual sludgeoff between indie pop and post-rock until Karazija's death in 2022. Since this sad event, subsequent records have heard the band reuse loose elements recorded by Karazija in a posthumous fashion, and House In The Woods is a brilliant new example. Pressed to vinyl quickly after an initial digital release, the album blends typical Icelandic ambient-string work with sensuous background vocals and harmonium layers, and deals in a range of subjects from decrepitude to endless love, marked by a sense of sublimity throughout.
Review: Brooklyn-based Model/Actriz, a four-piece rock band formed in 2016, return with an electrifying new chapter in their career. Frontman Cole Haden, guitarist Jack Wetmore, bassist Aaron Shapiro, and drummer Ruben Radlauer have forged a sound that merges post-punk aggression with noise rock's raw energy. Their latest release is a visceral, direct exploration of both the visceral chaos of their live shows and the darker, more introspective side of their sound. After their debut album Dogsbody earned critical acclaim in 2023, they've recalibrated their approach, opting for a more stripped-down and immediate experience. Tracks like 'Cinderella' and 'Acid Rain' charge forward with the kind of club-ready energy that makes their performances unforgettable, while 'Doves' and 'Audience' offer hauntingly introspective moments. Model/Actriz's commitment to blending queer themes with explosive music continues, pushing boundaries in both their lyrics and sound.
Review: A second joining of forces from two celebrated Chicago acts, blending deep, organic rhythms with a minimalistic electronic pulse. With the novel but logical addition of Jason Stein on bass clarinet, the collaboration stretches even further, pulling together the spiritual fluidity of Natural Information Society and the electronic minimalism of Bitchin Bajas. The first single, 'Clock no Clock,' is a deep dive into hypnotic rhythms, with guimbri grooves intertwining seamlessly with electronic bursts, flutes and organs. The other three tracks are equally compelling, the music unfolding like a living organism, constantly shifting but always grounded. Expansive, intricately woven sonic delights.
Review: This reissue of Janitor of Lunacy recaptures Nico in a stark, spellbinding 1983 live performance at Manchester's Library Theatre during a period when she called the city home. Spread across 20 tracks on double vinyl, the album distils her haunting presence and singular voice into raw, intimate recordings that draw from four of her solo records as well as Velvet Underground classics like 'Femme Fatale' and 'All Tomorrow's Parties.' The set also includes a brooding take on Bowie's 'Heroes' which is, like the rest of the pieces, minimalist and emotionally charged. This was Nico stripped down to her essence, namely bleak, beautiful and moving.
Review: Quade's second album is steeped in the isolation and raw beauty of its birthplace: a crumbling Welsh barn surrounded by moors. The Bristol four-piece i Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly i channel this wild setting into a sound that's both fragile and immense, blurring ambient-dub textures with ghostly folk melodies and the drifting crescendos of post-rock. The Foel Tower feels like it was pulled from misty hillsides and long, firelit nights, an album of quiet intensity: tender one moment, potent the next, yet always emotionally direct. Tracks unfold patiently, as if shaped by the slow grind of weather over stone. There's a strong undercurrent of personal grief and resilience here too. The band's longtime friendship and collective hardships add a tangible intimacy, turning these atmospheric compositions into acts of quiet survival. The Foel Tower transcends as it is stark, gorgeous and deeply human. This is music for the in-between moments: dusk turning to night, silence folding into sound.
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