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Showing posts with label Caulbearer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caulbearer. Show all posts

Monday, 30 December 2019

Psymon Marshall - Top 10 2019.


PSYMON’S TOP TEN FOR 2019

It’s that time of year when I attempt to whittle down the hundreds, nay thousands, of worthy records released this year to form my top ten. It’s a thankless task in many ways – it has to be noted that the quality of the material I have listened to, on both a ‘professional’ and personal level, has been, quite frankly, astonishing. I am loathe to leave anything out, but if I did that this would become unwieldy. I could be wrong, but I think that technology and its democratisation is responsible for shining a figurative light into the hidden corners of the underground scene, thereby allowing artists who were once constrained by perpetual obscurity to showcase their material to a broader and receptive audience, as well as allowing them to target those audiences more effectively and at a fraction of the cost. Certainly, when l was involved in the burgeoning scene in the late 80s/early 90s this fantastic virtual arena was unimaginable, and the only way to hear of artists was through the rare occasion a mainstream magazine happened to feature an article on this weird musical scene, or through the pages of an underground ‘zine, or the artists themselves contacting one directly. Now with the plethora of sites like Bandcamp, Soundcloud, Facebook, personal websites and blogs such as this one, obscurity is a mostly a choice.

My only rule for this top ten is that I have reviewed all these records within the last twelve months (or, rather, since I’ve been writing for 1208 North Fuller Ave, Apt 1) and my write-up was published on the blog. There was far too much good material to choose from and, please be assured that, even if a particular record doesn’t appear here, it doesn’t mean I didn’t like it – it’s just that ten is an awfully small number and there are thousands of releases per year. In no particular order then, here’s my selection:


The debut record of the year without any shadow of a doubt, Alessio Antoni brought us a stunningly mature work that normally would be characteristic of an artist’s career peak, rather than one which represents their first release on a major label. Furthermore, the quality is doubly emphasised by the presence of major underground alumni such as Northaunt, Treha Sektori, Taphephobia, Infinexhuma, and Ugasanie amongst others lending their considerable talents to the mix. My reasoning is that they also must have recognised Antoni’s innate talents to have even considered contributing. Seven tracks of haunting, deeply mystical, seismic, and chthonic atmospherics brought forth from the deep time present at the world’s creation, this is an album that deserves its place in any fan of dark ambient’s sound library.


A deep dive into nihilistic dystopian nightmares and disaster-fuelled dreams, this is one of those projects that refuses to let any light dilute their dank and foetid vision of a diminished future humanity and the denuded world they’ll find themselves living in. In my original review I described it as Lovecraftian in atmospheric tone but, some months later while I am writing this, it’s gone beyond that and the whole takes on a tinge of having foreshadowed the current state of our world, Definitely one to listen to while the social fabric and order of civilisation collapses around you.


Here’s a release that takes something that all of us are familiar with (the church organ) and makes it sound otherworldly, creating and devising textures, voices, and tones one wouldn’t normally associate with the venerable instrument. This is a thought-provoking work, in that it blows away ingrained perceptions and assumptions, and shines the spotlight on a new creation that is at once familiar and alien. This nine track album successfully posits the notion that synthesisers have in fact been around for hundreds of years, not mere decades.


I could have quite easily chosen a top ten consisting solely of Cold Spring releases such is the continued quality of output from this long-established label. Instead, I chose Llyn a Cwn’s Twll Du that, apart from being a release of well-crafted atmospheric ambient pieces, also locked into a particularly Celtic ambience that I have experienced personally. Each of the seven compositions is based around feelings and reactions to specific areas within Snowdonia, North Wales, a region which is heavily invested with myth and magic. I’m from South Wales, which has its own similar patches of mystery (the Preseli Mountains, home of the bluestones of Stonehenge) and parts of which are associated with the Mabinogion (an epic of Welsh literature), and so I found myself buying into the mystical and doomy atmospherics with ease. One can very easily glean the nature of the places described herein.


Now for something completely different: a quartet of ambient drone pieces based around tea. It’s a novel approach, one that reaps huge benefits, and that has the effect of being both interesting and intensely calming, allowing the listener to ride waves of bliss. Think of it as an antidote to the stresses of modern-day living, so I can recommend sitting back in your favourite armchair, sipping on a freshly made cup of one (or all) of the teas mentioned in the composition titles, and let yourself just drift away into oceans of infinity.


This was originally ‘released’ way back in 1989 as a limited edition of just 31 tapes, none of which were on general sale but instead given to the artist’s friends. Thankfully, then, the fine folks at Industrial Ölocaust Recordings saw fit to re-release this masterpiece in remastered form (by Raffaele Pezzella of Sonologyst), in a signed edition of 93. Massively occult and deeply seismic in nature, these are all rituals meant to open up the vast underground currents streaming through the bowels of the earth, both physically and spiritually. A timeless set, not at all dated, and in some ways deeply resonant with our present times – in other words, essential listening.


Another (and very welcome) reissue and remaster from the UK’s premier underground label. Apart from being a seminal band from the early industrial music scene of the eighties and nineties, the one aspect of the band that this shows off to perfection is the sheer breadth of vision and musicality that Jhonn Balance and Peter Christopherson possessed, and this emphasises just how successful and far reaching their musical collaboration was. The twelve songs (or thirteen if you have the CD version) are essentially outtakes and experiments gleaned from the recording sessions that ultimately gave us the Love’s Secret Domain album, and as such it adds to the latter release, demonstrating the evolution and thinking processes behind LSD (and the band’s MO). It not only reminds us of the loss of the genius of both Balance and Christopherson (may both RIP) but it will also serve to introduce new fans to this titan of a project of the British industrial scene.


I shall reiterate my description in my original review: ‘This is a BEAST of an album…’. Featuring not only the original six tracks recorded by Caulbearer but also the same tracks with enhancements added by luminaries such as Black Mountain Transmitter, Gruntsplatter, Wilt + Gnaw Their Tongues, Steel Hook Prostheses, The Vomit Arsonist, and Fire in the Head. These are gargantuan behemoths, both original and enhanced, a soundtrack for the end-times, and for a dying and decaying world. Get your doom on!


There are hundreds of self-released albums put out each year, and this particular one made it to this list simply because of its holistic approach to the subject and its maturity of expression. Based around your favourite occultist uncle, Aleister Crowley, this takes as its inspiration the birth of Thelema and its subsequent evolution plus its promulgation by Crowley (which was inevitably intertwined with his larger than life character). It’s a serious release, and a seriously good one at that, swerving away from both Crowleyan aggrandisement and tabloid sensationalism, as well as treating the subject seriously. Nicola Locci, the man behind the project, appears to have been working on this for a long time, and in the process gave it a lot of thought, which shines through every note on here. Quite a cerebral release, and well worth your time in listening to.


Four tracks, yet all magnificently sweeping in their cold and frozen glory, this is a sonic study of glacial ambience at its peak of perfection (in human terms anyway). Icy landscapes and skies filled with the crystalline and sharp beauty of the stars, planets, and faint nebulae comprising the band of the Milky Way Galaxy, this lifts the listener bodily skywards and deposits us right in the midst of the polar regions of the earth. I can readily envisage lying in a glass igloo looking up at the pristine vault of the heavens whilst being cocooned in these blankets of sound, my spirit able to feel and to touch those stars, planets, and faint nebulae. Glorious and breathtaking: that’s all you need to know about this fine release.

So that’s it! I hope you like my selection, and apologies to any whose output didn’t make it here. 2019 was the year I rediscovered my love of off-the-wall and non-mainstream music, and I feel richer for having listened to just about everything I’ve been sent (and I will finally get around to reviewing the ones I received in December). If this last year was anything to go by, then 2020 should be another bumper year – buckle up!

Psymon Marshall 2019. 

Tuesday, 1 October 2019

Caulbearer - Diseased Imaginings

Album: Diseased Imaginings
Artist: Caulbearer + others
Catalogue no: LW112

Tracklist:
     1.      Colorless World – Caulbearer + Black Mountain Transmitter
     2.      Alien Murmuration – Caulbearer + Gruntsplatter
     3.      Chthonic Echoes – Caulbearer + Wilt + Gnaw Their Tongues
     4.      Skull Shining – Caulbearer +Steel Hook Prostheses
     5.      Melting Towers – Caulbearer + The Vomit Arsonist
     6.      The Last City – Caulbearer + Fire In The Head
     7.      Colorless World – Original non-collaborative version
     8.      Alien Murmuration - Original non-collaborative version  
     9.      Chthonic Echoes - Original non-collaborative version
    10.  Skull Shining - Original non-collaborative version
    11.  Melting Towers Original non-collaborative version
    12.  The Last City - Original non-collaborative version



Sometimes, project names just inspire intrigue, and the name Caulbearer did exactly that for me. A caul is a very rare but harmless event that happens at birth, when a membrane covers a newborn’s head. A suitably apt name then for the noise ambient project of New Yorker Cody Drasser and Ben Roe, Jr, and as far as I am aware this is theirthird full-length release as Caulbearer: the first self-released Haunts was issued in 2012 with a live EP Melted Summer following in 2013 (also self-released), and in the same year Canticle of the Three, on Peacock Window Recordings like the present one. A number of releases have been issued under his own name as well. This one, however, is very much their magnum opus and, after listening to a few snippets from the Haunts album to get a crash course in Caulbearer, the music between the earlier and later examples share some similarities but the present Diseased Imaginings is overall a much darker and more aggressive collection. Of course, some people who buy this will be attracted by the absolutely stellar line-up of collaborators who share the spotlight with him on this one, but that shouldn’t distract from the fact that Drasser is more than capable musically of standing on his own two feet.

As this is a tale of two halves, I shall begin by diving into the ‘original’ source materials, the pieces composed and recorded by Drasser without assistance. A feedback howl starts ‘Colorless World’ only to be quickly replaced by a steamroller crush of grainy oppressive noise, a behemoth flattening and depriving everything of shape and colour. ‘Alien Murmuration’ sounds like exactly that, a scratchy granular alien language composed not of words but of coarse inflections of ugly sound. It roars and breathes fire, a vociferous mélange of aggression and confrontation. ‘Chthonic Echoes’ buries itself deep underground, reverberating bells and machine noise, a steampunk contrivance burrowing through earth and rock on some unknowable mission, hoovering up the detritus it removes and then excreting the same out its rear to fill the void it’s left behind. Following on we have ‘Skull Shining’, an exercise in mesmerising noise and voice loop, an ever-rolling and coiling collapse of concrete-mixer grinding noise and machine whine. This is like a scene from a disaster movie played on endless repeat.

More loops precede a gargantuan rattle as of a massive tracked vehicle, intent on pulverising civilisation into dust, reducing the history of the ages of man into nothing but rubble, and erasing the universe’s memory of us. Lastly, we get to ‘The Last City’, a low rumble, plucked strings, and a softly whining drone gradually building in strength and volume, a dusty memorial to a once-thriving city upon which death has now settled like a deadly blanket. Winds howl through empty streets, barrelling past buildings with smashed windows like gaping wounds, and half-demolished skyscrapers jutting up like broken teeth. Even so, the walls can tell stories, ghostly voices echoing endlessly to the air but no one will ever hear them.

Now, let’s wind back to the very start and take a look at the collaborative versions, beginning with ‘Colorless World’ again, but this time with the input of Black Mountain Transmitter aka JR Moore. It starts with a glitchy recording of broadcast music, before more glitchiness in the form of a subtle beat launches that crushing steamroller noise. This time it appears even heavier and blacker, heavy enough to take the earth out of its orbit around the sun. Scott E. Candey’s Gruntsplatter help out next on ‘Alien Murmuration’, and he makes those extraterrestrial scratchings of communication on the original sound like a buzzing hivemind, each member connected by a subtle ringing drone, and in the process imparting to it another level of separation from the human scale. Again gravity appears much stronger on this one, and the atmosphere incredibly dark and inimical to flesh.

Two projects make their appearances on ‘Chthonic Echoes’, James Keeler's dark ambient/noise project Wilt and Dutch outfit Gnaw Their Tongues, a couple of heavyweights indeed. Quiet subterranean murmurings greet our ears first, slowly getting louder, reminding one of vast chasms and caverns far below ground, where tiny blind creatures skitter and scrape. It’s a chilling atmosphere, far colder than it should be down there, but the winds are indeed frigid. There comes a point where the crunch and crash of bass frequencies collide and that’s when screamed vocals emerge forcefully out of the darkness. Perhaps this is the pain of the world being let out, a long anguished cry for the damage done. Steel Hook Prostheses are a firm favourite of mine, and they add their unique flavours to ‘Shining Skull’, an industrial machine/torture shop of begrimed sharp blades and circular saws, rusty axle grinders the size of a Caterpillar 797 mining truck’s wheel (including tyre), and 10,000 ton steam presses. Metal squeals against metal, chains rattle, compressors sound like jet engines, and flames fly in huge gouts. Flesh is scraped from bone, trampled bloodily into the concrete flooring, and organs are flung carelessly every which way.

‘Melting Towers’ sees Caulbearer teaming up with the death industrial artist The Vomit Arsonist (Andrew Grant), beginning with some powerful sub-bass pulsing rumbles that gradually morph into longer pulses, until it all evolves into a monolithic engine, a machine with no other purpose than to create death, to slice and dice, to bring pain and suffering, and to exsanguinate. It travels on wheels of iron, its roads paved with the bones of its previous victims, and its attendants revenants sewn together from chunks of raw flesh animated through galvanic electricity. It belches black smoke to the heavens, the plumes merging with the grey pall hanging overhead. For a finale, Caulbearer drafted Michael Page’s Fire In The Head, and it starts off elegantly, with those gentle plucked notes echoing off a low rumble and accompanied by a sustained bowed string-like note. It isn’t long though before a rhythm, as of heavy breathing, becomes apparent, and from there it builds up into a tsunami of unstoppable cacophony, a sheer wall of unbreakable noise, poised ready to overwhelm and deluge the city that has the misfortune to stand in its way. The waters will wash away everything not built to withstand its impetus, leaving behind twisted buildings, shattered streets, and only the ghosts of humanity.

Make no mistake, this is a BEAST of an album, and not just because of its special guest stars – the source materials had to exist before these acts could add their own touches, and they had to be of sufficient quality to stand up by themselves. And there is no doubt in my mind that they do: sketches they may be, the originals, in comparison to the ones added to, but strong enough in their own way to be able to tell stories and inspire imagery. This is an album with broad appeal, full of aesthetic nuance and well-drawn atmospheres, and covering a lot of ground. As an intro to Caulbearer it rewards the listener plentifully, and old fans will appreciate the extra dimensions added to it. Thoroughly recommended and highly enjoyable.

Available from here:


Psymon Marshall 2019.