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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Dust Volume 9, Number 4

Photo of Angel Olsen by Luke Rogers

Dust is everywhere these days, but that’s a good thing. April may be the cruelest month, but it’s also when the release calendar swings into full gear and local concert announcements proliferate. We’ve made it through the long dark void. It’s time for beers outside and portable speakers. What are we blasting? Oh, lots of things. Australian punks and Michigan rappers, German death metalists and French composers, piano deconstructers and freaking Arto Lindsay. This month’s contributors include Jennifer Kelly, Ray Garraty, Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Ian Mathers, Patrick Masterson and Jim Marks.

Blowers — Blown Again (Chaputa!/Spooky)

Blown Again LP by BLOWERS

“Wipe My Ass” materialized in my inbox on a slow day. It came all the way from Australia with blunt force scatological humor, and yeah, I clicked on the link. Why not? It’s dead brute simple, this song, starting with a girl (also the drummer) yelling out the title phrase, and picking up first a buzzsaw guitar lick and later, the somewhat wistful, surprisingly hooky chorus of “I just want somebody…to wipe my ass.” These songs are all raging ID and very little super-ego. “Shut the Fuck Up” is catchy as hell, in the vein of Jay Reatard’s late-career, alternative-universe hits, and “Let’s Age Disgracefully” aims a firehose of guitar nose straight at the speakers, so that you have to step back a little bit. Leonard Cohen, it’s not, but if you like giddy, joke-y, irrepressible garage punk from people who can barely play their instruments, well, prepare to get blown.

Jennifer Kelly

Cellow — Ghetto Takeover (Jugg$treet)

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There is literally no information on who this guy Cellow is, and this EP won’t change the situation. In a dozen of years we will be just saying “Oh, remember that dude that did a little tape with Rio Da Yung Og?” It looks like Cellow took a deal Rio was offering before he got locked up — to record an EP with an artist for $50k — but Ghetto Takeover didn’t surface until now. After 20 listens, hardly a line written by Cellow stays in your memory, possibly due to his total lack of charisma. Rio Da Yung Og completely steals the show here, on all the tracks he’s featured, and he’s in a full ignorance mode: “Fuck Obama and I ain't vote for Trump neither \ Stupid-ass white boys, Butthead and Beavis.” It’s the Flint MC who’s taking over Ghetto Takeover, not Cellow.

Ray Garraty

Ch’Ahom — Camazotz Cult (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Camazotz Cult by CH'AHOM

Ahead of a new LP from German black/death band Ch’Ahom, the sharp-eared freaks at Sentient Ruin Laboratories are releasing this compilation LP, and they’ve done us a solid. Camazotz Cult is as confounding and queasy as it is unpleasantly intense, precisely the sort of thing some of us look for in underground metal. What might possess a bunch of young German dudes to disappear into the mythos of a Pre-Columbian bat god, to the extent that they are compelled to form a band to write and record songs about it? This reviewer can’t shed any light on that—and likely the reasons should remain shrouded in dank, noisome darkness. If the denizens of TikTok and Telegram are alerted to the existence of the band, the ethno-purity police will show up to lodge their complaints: some will wring hands over cultural appropriation, others in black metal circles will bum out over the idea of Northern European kids digging on gods from the Global South. So goes our contemporary conjuncture. Meanwhile, songs like “Raid of the Tzitzimime” and “Noh Ek” churn and burn. To add to the cultural confusion, Ch’Ahom have covered a few tunes by Danish wackos Sadogoat, who went on to release more music under the even more inspired name Sadomator; Ch’Ahom’s rendition of “Female Goat Perversion” is as awful as you might expect, and it’s also pretty great. For sure, it’s the right soundtrack for 2023’s latest iteration of our global shitshow. Release the bat god, please.

Jonathan Shaw

Dippers — Looking for a Sphere (Goner/Tenth Court)

Looking for a Sphere by Dippers

The Melbourne garage punk rippers known as Thigh Master made two taut and scrappy full-lengths before ending their run. Now, a couple of years later, the two principals Matthew Ford and Innez Tulloch are back under a new name, Dippers, and a greatly altered sound. Looking for a Sphere, along with the single “Tightening the Tangles” make a case for fractious jangle but also psychedelic dreaming. Dippers do both. The single, out about a month ago, hews closer to the Thigh Master template with scratchy tunefulness, jabbing guitars and a noodle-y meander of keyboards. On the Sphere EP, however, even the relative bangers are slower, sweeter and edging into a gritty variety of twee. “Mazing,” the lead-off cut, is arch and witty like the Monochrome Set, jaggedly surreal like certain Pollard songs. It cuts and slashes and tootles in a sleepy-eyed way, in line with what Terry has been up to over the last several albums. “Drift Space” is even more stretched and blissed out, with its widely space guitar chords, its long shudders of tambourine and its languid psychedelic choruses (“Inwardly imploding, the pressure inside will not worry me, turned off the air, I floated out there, then turned off the screen.”) The two instrumental tracks are the surprise however, built of long expanding synthesizer tones and harpsichord like natterings; they extend in every limpid direction from a still center. But if Mikey Young can dabble in ambient electronics—and he can—then why not Dippers? Garage punk is so much more interesting when it brings in ideas from outside.

Jennifer Kelly

Bruno Duplant — Insondables Humeurs (Granny)

Insondables Humeurs by Bruno Duplant

Bruno Duplant made nine albums in 2022, so pardon me for not getting around to writing about this one until now. Mind you, my tardiness does not mean that you should not listen. This album is part of a recent series of longform pieces on which the French composer and occasional instrumentalist has taken on the full-time task of performance. Insondables Humeurs earns its title, which translates as Unfathomable Moods. Its two tracks loom and stretch, with long harmonium drones taking plenty of time to lure the listener into a state that feels at once enveloping and uneasy. Electronic treatments, piano notes, and arhythmic percussion intrude periodically, amping up the apprehension. This is the final installment of a trilogy of sonically disparate but similarly disposed efforts; one gets the feeling that Duplant is deeply concerned about the ongoing state of things. The resulting sounds cannot be denied.

Bill Meyer

Exploding Corpse Action — Interdimensional Annihilation: Complete Transmissions 1995-1997 (Armageddon)

Inter-Dimensional Annihilation: Complete Transmissions 1995-1997 by Exploding Corpse Action

The redistribution of heavy music’s extensive back-catalog of hyper-obscure, underground releases continues apace, and sometimes one wonders about the intent. Filling in untold histories, or filling hipster collectors’ record bins? Creating archival records, or “deluxe edition” records as pricey commodities? Interdimensional Annihilation: Complete Transmissions 1995-1997 is a newly marketed collection of the relatively slim output of Albany-based death metal band Exploding Corpse Action, and the record provides a good occasion for thinking on those questions. We’ll stipulate to the excellence of the band’s name, and there’s some fun to be had; tunes like “Light Speed Impact Crater” and “Robotic Surgery Malfunction” are endearingly demented. But do we really need two marginally different takes of “Decompression: Anal Prolapse” in the interest of a “complete” set of recordings? Do we really need this record in the first place, when a quick inspection of the latest sounds on Bandcamp yields any number of death-metal-related experiences imbued with the same sort of goofball depravity? History seems to have been indifferent to the band’s existence, and none of the participants in Exploding Corpse Action went on to make more subculturally significant music. Maybe if you live in Albany, you feel differently about the band’s relative importance, and in that case, I’m sorry — not about the band, but about Albany.

Jonathan Shaw

Grandbrothers — Late Reflections (City Slang)

Late Reflections by Grandbrothers

The concept behind the fourth album by Erol Sarp and Lukas Vogel — the follow-up to 2021’s All the Unknown — is an interesting one: these ten pieces all feature grand piano as their sole sound source, recorded at night in Cologne Cathedral when the building was closed to the public. As expected, there are plenty of moments of quiet, gently reverberating reflection, building into exultant crescendos. However, what’s most surprising — and perhaps most disappointing — is that the piano is often so heavily processed as to render it indistinguishable. When crunchy beats kick in on a track like “Infinite,” one can’t help but wonder why a live kit couldn’t have been substituted instead; it certainly would have sounded more natural and more in-keeping with the album’s sound palette. Nevertheless, it’s often engrossing to follow how the duo’s multi-part compositions unfold.

Tim Clarke

Arto Lindsay — Charivari (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)

Charivari (Black Cross Solo Sessions 7) by Arto Lindsay

Three years is not so long ago. That’s how long ago that locked-down improv fans discovered, during the first Quarantine Concerts on-line festival, that Arto Lindsay had a few things to learn about adjusting the rotation of his cell phone’s video camera. The experience of watching him with a 90 degrees tilt may have obscured what a swell thing he had going, but this album will set you straight. If, like this writer, you have sometimes felt that larger settings dilute Lindsay’s singular integration of guitar noise, samba sway, and social anxiety-stirring provocation, this unaccompanied setting is the neat shot you’ve been waiting for. While occasional loops trick you into thinking that the earth’s rhythms can be trusted, marvelously jagged chunks of guitar noise topple while Lindsay croons and gasps fragments that let you know that you just don’t know. The numerologically inclined should be aware that this album is volume seven of Corbett Vs. Dempsey’s Black Cross Solo Sessions, a series of solo statements that the label commissioned from locked down artists. There are eight in all, each encased in a glossy reproduction of Christopher Wool’s titular cross. Collect ‘em, trade ‘em, but keep your bubble gum sticks away from ‘em. Inspirational lyric: “Resistance yoga.”

Bill Meyer

Mute Duo — Migrant Flocks (American Dreams)

Migrant Flocks by Mute Duo

Chicago’s Mute Duo refer to their setup (Sam Wagster on pedal steel, Skyler Rowe on drums) as a “sandbox” and their play on Migrant Flocks bears that out. Whether on the flute-assisted (courtesy of Emma Hospelhorn), expansive centerpiece “The Ocean Door,” the harder-charging “Trust Lanes” and “Landmusik” (the latter featuring Doug McCombs and Andrew Scott Young), or the more ethereal ranges of “Moon in the Flood” and the closing “Bisrāma,” the duo refuses to be pigeonholed into what you might guess a pedal-steel-and-drums record might sound like. Some of this is technique (Wagster plays more conventionally guitar-like registers at times, Rowe mostly sticks with brushes), but it’s more the varied emotional and sonic palette they wield so astutely. At times the sound touches on anyone from later-period Earth to “Mogwai Fear Satan” to the Dirty Three, but always with a quality that marks Mute Duo as their own thing, and worth watching.

Ian Mathers

Paal Nilssen-Love Circus — Pairs of Three (PNL)

Pairs of Three by Paal Nilssen-Love Circus

The Norwegian drummer and bandleader Paal Nilssen-Love has lived a pretty international life. That has influenced his choice of associates — he’s played with musicians from the USA, Japan, Ethiopia, Brazil and all around Europe — and the distances he has traveled in order to play with them. This all changed when COVID came around, and he found himself confined within his home country’s borders, but improvisation is just another way of saying you’re good at solving problems. The members of Nilsen-Love’s Circus, who convened to record this album in the summer of 2021, all live in Scandinavia, but between them they can dial up any corner of the world in a second. The music changes by the second, jumping from accordion-led chanson to agit-prop punk to timbral improv, while singer Juliana Venter similarly leaps from tongue to tongue, with digressions into back of the throat, hackle-raising extended techniques. This music is a world unto itself, full of possibility.

Bill Meyer

Nondi_ — Flood City Trax (Planet Mu)

Flood City Trax by Nondi_

Best I can find, Tatiana Triplin has been releasing music since 2014, but Flood City Trax is her first away from the netlabel she runs, HRR, as well as her first for Planet Mu (not a bad place to greet a broader audience). The years of juke, footwork and techno intake make themselves felt across this album, which trips all over itself rhythms-wise but, more than anything to me, recalls the dreamily rough, lower-fidelity beats of Actress. Triplin says this album is inspired by the moods of her hometown of Johnstown, Penn., a place (in)famous for its flooding, and suggesting the music doesn’t carry with it some of that water weight, conscious or otherwise, would be misleading. More tangible than vaporwave but less fully submerged than Drexciya, Nondi_’s most prominent, cohesive album statement is also one of the year’s most excitingly pleasant surprises in the realm of electronic music.

Patrick Masterson

Angel Olsen — Forever Means EP (Jagjaguwar)

Forever Means by Angel Olsen

For all of the ambition and willingness to push further stylistically that Angel Olsen has exhibited in the last half a decade, it’s clear she’s never lost sight of her greatest strengths: deftly sensitive songwriting and that otherworldly voice. Dipping her toes into the swollen decadence of All Mirrors or the ‘80s synthpop cosplay of Aisles remain diversions from her more traveled roads beaten with a guitar and a mic that can handle her pipes. The Olsen I fell in love with was Burn Your Fire for No Witness, and she seems to have come back around on that more restrained swagger lately with the All Mirrors reworkings Whole New Mess, last year’s excellent, settling Big Time and, now, leftovers from those sessions in the form of Forever Means. The sax and organ solos that run out of gas on “Nothing’s Free” and the afterthought of a trumpet on “Time Bandits” feel like failed flourishes, so you can see why she dropped them, but the title track is as good as she gets and none of these four tracks is obviously lacking for quality. No matter how much change she goes through — and heaven knows she’s had plenty of that recently — her gifts shine brightest when there’s less to hide them behind. The center continues to hold.

Patrick Masterson

ShaunMusiq, Ftears & Xduppy — “Bhebha (Feat. Myztro, Mellow & Sleazy, QuayR Musiq & Matuteboy)” (Kgaday)

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The reigning sound of South Africa has been amapiano for several years now, and understandably so: Its relaxed rhythmic pace, airy melodies and “the pianos” from which the genre derives its name allow for plenty of creative space. One name taking recent advantage of the style is ShaunMusiq, who’s had a small but solid stream of singles since 2021’s SkrrThang II and here heads up a crew remixing a song that’s been blowing out cheap car subs and irritating parents around Pretoria since 2005. It won’t surprise you to learn this blew up via TikTok and that’s probably the impetus for this official video, which belatedly arrives a month out from the single’s release, but what might surprise you is how heavy that bass rolls as the three protagonists pass sleepy bars off to one another in the Bantu Tsonga language. Heavier still is just how committed this video is: From the dancers to the decked out Toyota Hiace, nothing’s left on the table. Get in, loser: We’re going to whatever party puts this on loudest.

Patrick Masterson

Silver Moth — Black Bay (Bella Union)

Black Bay by Silver Moth

The band Silver Moth is a pandemic-era coming together of Stuart Braithwaite (Mogwai) and his wife, singer-songwriter Elisabeth Elektra; singer-songwriter Evi Vine, plus her guitarist Steven Hill and multi-instrumentalist Ben Roberts; Abrasive Trees guitarist Andrew Rochford; and Ash Babb, drummer in Burning House and Academy of the Sun. The seven musicians convened at Black Bay studio on the Isle of Lewis in Scotland for a short stint of writing and recording, and these six songs are the result. Given it was all pulled together in the studio, the coherence is impressive, especially on opener “Henry,” which sounds like Mogwai fronted by Beth Gibbons, and “Mother Tongue,” which has the airy, exploratory feel of Meg Baird. The second half of the record is dominated by the 15-minute “Hello Doom” (a very Mogwai song title), which sounds exactly as you might imagine, searing fuzz guitar and all. Though occasionally lacking in its own distinct personality, there’s definitely sufficient chemistry on Black Bay for further Silver Moth music if the band has the time and inclination.

Tim Clarke

Skooly — “08 Wayne” (The Real U)

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Lil Wayne recently passed through Chicago on tour, and reports from the evening have it that he was rapping songs here he hadn’t touched in years (if ever). For hip-hop fans who’ve struggled with the genre’s post-Drake decentralization, it was a nice reminder of simpler times when it was easy to tell who was on top — and who knows, maybe Weezy’s “I’m Me” tour was the impetus for Kazarion Fowler’s latest single, too. The former Rich Kidz member would’ve turned 14 in 2008, so while more wizened heads might have it that Wayne’s peak was a year or two earlier, Skooly’s of the age to speak with authority that in high school hallways, there was no doubting Wayne’s imperial phase was in full effect by the year in question. Skooly doesn’t look to ape that level of language-busting dexterity, instead opting for a confident sing-song lilt with an irresistible chorus that wraps on “Cold propane / This shit is dope cocaine / I feel like ‘08 Wayne” while Buddah Bless tinkles his way across the ivories and adds just a touch of funked up synthesizer for color. In every respect, this is one to feel good about.

Patrick Masterson

Sounding Society — Homecoming Medley or Society Into Sound (Gotta Let It Out)

HOMECOMING MEDLEY or SOCIETY INTO SOUND by SOUNDING SOCIETY

Man, will somebody please burp the matrix? There’s a glitch in the circuits. How else might one explain this anomaly? The cover, which is proudly proclaimed to be AI-generated, looks like the glossy cover of a 1980s-vintage sci-fi paperback. And the sounds? At first, the music sounds like a gear-inclusive (i.e., digital and analog) retro take on New Age-tinged keyboard soundtrackery. But as the music progresses, some non-ironic improvisational chops steer the music on a less predictable, if still essentially groovy, course. Several explorational interludes and one video game parlor breakdown later, you’re left wondering just what went down. Explanation — drummer-bandleader Tomo Jacobson spends much of his time in more straight-faced, jazz-oriented settings. It would seem that you can take the jazz man out of the club, but you can’t take the creative restlessness out of his heart.

Bill Meyer

Erik Sowa — Cedar Lake Recordings Vol. 1 (Sliptoh)

Cedar Lake Recordings Vol .1 by Erik Sowa

Chicagoans will recognize Eric Sowa as a drummer who pops up in both roots and improv contexts, to make these recordings, he headed to an off-the-grid location in northern Minnesota. No electricity? No problem, he just humped a car battery to power the recording gear, along with his drums, stringed instruments and bellows-driven organ. All that trouble would be for naught if it didn’t help capture the vibe, but Sowa has gotten it right. One supposes that it took considerable concentration to self-record a virtual ensemble that feels so naturally loose. Each tune represents a modest amount of rustic headspace, and then makes way for the next.

Bill Meyer

Dick Stusso — S.P. (Hardly Art)

S.P. by Dick Stusso

Dick Stusso distorts 1970s guitar rock through a prism, twisting blues-rock riffs into haunted litanies. His big hollowed out baritone floats elegantly through post-Waits-ian junk shop arrangements, posing, preening, italicizing every line. You can hear faint sirens through the piano bar chords of “Self Reflection (Deep).” The title screams sarcasm, but Stusso plays it relatively straight. It’s a AOR ballad turning slightly green at the edges, blown out with ghostly “woo-woo” counterparts and ending with a curdled R&B solo vocal that sounds like Merry Clayton but broken and harsh. I should mention that that’s Grace Cooper of the Sandwitches, one of the reigning queens of West Coast lofi and a long-time collaborator with Stusso. His father, the jazz saxophonist Marc Russo (Stusso’s real name is Nic Russo), makes an appearance in “Garbagedump #1,” a sloppy-drunk cakewalk treading unsteadily on second-hand-shop boogie. These 18 songs are brief but vividly imagined, throwing up film noir sound-stage vistas that are convincing unless you look at them from the side.

Jennifer Kelly

Harry Taussig — 80 (Tompkins Square)

80 by Harry Taussig

Harry Taussig is Takoma school royalty. His first recordings appeared on John Fahey’s celebrated Takoma Park record label, and his most recent have been for Tompkins Square, beginning with tracks on the seminal Imaginational Anthem series. His small catalog includes three releases over the past 10 years, the name of this one commemorating his 80th birthday. The compositions, played unaccompanied and without overdubbing on six- and 12-string acoustic guitar and five-string banjo, tend to bear titles suggestive of classical music (which Taussig cites as a primary influence in the liner notes), such as “Etude for in G Major #7.” Most have an improvisational feel, though comparison of alternate takes indicates that they are constructed with care. All three instruments sound open-tuned, as the five-string banjo usually is and as is common in the Takoma school style. Taussig has never been flashy, and his deliberate and at times hesitant approach has helped him to age somewhat more gracefully as a player than Fahey did. There is a craggy beauty to 80 well represented by the brooding photograph on the cover. Here’s hoping an 85 and a 90 will be forthcoming.

Jim Marks

Unlearn and MP Shaw—Secret Listener (Farallon)

Secret Listener by Unlearn & MP Shaw

Bright rounded bloops of synthetic sound bob in gentle syncopation, in the uncanny valley’s muted version of funk. Two Seattle-born, SF-based electronic artists—Matthew Shaw and James Key—made this disc during the lockdown casting dystopic dread into billow-y, unearthly shadows on the wall. Thus, their “Dusting the Astral Plane” grooves in a well-cushioned, unconfrontational way; picture an actual robot doing the robot, but slowly and bathed in magic hour twilight. Two “TLR” cuts serve as whooshing, enveloping meditation breaks, the soft clarity of keyboards surging then subsuming into ambient hiss. “Article One” lists woozily on blotty smudges of synth sound, the sharp click of rhythm clattering through. All of these cuts drift and loom, the dance beats wrapped in gauzy, indeterminant tone-washes. It’s more of a pencil drumming, space-staring, transcendental vibe than anything hedonistic or physical, but very nice all the same.

Jennifer Kelly

Youniss — White Space (Viernulvier)

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So what exactly distinguishes a very short album from an EP? Formal considerations like number of tracks don’t really work, and ultimately it’s just going to come down to the feel of the thing. In White Space’s case, the second album from Antwerp-based Youniss holds together strongly enough as a significant statement that neither the 20-minute runtime nor the almost beat tape-esque patchwork of these ten tracks are drawbacks. Whether going full aggro (particularly on the redlined, snapped-off “Arms Bent Back”), more atmospheric on the instrumentals “Negative Space” and “Walad,” or fully embracing a melancholy of dislocation on “SO SLOW” and “Sinking,” White Space packs a lot of sonic texture and grappling with serious issues (race, perspective, artistry, context) in a brief space. All that and it’ll consistently get your head nodding? That’s an album.

Ian Mathers

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