sunn o))) – Pyroclasts and Life Metal

pyroclasts

life metal

Now then, you know the sign of really, really good artists? They can release more than one really, really good album in a year.

Just saying.

Did you know ‘Sesquipedalian’ basically means really long word? I love that the English language contains this sort of nonsense!

Here’s an interesting post, not at all related to music, but very much related to living well.

And, taking that rhizomatic theme to heart, I might start recommending books as well, for the readers amongst you. You know who you are. You’re the people who sit there in a cafe when a person comes up to you and says, ‘well, well, looks like we got ourselves a reader.’

This posts recommendation is The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers. Proper brilliant book, it is. I’ve read many, many brilliant fiction books this year, so many that I can’t choose a favourite. But this is right up there.

 

 

Abronia – The Whole of Each Eye

abronia2

I reckon I was Spanish, or at least mediterranean, in a previous life (totally a thing). That period of an afternoon between 1ish and 4ish is just not me at my best. It’s just coming up to 4pm now and I’m beginning to perk up a bit. Do you know how hard it is to stay awake and look at spreadsheets at the same time in normal circumstances? Well, what about when you should be having a siesta? What’s worse, I think I picked the wrong time to suggest that we Brits might want to consider some more European levels of humanity in our working lives…

None of which has anything to do with the music at hand. The music at hand is by someone who’s been here before. They’re just as good this time, if not more so.

Verstärker -Aktivität

verstarker

In order to ignore the woes of the cricket for, ooh, some seconds, let’s type a random paragraph that bears no relation to the almost indescribable music that this post is bringing to your attention.

Of course, using the word ‘indescribable’ is in fact a description of sorts, albeit a meaningless one. Much like most music reviews (/snark).

1000 monkeys at a typewriter, etc. Dancing about architecture and all that.

Having said that, one of my posts that was filled with non-sequiturs when I was going through that phase of copying stuff out of my ramblings document was quoted on the release of that artists next release on his Bandcamp page by his record company. Now, to post that album I feel obliged to find another bunch of such ramblings. Takes my mind off the cricket, I suppose (all out for 67! Fucking woeful!)

Naujawanan Baidar – Volume 1

Naujawanan Baidar

Wile I’m on the Middle east / western rock fusion thing, here’s another one for you that I discovered yesterday as a side effect of someone saying they’ve got volume 2 upcoming.

I don’t usually post the things when the complete album isn’t available for listening because I’ve made the point before that only putting a couple of tracks up for preview is a dead business model that is irrelevant in an age of blooody Spotify and their ilk. However, this one has most of the tracks available for listening, and they are so damn good.

I understand that these recordings are kind of a side effect of the main project which will eventually yield an upcoming album. My appetite is whetted but my breath isn’t held. Because I don’t hold my breath. Stupid thing to do.

Culto al Qondor – Electricidad

culto el qondor

I just noted the time and the second day of the Ashes is about to start, plus my tea break is probably up now, so I really should just get on with it.

Funny sport, cricket. More of a game, really, but then people have actually died doing it. Does that make it a sport? I mean, people possibly die during games of chess, too, if they drag on long enough.  Would that make it a sport? Do mayflies play chess?

Or is the risk of dying not enough to make something a sport? I should just look in a dictionary and see if the definition of sport is something along the lines of ‘a leisure activity that contains risk of death.’ After all, this would then rule out politics, war, commuting, etc from being considered sports.

But then, there are people who think that the entire ‘life’ thing is just a game (usually rich people who don’t value other human beings very much) – what if they’re right? Ugghh. And with that I’m off to see if England collapse as predictably as they have been doing recently in tests.

Combo Chimbita – Ahomale

ahomale

Because I don’t know how to begin describing this album, I’m instead going to write about the book I’m re-reading at the moment, The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester. Bester is amongst my favourite authors ever, even though I’ve only read 4 novels by him (he didn’t do many more than that). The sheer scale of invention, the pace of his stories, the utter imagination on display – I’ve not read his match in those regards. In many ways, he was the true Godfather of the whole cyberpunk thing, so it is fitting that the next book I have in the queue is the Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson, a book I haven’t read before but I have read Snow Crash by him and that is really, really good.

Using the creative fusion that inspired Alfred Bester as an analogy for Combo Chimbita’s latest album Ahomale is not actually the non-sequitur you may think it is. The name comes from a spirit that singer Carolina Oliveros says accompanies them during their sessions, which is also not as crazy as some people may think it sounds. I have one too, and I call it El-Ronus Mariachi, though I don’t plan to name an album that in any future.

 

Fontän – Fontän

fontan

The surgeon burst, just as he was getting to the good bit. Damn, he thought, damn, what a waste of a good bit. So he set about finding the bits and sewing them back together, but this was a time ensuing process, so once he was re-established, he found that he was no longer a surgeon as he knew it, and the task facing him now was almost entirely structural, something alien to a worker of shambola which he now knew he was to be. Give me a needle and dread, he asked, give me the needle, but the needle was possessed, it was moving, whirring, spinwatting and slabbing. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the structure, something made for itself, conceived for itself, executed for political reasons. And people say I’m a bit odd. Well, wouldn’t you be? But the surgeon, why do we always forget the surgeon? I can remove that lump, he said, or at least, I could, back when I knew what it was. No need, these things are brought on by anger, don’t you know, anger and frustration, and the removal of these ills often effects a cure, but you need to journey and to see, it’s a very strange experience, you often are not sure whether or not you had it, though the memory is vivid enough. I can dig that, replied the surgeon, I must admit this is all a bit weird for me, have you ever pieced yourself back together using only a memory of a subjective prior being? Yes. Yes. Yes. Every fucking day. Wakefulness is what gives me purpose, but, by god, it comes at a price, and I’m not sure what’s left in the bank. I have to save some for the son, though I, the father, have a somewhat privilege, and I get to use it, more than I did, especially now I’m beginning to know where to find more of it. The thing is sustainability. Yes, I know it’s a trendy buzzword, and for that I apologise, I dislike having to use words too, but have you ever tried communicating concepts without their context? Context is, and I think I may have said this before, everything. Everything is context. So, do I get better, asked the surgeon. Yes. But only if you want to. Find your purpose and you will automatically. Ignore your purpose and it becomes harder.

Free the computer within!

Idiomatic. My style is idiomatic. That does NOT mean I’m automatically an idiot. Probably.