This record was my first introduction to grindcore. Napalm Death were brutal and fast, and meticulously precise, and this record caught them at the beginning of the peak of their powers. Truly brutal listening.
Ben Rath is an experimental musician based out of Manchester, England, who specializes in dark, foreboding minimalist compositions which leave you feel unnerved while working on blog posts at three in the morning. He makes his recordings with the use of keyboards, piano, guitar and some slight effects. Really good listening.
Black Pearl deserves high praise for releasing this retrospective series on some of the wildest funk, psychedelic, beat and jazz records to come out of Turkey. The names aren’t famous, but damn it, they should be.
From Black Pearl’s Bandcamp site:
A wide selection of rare Turkish funk, jazz, beat and psychedelic music from the 1970s.
This is the 3rd issue of the groundbreaking Bosporus Bridges compilation series, started in 2005 with Vol. 1 and continued in 2011 with Vol. 2.
Why did it take so long for the release of Vol. 3? Because deep digging, deep selecting and our wish to serve you Turkish pop music of the highest order, simply takes its time. And it is worth doing so. According to the aspiration of the Bosporus Bridges series you will get extraordinary music, opening your mind and remapping your knowledge of Turkish music.
As Turkish pop music is a hybrid of Western and Eastern elements, it’s not just funk, jazz, beat and psychedelic music but each time a specific Turkish approach to a hybrid pop music. This incorporates Turkish language, instruments, melodies etc., all mixed with electric instruments, drums and sound effects of Western pop music.
Exclusively on vinyl we feature 3 tracks, that will be not available digitally of Figen Han with “Pisi Pisi”, Dönüşüm with “Taek-Won-Do” and Burhan Tonguç with “Du-Bi-Ba”.
Enjoy deep Turkish funk by Seyyal Taner, Süheyl Denizci, Cengiz Coskuner and Erkut Taçkın, Turkish jazz by the Burhan Tonguç Ritm Grubu and Figen Han, Turkish beat by Lili Ivanova, Ajda Pekkan and Fatoş Balkır, Turkish psychedelic by Semra Sine, Serter Bağcan and Harout Pamboukjian, and Turkish-Asian rock by Dönüşüm & Halit Kakınç.
High-Quality LP vinyl pressing with restored and remastered audio material of the original records. Comes in a wonderful, authentic and special seventies old-fashioned cover.
I have a good friend whom I’ve known since about 1993 who was devastated by the death of David Bowie. I felt awful hearing about that, but his passing didn’t quite hit me as hard as it did my friend. It may have been because there is about a ten-year difference in age. The experiences you have with certain musicians at a certain age end up becoming emblazoned onto your heart, and when that creator is taken from this world, the sting is truly painful.
Last night, I felt something terribly similar. The death of Mark Hollis at the age of 64 felt like a sucker-punch, especially after enjoying such a fine week with friends and students. I was a teenager when Mark started becoming famous, as his former band, Talk Talk, were not much to write home about. They had made a few great new wave albums, but were tainted with a name that probably reminded fans of even bigger groups like Duran Duran. Then something happened. By around 1986, they simply blossomed into something that I still can’t quite fathom, categorize or comprehend. The band released the album The Colour Of Spring. It was something more expressive than progressive rock, infinitely more challenging than new wave, and it had elements of jazz and ambient music, which I was just getting into at the time. They would out-do this effort by releasing The Spirit of Eden. I’ve heard a few friends say that this may be the foundation of post-rock. I can see why. Pure experimentation, but still structured enough to make the music pleasant.
The band would disintegrate, and each would go on to do interesting things, but I was working at a record shop in Los Angeles, the late, lamented Aron’s Records, when I came across the album which would change my listening forever. Mark Hollis had released his first solo album in 1998. I remember taking it upstairs and playing it on the CD player our boss had generously given the buyers (it was a habit of the ten different buyers we had in those days to torture each other with music, and it was a great place to develop a great musical foundation outside of my own safe listening space). I’m particularly indebted to Tomas Palermo, Ted Plank, Tony Ruck, the Salvadorian crew of hip-hop guys, Jun and John Liu for flinging vinyl and CDs around. They were far better teachers than they realized.
Back to the album. From the first piano chord, I was hooked. I had never heard anything to fragile before, musically. Everything was so sparse. The instrumentation was as stripped as it got, Mark’s voice as lonesome as it could be, but every word of the first song was imbued with a heat I had never felt before in any music outside of Joy Division’s swan song, Closer.
A sample of “The Colour Of Spring”:
Forget our fate
The peddler sings
Set up to sell my soul
I’ve lived a life for wealth to bring
And yet I’ll gaze
The colour of spring
Immerse in that one moment
Left in love with everything
Soar the bridges
That I burnt before
One song among us all
It is not a pop song by any stretch of the imagination, but a masterpiece of pop songwriting nonetheless.
The album reminded me of mellow jazz albums done by a fan of Karlheinz Stockhausen or Pierre Henry, very experimental, yet somehow, Mark was able to glue everything together just enough that the wings of this album didn’t collapse mid-flight.
The centerpiece of the album, A Life (1895 – 1915), was the first time I had heard an avant-garde memoir. From the Wikipedia article:
“A Life (1895 – 1915)”, which has been referred to as “the album’s epic centrepiece” refers to Roland Leighton (1895–1915), a British soldier and poet who was the fiancé of Vera Brittain at the time of his death in World War I. Hollis has stated about the song, “That was someone born before the turn of the century…and dying within one year of the First World War at a young age. It was based on Vera Brittain’s boyfriend. It’s the expectation that must have been in existence at the turn of the century, the patriotism that must’ve existed at the start of the war and the disillusionment that must’ve come immediately afterwards. It’s the very severe mood swings that fascinated me.” The song correspondingly contains a variety of styles, tempi, and instrumentations.
The whole album has been posted as a series of Youtube links. If your country blocks it, let me know, and we’ll find a work-around. It’s worth your time hearing, especially if you have some free hours in the late evening, with a vodka and lime and a pipe in hand.
Rest in peace, Mark, and thank you for providing the soundtrack to my third decade.
Radio Cobiana is THE main source for music from Guinea-Bissau. The above tracks are a sample of some of the marvelous music the station plays.
This is one of the most difficult pieces of music I’ve ever had to classify, as well as being a gorgeous release. Will “Quantic” Holland collaborates with Afro-Colombian chanteuse Nidia Góngora in an airy collection of danceable tunes and Colombian folk rhythms underpinned by Quantic’s typical fine production.
From Quantic’s Bandcamp page:
“They have combined to produce something magical” – THE GUARDIAN
The culmination of a creative partnership that has been sparking for the best part of a decade, ‘Curao’ is the full LP from world-renowned British producer Quantic and Colombian folklore singer Nidia Góngora. Out 12th May, the record brings a new and highly original interpretation of the unique, rich and mystical musical traditions of the Colombian Pacific Coast.
“Nidia has a very special story, and as a singer she embodies the spirit and ancestral treasures of her origin”, says Will “Quantic” Holland, of the singer who has lent her unique energy and talent to some of his most popular releases and live outfits. Considered one of the foremost artists of the typical marimba music of the South Pacific region, and a guardian of the oral tradition, Nidia Góngora fronts leading regional outfits including Grupo Canalon and plays a key role as a big sister and counsellor to younger groups. Now based in the city of Cali, Góngora was born into a musical family in the remote river village of Timbiquí, an Afro-Colombian community whose location and cultural contrasts provide endless inspiration.
Will “Quantic” Holland first became familiar with Góngora’s voice through the wall of his home in Cali, where he lived from 2007 for several years after visiting on a musical discovery mission and falling in love with the place. “My neighbour used to play a song from a Grupo Canalon CD on repeat”, he recalls. “From that moment, I realised how special Nidia’s voice was; then I got to know her compositions and lyrics, which are always incredibly beautiful.”
That magnetic voice and captivating songwriting combine with infectiously danceable beats and forward-thinking production on ‘Curao’, a collection of original tracks with the addition of two traditional pieces from the region’s rich songbook. Treating the stories and rhythms of Pacific music with utmost reverence, while forging a new and vital sound for today’s dancefloors, it reflects the distinctive yet diverse nature of the Pacific Coast itself – an area brimming with beauty and creativity but also shaded by conflict, affected by the work of mining companies, private militias and the drugs trade.
“You have to be very careful to keep a balance, so that this music will not lose its feeling and significance”, “but by performing songs from the indigenous and ancestral style, and recreating them through modern and dynamic sounds, I feel I can expose this musical proposition to a global space.” – Nidia Gongóra
It’s hard to believe this release was recorded 20 years ago, as it has a healthy freshness to the material. Former drummer of the new wave band Japan Steve Jansen collaborates with keyboardist Claudio Chianura and is ably supported by guitarist Roberto Zorzi and synth player Piero Chianura. The work is a collaboration where the quartet improvise to the Dziga Vertov film Man With A Movie Camera [German: Kinoapparatom], a classic of Soviet filmmaking.
In places, it sounds similar to Industrial noise; in others, like a more playful version of Rock-In-Opposition. It’s a solid release, though I wonder if there is live footage of this performance available.