If you hear the first track, “Shitty Karma of Swatting Flies” and progressively feel like you are moving towards the edge of a madness you aren’t very familiar with, you have officially stumbled upon the point. INTERROSPECTIVE is a media project created by San Francisco’s own bran(…)pos that isn’t afraid to overwhelm, if it conveys a certain picture or feeling. The opening track goes from maddeningly chaotic to occasionally, for a lack of a better-fitting term, dreamy, but only if by dreamy, you are thinking of something more…surreal. With high-pitched buzzing noises also contain sounds of clanking metal and clanking plastic. And that is just around the 8-minute mark.
The description still feels tamer compared to the 27-minute experience, but all there is to say is that the descent into the hell that the track creates doesn’t end there. It only gets more fascinating as you go.
“Wartime Care and Maintenance for D.Muscipula” (D standing for “Dionaea”, as in Venus Fly Trap”) is a much slower crawl to the madness, as over grinding cellos, the song sounds like what were to happen is the blues were exoskeletal, and as a result of such a thing, in the four minutes mark, warped and melted cello and vocals liquid in each and every direction possible for the remaining duration. Occasional slimey vocals dance with blipping synths during the 11:30 mark.
In his description, INTERROSPECTIVE is a “series of sonic performance pieces meant as meditations on festering emotional states we humans are blessed and cursed with”. Whether it be a feeling meant to be coax out of its listener or if—as this was improvisational— this was more meant to be a largely therapeutic exercise, either way, the moment you press play, it will be the hardest thing to simply look away or turn it off. Therein lies the power. Just like your own inner thoughts and emotions, no matter how horrid, you’ll always be tempted to let your curiosity get the better of you.
By nature, electronic music is focused upon the sound of tomorrow. Genres on genres, styles upon styles, very rarely do people feel the need to want to move backwards, when they can find ways to build on past innovation. Unfortunately, doing this has resulted in music sometimes coming off a bit… serious? Introverted maybe?
What made artists like Aphex Twin so appealing is his ability to take both innovative tracks and find time to also fuck around and troll willing listeners with his music as well. Russell Woods may not be the most innovative person taking on Detroit techno today, but Michigander shows he isn’t above adding a bit of conversation to his beats.
Beginning with “Prelude”, Woods honors producing duo Drexciya with a funky banger that fizzes and percolates. Afterwards, Woods break out the skittering brain dance bomb “A Terrible Hip Hop Album”, a track that reveals itself as a punchline/goof on musical pretense. The premise of “Don’t even Stunt” tackles a more serious yet no less chuckle-worthy topic concerning payday launders, but the conversations sampled thankfully don’t take away from the music and its abilities.
Michigander only has four songs, but it is just enough to show you exactly what Russell Woods can add to the listening experience. What he may have left to say on his next album? We will have to see.
Today we premiere a music video by the emerging experimental sonic force that is Mind Mirage,a creation of solo musician and producer Ana Cuevas. “Snuffed Gaslight” is a visual representation supporting Mind Mirage’s forthcoming debut album, Chaos Carousel, releasing March 1, 2024 on Psychic Eye Records. In the video, Mind Mirage seems to navigate the interface between the ominous and sinister outer world that can be found in the most toxic of relationships, and its counterbalance in the potential calmness of the inner world that is driven by one’s true nature and nature itself. Directed by Ricky Marler (known for their mind-bending Bedroom Witch videos, amongst countless other projects), “Snuffed Gaslight” has Mind Mirage spinning amongst the shadows of tall redwood trees and yet grounded upon the earth. A masked Mind Mirage repeatedly flickers in and out of frame, as if suggesting that the authentic self is a powerful glitch resisting entrapment within a projected system. Like the video for “Snuffed Gaslight,” Chaos Carousel seems to sonically ebb and flow fluidly through many emotions, throughout the album and within each individual song. Here, we talk with Mind Mirage about both the video and her forthcoming LP.
What was your inspiration for the “Snuffed Gaslight” video, and how was it similar or different from the inspiration of the song itself?
I was very drawn to show this Ohlone Land’s enchantment through the rejuvenating energy of the redwoods, and I feel that the transformative theme of the song is reflected in this video’s translation.
How did it feel to move the “Snuffed Gaslight” concept from the sonic to the visual stage, and did working with it in a new medium change your perception of the song?
It was really exciting and inspirational, especially as my first music video ever. The process was like breathing new life into the song. I realized how much subtle but intentional contrast was woven into the song, which left me feeling even more triumphant about its lyrical resolve.
Regarding Chaos as this album, it seems like part of my music path was to pour my all into the Muse before the gateways of inner transcendence and external movement were opened to me.
Musically, Chaos Carousel takes us from tense reflectiveness to anger and confusion to tranquility and hope, starting with the first track, Mutt Alchemy. What went into the arrangement of these songs?
At its core this work was made out of the necessity to extract an immense amount of trauma that had become pretty debilitating. My personal growth through ancestral divination and plant medicine the past few years kept leading me back to music being not only my main form of expression, but also vital to recovering from much psyche damage, so I followed that inner-song.
The title Chaos Carousel implies a fearful and fast-moving atmosphere of confusion, but the album offers many instances of solace and a meditative energy. How does meditation and slow movement fit into the theme of chaos?
It’s very affirming to be told that the album’s vibe offers solace; I’ve had a bit of people tell me Mind Mirage is sonically quite meditative, which I find interesting because when writing Chaos Carousel I’d only meditated a few times in my life — Serendipitously, just a few days after I finished mixing Chaos Carousel, my reiki guide at the time suggested I start daily zen meditation to begin repairing my neurotransmitters from CPTSD – I’d tried several therapists and lots of psychiatric medications prior, but zen meditation’s focus on just the breath was the wellness tool that catalyzed my nervous system’s long journey back to homeostasis. After nearly a year of regular zen meditation, last Spring I transitioned into daily Transcendental Meditation (TM), which alleviated a bulk of chronic stress as well as ignited a well of inner visions. Ten months into my TM practice, I segued into my new hypnosis interest thanks to the webinars of Dan Barrett, a fantastic songwriter and compelling performer. Before integrating those mind practices, I’d already embraced the catharsis that can come with dancing slowly, first to others’ music, and eventually embedding instinctive slow movements into my performances. With the theme of chaos itself, I think that learning to live slower and also finding what puts you in a flow-state, even if not making art or doing traditional meditation, will help you emotionally survive and maybe even thrive in this reality where chaos is innate. Regarding Chaos as this album, it seems like part of my music path was to pour my all into the Muse before the gateways of inner transcendence and external movement were opened to me.
You’ve written music under many monikers, settling in the last few years with Mind Mirage and this work. What led you in this direction musically?
Though I’ve had a rock band before and still listen to a bit of rock, I’ve also adored a good bit of dark moody electronic music since my late teens, thus I’m committed to honoring where I’m at when the songstress touch passes through. I still write on guitar, and not to give too much away – future Mind Mirage will stoke that fire.
If there was anything you’d hope listeners would take away from Chaos Carousel, what would it be?
To accept that shadows, literally and metaphorically, are a part of us – to learn to play with them.
YAMA UBA are no strangers to breaking down walls. Through the strings connecting their previous musical efforts to the seminal album, Silhouettes (releasing January 23, 2024 on Psychic Eye Records and Ratskin Records), the US-based duo of Akiko and Winter has slowly and methodically chiseled a sonic and conceptual world all their own.
Through music videos and selective live performances culminating with a Fall 2023 Japan tour, the duo has been steadily building momentum, but all at their own pace and by their own rules. Silhouettes is the culmination of years of refining a vision over time, yet it feels natural and timeless in the most refreshing way possible. Decaycast team sits down with the duo to discuss their new album Silhouettes and their single “Facade,” which is out today! Listen below, and pre-order the album today.
What ground does Silhouettes cover, musically and conceptually?
Akiko: The album didn’t start out with any particular concept, but just because of the timeframe of our writing — five years, as opposed to one-and-a-half or two years in my previous work, we ended up with something that represented that passage of time in our own lives. I think, more universally, the album also speaks to the long-term process of personal evolution. These songs individually are all about the sometimes-difficult moments that give us an opportunity for reflection, and lead to self-discovery. As a whole, I’d say the album is about personal transformation. It’s about how for that to happen, you have to be willing to shed false or outdated beliefs, confront aspects of your life and self that aren’t fun to look at, and give voice to the parts of yourself that have been silenced.
Winter: Silhouettes covers a lot of experiences and expressions of transforming and transmuting energies. It’s a representation of becoming many different forms of self. It’s one the first recordings of me debuting my vocals and saxophone in a full album. It’s an album we both had full creative freedom with, and we were able to expand musically as much as we felt we needed to. We both went through many changes and transformations throughout this album, and this album portrays and reflects that.
Your latest single is called “Facade.” What is it about?
Winter: “Facade” is about tearing down the walls of false illusion, dismantling any and all power over us that keeps us from being our truest and best selves. It’s a commemoration and celebration of dismantling old structures of belief from a worldwide perspective, within ourselves and outside ourselves, taking down all forms of oppression and injustice.
Akiko: I also think of “Facade” as being about dismantling power and tearing down the illusion of hierarchy. I’ve always had that anarchistic instinct to destroy systemic power structures in the larger world, but this song is about the moment you realize how insidiously those power dynamics are replicated in your own life. It’s about no longer making it your sole responsibility to make a relationship work, and finding the courage to admit that your only way forward is out – out of an abusive situation, out of toxic cycles, out of a social environment that seeks to pigeon-hole, define, or take advantage of you, and out of any structure that is held up by holding you down. It’s about finally breaking free from oppressive power dynamics, and then watching those who held you down fall apart around you. That’s when you can recognize that the abuse you tolerated, to some degree, required your own permission. Even if you get mad at yourself for that, acknowledging and taking responsibility for it becomes its own form of freedom.
We might not individually have the power to stop the most advanced military in history, but we do have the ability to state that the institutional narratives are outright lies, and to simply refuse to be brainwashed… The crack in the facade, and the tumbling of the tower, starts with each of us.
In “Facade,” there is a long refrain of “It’s just a kiss from a narcissist” throughout the outro. What are you referring to?
Akiko: The song is about breaking free of abuse, and that line speaks to how it feels when you realize how cheap and effortless the scraps of recognition or affection are that you receive in uneven relationships. When we sing it, it reminds me how many times I would have to repeat something like that to myself, sometimes for years, to build up the resolve to finally escape an abusive relationship. I think that, as well as the exhilaration of finding your freedom, is something any abuse survivor can understand.
We don’t limit ourselves with our sound and we embrace fully going anywhere we want to go. We utilize anything and everything we can, constantly experimenting and approaching our music in a way that feels exciting.
I also think of those lines in “Facade” as I witness global events, where you can see the dynamic of the narcissistic abuser and the abused in imperialism and in capitalism. It feels very personal to witness, for example, the US and Israeli government committing genocide in realtime, right in front of us. In this case, the US and Israeli governments play the role of the narcissist, who only sees others as tools to get what they want, and not as human beings. In colonization, we see the same tactics used in abusive personal relationships: systemic gaslighting, outright lying, abuse of social and institutional power, enforced isolation of the victim, humiliation and dehumanization, leading finally to physical harm or murder. We see the colonizer’s attacks on culture, history and identity in tandem with attacks on the colonized people’s humanity and on life itself. It’s very similar to how personal attacks, criticism and belittling are a part of a larger campaign for total control in abusive personal relationships.
We might not individually have the power to stop the world’s most advanced military in history, but we do have the ability to state that institutional narratives are outright lies, and to simply refuse to be brainwashed. We can say, “We see you, the richest and most elite people in the world, using all the world’s wealth without our consent, to kill the poorest and the most powerless. You employ weapons of mass destruction to purposely target and kill children, poets, doctors, and teachers, and then you claim a moral superiority.” That has to happen for any other change to take place, and it’s something we’ll always have the power to do. The crack in the facade, and the tumbling of the tower, starts within each of us.
There is a noticeable difference in the sound of Yama Uba vs either of your previous projects, Ötzi or Mystic Priestess. How does the difference in sound palette affect your compositions?
Winter: The difference is there are no bounds in Yama Uba. We don’t limit ourselves with our sound and we embrace fully going anywhere we want to go. We utilize anything and everything we can, constantly experimenting and approaching our music in a way that feels exciting. We are able to break out of our comfort zone to explore and express ourselves in every way possible. One song can portray the energy of tearing down walls and setting fire to everything, while another is about looking at something from a new perspective, and rebuilding everything in a new way.
Akiko: I think because we have less defined roles in Yama Uba than in a traditional band structure, we can start purely from the intentional and emotional root of a song. We can play improvisationally and build off that if we want to, but it’s not required to have a bunch of people jam together until something clicks, and that alone makes a huge difference. It’s more like, “I’m feeling a song about this subject. Here are the lyrics, or here is this guitar line” – and then if we’re both feeling it, we build a world around that emotion, supporting it with whatever seems appropriate. Of course I’m unlikely to take up guitar or saxophone in this band, and Winter is unlikely to take up bass or synth drum programming, but we can have all or none of those instruments at our disposal. There’s no sense that we have to, for example, write a line so the synth player has something to play. Every sound is purposeful and exists in service to the idea, and that is definitely freeing. I think it’s really advanced us both as artists.
Winter’s vocals artfully emanate raw emotion on the tracks “Facade,” “Isolation” and “Claustrophobia.” What led to Winter’s singing on these particular tracks?
Winter: I have always been shown great support from Akiko to sing more. At the time we wrote these songs, we felt it was fitting to capture the raw feeling and emotion in my vocals to signify the atmosphere of those songs. It’s a representation of how overcoming something is not always comforting or pretty. It’s about finding beauty and appreciation in the raw expression of releasing, and to find strength and power within that vulnerability. It’s about truly appreciating and embracing the rawness, no matter what it looks or feels like, because it is the most genuine form of expression.
What inspires you as musicians?
Winter: I grew up listening to a lot of different styles of music. Everything from jazz, pop, punk and heavy metal. I draw inspiration from anywhere and everywhere. I am inspired by any form of expression that portrays a message and deeper meaning.
Akiko: I’ve always enjoyed all kinds of modern music, but in the past few years I’ve become very inspired by traditional musical forms from Japan. I’m learning several forms of traditional music and dancing arts, and by that I mean going back to 800 years ago! I also meditate and do somatic therapies for my chronic illness, which encourages me to sing and to learn scales from non-Western cultures. I’ve been playing music long enough that it’s become inseparable from life itself, so I view music and life in a very holistic way at this point, and as a sort of spiritual path. Everything in my life influences and inspires my music, and my music influences and inspires everything in the rest of my life.
What’s next for Yama Uba?
Akiko: The next release after Silhouettes drops is a 2-CD compilation I curated on my label, Psychic Eye Records, that jointly benefits the people of Gaza and the unhoused community of Oakland, California, where I live. That compilation is called The Ancient Wall, and drops in early February. It has over 40 of my favorite bands, so I’m really excited to get that out there. The Yama Uba song on the compilation is actually “Facade,” so I’d encourage anyone reading this to buy the compilation, which will probably sell out pretty fast!
Then, we’ll have a new music video coming out that I’ve worked on harder than any video in my life, so I’ll be proud of it just being out there and existing. Other than that, I’m trying to learn to not always worry about what’s next, and just enjoy the present. I’ve taken a step back from the sometimes manic-feeling cycle of music production and promotion, and I’m just enjoying this quiet time before Spring. Nothing is fully scheduled yet, but Yama Uba will definitely be touring parts of the US, and is likely to tour Italy, in 2024. Japan was incredibly fun to tour in 2023, so we might go back there in 2024, and maybe to Australia. We’re interested in so many things and so many places that I try to just stay flexible, and be open to the opportunities to come to us.
A.S. Valentino’s new single, “Let Me See Your Sin,” is a slinking exploration of kink and redemption and is the first track from Valentino’s forthcoming debut album, Summoningon Psychic Eye Records. In “Let Me See Your Sin,” synthpop glides effortlessly into darkwave, with occasional industrial elements grinding against each other, all underscoring lyrics that swell with pain, resolve and love. Describing his music as “trans darkwave,” A.S. Valentino expands in the interview below on the almost inseparable links between his trans identity and his music. In “Let Me See Your Sin” and throughout the album as a whole, A.S. Valentino’s Summoning invokes enough power and mystery to set him apart as a gatecrasher to watch in 2024.
What is your newest single, ‘Let Me See Your Sin,’ about?
A.S. Valentino: “Let Me See Your Sin” is about the redemptive power of BDSM and kink to expel or reclaim shame around sexuality and desire. I was raised Catholic, and I am very attracted to the overlap between religious imagery and ritual and the power of ritual in BDSM and D/s relationships. Particularly in Catholicism, it’s so kinky, gory, sadistic and masochistic all at once. And of course, I enjoy the blasphemy and perversion as well, that’s an added bonus. Catholicism is all about shame, guilt, and the confession of sins for repentance, to be wiped clean again, to be accepted into heaven. In the world of “Let Me See Your Sin,” sinners are encouraged to present their lust, sins and impurity like holy sacraments to be amplified, bringing rapture and redemption through the ritual of BDSM.
How do you describe your music generally?
I would describe my music as informed by darkwave, coldwave, industrial, synth pop, and metal at times, but filtered through a specifically trans and queer lens. The music on Summoning vacillates between creepy and sexy, frenetic and crushing, but some songs are pretty melodic. I like to describe it offhandedly as a soundtrack of sleaze, synths, and sin.
What inspires you to create the kind of music that you make?
I am drawn to dark music, to the interplay between dissonance and melody.
I started this project about the same time as I started medically transitioning. I think my music channels the anxiety of being transgender in a world that hates and fears us. You can hear my voice changing over the course of the Dancing with Dysphoria EP to Summoning, my debut album. Rather than hide it, I leaned more heavily into the androgynous, gravelly sound of my voice. It’s very vulnerable to record a record while your voice is actively changing. I also leaned more into how much of the world sees me, as monstrous, shapeshifting, that which subverts and perverts the natural order.
On the one hand, a lot of my music dwells in the darkness in life – oppression (“Gatekeeper,” “Circle of Dissonance”), death and mortality (“Bodies,” “The Attic”). And in other ways, I explore what is life-affirming for me – kink as spirituality, trans self-determination, the power in being a monster, of being a threat to the order of society.
“I think the synthesizer is inherently sort of a trans instrument – it can emulate and embody new sounds, despite how it looks, and is infinite in its expression.” — A.S. Valentino
The title of your upcoming album is Summoning. What is this album summoning?
The track “The Summoning” is about returning to what is natural and authentic. It starts with the moon calling, asking you to shed your identity, your clothes, name and money and instead bring your “claws, hair and fang.”
I think for me the album is a summoning of what is natural and authentic in me that others may see as unnatural. I believe that people are often most authentic when they are children before they have completed their indoctrination and domestication into society. Part of my adult life has been dissecting this process of indoctrination, shedding the parts that aren’t actually me. It’s also the first full-length I’ve put out since medically transitioning and the first one under A.S. Valentino, so it’s a couple of firsts all in one.
There’s also a ton of sounds from the natural world on here even though they sound unnatural. Wolves, bats, hyenas, vultures, wind, stuff like that. I love pairing natural sounds with unnatural, synthesized sounds, which is why there’s also a lot of live, improvised percussion samples on the record. I don’t own many proper percussion instruments, however, so I usually improvise with different items and textures around my house. I love going on a sound hunt, looking for what would add atmosphere or excitement to a track.
I think the record also summons the duality of lightness and darkness in myself and in life – the horror and the beauty, the dissonance and the melody, and the anxiety in between. The song “Bodies” deals a lot with that. How the body can be a site for miracles, but also horror, and the way bodies are controlled, perceived, and policed by society at large – particularly trans bodies, Black and Brown bodies, and so on.
What is your musical background, and how did you decide to focus your output into this sonic sphere?
I started out in punk, indie rock, and metal bands, and then fell in love with drum machines and synthesizers and the ability to work alone and write whole songs and control all the parts. I think the synthesizer is inherently sort of a trans instrument – it can emulate and embody new sounds, despite how it looks, and is infinite in its expression.
I spent over a decade writing electronic pop music. I liked the challenge of trying to write hooks and earworms. However, my original creative impulses were towards darker music. I’ve struggled with depression throughout my life, so darkwave is a natural way to channel that part of myself. Songwriting is often a process of chewing and digesting for me. However, you can still hear some of the pop boy come through on “Summoning”.
The song “Butch Dyke” is a sort of industrial ode to butches of the world, which is an interesting flip from the standard “sexy femme” trope and implied (hetero)sexuality of most of industrial music. I have to ask: Which came first in writing this song, the lyrics, or the music? And what was your thought process as you worked on the track?
This is an interesting question. I would say the concept came first. I wanted to write a tribute to my butch ancestors, and in particular, a love song to the first butch I ever saw.
I grew up in a very rural, isolated area and didn’t see my first d*ke until I was 17. Me and my best friend had fake IDs and we snuck into a bar and that was where I saw my first butch, shooting pool, short cropped hair in a white T-shirt. I’d like to say I had a revelatory moment and was struck with awe, but honestly, I felt a reflex of repulsion and fear. What I didn’t know at the time is that I was seeing a part of myself that I wasn’t ready to accept.
But also, I think that’s a common reaction to butch and transmasculine people in general. Our existence is a threat to many. It’s taken many years to accept and love my butchness and transness, and I wrote this song as a sort of love song, a reclamation, and an apology to that first butch I ever saw and to all of my butch and trans ancestors, many of which have disappeared into history, their names and stories erased.
It’s also interesting because I feel like in the queer community there is a narrative that the “butches are disappearing” because more people are choosing to pursue medical transition. I guess I don’t see that as mutually exclusive. I am butch and I am trans masculine and I am forever grateful to my butch ancestors who made it possible for me to exist in this form.
In terms of the music, I wanted it to sound intimidating, confrontational, but also sexy, with a lot of swagger. I actually wrote several different drafts and this is the one that made it on the record.
What artists do you think have influenced your music?
Honestly, I find this one of the hardest questions to answer because I have a voracious appetite for music. I listen to so many genres and pull inspiration from so much. Just today, I listened to modal jazz, house, industrial hip-hop, doom metal. I guess in my genre I would say big influences are Siouxsie and the Banshees, HEALTH, She Past Away, Paradox Obscur, Author & Punisher, artists like that. I’m sure I’m missing a ton. But in terms of an artist I’ve probably listened to more than any other artist – I’d have to say Prince.
Will you be touring in 2024? If so, where do you foresee going?
In 2024, I plan to do a West Coast tour and play cities from Seattle down to the Bay Area, maybe down to LA as well.
On Ka’a Davis and Bushmeat Sound System – Dollar Bill Set the World On Fire
Each album that Thomas Bushmeat Stanley (aka Bushmeat Sound System) releases is like a more afrofuturistic take on the “jazz body” theory. Whether it be tackling trance music or letting a bit of noise blast through the speakers, the interpretation concerning whether or not to imagine a much more structured or less cacophonous world or let the mangledness be a soundtrack to said heightened cacophony here in America is up to you. Dollar Bill Set the World on Fire is Bushmeat on synths while On Kaa’a Davis assists with improvised electric guitar. Together, they create an almost electronic/psychedelic take on spiritual jazz. As easy as it is to take it as an audio peek into a world that threatens to get even more dystopic, more maddening with time. The mention in the bio of Sun Ra’s “Alter Destiny” also suggests the music to be a sound of a whole newly constructed universe.
To further assist with this album is Thomas Stanley’s interview of Sun Ra named “Alter Destiny– A Survivor’s Guide”, where the two terms are further broken down by Sun Ra. “You have to use an equation and use the vice future, the alter future. You know, in the church they use the altar, a-l-t-a-r. You got to use a-l-t-e-r, alter; that means change. In other words, you substitute a future for the one you got. The one you’ve got ain’t no good,” says Sun Ra. So, the aim may also be to imagine a whole new, much safer world, but to get there you have to travel out of the more frustrating one.
“A Side of Heaven that Can’t Be Seen From the Ground” unfolds like a flower with a smell as shar pas it is strong. Sounds swirl, beep, skronk like a person who uses rock n’ roll as a refuge to combat the discomfort off a dirty atmosphere. “Black Swans Coming Home to Roost” is where the dust settles and the clanging noise of static may as well be the sound of a clock ticking faster than its normal speed. The sound of the future as we have always imagined it glitching before our eyes and malfunctioning in front of you. The cacophony continues, and even comes to a head, with the more explosive and epic title track. The second epic “A World Without Any White People” knocks and whirrs like an electro track from the 80s spinning out of control with only the sound of faint radio playing synths to guide the journey. The moment you finally landed, you have distorted bells, blinking synth brass to greet those on board.
A bouillabaisse of distorted noise, ambient, free jazz and rock, Dollar Bill Set the World on Fire can be taken as a soundtrack to the revolution, if you want it to be or it can be an album that sounds like what today’s madness sounds like. Either way, with a sense of imagination and focus, Dollar Bill sounds like a slightly distorted vision of a tomorrow you may or may not ever see. –mynameisblueskye
In the vast and ever-evolving landscape of experimental music, there are artists who push the boundaries of sonic exploration, challenging our preconceived notions of music itself. “Signs And Signals” ,” the latest offering from the enigmatic artist known simply as Department Of Works , is a remarkable testament to the boundless possibilities of musical experimentation. Blending elements of psychedelia, intricate beats, ethereal synthesizers, and distant vocals, this album takes listeners on a mesmerizing journey through uncharted sonic territories.
The album starts with distant, almost ghostly vocals that seem to float in the air, setting an otherworldly tone. As the song progresses, layers of synthesizers and subtle beats gradually envelop the listener, creating a sense of anticipation and intrigue. It’s a captivating start that draws you in, inviting you to embark on this sonic voyage.
“Signs and Signals” immerses the listener in a surreal, kaleidoscopic realm of sound. The psychedelic influences are immediately apparent in the swirling, hypnotic melodies and the use of unconventional instruments. The beats here are intricate and unpredictable, creating a sense of constant flux. The distant vocals, though unintelligible, add an ethereal quality that enhances the dreamlike atmosphere. , crafting lush, nostalgic melodies that evoke a sense of melancholic beauty. The distant vocals are used sparingly, enhancing the introspective mood. This album as a whole showcases versatility of a mood and sonic palette, demonstrating an ability to create both frenetic but distant energy and serene moments of introspection within the same album.s ability to craft otherworldly soundscapes while maintaining a sense of emotional resonance is a testament to their artistic prowess. “Signs and Signals” invites you to surrender to its hypnotic spell and embark on a psychedelic journey that will linger in your mind long after the final notes have faded into the ether.
Short blurb from the label:
The Department of Works album ‘Signs & Signals’ is an extension of previous Glove of Bones & Cousin Silas collaborations that also includes musical parts and contributions from Hans Castrup (whose interventions are profound and skilled), izzyhereyet and his colleagues Ursula, Emma & Elliot from RWCMD. Finally, the masked and anonymous ‘Fawkes’, who prompted the creation of the GoB ‘Fawkes Mask’ album. More about that below.
DECAYCAST Reviews: SHARKIFACE “Climax In A Process” (No Part Of It, 2023)
Bay area “static witch”Sharkiface aka Angela Edwards shocks the underworld with her stunning new full length album “Climax In A Process”on the once Chicago- based No Part Of It imprint. Through many collaborative projects such as Pigs In The Ground, Tarantism, Crack W.A.R., DemonFace, Secretarial Pool amongst many others. Much like her live performances, “Climan In A Process” is dark, haunting, ethereal and throbbing saences. These works hold sharp, nuanced pillars of tension, like tightroping along razor blades into the foggy night, just outside the casting eye of a killer. Sharkiface employs an unknown array of unique, handmade, customized loopers, synths and samplers which sew webs of haunting vocals, human voice modulations and distortions, slow throbbing synthesizers, and distant strings and percussion.
Hell bells, back masking, throbbing pulses of invisible shards of glass slice your feet and ears as you glide backwards into a terrifying and unknown world. Shrieks of ritualized chaos peak and flow throughout a barren, cold psychological architecture. Pulling from Pauline Oleveros, Meredith Monk, Diamanda Galas, Throbbing Gristle, Italian Horror, Russolo and Mario Bava excavations, On “Climax In A Process” Edwards has crafted and refined a sonic world all her own in all it’s bloodsoaked, chaotic, tense walls of whispers, an absolutely terrifying sonic form and space. Absolutely essential listening.
So, before I go ahead and take jle this album,I need you to take some time, occupy a nice, quiet room, sit in a nice, comfortable chair with some warm tea or a bottle of water, put on some of your best headphones, turn your headset down just a teensy bit,fire it up, and…
WHO LIKES GABBER MUSIC?!?!
Straight from Deathbomb Arc, whose label has not only tackled GABBER as a genre before (search “gabbertree”), but also willfully tackled bands who have courted controversy from JPEGMAFIA to a band named Child Pornography (don’t ask), is a producer/member of anarchist collective THX1312. Their kind of music not only delivers some of the most humorous use of samples and the most overwhelming curbstomping bass drums known to man (compare it to that of CX KiDTRONiK), but has a very specific and consistent concept to the music: to inspire confidence in those harmed by the police and inspire fear in the same cop city men of the hour.
If you are into more industrial works or punk rock, them first single “Fire (what’s orange and looks good on cops)” should catch your attention with its video being a complete burn of the #BlueLivesMatter flag, but the whole album is a bonkers DJ set/plunderphonics mixtape dedicated to inspiring vitriolic action towards police. Some tracks are considered remixes of songs found on a future 7″. Amongst them the funk-heavy “Destroy it Yourself” and anxious sugar high track named “Take a Bite Via Crime”. If you found more feet-shuffling albums dedicated to the fantasy of executing law enforcement, you probably listened to their last project.
Before we dive into the album, let’s address this pesky comparison that Algiers have been getting lately: TV On the Radio. If you have been listening to music made by black people or if you are a black person who makes music that is stubbornly uncategorizable, receiving said comparisons will be inevitable. This is a comparison that the band savagely smirked at on their track “Can the Sub-Bass Speak?” But if you will, I can be able to help explain why the egregious comparison to such a band may not be as farfetched and random as it seems.
Like TVOTR, Algiers can kick out an electrifying jam when they need to, and when it happens, you can feel the passion through your body and soul. But they are not above also singing with a tired, angry world-weariness of negro spirituals long ago. And often when they sing, it is of anything they can use to either survive or battle the inevitable decline of our nation. They also gleefully mix genres when they sing tracks of despair, love, strength and hope. The difference between Algiers and TVOTR, remains this: neither Tunde Adebimpe or Kyp Malone can spit a smooth 16 like Fisher, tho.
On “73%”, Franklin Fisher spits as if he has been waiting for a long minute to shit talk the abyss and as he does it, he makes damn sure he isn’t alone. Zack de la Rocha gets his turn to grit his teeth on “Irreversible Damage” while the notoriously anonymous billy woods and horrorcore visionary Backxwash each trade red-eyes bars with Fisher on the first single “Bite Back” wrapping up the hell felt during the space between now and the 2020 protest/coronavirus plague. Throughout Algiers’ discography, it always sounded like the band wants more than justice, but a sense of revenge. It sounded like looking for resolve and not receiving one. Shook is the first album where Fisher no longer sounds alone.
If you are one of those who enjoyed the There is No Year bonus “Void”, you will be glad to know Fisher has not lost that wild fervor, as he spits bile towards clueless Caucasian people with supposed POC friends on the cover of “A Good Man”. But amidst the sneering at the world around him, Fisher also takes time to zero into his own world and heal his heart in the process. After going through a breakup, “I Can’t Stand It!” tackles his depression after the breakup with the assistance of Future Islands’ frontman Samuel T. Herring. Where past songs tackle the desolate scene that began with an Atlanta train station announcement (“Everybody Shatter” with Southern poet Big Rube), “Momentary” is that glimpse of light ending the album with a poem/meditation on death with Lee Bains III (of Lee Bains III and the Glory Fires) at the podium.
I neglected to mention the continued genre-agnostic attitude on this record, but all that needs to be said is that the album takes genres ranging from dub to jazz to garage rock to electronica to hip hop to gospel and soul and manages to weave them all in the project without sounding any bit out of place. As a result, the album feels constructed with the ear of a musical auteur. It was created to sound less like just a disc with songs on it, and more like a soundtrack to a collection of feelings and moments at one time. It’s the sound of coming to grips with everything that has happened.
Calling Shook a record of community would feel reductive and too focused on the red herring, but if the artists didn’t also know what it is to kick against the gates of hell, and choose to help rage against it, too, there is no telling whether or not it would have worked. It’s easier to say that if you felt an energetic lull on There Is No Year, Shook will sooner put that worry to bed than it would that pesky comparison they have been receiving. – mynameisblueskye
D E C A Y C A S T Magazine 