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August 30, 2006

Stuff wot I got sent

(This entry has had a re-edit owing to a severe case of oeuf-sur-le-visage.)

In a year in which I've bitterly complained about the reduction in horizons for music there has been a considerable amount of good stuff to listen to. It's almost as though auteurs thrive in those times when a central drift, the absence of which I'm lamenting, is not apparent. We've had notable long-playing wax from Ghostface Killah, Matmos, Hot Chip, Scritti, Scott, Various, Johnny Dark, Villalobos, Luciano, Burial, Lily Allen, Devandra Banhart and The Arctic Monkeys, but they've all been distinguished by their distance from each-other, working apart in different scenes. It's been a year for the Neo-Rockist Pop picker.

It's been a good year for re-issues as well. Floating my boat have been the two exquisitely packaged Music Box records, fully-endorsed and taken directly from Ron Hardy's stash of reel-to-reels, great stuff on the Trunk label, the second No-Wave Sampler on Soul Jazz (hold tight for Argabright's Vol.3), the Broadcast collection of rarities and Martin's "Roots of Dubstep" compilation.

There have been other interesting records as well, and I just happened to have been sent them in my capacity as hob-knobbing blogger. I get tied-up in knots over the promotional stuff I recieve, and let me assure you this is the merest fraction of it. I do listen to everything, but I'm super-conscious about being co-opted or steered (making me the publicist's worst nightmare) so rest assured if I say it's interesting I believe it to be.**


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Ike Yard: 1980-1982 Collected

Massive respect to Dan at Acute for making this stuff available once more. I suppose I was a bit-player in the story of the reissue of this material a fact which I find pretty blimmin exciting. Given that the Ike Yard stuff is so spectacularly moribund and bleak, frothing up with enthusiasm about it seems like a direly misplaced reaction. Yet froth I do, even when I could be accused of already having said quite enough on the subject. My feelings about Ike Yard in a nutshell? This was the real No Wave. I get the argument about No Wave desecrating Rock by mimicking it, but had Lunch and Chance jacked into JA dub and NDW they'd have been far more menacing and threatening to the corpus rockisticus. Also I'd like to go on the record to say that New Order quite obviously copped Argabright's moves. This is an essential purchase for 2006.


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Tazartes: Check Point Charlie

Morlu's reissue of Ghedalia Tazartes's thrillingly obtuse 1990 record splices in two recently recorded tracks. It is fair, I think, to say CPC is not quite as madly-errant as "Diasporas" "Transports" and "Une Eclipse Totale de Soleil" all classics, but given that Tazartes discography over the past thirty years only amounts to these four and 1997's "Voyage A L'Ombre" well you'd probably ought to check it out. Anyway if you like Tazartes it's all gravy. The drum-machine/accordian/mumbling bits here are brilliant.....


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The Beauty Room

Ha! I've always kept faith in Kirk Degiorgio and this utterly bizarre Soft Rock mini-opus sees my stock soar. Yunnuh if it's like okay to use a metaphor borrowed from finance around all you pseudo-commie cunts? I'm gonna fall back on the references game just because this a record you really need to get a handle on and this may be the best way. Here goes: Bee Gees with the tiniest flava of Van Der Graf Generator (honestly!), Nazz, CSN, Donald Fagen and a whole heap of Steely Dan, 10cc, Sergio Mendes "Togetherness", that hinterland between Chicago/Peter Cetera and Soft Soul with commercial ambition aka Withers/Womack/Earth, Wind and Fire, also nuff British klassik loser-MOR with soul-boy ambitions ie Level 42. Suffice to say to make a record like this is a stroke of genius, especially when it's done without even the slightest irony and real class. The chutzpah of the man!


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Grizzly Bear: Yellow House

This is nice enough I guess in a breezy Van-Dyke-Parkian/Feelies-Good-Earth sort of way. If there's one record this year that it seems people are desperate for me to like, to tow the line on, it must be this one. I'll admit that kinda made me stick my donkey hooves in the dirt. But it is nice and an improvement on Grizzly Bear's last stuff which man like Derek Walmsley very kindly sent me last year. I think there's some elliptical connection to Animal Collective here, though I can't quite remember what it is, something to do with the producer or summat. Anyway if I'm wrong who gives a fuck anyway? It's a poorly-researched, badly-punctuated weblog and I reserve the right not to read the press info sheets and searching Google for information just bores the shit out of me.

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* Outdoor sleeve photos taken in my local park which has been redesigned by my neighbor and acquaintance Peter Saville!
** I'm still eagerly awaiting the completed Focus Groop's LP dropping and Xylitol's latest offering.

August 21, 2006

The Green Man 2006

I went to The Green Man Festival over the weekend. The line-up was, to be honest, pretty unremarkable. I just wanted to go to scarf up some excellent food, check out the beautiful countryside and sleep in the van. The festival itself is problematic in loads of ways, most obviously because it is so bloody "civilised", so comfortably comfortable. Most of the people in attendance were in their thirties or forties. There were no pile-driving bpms, no fires made from plastic cider bottles, no proper travelers in squatting out of converted lorries like I remember from festivals I'd been to in the past, no dogs on strings, no day-glo-attired freaks rushing on bad amphetamines, hardly any gross drunkenness.

I thought I'd miss all that more than I did but I was too busy enjoying not being kept up all night by jabbering teds, loos which weren't caked with shit, the aforementioned nosh and the peaceful and unassumingly friendly air of folks. Of the set of festie characters: goths in fancy dress, screw-face pikeys, studded-leather-jacket-clad trad punks, and righteous, drunkenly pontificating students I only had to tolerate the latter (though technically speaking she wasn't a student...)

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The Main Stage

The first thing I caught was the last third of Donovan's set. The hits bit. God Donovan is such an eedjut! If you haven't seen him being interviewed on telly, well you've been spared I guess. He has the most absurd, fey, supercilious manner. He almost seems to revel in his own plummy ridiculousness, in the middle of "Hurdy Gurdy Man" breaking into a spoken word skit about his time in Rishikesh with "Four Beatles, A Beach Boy and Mia Farrow". It was (still cringing) one of the most embarrassing things I've ever witnessed. It's almost as though he was trying, by force of character and tenaciousness to his idiot-savant pose, to break through his own bullshit to some transcendental post-societal mores, to some new progressive trope for talking and walking. Let me assure you it wasn't happening for him. But only a fool would diss "Hurdy Gurdy Man" and as for "Season of the Witch" and "Mellow Yellow" we-e-e-l they're rather lovely. Even if his Crown Prince of UK Folk shtick is wrong-headed I really enjoyed seeing him.

That night the DJ Tent was absolutely kicking, courtesy of the brilliant Gareth Cherrystone. Gareth is the veritable boondog, the king of the library breaks bods. Gareth's obscurely-sourced grooves actually emote and connect. He was tearing the house down with these unfeasibly funky hard rock tunes. The only one I recognised being Sabbath's "War Pigs", lord that (brum) drum and bass backing is phenomenal. Other tracks I could only fumble at identifying: a Dylan-meets-New-Orleans hoodoo rock number called "Me and Mr.Horner" something which sounded exactly like The Rolling Stones title vaguely suggested "Smiling Faces" (could have been The Undisputed Truth?). I wish to god I had a tape of his set. Flashos and I speculated about what other tunes he could have spun on a World tip: Quella Vecchia Locanda's "Un Villaggio, un'Illusione" and Gilbert Gil's "Aquele Abraco" tunes which might have really set the fox amongst the chickens.

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John Renbourn

John Renbourn's set the following evening was also magnificent. In his early seventies, Renbourn (UK folk stalwart, Pentangle member) busted some fantastic moves. His acoustic guitar sparked like a mountain brook. Raining, ranging and ringing. Renbourn was hugely charming, curmudgeonly, tender. His oeuvre revealed a journeyman's enthusiasm for all manners of music: blues, shanties, hymns, calpysos, bluesgrass all digested with his critical ear but presented so casually within the frame of "here's something an old boy taught me". The crowd adored him like an errant grandfather, loved his stories like the one he told about his neighbor in Scotland. Renbourn: "The weather has been lovely these past few weeks Angus!" Farmer Angus: "Ay, but we'll pay for it..."

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...in the rain

There was a glut of disappointing music. Lots of the sort of bands who get saddled with the epithet "Really Good Live Bands", Levellers-a-alike who were plain atrocious. Plenty of worthy but dull things like the woeful Jose Gonzales. This guy sounds bored to sobs. Bored with himself, his own voice and with his leaden guitar work (like pylon cables to John Renbourn's proverbial country stream). Jose's music sounds similar lots of things: Bill Withers, Arthur Russell, Nick Drake circa Pink Moon all with with a dose of flamenco. It's a unique enough fusion but lacks any intensity from Gonzales himself. Reports that he hates performing at festivals only compound the image I have of him as a reluctant (and thus undeserving!) star.

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Steve Reid and Kieran Hebden

Something that snuck up on me was Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid. Marcus at Dissensus told me their collaboration was worth checking out and he was not wrong. There's an unusual empathy these two have with each-other, separated as they are by a gulf of years. Their quasi-harmolodic pile-up of heavy synth fx and martial, often Hard Bop-esque drumming is bracing like a storm in the mountains. Hebden, who I've never had much time for, only because he seems like a nice middle-class boy like myself, has acquired something like a midi-patch virtuosity wringing violent abruptly-conjoured stabs from his array of powerbook, mixer and key-pad. Reid, on the other hand, a veteran of the peerless Strata-East stable really sweated and pounded, heavy riddim shaking his tiny wirey frame as he rolled out Liebezeit-esque tom-tom salvos*, delicate hi-hat filigrees and positively thunderous kick-drum. These cats jammed! And the crowd (amazingly) seemed to lap up this near-improv sonic white-storm. Old head that I am the highlight had to be Hebden's almost unexpected hijacking of Rhythm is Rhythm's ambient mix of "Strings of Life", I say almost unexpected because it sort of made explicit the connection running from the Strata East cosmic heavyweights through Defunkt, James Blood Ulmer, Jamaaladeen Tacuma into Detroit Techno and beyond.

In the way of things it might have been that my most cherished musical memory of the weekend was leaving The Green Man behind, setting off up across the Black Mountains in the van to visit an old friend (dare I say hermit?) high in the peaks in his wild hill farm to Led Zeppelin III. Weaving through impossibly beautiful scenery to the tune of "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp".

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*Note the back-of-Ege-Bamyasi quality of my photo ;-)

August 17, 2006

Instant Karma Chameleon

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I've always liked Boy George so I come not here to gloat. My, this man's career in the spotlight has been tumultuous! Even since the spectacular fireworks of Culture Club and his very publicly denounced Heroin habit we've had a number of George O'Dowds, the George who slipped into the Acid House slipstream and gave us the More Protein label and MC Kinky, the comfortable, suave, middle-aged man ensconced in his palatial home off Hampstead Heath and finally the New York-based, slightly-deranged, gonzoid individual behind a Broadway flop, the bizarre investigation into a misplaced call to the police (shades of mental instability) and subsequent photo-call street sweeping.

I can't help but wish George, for his own sake, had pushed the pause button five or six years before and didn't go to the States. I know Culture Club were massive over there but that was in the nascent days of MTV, at the height of New Pop and probably the last time British Music made a sizable impact in the USA. As it seems everyone but George knew, the mid-eighties backlash against the supposedly quasi-homosexual values which his era of pop embodied was irrevocable and total.

Even more than a band like REM whose earthy, heterosexual-masculine* Byrds-revisionism came to define the underground (you could even argue the SST school was subsumed within its vision), that Bruce Springsteen encapsulated this return to "real" values. When I see George being made to sweep the gutters of Manhattan I flash on both his failure to understand that America will always seek to punish him for leading it aesthetically astray and also on those early publicity shots of Springsteen walking the streets** of his hood Asbury Park, New Jersey.

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* Ironic in the light of Michael Stipe's sexuality perhaps?
** Notice the guy stooping in the background.....

August 12, 2006

Jerry on the wheels of steel

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I'm an animator, though I don't often get to flex my skills with characters. I'm working on that. Somebody once asked me whether I was down with Disney or Warner Brothers. Without even a moments hesitation, Warners, though Shere Khan in the Jungle book you can't knock that!

I picked up these excellent Tom and Jerry DVDs for my babies and I've been getting as much pleasure as them from them as Lulu and Sam have. This scene from "Puss N'Toots" (1942) is definitely WOEBOT material.

Download it here. You'll need the latest version of QuickTime.

August 11, 2006

Original Desmond Leslie Vinyl

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This just in from Gwen at iueke who appears to have recently restocked. Apparently Leslie hand-painted each copy.

August 10, 2006

Horizontal or Vertical?

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I know I've been really skeptical about Dubstep, Martin and Steve must be sick to death of my moaning, but in the past couple of days the output of the DMZ label has been socking my rocks. I have listened to a man-sized share of Dubstep in the past, I don't take a deliberately pugilistic standpoint just for kicks, mine has never been an ill-informed perspective; but nothing with the exception of the tiniest fragments of the music have ever really got me going.

It's like back in the day when I was spliff-toting Jungle evangelist, anything whatsoever within the form, anything with rolling amen breaks at all, I thought was brilliant. The friend who I was living with hated jungle, he used to attend those awful TIP parties where a brand of very electronic Goa Trance ruled the day. Our mutual friend Simon Posford aka Hallucinogen was the ruling lord of the scene. I just thought it was a striktly Public School affair, for LSD-deranged trust-fund kids only, and I was really disparaging about it even as I had to endure my friends mixtapes every night. I got dragged along to one of their raves once, sat screwing my face up in the corner.

The only trance music I could tolerate was by this, I think German outfit, called Kox Box. Really amazing stuff. My friend had to concede that this was indeed, probably, the best thing the scene had to offer. He on the other hand was only really struck by Ruffige Cru's "Terminator", and I guess it had to hand it to him right back...

I don't know why it's taken me so long to discover the DMZ label? Until recently I've had a microscopic Dubstep collection on vinyl: The first Rephlex Grime LP, Kode 9's "Kingstown", Scream's "Midnight Request Line", Martin Clark's "Roots of Dubstep" LP, some stuff that Skull Disco sent me, and the Burial CD. That was it. Small but perfectly formed. But then I started stumbling across this Loefah and Digital Mystikz stuff. I don't like all of it, my favourites are Loefah's "Horror Show", Coki's "Mood Dub", Digital Mystikz "Neverland/Stuck", Loefah's "Goat Stare/Root" and his latest "Rufage/Mud". But that's quite a lot isn't it? Totally eclipsing the amount I previously owned.

I heard "Mud" when I went out with kek-w and I really liked it, though completely gave up the idea of ever being able to identify it. Such a lopsided rhythm and a really unusual feel for space. Unfortunately the rest of the night left me pretty cold, actually colder and colder until boredom set in. People have told me the DMZ night is better, but it's a bit late for all that now isn't it? The vibe probably isn't what it was.

If you'll tolerate an outsider's perspective I'll tell you what I think about Dubstep. It's caught between two "rhythmic pleasure tropes", on the one hand there's the satisfaction inherent in repetition. This is obviously something that the Rhythm and Sound posse excel in, them and Steve Reich. The repetition is lulling and narcotic. On the other hand, a vestige of Two-Step, it's locked into the vertical drama of funk. The problem being that in terms of pleasure-centre rapture ne'er the twain do meet*. The music can't be vertical and autobahn-motorik-horizontal. Therefore the best of this music, and the quality of the DMZ label's music has slowly improved, has in time made a pact with the infinite.

From what I understand the DMZ crew (that's Coki, Mala -together Digital Mystikz- and Loefah), came from slightly outside the scene. I suspect from the Aba-shanti Digital Steppers part of the world. Their tryst with Dub-proper has them keyed into the value of horizontal music. It's funny cos I've always remarked how Dubstep feels empty to me, but this doesn't matter in horizontal music, it's not an issue, vacuity is actually an asset. Furthermore the presence of song-form devices like chorus/bridge/intro only clog up a good riddim. From what I've heard though it doesn't seem like anyone else has a handle on how to create those fascinating, trickily-poised rhythmic patterns that lope inexorably forward like an unstoppable mechanical elephant. From what Gutter played me only the geezer Bounty Hunter can match the DMZ stuff.

Buy DMZ mp3s here...

*Detroit Techno also had the same issues with vertical and horizontal rhythm which it best resolved through rhythmic density (something like Rhythm is Rhythm's "The Beginning" or texturally in the barren timbres of "The Art of Stalking").

** To anyone left in the world who doesn't know by now....

August 06, 2006

A Pre-History of British Electronic Music

Recently I remarked how little British Electronic music there had been before 1989. I know the Basic Channel boys in Berlin threw away all their old records at the dawn of Acid but I think the growth of British electronic music in those years was maybe more startling. Of course there were the divine brace of Electro-Punk singles which Simon Reynolds highlights in RIUASA and their progeny EBM (via Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire) and Electro-Pop (via The Human League) but I can never see either strand as having a huge cultural impact, they seem peripheral in spite of both uniting to seismic effect in Acid House.

In the United States on the other hand electronics seeped out of the Universities and Laboratories fairly early on and managed to permeate Soul (Tonto/Stevie Wonder/Syreeta), Jazz Funk (Dr.Partick Gleeson/Herbie Hancock) even Folk (Czaajkowski/Buffy Sainte -Marie). Electronic music stayed embedded in Black music flowering later into Electro and House, but it only really grazed the white mainstream despite the endeavors of Donald Buchla and Robert Moog.

Of course the sight of the British IDM hordes celebrating the influence on them of Stockhausen and Pierre Henry was one of sillier scenarios of the mid to late 90s, I suppose owing to the total inappropriateness of the comparison! It was transparent that the much lowlier Jean Michelle-Jarre, Vangelis, Tangerine Dream and Wendy Carlos were the real fonts of much of that music. (shrugs) I don't have a particular problem with that but..... If they'd cared to look under their own noses however, they'd have discovered a microscopic pre-history of British Electronic music and it's that tiny trickle I wanted to examine.

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I was so pleased to find this Dennis Smalley record in the racks at Haggle in Islington. I couldn't believe how cheap it was. Dennis is now on the staff at City University in London. There's a little potted history of his career there. Quoting: "He studied with Olivier Messiaen at the Paris Conservatoire and electroacoustic composition with the Groupe de Recherches Musicales in Paris before coming to the UK" It's interesting to notice that he studied in Europe beforehand (just like Tim Souster who we'll come to later) and it kinda strikes to the heart of my point about the way Electronic music never really had much confidence in Britain. This correlates closely with the way until the 1960s Britain trailed behind the continent in Modern Art. We had a succession of our own varieties of Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Cubism, Surrealism and the Avant-Garde. Even so, something like Wyndham Lewis's Vorticism, even though it could be dismissed as a frail copy of Italy's Futurism, it had it's own very British qualities.

I'd argue that like Vorticism, English Electronic music was hamstrung by its lyricism, gentility and eccentricity. Take "The Pulses of Time" for instance, a collection of three pieces composed between 1974 and 1979. It's never truly challenging or unpleasant in the way continental electro-acoustic music can be, it's an exceptionally pleasant listen with what passes for both pre-Techno rhythmic interludes (Tsk, Stockhausen would never tolerate repetition!) and in the middle of the title track what sounds like a melancholic Irish reel lifted from the Titanic cutting-room floor. What the music describes, unlike the strictly parallel alternate sonic realities of Darmstadt, is a journey or "a trip". Within the strict aesthetic boundaries of Modernism that makes it a failure, British Electronic music always seems to hark back to Romantic music, the fantasias of Mussorgsky and Berlioz or aims to match Britten's spiritual odysseys but it is this failure which gives it a warmth, charm and character.

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Trevor Wishart is perhaps the titan of British Electronic music. Again like Smalley his connection to Academia is extremely strong. Smalley's "Pulses of Time" was released by UEA Recordings (University of East Anglia) where he was a lecturer in music at the time**. I know of Universities having their own presses, but that they had record labels caught me off guard. Wishart has been connected to the University of York since the early seventies. In the late sixties and early seventies there was a very good reason for composers interested in electronic music getting into bed with universities, there were hardly any electronic music studios available elsewhere, the BBC operating a closed door policy. In his book "New Perspectives in Music" Roger Sutherland elaborates: "After 1970 electronic studios were established in many academic institutions, including the universities of York, Cardiff, East Anglia, City University and Morley College in London."

I'll admit to having a little trouble squaring Wishart's work, so in tune is it with the LSD-fuelled counter-culture, with orthodox University culture. It's reasonable to assume that the climate in higher education was much more radical. To call Wishart's work "electronic" is slightly misleading given that much of it is given over to collaging found-sound, is thus "electro-acoustic" I suppose, but I'm going to cling to the electronic nomenclature throughout this piece because it is the studio-based treatment and mixing of this sound which qualifies it from plain field recording. "Journey-into-Space" is remarkable for its scale and emptiness. Compare Parmegiani's restless edits to side 2 (of 4) of "J-i-S" in which the sound of a rocket trailing into the distance is streamed for nearly five minutes, one's ears training on its granulations and doppler-ing before suspended tubular bell chimes and bicycle bells draw over it like a mist onto the dunes. At some points the mix is so silent, just the quietest residual machine-hum audible, that one wonder whether the needle is resting in the spin-out groove.

This almost under-worked quality of the piece lends it a wholly charming amateurishness, Wishart's rocket to the moon similar in spirit to the one in the British B-movie of 1963 "The Mouse on The Moon". In just the same way that I described some of the recent as yet unreleased "The Focus Group" work to Julian House as being like tele-porting between dusty attics and garden sheds, the ethereal aspects of all this British Electronic music is tempered by dash-it-all-can't-quite-get-the-wretched-thing-off-the-ground eccentricity. This wholly useless bungling quality to Britishness, familiar to viewers of "Dad's Army", and our ability to recognise it in ourselves is part of what made us great, and its gradual disappearance from our now anodized global culture is a huge shame. Though just listening to the unintentionally hilarious Bloodnok from The Goons-meets-pseudo Nepalese priest intoning on side 3 is enough to bring it all back (a slight digression here, but the naked idiocy of much of the earlier Grime was hewn from the same stone as this, the cleanly "embarrassed-into-muteness" of Dubstep on the other hand sounds like.....)

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Wishart's "Red Bird" takes the more serious subject of being the dream of a political prisoner, again it's this almost narrative-like thrust that marks it as British. A single disc its extensive use of Animal and Bird sounds puts it in a similar territory to Basil Kirchin's "Worlds within Worlds" and "Quantum". I suppose "Red Bird" is a less obviously charming record than "Journey Into Space", its seriousness and feverishness mark it apart from other of Wishart's work. "Beach Singularity", if I recall a brass band playing by the seaside, with the ambient sound miked high has a cheery conceptual bent, but it does possess a ragged intensity. "Red Bird" and "Journey-into-Space" are available here on CD.

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To ricochet back to the Ghost Box connection, I was hipped to the Desmond Leslie reissue on Trunk by Julian House. This is a truly remarkable collection of Leslie's hitherto unreleased recordings. Leslie himself is a classic British eccentric with an impossibly colorful history. His exploits range from co-authoring "The Flying Saucers have Landed" with legendary American UFO-ologist Adamski to hitting the tabloid headlines for punching Bernard Levin on "That was the week that was", retribution for the critic's scathing review of his wife's one-man show. The "Music of the Future" recordings, which include the legendary "Mercury" and "Death of Satan", are astonishingly enough from the period 1955 to 1959 not unseasonably long after Pierre Schaeffer's "Etude aux chemins de Fer" (1948). Though (again) rough-edged and blessed with an occasionally eccentric sonic palette, these recordings have a quite amazingly taught demeanor and a brutal power all of their own.

In the same way that other British electronic music is either sidled alongside Academia, is tooled up as Library music, is used to augment Sci-fi programming on the TV or Radio but is slotted in anywhere except in the regular commercial arena with the exception of the very extreme fringes of head music, the Leslie recordings were used as backgrounds to Television plays (the ABC Television premiere of Ronald Duncan's "Death of Satan") and to soundtrack underground films ("The Day the Sky Fell In" 1959). I suppose it's a shame that no organ like France's INA-GRM was able to serve as a home to all these strands. It's great that Johnny Trunk has made good his interest in Basil Kirchin's work by releasing this recording. I should like Mr. Trunk to try and reissue Peter Zinovieff's "January Tensions" from 1968, a classic of British Avant-Garde Electronics that has fallen through the cracks.

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Trunk have indeed done well by Basil Kirchin. They've released the quite lovely "Abstractions of The Industrial North" record (itself once a Library record on De Wolfe), the never-previously released, and quite exceptional, "Quantum"*** and two EPs of other material with "Charcoal Sketches". However I think it is a shame that the one record he did manage to lob into the headlights of the mainstream, his most important record, hasn't been reissued. I first became aware of "Worlds within Worlds" via David Toop's "World of Echo". One of that book's subtexts was to suggest a spiritual and philosophical motivation of similar sounds. The sound something makes, be it an inanimate object, animals, machinery, music is regarded as the expression of its true nature. Therefore the similarity of sounds re-aligns the material manifestation of things, organising them by their inherent true nature to a cosmic order. Kirchin's work is thick with these sonic analogies: from Evan Parker duetting with howler monkeys to the ghostly fug of slowed-down voices of Autistic children meshing with jungle cacophony.

"Worlds within Worlds" is a very strange record indeed, and it's really owing to the slowing-down effect, imagine everything at 45 being pitched down to 33. Devoid of beats one is presented with gigantic, fascinatingly ugly textures, as though flying low over the pitted surface of an alien planet was visually scrambled with examining a face blighted with acne with a magnifying glass. I guess you could plausibly make an argument for it being the Ur "Screwed-Up" recording****, it's almost as though Kirchin built it at the correct speed and then discovered it was more disorientating to hear slowed-down. Of course it's famous for featuring brief liner notes by Brian Eno, which must have been made just before he set up Discreet, drifting at his most distant point from the mainstream. It's funny how such a slight commentary from Eno carries such a huge cultural significance.

I'd been looking for a copy of this for years when I found it at Beanos in Croydon on my birthday in 2001 for $50. I've no idea exactly why I passed over it, but I do remember listening to it on a particularly terrible deck through a shit pair of headphones with, I dunno Technotronic or Cliff Richard blaring in the background, and not hearing anything but a deafening roar of white noise. It cost quite a bit more to get it this time around online, but I dare say this one is in better nick. On Island records!

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I've mentioned this record in the past before, so I'm just going to gloss over it cursorily. Tim Souster was Stockhausen's teaching assistant so that kinda underlines my theory about the central lack of confidence of British Electronic music. Bizarrely one side of this is like third-rate Jazz Funk, the flip more impressive with lots of lovely slippery glissandos. I'd like to take the opportunity here to quickly reflect on the amusingly proper names all these people have: Timothy, Basil, Desmond, Trevor, Dennis, Tristram. Pipe-smokers in slippers to a man.

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The BBC Radiophonic Workshop's output is in such stark contrast to the rest of this stuff. Almost candy-coated as opposed to hair-suited. The succinct cheeky plinky-plonky tracks on this cherished bit of vinyl are almost all non-confrontational, with the exception of John Baker's "Christmas Commercial" (cash tills ring out a carol) and the still depths of Derbyshire's "The Delian Mode". The tone of the Beeb's stuff is very commercial, and it bears strong comparison with the approach Raymond Scott took to electronics in the USA*****. Its legacy to British Techno and IDM has been much more real than any influence of continental Avant-Garde music, largely owing to Delia Derbyshire's Doctor Who theme. However in what is an extremely tiny field, one way or another I've covered practically every single practitioner here, the BBC Radiophonic workshop were gigantic and central.

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The Beeb wouldn't let any Johnny on their kit. Only Italian Roberto Gerhard was allowed to use it, which he did to score his "The Anger of Achilles" in 1960, assisted incidentally by Delia. It was this same, slightly uptight, attitude which meant Peter Howell couldn't release the last Ithaca LP, that Delia Debyshire had to leave the fold to record the White Noise LP for Island and that Derbshire teamed up with Brian Hodgson to record the "Electrosonic" LP under the alias Russe for KPM. Again, before the hook of Acid House, all this music tends to disappear into the peripheries.

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I'm sure k-punk will be familiar with this vintage TV series. Unfortunately I've not had the pleasure. On first impression the electronics actually come as a mild counterpoint to a gigantic orchestra. However in sections like "Vessels" Cary cuts loose with some mean low-slung bleeps.

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* Cabaret Voltaire's Extended Play EP, Thomas Leer's "Private Plane", Robert Rental's "Paralysis", The Human League's "Being Boiled" and Throbbing Gristle's "United".
** In the same way that in the USA Ilhan Mimaroglu was based at Columbia-Princeton.
*** Thanks Jim Clarke.
**** It and Neu!2
***** See if you can still find the amazing three volume set of stuff that came out on Basta...