Music Reviews: Category Archives
“Shoegazer” Archives
Openness Is Dreaminess & Everything In Between
by Keith Canisius
I first became aware of Keith Canisius in 2007, when Darla released the eponymous debut from Rumskib, his shoegazer project with vocalist Tine Louise Kortermand. What immediately struck me then was the sense of enthusiasm, ebullience, and yes, even joy that pervades Canisius’ music. There’s an infectious, starry-eyed giddiness to his swirling guitars and soaring vocals, such that no matter how obviously indebted he is to the great ‘gazer bands of yore, you can’t help but break into a smile and nod along as his music fills your ears.
That sense continues on through Canisius’ solo works, including last year’s Waves. However, with Openness Is Dreaminess & Everything In Between, I get the feeling that Canisius is maturing a little and looking to shed a little of the foolishness of his youth.
The Sun Rose in a Different Place
by Echodrone
Echodrone has certainly come some distance since their 2007 self-titled EP. While “shoegazer” is probably still the best genre in which to place them, their debut full-length The Sun Rose in a Different Place reveals that that’s not the most accurate classification to make. True, the layers of shimmering guitars and sighing vocals are still there, but the band is clearly in the process of honing and refining such elements—which is both exciting and somewhat frustrating.
Drowned In Light
by Manual
When I last reviewed Manual (aka, Jonas Munk), it was for 2007’s Lost Days, Open Skies And Streaming Tides, a two-disc collection of b-sides, compilation tracks, remixes, and other odds and ends. And by the time I was finished with that release, I concluded, or at least hoped, that it was a harbinger of sorts, that it represented a desire by Munk to clear out any musical baggage and start exploring some new sonic territory.
As much as I like Munk’s music in spirit and theory, the truth is that a little bit of Manual goes a long way for me. I love his ethereal guitars and instrumental soundscapes, but they’re so smooth and crisp, so polished and well-produced, that they’ve always blended together in the long run. As such, I found myself eagerly anticipating something truly new from the guy.
2008 brought us Confluence, another one of Manual’s more ambient-minded releases—and his weakest of that sort (I’ve always preferred 2004’s The North Shore for my Manual bliss-out moments). But now it’s 2010 and Drowned In Light is here, and it represents the first real evidence that Munk is venturing towards a new place, musically. Which makes the album fascinating but also frustrating, because he’s not there yet.
Waves
by Keith Canisius
When listening to Rumskib’s self-titled debut several years back, I was struck by the duo’s exuberance, by the sense of joy that permeated their recording. The shoegazer genre has often been called “the scene that celebrates itself”, and here were a couple of shoegazers that were truly keen on celebrating.
That same feeling permeates Waves, the second solo album from Keith Canisius (one half of Rumskib). Indeed, Waves picks up right where Rumskib’s album left off: from the very get-go, Canisius dives headfirst into an ocean of shimmering, ethereal sounds, and does so with such enthusiasm that it’s hard to resist diving in right after him.
We Were Flying Kites
by Stripmall Architecture
I’ve been writing about music for more than a decade now, and I’ve seen a lot of artists come and go (honestly, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it turned out that 80% of the artists I’ve reviewed over the years are now defunct). But there are some artists who continually stick around, who might go unheard from for a year or two, but then always get back onto my radar for whatever reason.
Ryan and Rebecca Coseboom are two such artists. I became aware of the Cosebooms via their first project, Anymore, which I discovered via a sampler that was offered on an old 4AD e-mail list that I once subscribed to. Then came Halou, their more electronica-minded outfit, which survived and transcended such terms as “trip-hop” and “downtempo” thanks to impeccable programming, plenty of 4AD-esque atmospherics, and Rebecca’s lovely vocals.
But Halou came to an end in 2008 while the group was touring with Bob Mould and the Cosebooms subsequently began Stripmall Architecture. It was originally an outlet for more experimental music than might’ve been associated with the Halou moniker, with live shows incorporating everything from “typical” electronics and guitars to typewriters and toy organs. But with the release of We Were Flying Kites, the Cosebooms have returned a little closer to the fold, so to speak—in many ways, We Were Flying Kites picks up right where Halou left off.
Idylls
by Love Spirals Downwards
I’ve had this CD in my collection for well over a decade now—it represented one of my very first excursions into the “darkwave” world of the venerable Projekt label—but I’ve always held it a little at arm’s length. Though I’ve always liked the CD well enough, I’ve tended to (subconsciously) dismiss it as something of a Cocteau Twins’ rip-off, and instead, became more enamored with the band’s later, more electronica-oriented releases (Flux) and incarnations (Lovespirals).
But blame it on the recent wave of chilly, rainy weather that has swept through Lincoln: after several years, I picked Idylls—the debut CD from the now defunct Love Spirals Downwards—off the shelf and it’s been in near-constant rotation since.
Phoenix Asteroid
by Ecovillage
What’s that, you say? You’re looking for some good bliss-out music, but Jonas Munk (Manual) has become too gritty and earthy for you? Ulrich Schnauss doesn’t venture far enough into the stratosphere? M83’s atmospheres aren’t expansive and shifty-drifty enough for you to really get your bliss on? Well, in that case, may I humbly suggest Ecovillage’s Phoenix Asteroid? With this disc, Swedish duo of Emil Holmström and Peter Wikström have created what could very well be the ambient/dream-pop album of 2009. Surprisingly though, it’s deceptively more than just mere aural wallpaper.
To be sure, there’s quite a bit of song blur going on, in which the drones and drifts of one song just flow right into those of the next song. As a result, the album is little more than a Gaussian blur of shoegazer effects, synthesizer washes, and wispy vocals. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. When you’re looking for pure mood music that contains little too disrupt whatever serenity you’re seeking to attain, well, that describes a good deal of Phoenix Asteroid quite accurately—especially on tracks such as “Dawn Was Brand New”, “Invitation”, and the sixteen-minute title track.
Dark Enough For Stars
by Au Revoir Borealis
When it came out that Au Revoir Borealis was working on a new album, I immediately had thoughts that something special was brewing on the horizon. While it had been eight years since their debut, 2000’s Tienken EP, and the bandmembers had since drifted off to various side-projects (e.g., For Wishes, The Great Fiction, and Man’s Last Great Invention), those early songs still stuck with me.
The Tienken EP showed great promise, revealing a band in love with a sound close to my heart while also hinting that Au Revoir Borealis weren’t just interested in a mere genre exercise, but also brought to bear in their music an emotional and spiritual warmth that their peers can often lack.
And now that it’s here, it’s safe to say that Dark Enough For Stars doesn’t really disappoint at all. While the album contains the same love of shoegazer/dream-pop evident in the earlier material, there’s a darker sophistication at work, as one might’ve guessed from the title (itself a play on a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote); there’s a definite melancholy amidst the swirl of sounds that lends itself to a contemplation perfectly suited for this burgeoning autumnal season.
Disappear
by Ceremony
Once upon a time, there was a band called Skywave who became the terror of sound guys everywhere for deliberately doing soundchecks at one volume, and performing at a much louder one (if you’ve heard any of their releases, such as 2003’s Synthstatic, then you’d understand the sound guys’ fear).
From the ashes of that band sprung A Place To Bury Strangers, who have received all kinds of acclaim from Pitchfork, PopMatters, and Stylus, and Ceremony, who hasn’t received quite as much acclaim despite exploring much of the same sonic territory with the same amount of ferocity and volume.
I went ga-ga over Ceremony’s self-titled CD-R debut. Perhaps I’m something of a masochist, but I instantly fell in love with its ear-piercing levels of noise, distortion-shrouded pop hooks, and icily detached vocals. Disappear (Safranin Sound, 2007) doesn’t deviate too far from that. The guitars are still ramped up to eleven on the Distort-O-Meter, the effects pedals and feedback turn every note into a blinding nova of sound, and the vocals are as detached—and ultra cool—as ever.
A Wingless King
by Writ On Water
It’s been 8 years since Writ On Water has released anything new, their last release being 2000’s Pelléas EP. But even back then, their music was stuck even further in the past, specifically in the halcyon days of 4AD Records, and artists such as Cocteau Twins and This Mortal Coil. Therefore, it should come as no shock that A Wingless King, the group’s newest full-length, sounds somewhat like a musical artifact unstuck in time.
A gloomily atmospheric post-punk/4AD tone permeates the entire disc, even on the more “relaxed” numbers such as album opener “Angie Swirls In Pastel Summer” and “Wondertime”. And on songs like “Dead Give Away” and the dreamy closing track “Things Only Heaven Knows”, it coalesces into something quite spell-binding. All of which was something I was more or less prepared for.
However, what I wasn’t necessarily prepared for was how experimental and left-of-center A Wingless King would be. Their previous releases, specifically 1992’s Sylph, revealed that the group wasn’t content with simply being clones, but rather, would venture out into left field from time to time. But that’s even truer on A Wingless King.