I have always appreciated artists who can take disparate elements, from noise to glitch beats to industrial clatter, and bring them together in a way that retains that cacophonous, chaotic sound and yet turn it into something rhythmically engaging. Such would be the case with The Looming Machine from Nuclear Whale. Musician Jonathan Ridley comes at his listeners with work that grinds, gnashes, hisses and thumps its way along. The beats are mechanical in their tone and cadence, but packed with clenched-fist aggression. Much of it is punctuated by a big, dense low end, a hammer of bass that punches you right in the aesthetic. “Flarepath” is the prime example here, drum-driven and backed with industrial churn. Ridley layers and weaves the sounds into a rich complexity, and that complexity becomes a very catchy groove. Ridley’s also effective when he strips his sounds down to an almost minimalist form. “The Ghost of a Flea” mostly keeps its voice down as it chugs ahead on a sort of mutated electropop beat, a small set of sounds running deep. “Ash in the Sky” floats appropriately along on windy pads, a quietly ticking beat and a sense of tenuous expectation. “Venal,” my favorite track here and the longest on the release, is intriguing for the way its holds its basic shape the whole time, yet is in a state of constant flux. A four-count beat tracks steadily along as Ridley essentially adds and removes sound components without interrupting the mesmerizing pulse. You know when new elements are added because there’s a sort of ripple in the flow  but you can’t quite figure what’s been taken away. In spots, the things that get added have just enough of a disruptive quality at first to make you pay attention. Then, in moments, they’re subsumed into the general flow like they’ve always been there and you just pulse onward. A great piece. Throughout The Looming Machine, Ridley’s theme of “a secular apocalypse, the feeling of being cheated of our futures by the wealthy, the search for deeper truths within, and the hope for a better world” is  supported with sound bites, interesting drop-ins that aren’t over-done. Enough tension exists within the music that he doesn’t need to beat us about the head with it.

The Looming Machine is one of those beat-based releases where, as I listen, my hand keeps drifting over to the volume knob to turn it up a little more. It’s aggressive but doesn’t just pummel; it’s catchy but it keeps a raw edge. It’s intelligent, has something to say, but also knows that it needs to hook you in. Definitely something to dig into in your somewhat darker moments. Have a listen.

Available from Sparkwood Records.

Through two previous collaborative efforts, David Helpling and Jon Jenkins have developed a distinct signature sound. Robust, romantic, and cinematic, it is almost instantly recognizable and utterly captivating. This third entry and the final chapter in this sonic trilogy, Found, carries all the hallmarks of the first two and brings the series to a superb close. Found courses forward on big, potent drumbeats, soaring guitar and lush piano, with everything supported from below by soft pads, long chords, and understated electronic textures. Pieces tend to begin quietly, build to a full-on orchestral climax with an emotionally powerful density of sound, then recede, fading, to let you catch your breath. This is music to listen to closely; Helpling and Jenkins have always brought a cinematic quality to their work, so it’s vital to dig into the sound to understand how it’s structured and how it’s affecting you so deeply. While you’re busy building panoramic tracking shots in your mind, your mental camera sweeping low across the plains or winging between rugged, snow-frosted mountains (trust me, you’ll go there even with my saying so), you’re also taking in the gorgeous harmony of elements, the interplay of rhythms and textures. This truly is contemporary instrumental music at its best. Expertly crafted, deeply moving, absolutely memorable. It’s almost sad to say that Found marks the (at the moment) end of the collaboration between these two marvelous artists, but at the very least it gives us a reason to go back to Treasure and The Crossing and start all over again. Found was recently named Zone Music Reporter’s Best Electronic Album of 2013, an honor that is well deserved. Take a listen, and from the very first moments you will understand why.

Available from Spotted Peccary.

First off, kudos to Busy Beds for having one of the most eye-catching titles in recent memory. In cramming 18 pieces into less than an hour on Seascape with Sharks and Dancer, Busy Beds offers up a swiftly changing palette of musical colors, all tied together by his use of minimalist loops. This collection could feel a little directionless if not for that unifying device. Tonally, the pieces zig-zag from lush guitar layers to sad piano ballads to raspy ambient swirls. Most run less than two minutes, with the longest topping out at just under six. Yet the switch up never feels forced or jarring, which is a pretty good trick. There’s a statement to be made, it gets made, we move on. Overall, the pieces here are wrapped in a consistent dreamy haze, which goes a long way to keeping the feel even. The more I’ve listened, the more I’ve come to enjoy the way Busy Beds moves through the variety. Sometimes I’m listening to folksy guitar, as on “Don’t Be So Nice” and “Sometimes.” The sound is charming, a bit rustic, and plays perfectly against ambient backdrops. Then there’s the melancholy-drenched piano of “Indian Ocean,” laced through with electronic warbles as counterpoint, putting me very much in mind of the work Tim Story and Roedelius–the gentle side rubbing against the slightly experimental side. Piano is also at the front of the very lovely “Truro,” where the minimalist touch is superb. Simple piano chords repeat a pattern against a swirl of pads. The way this piece cuts out mid-cadence is excellent. It leaves the listener with a slight sense of longing for completion. “Delivering” takes my mind to the middle of Oldfield’s Ommadawn and its chorus of guitars. This piece is like a warm cocoon of sound that just keeps spiraling upward, beautifully. On my initial listens, I sometimes felt that some pieces had an unfinished feel–that they were cutting out just as they were reaching a point of saying something interesting. On repeat listens, however, it bothered me less. For the most parts, these are vignettes or passing glances at a musical thought, and they are as long as they need to be. I’m very intrigued by Seascape with Sharks and Dancer, and look forward to more from Busy Beds.

Available at Bandcamp.

Epoch (K. Holewczynski) is a man with a manifesto and a mission. Musically charging into the fray to unveil “the obvious overreach of U.S. and its allies’ influence in world affairs under the guise of the protection of democracy and freedom,” on Sanctimonium Epoch comes armed with martial dark ambient and thumping EDM overtones. His sound, as always, is big and bold. There is a story to be told here, and it plays out in soundbites, the spoken-word dogma of the aggressor chopped, sliced and shuffled into an appropriately bombastic framework. Where this release excels is in how Holewczynski metes out the pace of the story. It would be easy to just go heavy on the dark pads, layer jt all up and overload the thing with howitzer barrages of percussion and let it go, but the artist takes the time to craft the thing with a cinematic mindset. There are quieter parts, and there is a rush of action–check out the crowd-chant frenzy in the middle of “Disciples of Mars” as Holewczynski fills the background with urgent strings. A great drop lands, and then the sonic shelling starts. I love the repetition of “A New World order is coming into being” here–this Truth is being drummed into your head. There’s dark wit here, as well–“All Heil the Chief” takes the known song, harshens up the edges, then fades it into a lock-step, gather-the-troops military tattoo complete with crowd calls and more political split-tongue speech work.

Sanctimonium, and Epoch’s work in general, isn’t for everyone. There is a disturbing aspect to it, a constant through-line of darkness and uncertainty as Holewczynski presents his version of tugging back the veil and showing you that everything you know might be wrong. The music is very intense, to say the least, and Epoch fully understands how things like anthems affect our psyche. Music has always been used as a way to stir souls to whatever end; here, it is used to make you sit up and listen to what’s being said. Listeners comfortable with dark(er) ambient will enjoy this more, but if you’re interested in being challenged, start here. Another strong bit of martial darkness from Epoch.

Available from Carbon 12 Records.

It took me a few listens to warm up to Banco de Gaia’s first full release in seven years, Apollo. I initially wasn’t crazy about Zhenia Mahdi-Nau’s call-to-prayer vocals on “Lamentations”–until I took a dose of it in the headphones and felt the effect rather than just hearing it. When I grasped it as the invitation into Toby Marks’ blend of world music–with an emphasis on Middle Eastern sounds–and dub influences, I found my way into it. Truth be told, they almost lost me again with the whirling dervish sax attack from Matthew Jenkins in the otherwise downright infectious “Wimble Toot,” but I came to embrace that as well with its rapid-fire serpentine runs and avant-jazz squeals. One last hurdle confronted me. “Eternal Sunshine” shows up next, wearing its openly nostalgic rave outfit and proceeds to quickly wear out its welcome with thudding minimalism and ceaseless repetition. From there, however, it’s easy to go all in with Marks. “For Such A Time” opens quietly, but blossoms into a piece rich with musical drama, a strong hook of a beat, and a great sense of atmosphere. Silky vocals stir the soul. “Apollon” brings pure bliss, thick with delicious bass, more soaring vocals, and a chugging world-beat rhythm. It’s a super-potent cocktail of joy and adrenaline, and it charges straight into the equally feverish “Hu!” for the best unbroken stretch of the disc. “All Sleeping” brings smooth guitar from Marks and flute from Tim Wheater as they lay out what is my favorite track. It sounds familiar and comforting, and the warmth it gives off is wonderful. (Though I could do without the howling and the overdone vocal drop at the start.) “Oreia” wakes you back up with hefty drumming and rich world vibes before “Acquiescence”  brings Madhi-Nau’s voice back in to close the circle.

Outside of the relative mis-step of “Eternal Sunshine,” which, it must be said, does have its own charm but feels weak compared to the rest of the release, Apollo is a beautifully produced, deep and catchy bit of work. The Middle Eastern tones bring a sensual touch and a little air of mysticism to the proceedings. Definitely one to play at volume. Dancing is encouraged, and probably unavoidable.

Available at Bandcamp.

 

Looking around the music community, I find that I may be of the minority opinion when it comes to Soundtrack to Life, the debut from duo Cosmo Frequency. Where others are hearing a diverse range of approaches, I am hearing someone with a checklist of standard New Age tropes, systematically checking them off as we go. Dramatic echoing voice reciting the start of our narrative? Check. Angel-choir pads? Check. Whooshing space wind sounds? Check. Romantically swelling piano over a steady Vangelis-style bass pulse? Check. Pan flute for world flavor? Check. Breathy Enya-esque vocals? Check. On and on. Throw in some thumping techno to represent the artists’ DJ’ing background, and there’s Soundtrack to Life. My problem with the album is that it comes off as hugely unoriginal, despite being well-played and well-produced. Paul Martinson and Brent Vincent are clearly talented musicians–multi-talented, in fact–but the music here is overburdened with the weight of all the artists they’re trying to emulate. Given how well this release has done on various charts (Echoes Top 25 in November 2013, nominated for Best New Artist by Zone Music Reporter, etc.), I suppose my opinion ought to be taken with a grain of salt. This just isn’t for me, but it’s clearly sitting nicely with others. Die-hard New Age fans probably want to check this out; just expect to hear all the things you’ve heard before, perhaps with a little extra pomp.

Available from the artists’ web site.

Oh, hi there, Space, you guilty pleasure, with your thumpy beats and high BPM. You don’t mind if I turn you up, do you? Good. I just want to dig into all this meaty bass and the cool retro thing you’ve got going on. (Come on, we both hear the little Dr Who theme song nod hiding in “Hyper Jump.”) You know what, Space? I’m going to take you out on the highway and drive like 90 mph with you kicking it old school, how about that? Because that’s what you make me want to do. You little acoustic dose of adrenalin, you.  And yeah, it’s okay by me if you want to chill a little bit here and there and get all spacey, like with “Deep Space,” but we know you’re at your best when the groove engines are pushed to maximum and we’re cruising at just under light speed. Yeah, like “Alien Nebula,” with its sexy curves and high-potency sequencer and that straight-out-of-the-club beat. Makes me think of turn-of-the-century goa, and that’s a mighty good thing. (What’s that? No, I don’t need a glow stick. I’m good.) Or how about that sci-fi spy movie soundtrack, “Landing Mission”? I’m all over its electro-pop feel. (Hey, is that an 808 laying down the bass?) And I have to ask, did you want to go just a little cheesy on “Interstellar Club”? Because I do like its 90s lounge vibe, even if it can border a little on self-parody. Hey, my toes are still tapping, so…points. Listen, Space, we may only have 40 minutes together at a time, but they’re a fun 40 minutes. Some folks may think you’re a little too retro for your own good, but like the man said–Mama, that’s where the fun is. You might not be something I’m going to listen to over and over, but if I put you in a shuffle, you are absolutely bringing both the fun and the funk. You tell that Fetal Pulse guy that he’s laid out tracks worth taking in. Then meet me in the car. We’ve got some speeding to do.

Available from the artist’s web site.

From its very first notes, Chronotope Project’s Event Horizon shoots straight into my spacemusic pleasure centers and starts pinging them with glistening, rapid-fire sequencer underscored by soft pads. Which, if it stayed that way, would be more than okay by me. But that’s not composer Jeffrey Ericson Allen’s plan here. Listen carefully–beneath the spacey overtones of the opening track, “Unwinding the Dream,” there are natural sounds, birdsong and a trickling stream. This is a release that is out there and right here at the same moment, ambient grace balanced with electronic energy, acoustic elements arriving to open it up and unfold it into something even richer and more engaging. All in all, it is  a cool glide through comfortable territory and I am inclined to just let it keep going. As always, Allen goes deep with the details, making headphone listening a must. The flow is smooth as the composer slips us easily from the guitar-accented deep-space of “Akashic Love Songs”–the rich twang of nylon strings feeling so solid and real in the waking-dream environs–into the strong pulse and glitch feel of “Arecibo.” That track catches me straight out of the gates with its sheer presence, amplified by the quieter space I’ve just left, then pulls me in deeper into its rich and swirling background. Muted vocal drops, a ringing sound that comes and goes, mixed breaths of pads, all finding their way around the insistent setup of the glitchy core. And while it’s not my intention to go track-by-track here, the way this ushers us into the quietly burbling and clearly breathing flow of “No Birth, No Death” is absolutely perfect. This, I think, is what works best for me on this superb release. Allen is in complete control of the dynamics, and they feel perfectly thought out. The shifts are absolutely seamless. It’s not, “Wait, a minute ago we had beats and now we don’t,” it’s “I like this place you’ve taken me, and I hardly noticed you took me here.” That’s something I quite enjoy, and to me it’s a hallmark of a good artist. The tracks are distinct in style and stand very much on their own, yet they’re remarkably cohesive as a whole. There’s a lot to explore here, from the charming gurgle and hush of “Automatic Writing” (let’s see you try to not bob along with this one) to the starlight-spattered spacemusic perfection of the title track.

Event Horizon, in my opinion, is Allen’s best work as Chronotope Project to date and an absolute must-hear for spacemusic fans. Let it loop, and let it take you as far as you want to go. A wonderful release.

Available from Relaxed Machinery.

Meditative healing music with strong Native American overtones await on the soothing new release from flutist Ann Licater. Her gentle arsenal for this outing includes Native American, alto, silver and Peruvian clay flutes, along with “many sound healing instruments.” She’s joined by several musicians, including Jeff Oster on trumpet, Peter Phippen on bass, and Ivar Lunde on piano, and together they craft a lush New Age ride. Fans of Native American flute will find much to like here. Licater weaves the feel into full instrumentals, like the opening track, “Angels on the Wind.” While Licater’s flute sings its song, a cool, shuffling beat works its way in. It’s a nice surprise, and a great offset to what your ear expects. Licater plays with the motif in spots, bending notes or ending long breaths with a sharp whistle. Lis Addison’s vocals bring a nice prayer-chant tone to the mix. But it’s hard to beat the gorgeous simplicity that comes from the pure connection between this artist and her flute; “Oneness” is a clean and simple meditation, a piece that dances like sunlight on water. This track is beautifully recorded, allowing space for the resonance of the flute’s rich tones to echo just lightly.

While I do enjoy Licater’s Native American-influenced work, on this release I find I am more fond of the pieces where she explores other vistas, free of the connotations that sound brings. The tone of the NA flute immediately puts me in mind of deep valleys and desert landscapes with circling hawks. On other tracks, my mind is allowed to go where it will, guided by Licater. The title track takes me to the middle of a quiet and very intimate gathering, a commingled conversation between Licater, Phippen and Lunde. I love the informal vibe that courses through “Luminous Awakening.” It feels like the players are carefully listening to each other in a playful call-and-response mode and building on their theme. Ringing tones from Kathleen Farrell’s crystal bowls add a nice touch against the deep, round sounds from Phippen’s bass. “Dream Journey” takes on a slightly jazzy tone, albeit a slow and graceful jazz, with more of Phippen’s bass (did I mention that I enjoy it?) and the crisp sound of steel tongue drum.

Although Invitation from Within clocks in at just over 45 minutes, it’s one of those time-stretching bits of work. Relaxing, unimposing, subtly guiding you to a calm and beautiful place, it’s one you’ll want to leave looping at the end of the day. It’s also one to listen to closely to take in the excellent interplay between musicians and the lush production work. A great release from Ann Licater. New Age fans need to add this to their collection.

Available from the artist’s web site.