Posted in Questionnaire on January 31st, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: “Komet Lulu” Neudeck of Electric Moon & Worst Bassist Records
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I am doing artwork, music and have a little record label, so it’s all related to each other.
I define it as exploring the soul realms, life, the universe within and trying to make a living from this. I came to it naturally, it unfolded as my way with every step i did in this society, knowing from an early age, that I do not fit in the regular way.
Describe your first musical memory.
There are two from the same time. I was maybe 5 and my mom listened to CSNY in the car and I asked what this was and when the song “Deja Vu” ended, I asked her to play it again. It kept stuck in my head since then, this ethereal melody of the vocals…
The other memory was in the same age, my dad listened to a record of The Doors and “Riders on the Storm” began and I was like “Wow, what is going on there?”
These two moments feel like my gateway in consciously listening to music.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
This is a tough task, haha. There are so, so, so many.
But maybe it was my first Motorpsycho concert and they played “The Wheel” in full ecstasy, followed by “Vortex Surfer.” I wasn’t far from exploding emotionally back then…
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
At a young age, when my parents parted ways after a long period of arguments, it kind of broke my basic trust.
This was my firmly held belief, until I realised, that I was already collecting the pieces since then, all the time, and that I was building a new thing from these, full of cracks but beautiful and my own…
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Being on an artistic journey, to me, is like being a scientist of life. Constantly reflecting, realizing, questioning, appreciating, loving…
How do you define success?
To me, success is being kind of happy where you’re at.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
This is interesting, as soon, as I want to type my answer, my brain says, “Well, but on the other hand, seeing this, made you think about it.” – There are few situations I recall, seeing a pig getting killed directly in front of me, seeing my best friend getting beaten down by a stranger, seeing someone with a gun preparing to shoot, seeing someone die – but all of these situations made me reflect in the end. Interesting.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
Pottery! And a huge painting, mural or so. And a solo album.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Nurturing our souls and changing our perspective… Basically, making us encounter something.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Posted in Reviews on September 5th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
It’s a pretty clever play on the idea of an International Space Station. The ‘international’ part: four bands, each from a different country. ‘Space’: well yeah, everybody here gets decidedly cosmic, thank you kindly. ‘Station’: there’s enough of it to make either your own radio or land your starship on, however you choose to interpret the word. One likes to think it’s in an optimistic spirit that Worst Bassist Records brings together Nashville, Tennessee’s ElonMusk — who probably regret that moniker by now — Electric Moon from Germany, Swedish jammers Kungens Män and Norway’s Kanaan to pay conceptual homage on the International Space Station Vol. I four-way, all-instrumental, 88-minute split double-vinyl to the most genuine evidence of what humans can achieve when collaborating across their own pretend/tribal borders, reminding us that even as the international order teeters (war in Eastern Europe, pandemic, climate change, on and on) and such cooperation feels ever rarer, the possibility of a better way exists.
Each band gets a side, and uses it for one song. It is something of a surprise to find an American band included here at all — Europsych has a tendency toward insularity; it looks out for its own and in the past I’ve perceived a bit of nose-up as regards many US acts; obviously not the case this time — but ElonMusk not only get a quarter of the ‘station’ to themselves, they go first. Thus “Gods of the Swamp Planet” (22:02) unfurls its synth-laced mellow roll a headphone-ready expanse of tripped-out serenity. Floating guitars, floating synth, subtle flourish on the toms and cymbals (thinking of the ride at about nine minutes in), and it’s an outbound motion that builds from the initial drone of keyboards as the guitar, bass and drums arrive, set and launch the course, setting their own mood and that for the release as a whole. Just as “Gods of the Swamp Planet” seems to hit its comedown, at 13:28, a louder and more uptempo movement starts, still with the synth droning out behind, but the drums hit harder, the guitars soar higher, and a post-Earthless triumph rings out, if only or about two minutes. It feels live if it isn’t, in part because of the residual energy carried over as “Gods of the Swamp Planet” settles down again, but at 18:37, it turns back to its squibbly scorcher lead and more fervent nod, and rides that groove until residual drone carries it out.
Side flip. For pleasant surprises, Electric Moon‘s “Duality” (15:46) is the shortest inclusion, but offers a markedly uptempo take, immediately digging into the space rock purpose hinted at in the split’s title and apparent theme. The band recently shifted lineup, bidding farewell to Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt, and I’m not sure whether this is their first song without or their last with him — the lineup is now “Komet Lulu” Neudeck (who also runs Worst Bassist Records) on bass, Johannes “Joe Muff” Schaffer on guitar and Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching on drums — but the band’s long-established modus of immersive and cosmic instrumental heavy psych is given extra flash through a steady percussive tension and a swath of layered guitar effects, smoke trailing their way through the consciousness as “Duality” careens toward its midpoint. Shortly thereafter, a break to silence and a measure of transitional guitar leaves a blank slate from whence the guitar and keys begin to rebuild a post-rock pastoralia, a serene six-minute contemplation that’s a standout from Electric Moon‘s work to this point, if one that carries a familiar hypnosis forward to new ground. Perhaps that’s the band’s portrayal of cross-cultural fellowship. If so, it should rightly be considered a focus point for the release as a whole.
Record switch. The second platter finds prolific Stockholm collective Kungens Män already in motion by the time the needle hits the platter, bending space, time and their own strings as “Keeper of the One Key” (23:24) unfolds its they’re-already-gone-and-it’s-time-for-you-to-go-too interstellar languidity. Smoothly delivered as ever for the band — class explorers through and through — the guitar turns to an improvised sounding bounce and starts running scales at about nine minutes in, but the truth is if you’re not on board by then, Kungens Män have already left without you. But don’t worry, there’s time to catch up as they dig, dig, dig into the realms of hidden matter and unknowable energies, physics turning into so much lazy-eyed goo in their capable, moderating control. It’s not quite as drastic a second-half departure as that of Electric Moon before them, but “Keeper of the One Key” shifts into a more distorted lead tone after hitting the 20-minute mark and caps with a bit of chug to wash down all the prior noodling, its long fade capturing the moment when the jam probably came apart but still giving a sense of the various infinities surrounding Kungens Män as they elicit deeply entrancing calm out of chaos. It’s also telling that as International Space Station Vol. I plays out, the songs get longer.
On that note, one more side flip — and/or a format switch — to the digital-only-because-it-wouldn’t-fit-on-a-12″-anyway “Beyond” (27:43) from Kanaan, who follow 2021’s Earthbound (review here) and herald the upcoming Diversions Vol. I: Softly Through Sunshine with evocative-of-waves ribboning astral jazz. Never mind that with its runtime it’s an album unto itself, “Beyond” underscores both journey and arrival for this collection, gradually making its way into a slow wash of melody and breadth. Should there be any residual doubt the Oslo-based troupe are as we speak positioning themselves as one of the foremost purveyors of next-generation European heavy psychedelia — not an insignificant crowd from which to distinguish themselves — the apparent ease with which they drift into and through the piece’s midsection and out toward the encompassing and louder finish is marked by patience as well as vigor. The final element to go is a howling guitar — convenient aural analog for the outing as a whole — but by the time they’ve gotten there, Kanaan have asserted their emergent mastery over the expanding omniverse of their sound. “Beyond” reminds that time is a construct and the best thing you can do with your mind is expand it. If you want elevated consciousness, then you need to get on that elevator.
United in purpose and largely in mood, International Space Station Vol. I may be the start of a series, or like so many ‘vol. I’ outings, it may not. I won’t claim to know. For right now — such as it is with that whole “time is a construct” thing — the efforts on the part of Neudeck in bringing these acts together are not to be undervalued, and while splits and compilations are often the realm of tossoffs, leftover recordings, etc., this version of the ISS reminds of the incredible capacity human beings have when willing to set aside largely-imaginary differences of demographic and opinion in favor of unity. It wants nothing for substance, building structure from formlessness. Beautiful in ideology and execution.
Day seven of a Quarterly Review is pretty rarefied air, by which I mean it doesn’t happen that often. And even with 100 records in the span of these two weeks, I’ll never ever ever ever claim to approach being comprehensive, but the point is take it as a sign of just how much is out there right now. If you find it overwhelming, me too.
But think about our wretched species. What’s our redeeming factor? Treatment resistant bacteria? War? Yelling for more war? Economic disparity? Abortion rights? Art. Art’s it. Art and nothing.
So at least there’s a lot of art.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
Trigona, Trigona
With independent label distribution in the UK, US, Australia and Europe, Trigona‘s Trigona is about as spread out geographically as sonically. The Queensland, AUS-based instrumental solo outfit of Rob Shiels — guitar, bass, synth, drum programming, effects, noise, etc. — released the Meridian tape earlier in 2022 on Echodelick and I’m honestly not sure if this six-song self-titled is supposed to count as a debut full-length or what, expanded as it is from Trigona‘s 2021 EP of the same name, albeit remastered with a new track sequence and the eight-minute “Via Egnatia” tagged onto the end of side B to mirror side A’s eight-minute finale, “Rosatom.” Sweet toned progressivism and semi-krautrock bass meditation pervades, debut or not, as Shiels touches on more terrestrial songwriting in “Monk” only after “Shita Ue” has offered its uptempo, almost poppy except not at all pop take on space rock outwardness, a mirror itself somewhat for album opener “Von Graf,” while second cut “Nudler” spreads proggy guitar figures over a sunshiny movement, letting “Rosatom” handle the wash-conjuring. There’s a slowdown at the finish of “Via Egnatia,” its effect lessened perhaps by the programmed drums, but Trigona‘s Trigona is so much more about atmosphere than heft it feels silly to even mention. Debut or not, it is striking.
Hells yeah J-psych. Nagoya-based three-piece Blasting Rod — guitarist/vocalist S. Shah (also electronics), bassist/guitarist Yoshihiro Yasui and drummer Chihiro (everybody also adds percussion) — already have a follow-up LP, Of Wild Hazel, on the way/streaming for the two-songer Mirror Moon Ascending, and that and some of their past work has aligned them with US-based Glory or Death Records, but if you’re looking to be introduced to their world of sometimes serene, sometimes madcap psychedelia, these two mono mixes by Eternal Elysium‘s Yukito Okazaki, with the drift and languid crash, far-back drums of “Mirror Moon Ascending” and the shaker-inclusive insistence of “Wheel Upon the Car of Dragonaut,” which turns its title into a multi-layered mantra, can be a decent place to start as a springboard into the band’s and S. Shah‘s sundry other projects. Their experimentalism doesn’t stop them from writing songs, at least not this time around, and it seems to drive aspects of what they do like mixing in mono in the first place, so there’s meta-screwing with form as well as get-weird-stay-weird heavy space rock push. After this, check out 2021’s III and then the new one. After that, you’re on your own. Good luck and have fun.
From Those Ashes, a double-guitar four-piece from Chicago, present four songs in Contagion of thrash-derived but ultimately mostly mid-tempo metal, vocalist/guitarist Aaron Pokoj (also production) leading the charge with Jose “Mop” Valles ripping solos for good measure and bassist Ryan Compton and drummer Omar “Pockets” Mombela holding together tight grooves amid the deathlier moments of the title-track. Pokoj‘s trades between harsh and clean vocals show a firm grasp of melody and arrangement, and though their lyrical perspective is disaffected until basically the last two lines of EP-closer “Light Breaks,” the aggression doesn’t necessarily trump craft, though “The Reset Button” moves through throwing elder-hardcore elbows and the first words shouted on opener “Devoid of Thought” are “fuck it.” Fair enough. The Iron Maiden-style opening of “Light Breaks” is a standout moment, though guitar antics aren’t by any means in short supply, but when From Those Ashes build their way into the song proper, the death-thrash onslaught is fervent right up to the end. And those last lines? “As light breaks through the shadow and gives way to life/Sustained emergence of the soul and the will to survive?” Brutally, righteously growled.
Rarely does music itself sound so stoned. Across six tracks of bassy, at least partially Dune-referential — the hand-drummed “Shai Hulud,” etc. — meditative heavy, the anonymous outfit Hashishian from somewhere, sometime, convey a languid, loosely Middle Eastern-informed, vibe-dense aural weedianism. And much to their credit, “Mountain of Smoke” seems to live up to its name. Less so, perhaps, “Let Us Reason,” which is drawn out in such a way that the moderation implied, maybe with desperation, is inhaled like so much pine-smelling vapor. “Shai Hulud” is the longest cut, mostly instrumental, and might be as far out as Hashishian go, but even the twisting feedback and lead notes at the beginning of closer “Nazareth” feel like a heavy-eyelidded march toward the riff-fill’d land, never mind the bass-led procession of the song itself, manifesting the ethic of opener “Onward” that seems to be the mentality of the 39-minute self-titled as a whole. It is molten in a way not much can claim to be, more patient than the most patient person you know, and seems to find way to make even the tolling bell of the penultimate “High Chief” a drone. Definitely post-Om in sound, Hashishian‘s Hashishian is a sprawl of sand waiting to engulf you. And to whoever is playing this bass, thank you.
Ohio-based industrialists Above & Below — primarily Plaguewielder‘s Bryce Seditz on vocals, guitar, synth, programming with Chrome Waves‘ Jeff Wilson adding bass, noise, production and a release through his Disorder Recordings imprint — make their debut with the seven tracks/27 minutes of Suffer Decay Alone, which digs into modern stylistic features like the weighted tonality of the guitar in “Isolate” and the screams on top, some The Downward Spiraling atmosphere given a boost in rhythm from the dense machine churn of Author & Punisher there and on the prior “Hope,” while “Rust” approaches danceable but for all that screaming. “Dead” sounds like something Gnaw might come up with, but the cold realization of craft in “Tear” feels like a signpost telling the project where it wants to head, and the same applies to the 3Teeth-style horror noise of “Covered.” I don’t know which impulse will win out, songwriting or destructive noise, and I’m not sure it needs to be one or the other, but Suffer Decay Alone sets out with a duly harsh mentality and sounds to match. If this is Rust Belt fuckall circa 2022, I’m on board.
Shades of Earthless‘ more meandering stretches pervade “Cosmic Awakening Pt. I – Forsaken Slumber,” the opener of Lord Elephant‘s Heavy Psych Sounds debut, Cosmic Awakening, and those are purposefully brushed away as “Cosmic Awakening Pt. II – First Radiation” brings on more straight-ahead instrumental shove. The Florence, Italy, trio issued the eight-track album independently in 2021 and their being on the label they are earns them a certain amount of trust before one even listens, but the vibe throughout the outing’s 43 minutes is a don’t-worry-we-know-what-we’re-doing blend of psychedelia and underlying tonal heft. Bass. Tone. Guitar. Tone. Drums. On point. There’s nothing overly fancy about it and there doesn’t need to be as “Raktabija” is a rush and a blast at once, “Covered in Earth’s Blood” crunches and builds and builds and crunches again and “Stellar Cloud” has enough low end to make you feel funny for staring. I wouldn’t put it past them to make friends with an organist at some point, but they’ve got everything they need for right now even without vocals, and the combination of weight and breadth is effectively conveyed from front to back, with closer “Secreteternal” executing a final slowdown until it just seems to come apart. Right on.
French double-guitar four-piece Dirty Shades released their debut EP in March 2020, so yeah, there goes that. Lift Off is the four-song follow-up short release, tagged as a ‘live session,’ and given the organic vibe of the performances, I’m inclined to believe it. Vocalist/guitarist Anouk Degrande leads the way as “Dazed” picks up in winding style from the more ethereal opening across the two-minute “Ignition,” her voice reminding in places of No Doubt-era Gwen Stefani, albeit in a much different context. Fellow guitarist Nathan Mimeau provides backing for the chorus, ditto bassist Martin Degrande, and drummer Mathurin Robart is charged with keeping the patterns together behind the various turns in volume and intensity through “Dazed” and the subsequent “Running for Your Life,” which is full, spaced and surprisingly heavy by the time its five minutes are done but is still somehow more about the trip getting there. And a shorter take on now-closer “Trainwreck” appeared on 2020’s Specific Impulse, but its added dreaminess serves it well. Jazzy in spots and showing the band still seeking their stylistic niche, Lift Off may well prove to be the foundation from which the band launches.
Best case scenario when a band revamps its lineup is that listeners get another killer band out of it. With that, bid hello to Venus Principle‘s debut album, Stand in Your Light. With vocalist/guitarist Daniel Änghede (also Astroqueen), pianist/vocalist Daisy Chapman, guitarist/keyboardist Jonas Stålhammar (also At the Gates), keyboardist/backing vocalist Mark Furnevall and drummer Ben Wilsker all having been in Crippled Black Phoenix — only bassist Pontus Blom would seem not to be an alumnus — this more recent project perhaps unsurprisingly digs into a deeply, richly melodic, expanded-definition-of-heavy post-rock. The songs across the 68-minute 2LP, which starts with its longest track (immediate points) in the 10:34 “Rebel Drones,” are afraid neither to be loud nor minimal, and standout moments like “Shut it Down” or the Mellotron into absolute-melody-wash of “Sanctuary” bear out that vibe as a reminder of the gorgeousness that can come from emotions normally thought negative. The promo text for this record says it, “provides balm for the wound that the split of ANATHEMA has caused,” and that’s a lofty claim from where I sit, but you know, it’s a start, and clearly a lineup capable of a certain kind of magic that they represent well here.
One doesn’t imagine it’s easy to be a new band in London at this point, with the seen-it-all-plus-we’re-all-in-like-10-bands-ourselves crowd and so many acts in and around the sphere of Desertfest, etc. — or maybe I’m way off and the community is amazing; I honestly don’t know — but Troy the Band distinguish themselves through the pendulum swing in their debut EP, The Blissful Unknown, guitars and bass both fuzzed to and beyond the gills and just a bit showy in “Michael” to give the outing a hint of strut despite its generally laid back attitude. Opener “I Wage a War” is the shortest inclusion by far on the 26-minute offering, and it’s a sprint compared to the more plodding, drone-hum-backed “Less Than Nothing,” and after “Michael” chugs and sways to its noisy finish, the title-track blows it all out to end off by underscoring the encouragingly atmospheric impression made by the songs prior, loose-sounding but not at all sloppy and occupying an expanse that comes across like it only wants to grow bigger. Here’s hoping it does exactly that. In the meantime, even in England’s green, pleasant and perpetually-full-of-riffs land, Troy the Band carve a fascinating place for themselves between various microgenres, psychedelic without being carried off by self-indulgence.
Oakland, California’s Mount Desert make an awaited full-length debut with Fear the Heart a full seven years after releasing their self-titled two-songer (review here), both cuts from which feature on the record. Hey, life happens. I get that. And if the tradeoff for not putting out two or three records in the interim is the airy float of guitar throughout and the subtle-then-not-so-subtle build in “Semper Virens,” I’ll take it. Who the hell needs more records when you can have one that speaks to your unconscious like that? In any case, Fear the Heart is striking in more than just its moments of culmination, “Blue Madonna” and “New Fire” at the outset casting a fluidity that “The River I” and “The River II” perhaps unsurprisingly further even as they find their own paths into the second half of the record. “The Wail” closes with nighttime howls only after “Fear the Heart” — one of the two from the first outing — and the aforementioned “Semper Virens” have their say in progressive guitar and weighted psychedelicraft, earthbound thanks to vocal soul and ‘them drums tho,’ and especially as a debut, and one apparently a while in the making, Mount Desert‘s first LP justifies all that hype from more than half a decade and 15 lifetimes ago. They’re a band with something to say aesthetically and in songwriting. I hope they continue to move forward.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 14th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Two separate updates here, one from Electric Moon and one from Sula Bassana, aka Dave Schmidt, himself. The first is the rather surprising news that Schmidt has left Electric Moon, which he’s been part of for more than a decade as a founding member, and the second — markedly less surprising, but welcome — is word of a new solo album by Schmidt under the Sula Bassana banner. Cool beans on that, but if you’d asked, I would’ve listed him as essential personnel along with “Komet Lulu” Neudeck as a founder of Electric Moon. One assumes that the band will continue under her guidance as spearhead all the more for being the lone remaining founder who’s been there the whole time.
Though, it’s worth noting that situations and music are both fluid and it looks like they’re leaving the door open to doing more in the future, so who knows. Never say never until everyone’s dead, then just say holograms. Maybe some day we’ll all be beams of light in the corporate metaverse. Until then, enjoy your vinyl.
Speaking of, here’s news about some:
Dear friends,
Since 2009, Electric Moon’s core were always Lulu and Dave (Sula), so we can imagine, that this announcement seems surreal to y’all.
It’s also surreal for all of us, but sometimes, life happens and makes certain decisions necessary.
Unfortunately, we have to announce, that Electric Moon will go on again as a trio from now on. Dave is leaving the band and so we’ll play all yet confirmed markedly less concerts already without Dave.
Sometimes ways part and new opportunities are given. Dave will go on with Zone Six, Interkosmos and of course solo, and certainly will always be a part of Electric Moon’s journey. Such a close bond cannot be cut and that’s also not intended.
Electric Moon will continue to exist as what it has always been: a formation to celebrate the love of sound and music, and build a symbiosis between audience and band.
Nonetheless, we are looking forward to meeting you at concerts and on and off the road.
Love and peace, Lulu, Sula, Pablo, Joe
Sula Bassana – Nostalgia
Good news:
The mastering for my new solo album is done and I’m super satisfied and super excited and look forward to get the finished copies! sadly we must wait until later this year (maybe september, october?) for the release. it will contain 5 songs, 2 with vocals and again in a band-style, not so much electronic like my latest ones. the fantastic artwork is taken from a painting Hervé Scott Flament did and I’m so happy I can use it! thanks so much! mastering is done by Eroc! everything was recorded again only by myself (guitars, basses, drums, synthesizer, organ, electric sitar, mellotron, vocals…). recordings started in 2013 or so, some very old songs in the meantime. :) latest one started in 2017. but it needed the right feeling to finish them, but now all is done and I’m so relieved!
LP will come in gatefold cover with stunning art, 2 different vinylcolours (lim. to 500 on 2-colour corona vinyl and 500 on black, both 180 gr. vinyl), and on CD.
Posted in Reviews on December 28th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
If you don’t have room in your heart for the psychedelic bliss of Electric Moon, I humbly submit you don’t have a heart at all. You might want to have a doctor check that out. For the rest of the hearted, the since-2009 German cosmic rockers founded by guitarist/effects-specialist/sometimes-keyboardist Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt and bassist/sometimes-vocalist/noisemaker/graphic-artist “Komet Lulu” Neudeck — both of whom now have their own record labels in Sulatron Records and Worst Bassist Records; these are industrious hippies — have been reaching for the galactic barrier via sound, and the 2LP collection Phase gathers a curated smattering of work from their first decade together.
Out through Neudeck‘s Worst Bassist imprint — for what it’s worth, I’ve seen Electric Moon live more than once and she more than holds her own on bass — in limited double-vinyl and double-CD editions, Phase checks in at about two hours long when the bonus tracks (for the CD or DL, the latter of which is included with the LP) are considered, and features no fewer than four different drummers, including Sula Bassana himself, the founding-and-current-returned Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching, the UK-based Michael “Bongolious Maximus” Orloff, and Marcus Schnitzler, now of The Spacelords.
These are not the only drummers Electric Moon has had — there was also Alexander Simon circa 2011-2012, and I’ll note here just to note somewhere that as of 2020, they’ve added a second guitarist in Johannes “Joe Muff” Schaffer — but obviously plenty nonetheless. If the band had so chosen, Phase probably could have been broken into different volumes, perhaps with some other tracks from splits or album releases added along with what serves as the bonus tracks here, and turned into at least four single-LP offerings, but there’s something to be said for the method Electric Moon employ in delivering these remastered pieces to their loyalist cult fanbase. When they do something, they go all-in.
So it has been throughout the 12-plus years since their coming together. Particularly in their extended cuts, they are a head-first dive into spaced and spacious heavy psychedelia, drawing on classic jams, psych and krautrock ideologies — it is not a coincidence that Phase opens with covers of Tangerine Dream‘s “Madrigal Meridian” and The Beatles‘ “Tomorrow Never Knows” — and the invitation they extend toward the listener to be immersed in wash and open stretches alike is singular even among mostly-instrumental, improv/spontaneity-based groups.
The chemistry between Schmidt and Neudeck and will to experiment, the sense of playfulness they bring to works like the 17-minute “D-Tune” that serves as the bulk of side C of Phase, aren’t to be understated. Rather, they are a ready blueprint that others have followed in their wake, and along with demonstrating the band’s ability to mold itself around the personalities of different players in and out as the memorable “The Loop” from 2017’s Stardust Rituals (review here) gives way to “Your Own Truth” from 2013’s You Can See the Sound Of… EP (reissue review here), Phase highlights their work in crafting material fluid in either long- or short-form modes.
By the time they get down to “Moon Love” from their debut album, Lunatics, which takes up the whole of side D at nearly 23 minutes, that particular point has been well made, but it’s also worth pointing out that Phase emphasizes the vocalized material from throughout the band’s tenure. Neudeck has rarely been a singer of the frontperson type, and the vocals in these remastered versions hold to that ethic. Vocals are atmospheric, sometimes spoken, usually coated in effects — part of the overarching experience of the song — yet her delivery of the verses in “Tomorrow Never Knows” in a kind of proto-New Wave declarative voice are righteous, and the same holds for “Stardust Service” when they get down to the bonus tracks.
In the context of the group’s discography, she is a somewhat reticent presence singing, but that human voice proves pivotal to the material here. As colorful as they make it, space is still huge and easy to get lost in. Sometimes a few lines are enough to remind the listener they’re still there. That function, of course, isn’t always what Electric Moon are going for, but it serves Phase well as regards the 13-minute “Spaceman” from 2011’s The Doomsday Machine (review here) and casts their work in a different (moon)light overall, serving as a clear purpose behind the collection’s existence in the first place.
Perhaps these are more phases than a singular phase, ultimately, since even the bonus tracks cover a span of years between The Doomsday Machine‘s “Stardust Service” (19:44) and “Stardust (The Picture)” (10:14) from Stardust Rituals, but one way or the other, Electric Moon bring together these songs, long or short, jammed or structured, adventurous or grounded, original or cover, in a spirit of celebration not only for what they’ve accomplished over their first 10 years, but a kind of rediscovery of the path they’ve walked.
As though, looking behind them at their footprints, they have some more sense of where they were headed on that decade of willful meander. As a fan of the band, which I am, my hearing of it is much the same, despite being aware of the fact that they could easily do a Next Phase 2LP follow-up that includes nothing but four extended, side-swallowing instrumental pieces and thereby tell a completely different story. That’s a part of who they are as a group, multi-faceted within the liquefied parameters stretching to one rounded corner or another of heavy psych, space and krautrock.
The simple truth is that if Phase makes you feel anything in listening, as it inevitably will, then on an artistic and expressive level, Electric Moon have already won, but the way they go about it, the underlying narrative being created about who Electric Moon are and what they do and can do in their music, is something distinct to this release. It makes Phase more than just a ‘best of’ — or what Neudeck might more likely call a ‘worst of’ if the pattern holds — and it enriches the story of Electric Moon as a project, which one hopes will only continue to be told.
Posted in Features on April 6th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
The statistics of COVID-19 change with every news cycle, and with growing numbers, stay-at-home isolation and a near-universal disruption to society on a global scale, it is ever more important to consider the human aspect of this coronavirus. Amid the sad surrealism of living through social distancing, quarantines and bans on gatherings of groups of any size, creative professionals — artists, musicians, promoters, club owners, techs, producers, and more — are seeing an effect like nothing witnessed in the last century, and as humanity as a whole deals with this calamity, some perspective on who, what, where, when and how we’re all getting through is a needed reminder of why we’re doing so in the first place.
Thus, Days of Rona, in some attempt to help document the state of things as they are now, both so help can be asked for and given where needed, and so that when this is over it can be remembered.
Thanks to all who participate. To read all the Days of Rona coverage, click here. — JJ Koczan
Days of Rona: Lulu Neudeck of Electric Moon & Worst Bassist Records (Germany)
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How are you dealing with this crisis as a band? Have you had to rework plans at all? How is everyone’s health so far?
At the moment, we are separated from each other, as our drummer is living in Vienna, Austria. We really miss each other and also are sad about the so far canceled shows.
Dave [“Sula Bassana” Schmidt] and me are also at the edge at the moment, cause this situation really affects our labels Sulatron Records and Worst Bassist Records. Means, distribution does not sell so much anymore due to closed record stores, it’s not possible to ship records worldwide at the moment ’cause of the shutdown of flights and restrictions, and of course playing no shows also affects, so there is not much income at the moment, which brings us struggles quickly.
Health is okay, no one infected with covid-19 (yet). The only thing is my cronical disease which puts me on the risk-list in getting critical with covid-19. So, fingers crossed, won’t get that shit.
So we’re doing music everyone on his own at the moment. Which brings also many new ideas. But we all can’t wait to meet again, playing together. We also have plans for a fourth bandmember and can’t wait to rehearse with him, so Corona really crossed some plans…
But, most important thing is we all stay healthy!
At the moment, the days are somehow running quick and slow at the same time.
What are the quarantine/isolation rules where you are?
At the moment, we have the restrictions to meet up with people, only family members are allowed. Also, it is allowed to walk outdoors but you may not rest anywhere. Building groups is forbidden, not more than two people are allowed walking together.
You have to keep a distance of two meters of each other, also in supermarkets, and they only let a certain amount of people in to make sure it’s possible to keep that distance.
Shops which are not really necessary for the system to go on, are all closed down, like record shops, book shops, tattoo and so on, only supermarkets, pharmacies and banks are opened. Now they are talking about the obligation of wearing masks in public, people get the advice to make their own ones and not buying medical supplies as there is a lack of it.
How have you seen the virus affecting the community around you and in music?
It is weird, outside, somehow all looks normal but everything is different than before. Streets are empty. People are stressed in supermarkets, or are totally making fun of the situation, but go for tons of toilet paper. It’s a surreal feeling, I try to go into a supermarket as rarely as possible.
But nature seems to feel happy right now, the air smells better, it feels surreal to be outdoors, surreal beautiful, birds sing louder than usually –- this maybe seems as if because of the silence in the streets. Like a silence before a storm…
In music I feel a big shift within the connection between each other. I’m totally impressed of the support by all the people to the bands and small labels. It feels huge in my heart to get such a response.
What is the one thing you want people to know about your situation, either as a band, or personally, or anything?
We’re in this together, take care of those who might need your help! And: Don’t lose the humour…
Posted in Reviews on March 25th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Ah, the Wednesday of a Quarterly Review. Always a special day in my mind. We hit and pass the halfway point today, and I like the fact that the marker is right in the middle of things, like that sign you pass in Pennsylvania on Rt. 80 that says, “this is the highest point east of the Mississippi,” or whatever it is. Just a kind of, “oh, by the way, in case you didn’t know, there’s this but you’re on your way somewhere else.” And so we are, en route to 50 reviews by Friday. Will we get there? Yeah, of course. I’ve done this like 100 times now, it’s not really in doubt. Sleeping, eating, living: these things are expendable. The Quarterly Review will get done. So let’s do it.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
The Cult of Dom Keller, Ascend!
They’re not going quietly, that’s for sure. Except for when they are, at least. The Cult of Dom Keller send their listeners — and, it would seem, themselves — into the howling ether on the exclamatory-titular Ascend!, their fifth LP. Issued through Cardinal Fuzz and Little Cloud records it brings a bevvy of freakouts in psych-o-slabs like “I Hear the Messiah” and the early-arriving “Hello Hanging Rope” and the building-in-thickness “The Blood Donor Wants His Blood Back,” and the foreboding buzz of “We’re All Fucked (Up),” peppering in effective ambient interludes ahead of what might be some resolution in the closing “Jam for the Sun.” Or maybe that’s just narrative I’m putting to it. Does it matter? Does anything matter? And what is matter? And what is energy? And is there a line between the two or are we all just playing pretend at existence like I-think-therefore-I-am might actually hold water in a universe bigger than our own pea-sized brains. Where do we go from here? Or maybe it’s just the going and not the where? Okay.
Brooklynite trio Grandpa Jack are working toward mastery of the thickened midtempo groove on their second EP, Trash Can Boogie. Led by guitarist/vocalist Johnny Strom with backing shouts from drummer Matt C. White and a suitable flow provided by bassist Jared Schapker, the band present a classic-tinged four tracks, showing some jammier psych range in the 7:47 second cut “Untold” but never straying too far from the next hook, as opener “Ride On, Right On” and the almost-proto-metal “Imitation” show. Finishing with “Curmudgeon,” Grandpa Jack ride a fine line between modern fuzz, ’90s melody and ’70s groove idolatry, and part of the fun is trying to figure out which side they’re on at any given point and which side they’ll want to ultimately end up on, or if they’ll decide at all. They have one LP under their collective belt already. I’d be surprised if their next one didn’t garner them more significant attention, let alone label backing, should they want it.
There’s metal in the foundation of what Woven Man are doing on their 2019 debut, Revelry (In Our Arms). And there’s paganism. But they’re by no means “pagan metal” at least in the understood genre terms. The Welsh outfit — featuring guitarist Lee Roy Davies, formerly of Acrimony — cast out soundscapes in their vocal melodies and have no lack of tonal crunch at their disposal when they want it, but as eight-minute opener/longest track (immediate points) shows, they’re not going to be rigidly defined as one thing or another. One can hear C.O.C. in the riffs during their moments of sneer on “I am Mountain” or the centerpiece highlight “With Willow,” but they never quite embrace the shimmer outright Though they come right to the cusp of doing so on the subsequent “Makers Mark,” but closer “Of Land and Sky” revives a more aggressive push and sets them toward worshiping different idols. Psychedelic metal is a tough, nearly impossible, balance to pull off. I’m not entirely convinced it’s what Woven Man are going for on this first outing, but it’s where they might end up.
Whether drifting mildly through the likes of drone-laden pieces “Down by the Water,” the CD-only title-track or “Alexandria” as they make their way toward the harsh bite at the end of the 11-minute closer “Scavengers of the Wind,” Bath, UK, heavy post-rockers Charivari hold a firm sense of presence and tonal fullness. They’re prone to a wash from leadoff “When Leviathan Dreams” onward, but it’s satisfying to course along with the four-piece for the duration of their journey. Rough spots? Oh, to be sure. “Aphotic” seethes with noisy force, and certainly the aforementioned ending is intended to jar, but that only makes a work like “Lotus Eater,” which ably balances Cure-esque initial lead lines with emergent distortion-crush, that much richer to behold. The moves they make are natural, unforced, and whether they’re trading back and forth in volume or fluidly, willfully losing themselves in a trance of effects, the organic and ethereal aspects of their sound never fail to come through in terms of melody even as a human presence is maintained on vocals. When “Down by the Water” hits its mark, it is positively encompassing. Headphones were built for this.
Bit of a supergroup here, at least in the underrated-New-York-art-noise sphere of things. Vocals and riffy crunch provided by the masterful Chris Spencer (formerly of Unsane), while Cop Shoot Cop‘s Jim Coleman adds much-welcome electronic flourish, Swans/Xiu Xiu bassist Chris Pravdica provides low end and the well-if-he-can-handle-drumming-for-Swans-he-can-handle-anything Phil Puleo (also Cop Shoot Cop) grounds the rhythm. Presented through Ipecac, the four-piece’s declarative self-titled debut arrives through Ipecac very much as a combination of the elements of which it is comprised, but the atmosphere brought to the proceedings by Coleman set against Spencer‘s guitar isn’t to be understated. The two challenge each other in “E605” and the off-to-drone “Consequences” and the results are to everyone’s benefit, despite the underlying theme of planetary desolation. Whoops on that one, but at least we get the roiling chaos and artful noise of “This Dead Sea” out of it, and that’s not nothing. Predictable? In parts, but so was climate change if anyone would’ve fucking listened.
The nautically-themed follow-up to Bellingham, Washington, progressive heavy/noise/post-hardcore rockers Dryland‘s 2017 self-titled debut album, the four-song Dances with Waves EP finds the thoughtful and melodic riffers working alongside producer/engineer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Isis, etc.) on a recording that loses none of its edge for its deft changes of rhythm and shifts in vocals. There’s some influence from Elder maybe in terms of the guitar on “No Celestial Hope” and the finale “Between the Testaments,” but by the time the seven-minute capper is done, it’s full-on Pacific Northwest noise crunch, crashing its waves of riffs and stomp against the shore of your eardrums in demand of as much volume as you’ll give it. Between those two, “Exalted Mystics” moves unsuspectingly through its first half and seems to delve into semi-emo-if-emo-was-about-sailing-and-death theatrics in its second, while “The Sound a Sword Adores” distills the alternating drive and sway down to its barest form, a slowdown later setting up the madness soon to arrive in “Between the Testaments.”
Brass Owl foster on their self-released debut full-length, State of Mind, a brand of heavy rock that maintains a decidedly straightforward face while veering at the same time into influences from grunge, ’70s rock, the better end of ’80s metal and probably one or two current hard or heavy rock bands. You might catch a tinge of Five Horse Johnson-style blues on “No Filter – Stay Trendy” or the particularly barroom-ready “Jive Turkey,” which itself follows the funkier unfolding jam-into-shredfest of “The Legend of FUJIMO,” and the earlier “Hook, Line & Sinker” has trucker-rock all over it, but through it all, the defining aspect of the work is its absolute lack of pretense. These guys — there would seem to have been three when they recorded, there are two now; so it goes — aren’t trying to convince you of their intelligence, or their deep-running stylistic nuance. They’re not picking out riffs from obscure ’80s indie records or even ’70s private press LPs. They’re having a good time putting traditionalist-style rock songs together, messing around stylistically a bit, and they’ve got nine songs across 43 minutes ready to roll for anyone looking for that particular kind of company. If that’s you, great. If it ain’t, off you go to the next one.
From even before you press play on Press Start, the 22-minute debut release from South Africa’s Battle City, the instrumental duo make their love of gaming readily apparent. Given that they went so far as to call one song “Ram Man” and that it seems just as likely as not that “Ignition” and “Ghost Dimension” are video game references as well, it’s notable that guitarist/bassist Stian “Lightning Fingers Van Tonder” Maritz and drummer Wayne “Thunder Flakes” Hendrikz didn’t succumb to the temptation of bringing any electronic sounds to the six-song offering. Even in “Ghost Dimension,” which is the closer and longest track by about three minutes, they keep it decidedly straightforward in terms of arrangements and resist any sort of chiptune elements, sticking purely to guitar, bass and drums. There’s a touch of the progressive to the leadoff title-track and to the soaring lead “Ignotion,” but Press Start does likewise in setting the band’s foundation in a steady course of heavy rock and metal, to the point that if you didn’t know they were gaming-inspired by looking at the cover art or the titles, there’d be little to indicate that’s where they were coming from. I wouldn’t count myself among them, but those clamoring for beeps and boops and other 8-bit nonsense will be surprised. For me, the riffs’ll do just fine, thanks.
Spacious, varied and progressive without losing their heft either of tone or presence, Manchester, UK, trio Astral Bodies debut on Surviving Sounds with Escape Death, working mostly instrumentally — they do sneak some vocals into the penultimate “Pale Horse” — to affect an atmosphere of cosmic heavy that’s neither indebted to nor entirely separate from post-metal. Droning pieces like the introductory “Neptune,” or the joyous key-laced wash of the centerpiece “Orchidaeae,” or even “Pale Horse,” act as spacers between longer cuts, and they’re purposefully placed not to overdo symmetry so as to make Escape Death‘s deceptively-efficient 36-minute runtime predictable. It’s one more thing the three-piece do right, added to the sense of rawness that comes through in the guitar tone even as effects and synth seem to surround and provide a context that would be lush if it still weren’t essentially noise rock. Cosmic noise? The push of “Oumuamua” sure is, if anything might be. Classify it however you want — it’s fun when it’s difficult! — but it’s a striking record either way, and engages all the more as a first long-player.
Following its three-minute chanting intro, Satyrus let opener and longest track (immediate points) “Black Satyrus” unfold its cultish nod across an eight minutes that leads the way into the rest of their debut album, Rites, perhaps more suitably than the intro ever could. The building blocks that the Italian unit are working from are familiar enough — Black Sabbath, Saint Vitus, Electric Wizard, maybe even some Slayer in the faster soloing of second cut “Shovel” — but that doesn’t make the graveyard-dirt-covered fuzz of “Swirl” or the noisefest that ensues in “Stigma” or subsequent “Electric Funeral”-ist swing any less satisfying, or the dug-in chug of bookending nine-minute closer “Trailblazer.” Hell, if it’s a retread, at least they’re leaving footprints, and it’s not like Satyrus are trying to tell anyone they invented Tony Iommi‘s riff. It’s a mass by the converted for the converted. I’d ask nothing more of it than that and neither should you.
