PRURIENT - Bermuda Drain (Hydra Head)

Prurient, a/k/a Dominick Fernow, has been one of the leading noise artists of the past ten years. While abrasive as any noise artist, his music has been some of the genre's most compelling. An overview of his discography is daunting and unwieldy, featuring multiple releases throughout the aughts. Interestingly, he has been relatively silent for the past two years following a trio of releases of various length and format in 2009. During that time Fernow became a member of Cold Cave, whose synthpop is a thousand times lighter and more accessible than anything Fernow has produced on his own, no matter how indebted to darkwave and goth the band happens to be. When it was announced that Fernow would be releasing his first full-length album as Prurient since working with Cold Cave on the experimental metal stalwart Hydra Head, by far the largest label to release a Prurient record, I was more than just a little intrigued. Would the record be as harsh as previous works or would it embrace the dark synthpop he has had a hand in creating over the past couple of years? The answer, it turns out, is a little from column a, a little from column b, and a lot from somewhere else entirely.

I'm going to toss out a lazy one-sentence review of this up front: Imagine Goblin collaborating with Skinny Puppy and you will have an idea what "Bermuda Drain" sounds like. At the same time, there is an immense amount of variety here, making that description more than a little unfair. Komische, electronica, noise, ambient, post-rock, doom and industrial are just a few of the genres that echo throughout this record, making for a wholly unique listen that defies categorized. Consisting of nine songs that average around four minutes in length and containing vocals throughout, I guess you could call this Prurient's most accessible record to date, but accessible is an extremely relative word here. It is accessible in the way early industrial Ministry was compared to Throbbing Gristle, but not much more. This is still incredibly harrowing music, made even more so by a lyric sheet that could double as the journal of a serial killer (choice lyric: "If I could, I would take a tree branch and ram it inside of you, but it's already been done"). In short, this is not for the weak of heart, or anyone looking for a synthpop dance album ala Cold Cave, even if a couple of tracks could fool the casual listener into thinking so. Instead it is a record that reeks of leather, angular haircuts, combat boots and late-80s Wax Trax, but it is also all way better than any of that.

Initially I was put off by the more "accessible" approach of "Bermuda Drain," compared to, say, "Pleasure Ground," one of Fernow's greatest noise statements, or even the more varied, but no less harsh "Cocaine Death," but after repeated listens I've come to realize that the record's diversity allows for even greater depth than in the past. It would be absurd to try to capture into words what is going on throughout this album, but it is easy to say that this is one of the most rewarding records that I have heard all year. Over the last few weeks, I have found myself listening/processing it at least twice a day, and usually more. I've found that as bleak as it is, there is a great and sad beauty hidden in-between the psychotic and brutal, and often all are present at the same time. The album begins with a scream and ends with stately melancholia, demarcating a work that is as fragile as it is menacing.

A sticker on the front of the record recommends that one listen to "Bermuda Drain" while doing a little nighttime driving through tunnels in Europe. There is certainly a connection between that image and the more refined approach that Prurient takes here. The record's cold electronic feel matches the steely precision of a European car as it hums through a sterile artificially-lite roadway. At the same time there is a naturalistic pagan primalism that throbs at the heart of this album. Titles like "Palm Tree Corpse" and "Sugar Cane Chapel" call to mind some twisted nature cult ala "The Wicker Man." Further, it is Fernow's violent and lustful lyrics that bespeak of base emotions which have existed since before our forefather's began to walk upright. The expression of such deep human emotions transmitted so effectively through the cold harshness of the machine are what make Prurient, and "Bermuda Drain" so unique.

"A Meal Can Be Made"


"Palm Tree Corpse"

AUTRE NE VEUT - The Body (Hippos In Tanks)

Autre Ne Veut came out of nowhere last year with a debut record that was so surprisingly great that it managed to scale its way into my top 10 list for 2011, despite a lack of any real hype or coverage. The first time I listened to that record, it caught me off guard to such a degree that I nearly wrecked my car as a result of being startled with joy. While describing it I wrote: "It's a quasi brand of chillwave that incorporates heavy doses of R&B as well as off kilter electronica into heartfelt pop songs. As a result Autre Ne Veut have crafted an original sound that is as challenging as it is comforting. It's soul soothing, yet jarring at the same time. The familiarity locked within the complexity of the music is what makes this immediately lovable, while at the same time rewarding repeated in-depth immersions into this record. It also sounds like it might have been made by Unicorns. Yes, it is that magical." I am almost positive now that this is the music of Unicorns, especially since a year later the sentient being responsible for Autre Ne Veut has yet to unveil his true identity, meaning, of course, he must be a Unicorn. What this magical Unicorn has done, though, is produce yet another superb collection of songs with "The Body."

Only an EP, "The Body" nevertheless sounds more massive than ANV's debut. The same template of experimental R&B-influenced pop runs throughout this record, but it all sounds stadium-sized. It's bigger, louder and grander than before and dizzyingly great. Opener "Sweetheart" should be bouncing off the walls of a sold-out auditorium while being sung by an 80s R&B legend to a sea of lit Bic lighters. "Not the One" follows and sounds like a futuristic chorus teetering at the brink of sanity. Guest vocalist She Wolf repeats the same refrain over and over while ANV provides a backdrop of chilly synths and beats that wouldn't be out of place on the "Blade Runner" soundtrack. The darker sound of "Not the One" informs the beginning of "Just Return," one of the record's best tracks. The number vacillates between moments of atrophy and inertia, and inspired struggle against such decay. Punctuated by the lyrics "now I wanna be light, now I wanna be strong," the piece acts as a rallying cry just before "Your Clothes" closes out things on a pounding up note. When it is all over, you are going to want more. At the same time, there is a lot of meat here to chew on while awaiting ANV's sophomore LP.

Recently I've been thinking of 2011 as the year of the EP, with superb smaller releases from Barn Own, Locrian, Big Business and How To Dress Well all outshining most artists' full-length efforts. Add Autre Ne Veut to that list, because "The Body" proves that sometimes thirteen minutes of spectacular music is more compelling than forty-five minutes of just decent music.

"Just Return"

WASHED OUT - Within and Without (Sub Pop)

I am increasingly conflicted about the proposition of chillwave as a genre. Of course, if you ask most chillwave artists whether or not such a genre exists, they will deny it, the same way a hipster will deny being a hipster, but it does exist and it has increasingly come to define our musical moment in time, and that is what I find so troubling. When I first heard Animal Collective, arguably the precursor for the genre, I was admittedly smitten by their nostalgic infantilism. It was a pleasant experience to listen to music that somehow triggered the idealized carefree days of a middle-class childhood, where one's biggest concerns (depending on your sex) were securing as many Star Wars/Strawberry Shortcake figures as possible, and watching Saturday morning cartoons. It wasn’t necessarily Animal Collective’s music that evoked such nostalgia, but their spontaneous joie de vivre, reflected in their ecstatic, but innocent, compositions. It wasn’t until more recently that chillwave, as we have come to know it, began evoking similar nostalgia by recycling the sounds of the 80s, albeit in much more modern, ironic and knowing way. Whereas Animal Collective evoked nostalgia by simply being childlike, chillwave evokes it by manipulating the listener with a regurgitation of lost and half-forgotten sounds from their childhood.

Admittedly, when I first heard Toro Y Moi and Washed Out, their plundering of the past sounded as fresh and exciting as youth itself. There is an undeniable romanticism to their music that even a jaded old cynic like myself is not impervious to. It isn't so much the music in isolation that has me questioning the genre, but both the context out of which it has arisen and the context of our moment in time in which we are receiving it. In the past my doubts and concerns melted away once the needle hit the record and I lost myself in the blissed-out sounds emitting from my speakers as a simple, and much needed, escape. Increasingly though, as chillwave becomes less of a novelty, and more of a permanent fixture, I find myself questioning, not just its viability, but its very appropriateness in what are horrifically unchill times. Now is most definitely not the time for us to escape into an idealized version of our childhoods. What troubles me even more about this is that the genre's sound is built on the faded memory of some of the most noxious music of the very same noxious decade that arguably planted the seeds of our current discontent. It is, after all, the saccharine sounds of the Reagan 80s that chillwave is most indebted to. Considering that the synthpop that informs bands like Washed Out was indicative of the shallow materialism that defined that era, and of which punk and the burgeoning American indie rock scene railed against so vehemently, chillwave is an increasingly hard pill to swallow. This is especially true now that Ronald Reagan’s anti-government, anti-tax rhetoric, which helped define the 80s, has come to fruition in the form of oppressive austerity programs the world over, causing incalculable amounts of suffering, including, now, here at home. There is a sense I get while listening to chillwave that I am listening to Nero fiddle as Rome burns. In other words, I just don’t feel that now is the time to really be chill about anything, and I particularly don’t feel like being chill to what is basically an idealized soundtrack of the 80s, the decade where everything began to fall apart. Having said all of that; after the first few bars of Washed Out’s debut album “Within and Without” begin to sink in, I cannot help but to capitulate.

Washed Out, a/k/a Ernest Greene, crafted the finest statement of chillwave to date with his outstanding ep “Life of Leisure” in 2009. A record born out of post-graduate isolation, it captured the halcyon days of summer that was read by some music writers, self included, as a reaction and escape from the dead-end realities facing today's twenty-somethings, while also containing just enough hope for a better tomorrow promised by the Presidential election the year prior. This time out, though, things look considerably worse for the country, but considerably better for Mr. Greene in the wake of the overwhelmingly positive reception for the seventeen minute plus statement that was "Leisure." As a result, "Within And Without" is one of the most anticipated albums of 2011, and the name Washed Out carries with it a certain recognition and esteem that not many artists get to enjoy. This is all a double-edged sword, of course, since Greene went from producing a few songs for what was initially a limited-edition record with zero expectations to having to follow up one the most universally loved releases of the past few years. There was also the concern, in this writer's mind at least, that he would not find inspiration beyond the humble circumstances that led him to tap into that moment in time, now past, which made "Leisure" so successful. The result, ultimately, is that he does and he doesn't.

"Within and Without" starts off where "Leisure" left off with "Eyes Be Closed," a song that sounds like it could easily fit into the track listing of the latter. It's a lazy beginning that regurgitates old ideas and themes. One can't really fault Greene, through, since this is exactly the type of song that we all went nuts for two years ago. It's an offering of the familiar before he expands and diversifies his sound throughout the rest of the album. The good news is that the majority of the new directions here work incredibly well, the bad news is that Greene loses something in translation with a full length release that has just enough moments of filler that I find myself questioning the whole chillwave genre for all of the reasons already stated.

Songs like "Amor Fati" and "Soft" start off strong, but after droning on between four to six minutes in length without much dynamic variation they devolve into generic synth-pop tracks, leading the listener to lose interest, and feel kind of guilty for wasting precious time with what is basically fluff. Thankfully, Greene hits his stride with the captivating "Far Away," a darker and more substantive piece than anything he has produced before. Cellos provide the brooding backbone of the track, which is already dour enough thanks to a downtempo bass and keys. It's very much Washed Out, but a more mature sounding Washed Out. As the album progresses the sound becomes more melancholic than before. The end result resembles a longed for half-remembered memory of summer, rather than the soundtrack of summer itself.

"Before" follows and sounds like a chillwave version of shoegaze, not a genre particularly known for its buoyancy, while "You and I" sounds very much like the end of a relationship, or at least the very hard work it takes to keep one going. Then there are my two personal favorite tracks on the record: "Within and Without" and "Dedication." Both are Greene at his most minimalistic, while still maintaining that Washed Out sheen. Each song speak of longing, striving and regret, and neither are going to soundtrack your summer deck party/bbq, but could do well during those early morning hours after.

I would like to think that Greene wrote the first part of this record two years ago, and the latter half in the subsequent space and time. The first half sounds like cast aways from "Life of Leisure," while the second half sounds like the work of an artist who has grown to be just as thoughtful as he sounded two years ago, but for a very different moment in time. If I am right about that than there is much hope for Washed Out, and "Within and Without" is the pathway to something grander and greater. As for chillwave; in some ways this record, as well as Toro Y Moi's latest offering, "Underneath The Pine," drives a stake through the heart of the very genre that Green and Toro's Chaz Bundick perfected, by moving away from the dream of an endless summer vacation toward the darker realities of relationships and life. That is an important step forward for both artists, because you simply cannot maintain your innocence forever without becoming delusional, particularly in the very cold times we are living in that are anything but chill.

"Far Away"


"Within and Without"

LOCRIAN - Dort Ist Der Weg/Frozen in Ash (Flingco Sound)

Attempting to cover Popol Vuh is a particularly treacherous venture. To begin with you are trespassing on hallowed ground. There is simply not much you can do to improve on Popol Vuh at their best. They are legends for a reason. Furthermore, their brand of experimental krautrock doesn't exactly reduce itself to amped-up easy covers of their songs. No one gains anything from knocking out a Popul Vuh cover live or otherwise. Yet, despite all odds, Locrian not only covers Popol Vuh's "Dort Ist Der Weg" successfully, they knock it way the hell out of the ballpark. Adding more than a touch of beefed-up sonics, Locrian maintains the spaciousness of Popol Vuh's original, but turn in a heavier and darker take on the piece. Admittedly, the band sounds less like Locrian, and more like a mixture of Slint and Amon Düül II initially, but by the end of the piece, once the dissonance and screeches take over, you'll remember that you are listening to a Locrian recording, and a very fine one at that. If anything it calls to mind the psychedelic blues metal of fellow traveller Horseback, who the band recently collaborated with on the spectacular "New Dominions" LP.

Side two is a Locrian original and one of their finest at that. "Frozen in Ash" is a blasted drone that owes far more to Xasthur than krautrock. Built on a guitar progression that calls to mind classic Norwegian black metal, the piece gets nastier and noisier as it plays out before dissolving into a brooding apocalyptic folk coda of piano and acoustic guitar before drummer Steven Hess shuts it all down with a galloping snare.

Taken as a whole this is Locrian at their most epic, and it is hard to believe that a simple 7" can contain such a massive statement in sound. Although combined these tracks make up a mere twelve minutes and thirty-five seconds, this feels like a proper album, if only because of the emotional and sonic ground covered. Few, if any, bands could achieve what Locrian have achieved here. Successful Popol Vuh cover aside, the real accomplishment is a recording that contains more variety and depth in less than a quarter hour than most bands can produce in an entire career. Absolute highest recommendation possible.

Locrian "Dort ist der Weg/ Frozen in Ash 7" single" by flingco