Chrome - Feel It Like A Scientist (2014)

One hour of sheer outer-space energy, frenzy, and mass mirage, brought to you by the masters of mania themselves -- Chrome. With "Feel It Like A Scientist" Helios Creed delivers the most thrilling brand of Chrome's music since the passing of Damon Edge. The brand new line-up consists of: Lou Minatti (guitar), Steve Fishman (bass), Anne Dromeda (background vocals), plus two of the previous members; Aleph Omega (drums: "Ghost Machine", "Angel Of The Clouds"), and Tommy Grenas (keyboard: "Retro Transmission", "Tidal Forces (No Humans Allowed Pt II)", "Ghost Machine", "Angel Of The Clouds"). And surprisingly the re-formed ensemble captures the core of Chrome's sound as old-school, genuine, and with all its rawness and experimentality -- it's all there with a touch of fresh ideas, like female background vocals.

The title suggests a realist, or say a naturalist perspective. But "Feel It Like A Scientist" is exactly on the contrary, a record of surreality -- a sonic thin ice on which Darwin is skating. The paradox of the real/unreal with Chrome might as well epitomize a notion recurring in two other cinematic and psychoanalytic parallels: Cronenberg's channeling of reality within the unreal ("The Brood", "Dead Ringers") and Lacan's the Real. In an interview regarding "The Fly", Cronenberg was asked about whether he would direct a love-story without 'the gore', 'the effects', and 'the horrifying aspect', and his answer was: "This is the realistic story I think, to me this is a real love-story... For me this is naturalism." The same thing can be said about Chrome. Chrome created what later came to be known as acid punk and cyber-punk, and the word 'punk' here says exactly why we can't simply call their music surreal -- this is not hippie psychedelic rock, this has to do with the reality within the unreal.

In the title of the record there is a second curiosity: How is one supposed to simultaneously be a scientist and feel? Feeling is sensual after all and opposed to the rational mode of thinking often associated with science. The naive way of answering this would be approaching it as if it was just an odd simile. After all there are academicians who easily come up with the word 'conceit' in case of a problematic metaphor. But right there, we are approaching the Lacanian Real -- the impossibility of it to come alive through language being the clincher. Needless to mention, as with the previous times I've made use of Lacan's theories, here too I'm not employing the Real on a psychopathological level, nor am I to coalesce it with the Marxist theory as Žižek does; but I am rather applying it to this particular work of art, so the entire process can be observed as being utilized in the Symbolic Order. Why is then that so we can't have sensation and science at once? Why does the very notion seem 'paradoxical'? the answer lies in the Imaginary, as well as the Symbolic; the other two Orders of the psyche prior to the Real.

In the realms of these two Orders, which are of course themselves inside the realm of the Real -- their substratum, one is always bound to either make an imaginary choice of one attribute --take science par exemple-- with a total disregard for the other -- take sensation, or, to make the distinction clear with a help from language. Let's put it this way: in the Symbolic, language tells you it's impossible to have both sensation and rationale in one place, as the two words clearly bear animosity toward each other, and in the Imaginary, you make a choice between the two yourself. The realm of the Real is though at odds with the rest: there is exactly where both attributes are present and neither is ignored, and there is the place to 'feel it like a scientist'. Now, I don't want to babble how art is always a means for the impossible, because it certainly isn't at most of the times, but it more or less becomes so with the artist overcoming transcendental forgeries and frauds --Buddhism included-- and it is certainly the case with Chrome.

On "Feel It Like A Scientist", Chrome take the listener on a sonic ride, a ride because there is the least tendency for inertia on this record, 'Slave Planet Institution' and 'Nymph Droid', the closer of the record, being the only exceptions. Of course this is not to be mistaken with the beat, which for instance bands like Wooden Shjips incorporate. The beat here is relentless and it follows the listener throughout every song, this indeed resembles a hunt, or even a haunt; the beat is soulless, proto-industrial, proto/post-punk, and so regardless of how sick and twisted the imagery of the lyrics, vocals, and guitar riffs are, it continues to advertise its dehumanized dance. Further, the darkness conceived in this record is an alien darkness, and the pillars supporting this mass structure are the funereal psychedelia of the guitar/synth effects -- the flagrant de-morphing of the vocals. This is the record to once more remind Killing Joke fans who the forerunners of fear in punk are, and the record to bowl over a couple of contemporary indie/space rock listeners.

Swans - To Be Kind (2014)

"The Taste for Nothingness

Dull soul, to whom the battle once was sweet,

Hope, who had spurred your ardour and your fame

Will no more ride you! Lie down without shame

Old horse, who makes his way on stumbling feet.

Give up, my heart, and sleep your stolid sleep.

For you old rover, spirit sadly spent,

Love is no longer fair, nor is dispute;

Farewell to brass alarms, sighs of the flute!

Pleasures, give up a heart grown impotent!

The Spring, once wonderful, has lost its scent!

And Time engulfs me in its steady tide,

As blizzards cover corpses with their snow;

And poised on high I watch the world below,

No longer looking for a place to hide.

Avalanche, sweep me off within your slide!"

I wanted to quote the Baudelaire poem since I believe once read without its Romantic implications of the awe for nature, it would perfectly maintain what I've interpreted to be Gira's current philosophy, means, and perception of music — that is the avalanche, the flow of absurdity, and the Will to null. Jennifer Church; who performed guest vocals on "To Be Kind" - after being mistaken for Annie Clark by both fans and the press at the release of 'A Little God In My Hands' — when asked about what she was singing, referred to something radically interesting that I'd like to relate to what has been just said.  "The vocal line…hrmmm I suppose you could call it “Gira-nese” - It’s mysterious - and I think he likes it that way - (a little godlike chant in your head perhaps…)," she replied. And there exactly lies the answer. In fact, there are no words involved, there are no lyrics, there is "no story to tell" like Francis Bacon once said; leaving out 'Just A Little Boy'.

Of course, one might ask what about Gira's own vocal lines, he does sing in proper English after all. First, this is by no means abstract music or — in the case of the lyrics — one-hundred percent Dadaist like those of Kurt Schwitters' in "Ursonate", this of course deals with inclusive songwriting as much as it deals with the exclusive. And secondly, I would like to refer to the point of creation of some of these seemingly sound lyrics, which at times — as stated by Gira himself in a number of interviews — is rooted in not an ordinary say, muse, but rather nothing at all. "I didn't have words, and I just started singing and at one point...I see it all I see it all I see it all...kind of seemed to fit with the kind of the spiritual aspect of the music" says Gira on who 'The Seer' is. This, whether call it method evolves into a more vulgar approach with "To Be Kind", as Gira frees his voice more and more throughout almost every song on the record; a possible upshot of their heavy touring and the various experimentations they did during each performance of the same song.

At this point, it is more or less clear that as Gira was inspired by Sade and Genet during the early Swans days; the time he also spent writing short stories that Hubert Selby, Jr. would later call them "hallucinatory" among other things. He is now relatively (or even more intensely) driven by what Heidegger called anxiety — an anxiety formed by the fear of nothingness, death. In the same interview, Gira clearly states that it is not the environment that inspires him but "the fear of death". Now, this anxiety is not the anxiety one might usually think of; that is, the anxiety the so-called psychotherapist would want to exorcise. This isn't being depressed in the sense most people tend to think either, and as a matter of fact, such thinkings are often implanted by the same, forgive me saying, pseudo-psychoanalysts. This is the very essence of living, and in this case, writing songs. And in the case of Swans, it can relate to the idea of the Will to null as well. The songs can be seen as manifestations of this nothingness that death brings with itself. One would want to become God and one would want to imitate death too.

Still and all, "To Be Kind" can be also seen as a more 'mild' effort in contrast to "The Seer". That statement might seem to contradict what I've said earlier about the vulgarity of the vocals, and it sure does. Yet the vocals tell but one side of the story. On the sonic side, "To Be Kind" uses the same formula "The Seer" did; the embracing of the lengthy, organic, and improvisational composings, contrasted with a number of more accessible, shorter songs, with the single difference that in "To Be Kind" those of the latter tend to be more groove-oriented and less startling compared to, say, their counterparts in "The Seer". The lengthy ones still remain as agonizing, though. And most of them offer a good deal of brand-new sections in comparison to their previous versions, which you might have heard before either on "Not Here / Not Now" or during one of the live performances.

Talking of previous versions of some of the songs, it would be relatively curious to hint at the unfolding of Swans' each composition, which has been revolving around the short tunes Gira writes on his acoustic guitar — since "My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky". The process follows with the rest of Swans accompanied with Gira himself initiating a long voyage, deep into the unknown, improvising and jamming around each of those acoustic pieces during the rehearsals and even live gigs. The function of multi-instrumentalist Thor Harris along with lap-steel guitarist Christoph Hahn here is of drastic importance, where the duo are practically capable of transmuting almost everything. The Thor Harris is to be regarded as the mastermind of all things esoteric about the new sound of Swans; whether because of him channeling sickening improvisations on his (at times handmade) wind instruments, or texturing each composition with the delicate, every so often menacing, sound of bells. On the other hand, Mr. Hahn injects sonic heroin in the body of each song. Add to that the unrelenting drumming — also the exceptionally beautiful hammered dulcimer lines — of Phil Puleo, the crackerjack bass-lines of Christopher Pravdica, the universal musicianship of Norman Westberg, and many of the other contributors outside the Swans; then you have what makes this line-up stand out as the most yielding, the most fierce Swans line-up since forever. In substance, Swans' music on "To Be Kind" remains as collective, as dangerous, and as organic, that it is as though a Hermann Nitsch piece is being performed by some krautrockers high on acid - it's psychedelic, it flows, and it swallows you up.

Enough of sounds, let's get back to language. Within this affair of the nonsense, there are numerous allusions too — think Finnegans Wake — from the obscure and more personal ones like Nathalie Neal, to Howlin' Wolf, Toussaint Louverture and Kirsten Dunst. Yet this record, more than celebrating the supine Justine from Von Trier's "Melancholia", celebrates the child. It could be Howlin' Wolf, it could be Bob Biggs' screaming baby-image, it could be the Freudian id, it could be the Deleuzean child dreaming of the cosmos, or it might be the child Bataille observed in Kafka, Sade, Baudelaire, Genet, William Blake and Emily Brontë — "the child in revolt against the world of Good, against the adult world, and committed, in his revolt, to the side of Evil." (Literature And Evil, 1957)

Queen Elephantine - Scarab (2013)

I've always been extra-busy, and this year wasn't anything different, so, I'd like to apologize from all the bands who have sent me review requests, including Queen Elephantine, the fabulous space rockers, who, being unaware of the fact that I've been a fan of their music for quite a long time, sent me an email about a year ago. Their most recent album, "Scarab", is also a terribly underrated one, probably because the stoner scene is more interested in horseshit like Kvelertak. In any case, if you're into the ritualistic drone and psychedelia of Expo '70, Harvestman, Bong, and Ginnungagap or the minimalist music of La Monte Young, Charlemagne Palestine, Popol Vuh, and everything in between, you're gonna adore Queen Elephantine.

They've slowly moved away from the drone doom conventions, and "Scarab" marks the pinnacle of their deviations, where the songs don't tend to follow a groove but an idea, precisely what makes the record a great example of experimental rock/metal as well. Yet to me it seems that there're more walls of limits left to be broken, and I believe if they can accept the fact that there won't be any difference in the level of attention they'll get if they break those as well, they'll make one of the most perfect avant rockers of the decade.

Elliott Sharp, Melvin Gibbs, Lucas Niggli - Crossing The Waters (2013)

The more I get into Elliott Sharp's wide and eccentric output, the more I get disturbed by the fact that there are only a few listeners who're familiar with him. His latest release "Crossing The Waters" is a collaboration with bassist Melvin Gibbs (who has played as part of the Sonny Sharrock Band, and who also played with Sharp back in 2002, for "Raw Meet") and drummer Lucas Niggli (Steamboat Switzerland). "Crossing The Waters" is probably the most ingenious electric free jazz record of all time; it's subtle and it's not subtle, it's beautiful and it's ugly, it's Henry Flynt and it's James Brown, it fluxes and it bursts, it's perilous and it's protective, it cares about techniques and it doesn't care about techniques, it's minimal and it's maximal; it is all and it is none. With the sound layered into three, we hear Sharp's guitar/tenor sax from the left, Niggli's kicks and snares in the center, and oddly, Gibbs' bass from the right; what makes him sound like a second guitarist, which he more or less is. The achieved music, while not orchestrated, sounds radically strange to have such a discrete impact. The textural drones of songs 'Flow Fever' and 'Kayak' sound as Xenakis would have imagined a Tony Conrad piece in his unconscious, and the twisted improvisations in 'Waving High' and 'Transatlantic Tunnel' are as if any of the songs from the Carbon album "Monster Curve" would have found a way out of the groove and freed themselves. The record ends with the post-western anomaly 'Forellen', leaving you in a sonic desert after having crossed the mirage.

Rapeman - Two Nuns And A Pack Mule (1988)

Albini's most obsolete, short-lived project is also a matchless one: Rapeman. Some may say however, that it's too much like Big Black, what I must disagree with, as Big Black, no matter how chaotic and noisy, didn't have much to do with the no wave/free jazz inspired, fortuitous time signatures that would lead to math rock, what Albini came to perfect, later with Shellac. In addition, while the presence of dissonant chords and angular melodies is undeniable in Big Black's music, we're missing the the atypical rhythmic structures. I believe Rapeman was Albini's first (un/onscious) attempt to form a project going in the opposite direction to that of the industrial consuetude. Their only studio full-length, "Two Nuns And A Pack Mule", stands out as one of the earliest math rock albums, and here I'm not talking the stepping stones to the genre, such as the Mothers Of Invention, Henry Cow, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, or Mahavishnu Orchestra.

Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - Push The Sky Away (2013)

It's almost impossible to put in words how much I loved Grinderman. First time I heard about it, the whole idea of having a new band with the same musical attitude as the Birthday Party's with Warren Ellis being involved, psyched the fuck out of me. Those two records they did was better than anything Nick Cave had put out with the Bad Seeds in the past two decades before it -- free jazz-inspired raw slabs of garage rock was all that I wanted to hear Nick's vocals over. "Push The Sky Away" is the very first material recorded after the demise of Grinderman and it's like everything in the opposite direction: no fuzzed out electric violin lines, no murky mandolin lines, and no psychedelia on the keyboards. However, the factor that makes it unique is its minimal approach. This is why I fucking love Nick Cave. Even when he's doing something straightforward, it's got to be twisted from some other aspect.