One From the Grave: Khanate. Schaufenster Gallery, Oslo. 2004.		20 March 2009
All stop. Imagine. Lash out. Just this one time. Long before shitpanted street urchins waxed ecclesiastic, wisdom was truly the common yield: Wir sind das Volk, etc. Idle hands the Devil's playthings. Yeah, yeah… Talismans begone. I established a regimen. I saw the wife to work. I drove while she sipped the coffee I’d made her, NPR on the radio. I had to come back. I had to come back to the nothing. The house. The computer. The job search. No money. Little food. Going through winter coat pockets for dollars, for change. Picked the couch’s ass clean of coins. Selling CDs, VHS tapes, books. Eat my toast. Drink my coffee. The computer. The job search sites. Over qualified. Under qualified. Maybe I should stick it out and deal with a kitchen shift again. Long nights. Weekends. Holidays. Back pain. Smoking again. Drinking more than I am already. Going out after shifts, drinking wages into the ground. May as well be paid in well drinks, $2 tallboys. I thought of Twain, who urged us to curse our indolent worthlessness and rob the local parishioner. My mornings, ‘noons, and nights all small hours, all quiet, empty time. There was always something to empty oneself into. Nothing but nothing. Nothing eBay. Nothing porn. Nothing e-mails. And there was always Soulseek. Hi ho… Online producer. Get paid to shop! Excited about Atlanta? Earn money blogging about your favorite hotspots! Young, hip, hot? Love the local bar scene? We want you to write about your naughty nights, your awkward mornings! Hours on Soulseek. I had everything Khanate cribbed together. Live leaks were a happy horizon. Extended goals. Something to look forward to: Khanate, circa 2004, in the midst of a European campaign. Andy “Witherspawn” Hartwell had closed up shop at AB, offered a supporting role at the merch table and ended up worse off than Hopper’s “photo-journalist” simulacra via Apocalypse Now. I submitted a “Khanate Live” search every single morning. The feral WFMU session surfaced first. I ended up opting for the streaming bit just so I could hear Brian Turner's ebullient intro and brilliant deflating follow-up: “Skin Coat” into the Stones’ “Emotional Rescue.” Then there was Stockholm. And finally Oslo. Fifty-one minutes and 43 seconds. Who would sit through that shit? And why? Toppled bottles, odd tongues, tuning. Sounds like there's some tail in the crowd. Snares vibe, bass groans, lighters, cigarettes, bottle caps. The click of sticks. Bass sighs. Bottle topples. Bass groan. Wyskida thumps the kick. Dubin: Chhhh-chhhh-chheck. Chhh-chhhh-chhhh feedback. A cymbal shimmers, and “Commuted” comes forth. Lash out. Imagine. Lash out. Just this one time. Take their sight. Still there. But now they feel. Instead of reading talking laughing just feeling Now we're here PIECES of US in my hands on the floor in my POCKETS RED GLORY The recording is warbled, spotty. Sometimes Wyskida sounds as if he’s keeping time on a cow's carcass, smacking its blood-pocked ribs with ball peen hammers. O¹Malley's riffs fucking demand definition and then slowly decay, coupling with Plotkin and Wyskida and coming off no different than busloads of “Viking Country” tourists crashing from Kjerkeberget’s summit. Dubin benefits from the action, but asks for none of it. His screams harken back to Bon and Abruptum’s It; look forward to crisp, white, soft walls and silence. How does he scream like that? REAHUD GLOREEE. The three beneath, between, behind: A lint encrusted stylus slicing through James Gang's “The Bomber,” a piece of pecan pie gumming up the grooves. Maybe if all those ECM twinks hit the desert with jimson and gin. Maybe then they could have established a sort of fractal jazz that would compete with this Kampf. Time counted and discarded upon tortoise shells, upon the bone domes of those who were lost as friends and were found as food. Maybe in the cuntstench of death, a few outside-the-box shamans could've crafted something similar. Something as ass-backwards primitivistic. As inhumanly futuristic. Staring straight into the sun. Gargling their own teeth. Smiling, screaming, laughing, broken. Maybe… It was best to just get out. I’d downloaded Oslo. I didn't have a CD burner. Couldn’t afford it. I’d download music until the hard drive filled and then judiciously delete. I recorded Oslo onto cassette straight from the computer’s three-inch speakers. I cranked it up so loudly they danced upon the wood. I’d already listened to Oslo three times that day. Finally it finished. A cymbal stroke. Choke. Choke. Watch you choke. Choke. Watch you choke. Choke. Watch you choke. Choke. Watch you choke. [APPLAUSE] Choke. Choke. Watch you Choke. [APPLAUSE] A bottle topples. Tail talking. Grabbed the “megabass” Walkman and the cassette. Waked up the grass hill to the park, put my headphones on, rewound the tape. I lay in the overgrown grass. I looked up at the sky. Gray, then white, then gray. All stop. Imagine. Lash out. Just this one time. Thump. Thump. Thump. Take their sight. Thump. Still there. But now. Now. They feel. Thump. Cymbal shimmer. Instead of reading talking laughing JUST FEELING. JUST FEELING. Now we’re here. PIECES OF US IN MY HANDS ON THE FLOOR IN MY POCKETS. REAHUD GLOREEE. REAHUD GLOREEE. The rain came. I lay there listening. The rain coming down, pouring. My headphones crackled. The trees swayed in the wind. I’d pick my wife up in two hours. The computer. The job search sites. Over qualified. Under qualified. Maybe I should stick it out and deal with a kitchen shift again. There was always something to empty oneself into. Nothing but nothing. Nothing eBay. Nothing porn. Nothing e-mails. And there was always Soulseek. [Stewart Voegtlin] [Photos by Andrew Hartwell. Khanate, Oslo 2004.] lifted from www.thelefthandpath.com

KTL1 2LP - ABX014 revamp		20 March 2009
Aurora Borealis had a few sets (30) of the vinyl for KTL1 remaining with no gatefold sleeve, so we created this silkscreened cover for them. Photos: Mathilde Darel

Old farts back in stock		20 March 2009
Cold Meat Industries sent a mail this morning.. apparently they have some of their old titles from the early 90s back in stock, including the impressive AGHAST album. Highly recommended. www.coldmeat.se "AGHAST - Hexerei im Zwielicht det Finsternis CD Demonic chants from the world below... Norwegian witches, a dark and beautiful sound from the other side. Nacht und Nebel. A true classic! and here is the original! I Enthrall II Sacrifice III Enter the hall of ice IV Call from the grave V Totentanz VI The darkest desire VII Das Irrlicht VIII Ende"

Abercrombie		19 March 2009

Ugo Rondinone		17 March 2009
Top: Ugo Rondinone, Get up girl, a sun is runnig the world, 2007 bottom: Ugo Rondinone, Dairy of clouds, 2008 territoiredessens.blogspot.com/2009/01/ugo-rondinone.html www.presenhuber.com

KHANATE		16 March 2009
KHANATE "Clean Hands Go Foul" pic LP PRE-ORDER The KHANATE "Clean Hands Go Foul" picture disc LP is now up for pre-order from Trust No One recordings. Just go to the "Webshop" section. This is an limited edition of 1000 copies. Hydra Head will release the US/Europe versions: beautiful tip on sleeve LP version next month and a digipak CD (+ bonus "END:Capture & Release" DVD) March 17th. Daymare released a killer minigatefold Japanese CD edition early January. 1 Wings From Spine (6:48) 2 In That Corner (9:19) 3 Clean My Heart (11:10) 4 Every God Damn Thing (32:52) (vinyl versions have an edit of this track) This is KHANATE's final album, the so-called "sister" of 2006's "Capture & Release". The music was recorded early 2005, and the production and vocals completed in various points between 06-08. The direction is unexpected, direct results from over 6 years of coiled bitter tension and sadness into a longing liberation of sorts {capable from within this architecture of soundform}, Thanks. SOMA

Pauline in Paris		15 March 2009

Saalfelden		14 March 2009

Thinking of you... (heavy metal name chart)		14 March 2009

No Good Times in Here.	Khanate rememberings	13 March 2009
Named for a period of Mongol rule, New York City’s Khanate was not a band for few; they were a band for no one. Guitar snarled, spat, heaved and shrieked; horizon wide riffs revealed their selves only to contort into thorny scrabbles of feedback, broken harmonics, dog whistle whine. Drums stalked and plummeted and perforated; stabbing, clubbing, knocking craters into each song’s structure deep enough to fill with the pain that “vokill” troll Alan Dubin must carry with him. Whispers—words given in confidence; screams—declarations of the state of affairs; converse—talk taken into worm-infested graves and worn as a beard of bees. Bassist James Plotkin was an essential part of the Khanate ritual, turning nothing into something; realizing presence in empty rooms via boiling bass rattles, and laptop mad science. “I wear a human shield—shh-shh.” Dubin sometimes screamed so shrilly he went black; passing out from the power of his own breath. Plotkin blew four bass heads in one year; O’Malley plumbed the darkest depths of A minor, his strings nearly disconnected from their neck. Whatever heads drummer Tim Wyskida hammered have passed the terror test; that skin company’s practically got a goldmine of an endorsement ad waiting in the wings. Significantly, the gear fails to acquiesce most of the time, beaten into the void as a beachhead by tidal torrent. Khanate’s sound was palpable textbook ratio; output over input realized in grievous amounts of gain that shook the gonads of Gaia itself. Gong, cymbals, toms; an aluminum necked Travis Bean; three vintage Sunn Model-T 120-150-watt heads; a cadre of 4X12 cabinets; an Ampeg SVT head; various reverb and delay units. Muscle, breath, electricity: Khanate allowed the basic elements of structure to separate. Extremes are more extreme when they number; aural anvils anesthetize. Physiology has no recourse but to react to sound of this stripe. Things Viral, Khanate’s 2003 release, showed a different approach, more reactive – and interactive. Viral’s first track, “Commuted,” breaks down into call and response improvisation about three quarters of the way through: Dubin’s ribald vocals spin webbed Digitech strands; Wyskida flails his sticks like a blind swordsman. O’Malley patiently sits back, burning a slow fire. A rumbling floor tom fusillade finally seals the circle. And Plotkin’s bass drops like Goliath. Khanate refined their use of space on their first two records; they’d done everything they could do with it. Silence was practically eroticized; there was a ritualistic devotion to sonic absence. How effective it was: When sound did seize the air, it was fucking feral. With Khanate’s penultimate recording, Capture & Release, silence was cast aside; two long pieces provide point and counterpoint in a bestial din whose horror factor was increased tenfold with Dubin’s lyrics laid overtop; not a killer’s confessional, but the act itself. The first track, “Capture,” cut clearly to the chase: Dubin’s voice rises. Even as he implores his object to “come closer,” the listener couldn’t be further from the prey; Dubin’s dwelling on commands occludes the object. Rheumy riffs flow unimpeded around Wyskida’s pounding percussion: snare presses take flight slowly, like big black buzzards indifferent to an automobile; they decide to pick at a blacktopped carcass one last time before slipping into the air. O’Malley and Plotkin work independently and as one, making good on Quantz’ assertion that A minor is most suitable for morose music. When the entire outfit comes together, “Capture” ensues its excruciatingly linear motion. Once the harmonic statement’s made, the pieces fall away, as Pathetique era Fushitsusha erected guitar totems only to tear them down. Wyskida is content with small flourishes; cymbal’d clatter that apes Tibetan rolmo – Buddhist brass reserved for ritual. “Capture” closes reluctantly, with a confusing storm of thundering low end and vocal squall. “Release” takes its time coming up. Dubin finally lets the listener in on what’s taken place. As the first 18 minutes found one floating in appositional locutions, “Release” is “performative;” a world weaved from words. Making the utterance makes it the case: I release And everything you are Is on the ground Broken open And spinning Leaves soak They drink You are blood That’s all This isn’t description, this simply is. Whereas descriptive statements drench the intellect in addled adjectives, performatives are psychoactive pliers, pulling the will into unwanted exile; there are no blinders for the brain. Like A Clockwork Orange’s Alex, the eyes are forced to feast on the will’s inclination. Cracked open like clams, they rest unprotected; silty shells provide no solace from intent. O’Malley, Plotkin, and Wyskida paint purpose in heavy handed hue behind Dubin’s recitation. Layer after layer, the sounds issue. O’Malley’s guitar relaxes into a repetitive thematic; as Slint salted song with dynamic figures, O’Malley makes better on the process, walking slowly with Wyskida’s hi-hat clicks – spurs sounding from the boots of a dead man. Dubin screams: “You are blood! Nothing more!” This isn’t material reduction; this is fucking failed metempsychosis. Dubin’s narration is gleeful; the passing is utterly incomplete. Of course what better way to enunciate the failure than with a gong; Wyskida complies with a vegetal shimmer that rots over the last few seconds of the piece. Closure? No. But perhaps now with the ultimate offering, Clean Hands Go Foul. Someone get me a motherfucking promo, please. [Stewart Voegtlin]

Shrinebuilder		13 March 2009

Radigue		13 March 2009
Dans le cadre de l'exposition I∆O. Explorations psychédéliques en France, 1968 - ∞ (28 novembre 2008-8 mars 2009) le CAPC présente une soirée satellite "Psychédélisme & minimalisme" Musique : Eliane Radigue, "Naldjorlak" (création mondiale) – avec Charles Curtis (violoncelle), Carol Robinson & Bruno Martinez (cors de basset). Films : Paul Sharits : "Apparent Motion" (1975), "Analytical Studies I-IV" (1974-76), "Declarative Mode" (1977) Samedi 24 janvier 2009 CAPC Musée d'art contemporain de Bordeaux 17h-23h 10 euros La coïncidence est trop belle pour la passer sous silence : Eliane Radigue, « sculptrice sonore française » pour reprendre les mots de Daniel Caux, offre en création mondiale sous la nef du CAPC, "Naldjorlak", pièce acoustique aux résonances tibétaines, le jour même de son anniversaire. Après plus de 30 ans de musique électronique « infiniment discrète » (Michel Chion), la trop rare compositrice bouddhiste, ancienne élève et assistante de Pierre Schaeffer puis de Pierre Henry, proche des minimalistes américains (son chemin croise celui de Terry Riley, David Tudor, Phill Niblock…) a abandonné son instrument de prédilection, le synthétiseur modulaire ARP 2500, pour se consacrer à la composition acoustique exclusivement depuis 2004. Monumental par sa durée (2h30) et délicat par son traitement acoustique de sons continus, pulsés, bruissés, "Naldjorlak" est pensé comme une trilogie où harmoniques, subharmoniques et partielles se répondent avec une incroyable subtilité. La pièce est portée par trois musiciens virtuoses, interprètes privilégiés des répertoires de La Monte Young, Giacinto Scelsi, Morton Feldman : le compositeur et improvisateur Charles Curtis au violoncelle, la compositrice et improvisatrice Carol Robinson ainsi que Bruno Martinez, soliste de l'orchestre de l'Opéra de Paris, aux cors de basset. Suspension du temps, dialogue avec l'éternité, voisinage avec le silence, appel à la contemplation, concentration exceptionnelle : ce qui qualifie la musique d'Eliane Radigue depuis 1970 est plus que jamais d'actualité. Mais "Naldjorlak" emmène encore plus loin la compositrice dans son voyage musical, puisque avec ses trois interprètes, la musicienne admet avoir trouvé le meilleur moyen d'approcher plus encore la « musique impalpable et irréelle » qu'elle appelle de ses rêves. Maxime Guitton (ali_fib gigs) Liens : http://www.shiiin.com http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89liane_Radigue http://neospheres.free.fr/minimal/curtis.htm http://www.crsounds.com/ ------------ Artiste américain apparenté à Fluxus, Paul Sharits (1943-1993) s'est imposé comme un des cinéastes expérimentaux les plus singuliers de sa génération, multipliant les modes de présentation de ses travaux, sous forme de dessins-partitions, tableaux de pellicules (Frozen Film Frames), projections multiples et installations. Son cinéma échappe au mode conventionnel de représentation et de narration, pour interroger les éléments constitutifs de la projection et la matérialité du support filmique. Le film même comme objet est le vecteur d'une expérience élargie, où le photogramme, le défilement du ruban filmique, le grain de l'image, les perforations, les rayures... sont les composants d'une ontologie cinématographique. Paul Sharits a appréhendé en particulier la dimension plastique et affective de la couleur, par le biais de l'intermittence lumineuse et des résonances chromatiques, selon un développement temporel inspiré par l'écriture musicale. Ses films - silencieux - sont des "récits de couleur" dont les modulations produisent une musique visuelle. Les œuvres des années 70 projetées au CAPC offrent un contrepoint à la composition d'Eliane Radigue, proposant une expérience d'immersion où les films se déploient à la fois dans l'espace physique et sur l'écran mental de notre pure perception. Films présentés : "Apparent Motion" (1975 / 16mm / couleur / 28 minutes) "Analytical Studies I-IV" (1974-76 / projection pour 4 projecteurs 16mm / couleur / 30 minutes) "Declarative Mode" (1977 / projection pour 2 projecteurs 16mm / couleur / 39 minutes) Avec le concours de Light Cone (Paris) et The Film-Makers Coop (New York). Programmation / projections : Bertrand Grimault / association Monoquini Nous sommes redevables au travail mené depuis de nombreuses années par Yann Beauvais sur l'œuvre de Paul Sharits. Il contribue à la monographie complète consacrée au cinéaste, récemment publiée par Les Presses du Réel. Liens : http://www.paulsharits.com/ http://www.lespressesdureel.com/ http://monoquini.over-blog.com/pages/IAO__Paul_Sharits__Films-946231.html -- www.myspace.com/alifibgigs

Come on, feel the noise — but risk permanent hearing damage		13 March 2009
Going up to 11 has long been a badge of honor in rock music. But there’s a price to pay for those decibels, as a number of musicians have found to their cost By Mike Barnes THE GUARDIAN, LONDON Monday, Jan 12, 2009, Page 9 “We play with low frequencies that are nothing like anyone has ever heard before — it’s a chaos that sets off a kind of inbuilt alarm system.” — Kevin Shields, My Bloody Valentine vocalist ‘I want to ask one fundamental question,” said Hans Keller after a Pink Floyd performance in 1967. “Why has it all got to be so terribly loud?” “I don’t guess it has to be,” bass guitarist Roger Waters replied. “But that’s the way we like it. It doesn’t sound terribly loud to us.” The Austrian-born musician and musicologist’s attitude to the group — severe, like a schoolmaster telling off naughty boys — made him look like the quintessential square on the wrong side of the generation gap: he just couldn’t get the high-volume psychedelic sounds that the kids were digging. Wind forward 41 years to the Roundhouse, London, and My Bloody Valentine are about to play You Made Me Realize. Guitarist Kevin Shields gestures for his already fearsomely loud guitar to be turned up — into uncharted territory way beyond 11 — and midway through the song they launch into the 20 minute “Holocaust” section of guitar noise and trouser-rippling sub-bass. At this point, the plastic beer glass is buzzing in my hand and I am nervously recalling some of the known physical effects of sonic weaponry on the human body. I prod my earplugs in further and wonder what Keller might have made of it all: Why has it all got to be so terribly loud? From prehistoric ritual to the symphony orchestra, people have always engaged with loudness, but the 1960s was the first decade when sheer volume became an essential part of youth culture. This was the time of the Who’s My Generation, with its famous lyric “I hope I die before I got old” drawing a line between young and old, a line often drawn in sound. The Who went on, in 1976, to become officially The Loudest Band in the World at 126 decibels (dB)(A) (The “A” signifies an average or typical decibel level over the period of a performance). Since then, the group’s Pete Townsend has suffered significant hearing loss, although he actually blames that on headphone usage. Bands viewed volume as a mark of connection to the primal forces of rock. By the late 1970s, the pro-hunting, gun-toting, heavy rock guitarist Ted Nugent told his fans: “If it’s too loud you’re too old.” Nugent has admitted that the story of how he killed a pigeon with a power chord at an outdoor show was apocryphal, but even so he is now partially deaf. The experimental metal band Sunn0))) spoke in an interview in the Wire magazine, with apparently straight faces, of their desire to play so loud that the audience would be lifted into the air by a carpet of volume. It’s not only the myths about volume that have increased, however; so has the actual noise at gigs. By 1994, the heavy metal band Manowar claimed a reading of 129.5dB(A), at which point the Guinness Book of Records decided to stop encouraging such activity and abandoned the category, not that it has changed the attitude of noise mavens. In an admittedly statistically non-significant poll conducted for this article, around 100 musicians, journalists, photographers and regular gig-goers — from their 20s to their 60s — were asked to name the loudest band or DJ set they had experienced and whether they had incurred any hearing damage. Some interesting testimonies emerged. One respondent said of a 90s gig by Tackhead: “Loads of hissing in the ears for an eternity ... but felt more like the spoils of victory.” Others likened the experience of extreme volume to a rite of passage: That ringing in your ears could be likened to a bonding experience, recounted with the same sort of jocularity-in-adversity with which you might discuss a hangover with fellow sufferers. But if the inner ear is damaged, the next-day ringing — temporary threshold shift — may become tinnitus, a hissing or whistling sound in the ear, which can be permanent. One guitarist and DJ who has tinnitus reckoned that it was as much “a badge of rock’n’roll honor as my Chelsea boot-squished toes or impaired liver functions.” Certainly once volume exceeds 87dB(A) — significantly quieter than most rock gigs or clubs — there is a possibility, at least, of hearing damage. And with improvements in PA technology producing less distortion, that live show or DJ set can be cranked out at higher and higher levels. More bad news is that smoking and consumption of alcohol and drugs have been proven to increase the chance of incurring permanent hearing damage. This is not so much because a gig-goer might be trashed and put their head in a bass bin — although that certainly wouldn’t help — but because intoxication impedes the protective mechanisms of the inner ear. David Baguley’s two favorite gigs were high-volume affairs by the Jesus and Mary Chain and Joy Division. He freely acknowledges the excitement of experiencing loud music, but 20 years of research into it — he’s the head of audiology at Addenbrooke’s Hospital in Cambridge, England, and professional adviser to the British Tinnitus Association — have shown him the downside. “In my clinic I see some people where one concert or clear sound event led to them developing tinnitus. Last time that [Bob Mould’s 90s power trio] Sugar played in Cambridge, I saw two patients who had permanent tinnitus as a result,” Baguley says. “I see other people who have been exposed to noise for some time and it’s seemed to make them vulnerable to developing tinnitus later. These days, I think it’s a false dichotomy that those of us who are saying take care of your ears are being over-protective or conservative,” he says. Some of the musicians polled had damaged hearing, and not necessarily from years of standing in front of a wall of Marshall stacks. Bob Stanley of Saint Etienne, hardly a band associated with extreme volume, has tinnitus, which he puts down to going to loud gigs in the mid- and late 1980s — and to DJing without earplugs, which he now wears when playing. His story also exemplifies a current line of research: that some people are genetically more disposed towards hearing damage. “When I’m in bed at night, especially if I’m in the countryside, I become very conscious of ringing,” he says. “Otherwise, loud pubs and restaurants can be physically painful, creating a mild nausea. I think it’s something other people don’t like to talk about as it makes them more aware of the problem — I mean, it is possible for me to go a while without even thinking about it. Nobody else in Saint Etienne has a problem.” It’s true that one’s “level” of tinnitus partly depends on how it is perceived: Writing this article has made me more aware of mine. As did my exposure to the winners of the Loudest Band accolade in the unofficial poll, My Bloody Valentine. They beat Motorhead into second place, with other nominees including the Who, Black Sabbath, industrial dub band God, MC Hammer, Kaiser Chiefs, REM and, somewhat surprisingly, Malian singer Salif Keita. Baguley is dismissive of My Bloody Valentine’s use of extreme volume. “The attitude that ‘the louder the better’ is very last century and I’d expect it from Ted Nugent, not from artists that aspire to be groundbreaking,” he says. The stance of My Bloody Valentine’s vocalist, Kevin Shields, comes over as somewhat paradoxical: unapologetic and yet concerned. He played at levels that forced some people to leave the venue; but the band also made earplugs available at the door for all who wanted them. He’s a tinnitus sufferer himself. “I got tinnitus falling asleep listening to mixes of [their 1991 album] Loveless,” he says. “It was only for about two hours, but when I woke up I could hear a high-pitched sound but wondered where it was coming from.” He is also aware of how volume can affect the organs that control balance, and can in turn be used to create a state of disorientation. “We play with low frequencies that are nothing like anyone has ever heard before — it’s a chaos that sets off a kind of inbuilt alarm system,” he says. “We use psychoacoustic effects so it sounds louder than it actually is in sound pressure levels. When we played at the Roundhouse we were hitting the resonant frequencies of some parts of the building and so things were rattling and shaking and dust and plaster falling down.” But is he not concerned about using potentially harmful sound levels? “It does bother me, that’s why I made sure earplugs were available and that we play within tried and tested sound pressure levels with a limit of 119dB(A). We also never overdrive the PA, which can provide spike of distortion up to 130dB. We’d like to say that it is cool to wear earplugs; it’s not cool to get your hearing damaged. And anyway, feeling the music is a great experience,” Shields says. Some poll respondents who saw My Bloody Valentine last year thought it was the most amazing thing they had ever seen, others were physically distressed and left. Afterwards I felt exhausted and was yawning constantly. The only thing I’d ever experienced like it was a drum and bass club set that left me feeling like I’d been beaten up. Describing their noise section as like a jet engine is more than fanciful journalese, as 119db(A) is, indeed, the sound pressure level of a jumbo jet taking off experienced at a distance of 6m. It is also way over the suggested limit of exposure to the audience of 107dB(A) in Britain’s 2005 Control of Noise at Work Regulations. But those were put in place to protect employees working at music venues and only serve as guidelines for the audience, whose exposure is deemed to be voluntary. Given the ignorance of what to expect and the likelihood of staying to get your money’s worth, that is surely unsatisfactory. One employee of a major London venue — presumably wary of litigation — complained that their responsibility to people coming to see loud bands was unclear. He refused to be quoted on any aspect of their policy regarding noise, even though the venue in question has put up warning notices and made earplugs available. The management of the Roundhouse was more forthcoming — even though the My Bloody Valentine gigs provoked the first complaints to the venue about noise. The Roundhouse is keen to provide information in order to allow people make “an informed choice” about whether to stay for the whole gig, by displaying warning notices about volume at the venue entrance and on tickets if exposure is likely to be continuously at a level of 96dB(A). Professor David McAlpine, Director of the Ear Institute at University College London — who developed noise-induced tinnitus after a pub gig — feels there is a need for professionals to supply information to work towards a reduction in sound levels that would make a difference in reducing the numbers of gig-goers who suffer hearing loss. The problem, he accepts, is that most punters probably wouldn’t notice, and if they did, they’d pay little or no attention. “If you say, ‘Hey kids, don’t go out, stay at home, go to bed early,’ — that’s never worked for the past several thousand years, so it won’t now,” he says. “Sometimes you’ve got to protect people from themselves without being finger-wagging about it. But a lot of people can’t make their minds up because they don’t have any information.” “My view is, would you go to a nightclub where they were shining extremely high-powered laser lights into your eyes, so you could see spots that would not go away? I don’t think you’d do it. I don’t think that people take their ears so seriously,” McAlpine says.

Articulated art direction beyond means		12 March 2009
Play Time (1967) Jacques Tati & hopefully unrelated sober architecture of today.

January 09 reading list		12 March 2009
These amazing Harper's essays by Frederick Turner, esp. 1984's "Escaping Modernity". And also...

KLAT		11 March 2009
Thanks to everyone who came out for the KLAT opening & my solo last night in Paris. Mysticism & Alchemy.

Bagpipes at age 17.		11 March 2009
Or... how black metal ruined my life

Khanate... ahh the memories		09 March 2009
Khanate in the studio playing "German Dental work" from one of their DVD's, i don’t know about most bands but when your own fans in your own studio are covering their ears when you are playing maybe its time to play something else

VITAL NOISE		05 March 2009
============ VITAL WEEKLY ============ number 659 --------------------- week 1 --------------------- Vital Weekly, the webcast: we offering a weekly webcast, freely to download. This can be regarded as the audio-supplement to Vital Weekly. Presented as a radioprogramm with excerpts of just some of the CDs (no vinyl or MP3) reviewed. It will remain on the site for a limited period (most likely 2-4 weeks). Download the file to your MP3 player and enjoy! complete tracklist here: http://www.vitalweekly.net/podcast.html KTL - IV (CD by Editions Mego) ANTHONY PATERAS & ROBIN FOX - END OF DAZE (CD by Editions Mego) SUM OF R (CD by UTech Records) All of KTL's previous work was commissioned for theatre and film, but this new one is not. KTL stands for Kindertotenlieder and is the ongoing collaboration between Sunn 0)))'s Stephen O'Malley on guitar and Peter Rehberg on computer and synthesizer. On two tracks they receive help from Atsuo on drums (on 'Paratrooper') and gong (on 'Natural Trouble'). KTL is one of those supergroups, the seventies term for well-known people collaborating, but in the case of KTL its probably much more serious. 'IV' was recorded and produced by Jim O'Rourke in Tokyo and once again its one hell of a beast. Wall of sound was never better defined, but having said that, KTL isn't just about noise. Perhaps, come to think of it, not about noise at all. Surely its loud, but unlike so many other noise music this is also about detail. This isn't some muddy sound thrown on tape which is loud but without depth, this is has sonic richness. Lengthy pieces of endless walls of guitar sounds, while Rehberg's computer also sounds like a rocking machine. Not carefully processed sounds, but loud sounds, clicks, drones, hiss and machines humming on end. Very powerful stuff this KTL, even when they pull back in volume, such as in 'Eternal Winter' or the opening of 'Benbbet' or the sheer silence of 'Natural Trouble'. When its all open its mayhem such as in the landmark piece 'Paratrooper'. A refined example for all aspiring noise makers who would want to try their hands at making good noise music. Must be frustrating, because its unlikely it will be as good as this. Although something entirely different, something similar can be said of the third Editions Mego release by Anthony Pateras and Robin Fox, who this time operate as a laptop duo, and leave their usual instruments at home. Perhaps some of the sound material they play around here was made during the previous concerts, and they add some ARP 2500 synthesizers sounds which they recorded at the studio of Worm in Rotterdam. Here too it would be too easy to say we are dealing with noise, and yes, this is 'loud' music, but it is, like KTL, by no means one of those pointless exercises in feedback. There are moments of quietness, such as in 'Hyperpole', the following piece after the sheer noise attack of 'Lung Butter Blues' - its the same side of the noise coin. Whereas most noise is generated through improvisation, but more in the sense of not knowing what to do, these skilled improvisers know how to improvise, and this time it is with a set of acoustic and electronic sounds playing from their computers along with synthesizers sounds. The hasty changing sounds doesn't sound like at all like KTL, yet its surely noise too. More improvised, more based in serious avant-garde music, yet loud and forceful, this is another damn fine disc. Normally I wouldn't go on with a CD that has nothing to do with these two, but there is a connection to be made. Behind Sum Of R we find Reto Mäder (bass guitar, strings, electronics, piano, effects), Christoph Hess (manipulated turntables, also known as Stotter Int.) and Roger Ziegler (harmonium, effects). If you look at that, then what does Mego have to do with it? Sum Of R play also forceful music, noise even, but also have their quiet moments. More KTL than Fox/Pateras, and that's where my little problem comes in with this disc. Whereas KTL seems to have so much clarity and detail, the noise drones put on by Sum Of R are a bit more muddy, a bit more clouded and less refined. They start out their pieces through relatively 'easy' drones, but once everything has come in place, things seem to explode, effects are in full use, and then the refined details are gone. Surely this is not a bad release at all, but right after the two Editions Mego (and why does noise come in this amount in the darkest days of the year? It made me wonder), this is the weaker brother. What I did like was the addition of the manipulated turntable, as this added a strange, rhythmic component to the music. Throughout I thought this was a fine work too, nothing wrong with it, well, except that it could have been better produced. Next time in Japan, gentlemen. (FdW) Address: http://www.editionsmego.com Address: http://www.utechrecords.com

KLAT in Paris		05 March 2009
Galerie Laurent Godin KLAT Ex caligine, nova insigna : anaphoros | Gegenschein 10 janvier - 07 février 2009 vernissage le samedi 10 janvier special guest : Stephen O'Malley - Performance à 20h {Fichier:"cid:957448D01C86$1C386C3A$2A5AE02A@maxprog"} Ex caligine, nova insigna : anaphoros | Gegenschein (2008) est la première exposition monographique en France du groupe Klat, et seulement la deuxième exposition en galerie de ce collectif d'artistes romands (après One for the Money, Two for the Show, à la galerie Francesca Pia, Bern, 2001). Pourtant, Klat n'en est pas à son premier coup d'essai. Klat a commencé a travailler il y a bientôt quinze ans, alors que ses membres étaient encore adolescents et autodidactes, fait assez rare dans le monde de l'art pour le souligner. Klat comptabilise aujourd'hui plus d'une cinquantaine d'expositions, tous formats confondus, et a même représenté la Suisse dans des manifestations internationales à deux reprises (2e Biennale de Montreal, Palais du commerce, 2000 ; Biennale Internationale de Pusan, Corée, 2002). Il se trouve que très tôt dans sa carrière, Klat a décidé d'investir de manière quasi-exclusive le domaine « public » de l'art, en opposition à celui « privé » que représenteraient les galeries. Il n'est pas tant question ici d'un refus du marché et des valeurs qui lui sont associées, que d'une volonté de concentrer leur critique sur les institutions culturelles publiques - du musée municipal aux espaces culturels alternatifs. Bien que souvent acerbe et teintée d'ironie, cette « critique » n'est jamais cynique. Klat, c'est avant tout une manière d'occuper un territoire, d'y travailler, d'y vivre le mieux possible et, surtout, le plus librement. Invité en 1997 par Lionel Bovier et Christophe Cherix à Forde, lieu d'exposition alternatif dont ils reprendront la programmation l'année suivante, Klat décide d'investir pendant 24 heures un terrain vague caché par des palissades de chantier. Ouvert durant le temps de cette « performance » (Klat 1440'), l'espace d'exposition, situé au deuxième étage et qui a été vidé pour l'occasion, devient un simple lieu d'observation d'où il est possible de voir, de l'autre côté de la rue, une bande d'ados camper en pleine ville, dormir, écouter de la musique, recevoir des amis, griller des saucisses. Pour une exposition monographique au Mamco en 1999, Klat démonte la série de salles qui lui était imparties et reconstruit, à partir du bois récupéré, une gigantesque maison de poupée sur roulettes qui sert d'écrin à une énorme collection de fanzines punk et anarchistes d'époque. Il y installe également un bureau avec une photocopieuse, un ordinateur, et anime tous les jours cet « info kiosk » improvisé au sein du musée, invitant les spectateurs à photocopier les fanzines qui les intéressent ou à fabriquer les leurs. Simultanément, à Forde, Klat présente une sélection d'oeuvres pour le moins « difficiles», voir inmontrables, trouvées dans les réserves du Mamco. On y trouve un Condo délirant (avant que sa peinture ne revienne au goût du jour), un John Saint-Bernard (une farce orchestrée par le génial Colin De Land), ou encore une toile parsemee de peluches signé Charlemagne Palestine. Presentees Sur un plan incliné, chaque oeuvre est éclairée, tour à tour, quelques secondes, avant de replonger dans l'obscurité (Gimme 5, Mamco, et 15° Plan B, Forde, 1999). Il est difficile d'imaginer l'importance du rôle qu'a joué Klat en Suisse romande depuis plus de dix ans. A travers ses travaux d'artistes, ses activités curatoriales ou les différents lieux publics qu'il a animés, les liens que ce collectif n'a cessé de tisser et continue de renouveler entre différentes scènes, différents milieux culturels et différentes générations, sont comparables aux réseaux mis en place par John Armleder et le groupe Ecart vingt ans auparavant. A force de construire des maisons, des lieux de travail et de réflexions, de repos et de fête, Klat a réussi à faire de la scène romande un territoire ludique, ouvert, intelligent, et habitable par tous. Ex caligine, nova insigna : anaphoros | Gegenschein est, au sein de l'oeuvre de Klat, un des rares ensemble autonome, conçu indépendamment de son contexte d'exposition. Ce qui n'empêche pas cette installation, comme toutes celles de Klat auparavant, de susciter son lot de rencontres fortuites et de collaborations. Ex caligine, ... était destinée a être montrée à New York dans une manifestation de groupe qui a finalement été annulée, avant d'être exposée quelques heures seulement au Shark, dernier lieu public, mi bar mi espace d'exposition, a être animé par les Klat à Genève. Il se trouve que Laurent Godin passait par là... Fabrice Stroun Commissaire d'exposition et critique d'art (1ère exposition, : Ketchup, Forde, 1998 ; réalisée sur une invitation du groupe Klat) Stephen O'Malley est le fondateur du groupe SUNN O))), qui durant la dernière décennie a exploré les capacités d'extension minimaliste/maximaliste du son, et ses corrélations avec les cultures de métal underground comme le Black, le Death et le Doom Métal. O'Malley a déjà travaillé avec des artistes dans le cadre d'installations en galerie, dont le sculpteur américain Néo-goth Banks Violette, le plasticien italien Nico Vascellari, et dans le cas présent, le collectif suisse KLAT. L'aspect physique de la conception sonore de O'Malley se concrétise avec des éléments structuraux et sculpturaux, apportant ainsi à l'espace d'exposition une réinterprétation du poids, de la masse, de la présence et de la force gravitationnelle du son. ----------------------------------------------------------- Ex caligine, nova insigna : anaphoros | Gegenschein (2008) is the Klat group's first monographic exhibition in France and only the second gallery exhibition (after "One for the Money, Two for the Show" at the Francesca Pia gallery in Berne, 2001). Yet this group of artists from French-speaking Switzerland are not novices. Klat started out almost fifteen years ago, when its members were still self-taught teens--a rare enough event in the art world to be noteworthy. Today Klat has totted up over fifty exhibitions in all formats and twice represented Switzerland at international events (2nd Montreal Biennial, Palais du Commerce, 2000; International Pusan Biennial, Korea, 2002). Klat decided from an early stage to almost exclusively inhabit the "public" art realm, as opposed to the "private" one represented by galleries--not so much in order to reject the market and its associated values as to focus their criticism on public cultural institutions, from city museums to alternative cultural spaces. Though frequently caustic and tinged with irony, this "criticism" is never cynical. Klat is first and foremost a way of occupying the ground, of living and working in it as effectively and above all as freely as possible In 1997, when invited by Lionel Bovier and Christopher Cherix to Forde, an alternative exhibition space which they went on to program the following year, Klat decided to take over a wasteland hidden by construction site hoardings for 24 hours. The exhibition space on the second floor, emptied for the occasion and open for the duration of this "performance" ("Klat 1440'"), became a simple observation post from which to look out onto the other side of the street and watch a gang of teenagers camping out in the city, sleeping, listening to music, hanging out with friends and cooking sausages. For a Mamco monographic exhibition in 1999, Klat dismantled the series of rooms allotted to them and used the wood to build a gigantic doll's house on wheels that served as a showcase for a massive collection of contemporary punk and anarchist fanzines. The group also set up an office containing a photocopier and a computer and manned this improvised "information kiosk" every day, inviting viewers to photocopy the fanzines they were interested in or else to make their own. Simultaneously, Klat presented a selection of "difficult"--to say the least--or even unshowable works found in the Mamco reserve collections, notably a far-out Condo (before his painting became popular again), a John Saint-Bernard (a farce orchestrated by the marvellous Collin de Land) or a pile of soft toys signed Charlemagne Palestine. Installed on a slant, each work was lit in turn for a few seconds before being plunged back into obscurity. ("Gimme 5", Mamco, and "15° Plan B", Forde, 1999). It is hard to imagine the importance of the role Klat has played in French-speaking Switzerland for over ten years. Through its artists' work, curatorial activities and the various public spaces it has animated, the links the group has consistently forged and revived between different generations, cultural worlds and scenes can be compared with the networks established by John Armleder and the group Ecart twenty years earlier. By building houses and spaces in which to work, think, rest and party, Klat has managed to make the scene in French-speaking Switzerland a fun, open, clever space inhabitable by all. Ex caligine, nova insigna: anaphoros ?Gegenschein is one of the few autonomous works in Klat's corpus, conceived independently from its exhibition context. This doesn't stop it, like all Klat's other installations, from provoking its share of chance meetings and collaborations. "Ex caligine, nova insigna: anaphoros ?Gegenschein" was originally going to be shown in New York in a group event that was then cancelled, before being shown for just a few hours at the Shark, the latest public exhibition space-cum-bar animated by Klat in Geneva. Where Laurent Godin just happened to be passing by... Fabrice Stroun Exhibition curator and art critic (1st exhibition: "Ketchup", Forde, 1998, invited by the group Klat). Stephen O'Malley is a founding member of the group SUNN O))), who have for the past decade explored sounds capacity of minimalism/maximalism as well as fusions with such underground metal cultures as Black, Death and Doom Metal. O'Malley has worked together with visual artists in gallery installation work, most notably with the American New Gothic sculptor, Banks Violette, the Italian artist Nico Vascellari, and here with the Swiss arts collaborative KLAT. The physical aspect of O'Malley's sound design solidifies with elements of structural and sculpture, bringing a reinterpretation of sound's weight, mass, presence and gravity to space. http://www.klat.ch/ ------------------------------------------------- Informations et images disponibles sur demande. Information and images available upon request. Virginie Jacquet : virginie@laurentgodin.com - tel 33 1 42 71 10 66 ------------------------------------------------- Galerie Laurent Godin T +33 (0)1 42 71 10 66 5, rue du grenier Saint-Lazare 75003 Paris - FR http://www.laurentgodin.com ------------------- PHILIPPE DURAND - OFFSHORE 3 22 novembre 2008 - 03 janvier 2009 KLAT Ex caligine, nova insigna : anaphoros | Gegenschein 10 janvier - 07 février 2009 MIKA ROTTENBERG 19 février - 28 mars 2009 ALEKSANDRA MIR 4 avril - 9 mai 2009

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Paul Stamets: 6 ways mushrooms can save the world		03 March 2009

Le révélateur - Philippe Garrel (1968)		02 March 2009

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