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mum / finally we are no one / fat cat
Mum's "Yesterday Was Dramatic" set a whole new standard for electronic music. Not by chance, the young Icelandic quartet expertly blended the world of digital with the world of analog. Amidst the Aphex-styled cut-up beats and bleeps, the album steered far from IDM's icy trappings, instead hovering above lush, green pastures -- warmly melodic and wonderfully organic. Two years later, these same descriptors can and will be used in describing Mum's follow-up, "Finally We Are No One." Their second proper album is, however, a further expansion upon the warmth and feeling of its predecessor. Continuing to draw upon a variety of sources, from programmed beats and synthesized washes to a more traditional assortment of instruments (including guitars, trumpet, accordion, glockenspiel and cello), "Finally We Are No One" is much more majestic in its approach. The digital element, though still very much a keystone, is subdued allowing the melodic elements more room to interlace and drift. (Production credits include Valgeir Siguresson, also noted as an engineer and programmer for Bjork's "Vespertine.") Starting with the slow building bell tones of "Sleep/Swim," a music box melody segues into the shimmering "Green Grass of Tunnel" with the hushed voice of Kristin Valtysdottir, hauntingly ethereal yet playfully childlike. (Her twin sister, Gyda, is the group's cellist.) Like a lucid dream, songs flow in and out of each other, but still remain distinct. Even the bedroom electronics of the almost instrumental "Don't Be Afraid, You Have Just Got Your Eyes Closed," remains graceful throughout its beeps and gurgled beats. Like "Yesterday Was Dramatic," Mum's new offering floats around otherworld lullabies and rich textures, always soothing and quiet. For this one however, Mum have completely surpassed the boundaries of electronica and created a record that is ultra-modern, incredibly organic and instantly a classic.
dntel / life is full of possibilities / plug research
Yet another pastoral techno offering for those cold wintry nights inside. Yet this record is a bit different than others in this rapidly-growing sub-genre of electronic music. Boasting guest vocals from Mia Doi Todd, Brian McMahan (Slint), Rachel Haden and others, DNTEL uses vocals as a textural tool within the songs. You'll hear time-stretched vocal distortions, manipulated acoustic guitar, and accordion combined with the pretty keyboard washes and clicky beats: the combination providing an icy tension that feels like a sudden gust of cold air to the face. I've waited for a while for someone to explore the dichotomy between organic and electronic extremes in a sophisticated way; that eventuality is here and it's worth the wait. If you've appreciated the melancholy of Boards of Canada, Lali Puna and the like, but want a little bitter mixed with the sweet, check this out. One of the best electronic albums I've heard this year.
jan jelinek / la nouvelle pauvrete / scape
Few artist have been able to feel equally comfortable in the realm of experimental sound, and that meant for dance-floor exploration; Jan Jelinek has successfully accomplished both. Drawing from his previous works as Farben and with "Computer Soup," Jelinek and his fictitious band the Exposures have fused both concepts into his latest endeavor "La Nouvelle Pauvrete," creating a beautifully balanced album that is as haunting as it is funky and peaceful. Dry, filtered micro-samples are melded with grainy, glitch rhythms, bringing to life songs that range from murky and somber, to minimal, mystic, bubbly bliss. While Jelinek's previous efforts were exercises based on black music, house or dub, he now supplements these with a segment of musical history new to his compositions -- classic white rock, pop and folk. Jelinek even lends his voice to the mixture, conceptually commenting on the influences of Stevie Wonder, Sun Ra, and Throbbing Gristle. If you believe in the works of Brinkmann and Delay, you must buy this record; you simply can't go wrong
tomas jirku / sequins / force inc
Jirku eschews the familiar (the only sounds you'll recognize here are one richocheting guitar fragment and a vocal snippet) on his second CD for a set of dense, decisive, oblique gestures. His work centers on that hypermodern concept, the fragment. Assembling fragments seems to be the only un-tapped-out method left for modern art, and Jirku's thwips and strains and fizzles all pronouncements for a cut -- not an edit is made without it's requisite 'thwap'. Jirku's music has beats, certainly, and they're jumpy and catchy, with the complex lightness and flexibility of carbon fiber rather than steel's clanky stiffness, with the sequential familiarity of throwing plastic dice over the surface of a boardgame. Definitely one to watch, and on an aesthetic par with Brinkmann, Delay, etc.--I think I even like this even more than those artists' recent work.
