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Sensitive Chaos, Emerging Transparency

Another interesting and engaging ride on Jim Comb’s blend of New Age, jazz and electronica. Best bets here: “Fifty Light Years from Home,” which starts as a languid and beautiful ballad bolstered by Brian Good’s soulful sax, and then goes all tweaky-funky and upbeat for its second half. Hit repeat to enjoy this one a few times in a row. Also: “Bazaar Behavior,” where Otso Pakarinen’s synth guitar work shreds and rends the air before giving way to more of Good’s sax as Combs lays down a loping percussive backdrop. This disk is getting a lot of airplay, and with good reason. Check it out at senstivechaos.com.

a.r.s.(E), errata

Experimental, unusual, and very, very listenable—that’s the upshot of having minimalist Dwight Ashley, electro-chamber-music guru Tim Story, and Hans Joachim Roedelius, one of the godfathers of electronic music, get together for what they call “a musical game of exquisite corpse.” The resultant pieces are richly varied, with distinctly different character and differing levels of commitment required from the listener. Deep attention pays off as you explore the intricate and seamless weft and weave of the three styles at work, the way in which each element accents and complements as a piece moves forward. I particularly like the otherworldly-jazz feel of “gefallig,” featuring what I assume is Ashley’s cello, warped and manipulated, over a simple piano-and-drum backdrop; the quiet drama of “simmering”; and the calming, velvety drift of “gefangen.” The 10-minute uptempo jam of “squiggle” is worth the price of admission as the trio cuts loose to showcases the chemistry at work here. Given the growing lineage between these three--their individual work, Ashley & Story's back catalog, and some find CDs from Story & Roedelius (Lunz and Inlandish, for two), this is another engrossing chapter in a fine, ongoing story. Find it at nepenthemusic.com.

Computerchemist, Landform

Add Computerchemist to my list of artists whose new work I genuinely look forward to. Dave Pearson has called himself and his work “more TD than TD.” That being the case, his latest offering, Landform, brings Pearson’s homage up to the Melrose/Le Parc era with its blend of sequencer runs and blistering guitar. “After the Eclipse” kicks off the disk in high-octane style, and Pearson doesn’t relent. I up the volume as the guitar kicks in on “Darklight Drive,” urged on by pounding prog-rock drums. “Cave Search” starts slow and dramatic and keeps a mysterious air through half of its eleven minutes. A pause, and Pearson hits the thrusters. The title track rolls along on a burbling sequencer track as guitar and piano punctuate the path. The final ride, “Geoid,” is pure space-jazz goodness. As usual, Pearson gives himself room to rip and to develop each of his sonic stories–tales well worth both the telling and the hearing. This is a Hypnagogue Highly Recommended CD, especially if you like your music with a touch of old-school style. Available at www.computerchemist.com.

Dolmen, Incantations Verse: One & Verse: Two

I found out about Dolmen–the duo of Jason Sloan and Stephen Smith–late. Late as in this, their final album together. And now I need to go back and find everything they’ve done. Because the power and imagery that drives this two-disk set quiote frankly stunned me. Too strong? Not at all. Incantations Verse: One and Verse: Two are built on dark, dense guitar-based drones and clashing, unapologetic noise paired up with aggressive tribal rhythms and longform drifts carved from shadow. These disks seethe with a sense of the ritualistic, an irresistible calling to a sensually dark and potentially dangerous place inside of ourselves. Mesmerizing, challenging and, in the end, compelling stuff that makes for one of the best offerings of the year. Disk one rises out the drum-and-static genesis of "Christ's Burnt Monolith," to immediately sets the listener on notice that this will not be a simple ride. "Calling Our Dead Ones Home" builds on the driving percussion that underlies much of the work here, a pulse that's so integral that when the beat drops out, it's like something's been taken from you. That's the kind of draw the disk has--this is music that hits you on a personal level because it's connecting to some unspoken thing that you understand. "Exile from Purgatory" drifts by uneasily before hiding itself in dark noise. Feedback and rhtythm empower "Forgotten Ritual" as distorted vocal samples curl around the sound, demonstrating how well Sloan and Smith balance infectious rhythms and beats with storms of dense sound. Melodies struggle against the sound, aching to be known. It's like hearing a secret message in the sound. "Signal Lights" is a short, comparatively calm respite of soft pads leading into the grimmer feel of "Colored Wound of Autumn." In "Residual Haunting II" a rising beat and chanting vocal sample give way to the repeated muffled voice of a young girl. It's like being witness to an arcane calling, and it's hypnotic stuff. Verse: One ends with "A Past Life Reconstructed," a 15-minute excursion where that beat-beneath-noise concept hits its stride, building itself in layers as Sloan's guitar muscles its way forward, twisting itself around Smith's airy swirls. And at the 8-minute mark, it just cuts loose with a sense of grim ecstasy--the culmination of the first incantation. And that's just half of the ride.

Verse: Two offers more of the very welcome same, opening with the rhythmic drive and guitar of "Lost at the Beginning" and moving into the grinding "A Past of Ashes," where electrostatic noise vies with airy chords for your attention. When the noise drops off, the chords remain like a benediction for making it through. "Magick" takes hold immediately--a muffled incantation, a grim drone, and then...those drums. This is a turn-it-up moment. Sloan's guitar insinuates itself beneath it all, the air fills with a relentless blast of noise, and the spell is complete. This, along with "Past Life.." and the disk two closer, "This World Can't Last," is one of the best moments of Incantations. "Idolatry" moves in softly with a touch of dub and silky drifts, drawing power in its last two minutes from the drums and grind. A reverential mystery is the foundation for "When My World Collapses." This piece demands and rewards close listening. Beautiful and chilling. "Asceticism" is as close to meditative at this disk gets, slow-moving and nearly calming. Drums and a cold synth-wind mark the boundaries. "Residual Haunting III" is as darkly engaging as its earlier companion piece while at the same time completely unique to it. From here, Sloan and Smith begin to cull together final spell to end the world. It begins with a "Circle of Candles"--pounding drums rising immediately under a chant-like drone--a dreadful OM, if you will--with shadowy elements moving in from the periphery. Sloan's wailing guitar calls from a distance. And it all hangs there like an omen, swirling and gathering demonic energy. In the final minute a piano, marvelously out of place, offers up a gentle chord structure. And then Sloan and Smith bring it all to an end with "This World Can't Last," a 13-minute (excuse the hyperbole) tour de force where every element of Incatations falls into place--it is contemplative, quiet, urgent, forceful, rhythmic, savage--and, in the end, simply and completely magnificent.

Since my reviews are never this long or deeply detailed, I'm sure you get the idea--this is a Hypnagogue Highly Recommended CD. In fact, it's more than that. It's a disk I will absolutely insist you should not go without. Experience this music. Succumb to it. Find it now at the Slo-Bor media web site.