Luc Ferrari - Son Memorise (2006)

Luc Ferrari is something of a legendary figure in the strnage world of Musique Concrete/sound collage. Few composers have devoted so much time and effort to creating sounds which 99% of the population would not consider to be actual music. Thankfully for the other 1%, however, he remained an unstoppable force of unique and interesting composition for half a century, right up until his death in 2005.

Like John Cage before him, Ferrari was able to hear the beauty in everyday environmental sounds, and this posthumous album puts this quality on display wonderfully. Here we are treated to three long pieces. The first of these is a continuation of Ferrari's "Presque Rien" series, in which environmental sounds are edited down and assembled in such a way as to almost form a loose narratives. Conversation snatches in French and Italian, animal noises and ambient sound blend together with the occasional rhythmic pattern to make a fascinating pastiche. Most of the time the edits are barely noticeable, but occasionally you can pick out repetitions and carefully constructed patterns indicative of the care taken by the composer.

The second piece is similar in nature, but longer and for me more engaging. It consists of a half hour of Ferrari strolling through a small town in Algeria, and the sheer variety of sound he captures is staggering. Bells, roosters, donkeys, locals singing, gun shots and many other exotic and beautiful noises forma rich tapestry of sound. This piece dates all the way back to 1978, but to me it sounds just as fresh and modern as anything else here. The final work abandons field recordings in favor of a more traditional example of Musique Concrete. It is well thought out and well constructed, but personally I prefer the field recordings for their magical ability to transport the listener to another time and place.

The only problem I have with this release is the bizarre approach to track indexing, in which each composition is broken up into seemingly arbitrary sections, but that's a very minor complaint given the quality of the music itself. Luc Ferrari is a definite must for those interested in electro-acoustic music, field recordings or Musique Concrete. And while the uninitiated will likely dismiss it is "just noise," those with an open mind and vivid imagination will find music like this refreshingly unique and beautifully evocative.

Musique Concret - Bringing Up Baby (1981)

Very little is known about this album or the people who made it. It was released in 1981 on Steven Stapleton's United Dairies label and no one has heard anything from the band since. On the CD reissue, the notes claim that every effort was made to get in touch with the artists and that seem to have simply disappeared off the face of the Earth. The natural question is of course: what sort of music might these elusive people make?

The first half of the record is comprised of a four part suite entitled "Incidents in Rural Places." It's a delightfully pastoral bit of studio work, filled with tape manipulations and delay effects. It's vaguely Krautrocky, vaguely psychedelic and more than a little industrial, but it manages to remain relatively accessible throughout and in places is downright pretty. Vintage electronics are all over the place, although used largely for textures and backdrops rather than in a more traditionally musical context.

Things get even weirder on side two. The seven minute track "Organorgan" contains the only thing on the record that sounds like an actual musical instrument - a Hammond organ. It drones along methodically while more tape loops and sound collage strangeness happen around it. It's easy to see why the group took Musique Concret as their name.

Finally, the fourteen minute freakout "Wreath Pose at Sacrifice" concludes the album in a very raucous way. The first eight or nine minutes consist of increasingly bizarre sound collage material, eschewing even the barest semblance of musicality. Then, in a completely unexpected turn, a drum kit enters the mix playing in tight, psychedelic rhythm. There aren't many records that could make something so conventional seem so surprising. The drums hold down the beat for a while before being overwhelmed by swells of harsh feedback. At this point you'll be reminded of Whitehouse or early Merzbow more than anything else. At last, the track fades out with a sampled record of a female crooner and we're done!

There's no question that this is a strange oddity of a record and a nice addition to a collection, but there's also some great and unique music on it, particularly on side one. Side two has its moments to be sure, but the compositions simply don't feel as coherent or well thought out. This is a good buy for people who like the first few Nurse With Wound records and similarly unpredictable and noisy things.

Andrew Liles - Black Hole: Forming Part Two of the Vortex Vault (2007)

In 2007, British sound artist Andrew Liles rummaged through his collection of home recordings and decided to release all of them in a twelve disc set, with one album coming out each month for a year. Like a fool, I only acquired seven of these wonderful recordings before the extremely limited editions all sold out. In any case, I intend to review all the ones I have (not right in a row, don't worry) because they are all worth listening to for any fans of strange music.

The amazing thing about these discs is the sheer variety of sounds to be found on them. Culled as they were from years of experimentation, it shouldn't be surprising that these tracks have a lot of different things going on, but the fact that Liles can be so diverse and yet somehow retain a consistent sound and create a coherent album (actually, twelve coherent albums) is amazing. This volume consists of primarily short tracks with the longest coming in at just under six minutes. Liles is fond of minimal ostinatos and a number of songs feature little more than a repeated, invariably haunting melody. Vocal samples are used to great effect, particularly on my favorite track on the record "Hello, Pharaoh."

"Hello, Pharaoh" consists primarily of a woman singing the title in a sort of night-club jazz style, with a backdrop of crackling vinyl and brooding harmonium. The atmosphere created by this simple combination is breathtaking, even though it lasts a scant two and a half minutes. Elsewhere, ambient drones and dark rumblings take center stage. Actually this particular volume is a lot more ambient than some of the others, but of course that isn't a bad thing. There's some spooky lounge inspired vibraphone ("Sequential Dreaming") and glitch-like electronics that are meant to imitate a dentists tools ("Root Canal") and of course what record would be complete without samples of elephants trumpeting, african druming and tribal chanting ("Without Anaesthesia")?

As we all know, I like my music sublimely weird, and while not everything here fits that description, the series as a whole has so many wonderful oddities and non-sequiturs that it has become one of my favorites.