Tracked by DJ Morpheus (a.k.a. Samy Birnbach)-former singer of early-’80s post-punks Minimal Compact- Can’t Live Without My Radio is from/for the cassette generation. Featuring artists like Virgin Prunes, Love & Rockets, Heaven 17, Shriekback, Head, Timezone feat. John Lydon & Afrika Bambaataa, Thrill Kill Kult, 23 Skidoo, and Einst¸rzende Neubauten, this compilation (not “mix”) embodies the dry, oblique architecture of ’80s college radio captured to Dolby Noise Reduction tape during a Goth-meets-“glam savage” overnight slot. Here, rigid, rhythmic underpinnings vie with murky collages under scorched gloss, coagulating in industrial punk-funk New Wave/New Beat. Urban and humid, while sinister and sterile, songs such as Age of Chance’s appropriation of Prince’s “Kiss” are as much about gleefully marring pop’s veneer as they are calculated designs for social and stylistic change.
Hot Chip The Warning
Hot Chip possesses the power to make shy people scream, “Fuck the world!” while jiggling their asses in the most liberated fashion. The Warning finds this libidinous British quintet infecting listeners with witty, bassy, and poppy layers of captivatingly sardonic soul. Aside from the swaggering bounce of the single “Over and Over,” rhythmic ballads like “Look After Me” and “The Warning” could bring Isaac Hayes to tears. Hot Chip comes out swinging with a thoroughly dynamic mesh of Italo-infused basslines, thumping drums, and effortless vocals that culminate in heavenly, rhythmic bliss.
Nick Forte Young Man’s Disease
When the man behind hardcore legends Rorschach, post-punk predators Computer Cougar, and no-wave icons Beautiful Skin comes at you with his own full-length, you can only expect some weird shit. Not only is Young Man‘s Disease weird, it’s agonizingly engaging. From start to finish, this long-player emanates textures of sweltering fuzz, distorted drum-and-piano glitches, and an array of piercing squeals-all awkwardly exemplary of a young man’s anxiety. Like a guitar mastermind who solos sparingly, Forte crafts his melodies with a minimalist sensibility, keeping listeners enrapt and begging for more.
Various Artists Project Bicycle
The people at Vancouver’s Ache label know how to make sense of chopped-up, fragmented, and rare sound samples. They showcase some of the most complex noise compositions this side of Merzbow. Project Bicycle finds artists from around the world transforming and individualizing the same sample-the sound of the almighty bicycle. With tracks from Jason Forrest, Greg Davis, and Ache’s own Secret Mommy, this compilation sparks through honking horns, spindling sprockets, and chiming bells that could annoy even the most obnoxious messenger. Complete with an essay on the historical and societal virtues of our two-wheeled friend, this is one charming ode to freewheelin’.
Loscil Plume
Somewhere between the fluttering echoes of sustained notes (on the vibraphone and ebow guitar), one can actually hear Scott Morgan’s improvised vision grow into its own little somatic monster-complete with disorienting panning and pounding heartbeats. On Loscil’s fourth album, Morgan transcends the archetypal Kranky sound as each track morphs into a grandiose sonic sphere, tranquil and cathartic without relying on a deep kick or synthy riff. Composed with perfect amounts of subtle delay, layer upon layer of blissful chimes, and plenty of space, Plume makes for a quintessential escape from life’s daily rushes.
Various Artists Kenny Dope: Choice-A Collection of Classics
With his 15-plus-year career manning decks the world over, Kenny Dope has just the hand to pick two discs’ worth of classic grooves. Unsurprisingly, Dope, half of house legends Masters at Work, leans toward full, uplifting vocals. Both of these discs are heavy on funk, soul, and disco, sprinkled with names like James Brown and Earth Wind & Fire alongside lesser-knowns like the bass-heavy Ingram and funksters Earons-but for sheer joy, you can’t beat Exodus’ “Together Forever.”
Royce Tuff Love
Chicago-based foursome Royce’s unorthodox blend of hip-hop, synths, and emo is so hard to classify that the group’s DJ resorted to dubbing it “gangster pop.” The description fits: The group layers deep bass and focused beats with floating melodies and vocals (sung and rapped), the whole thing infused with a driving earnestness and sense of place (“South Side will always be home,” they note on “Milwaukee”). The album’s biggest drawback, though, is the sense that the quartet has something more in them; that they could just let it rip if they wanted to.
Various Artists Bass Odyssey: Ragga Party Mash Up
Peeps speak of the Jamaica/London connection, or the Jamaica/New York connection, but rarely do they hype the Jamaica/L.A. link. Well, N20, which operates out of Melrose Avenue, is out to change that with this continuous set. Released on a label that holds jungle and dancehall in equal regard, this CD is a hardcore pum pum mix that plays like one long track with cuts and mash-ups from Elephant Man, Beenie Man, Sizzla, and DJ Starscream from Slipknot (!). Assembled by Bass Odyssey, a crew well versed in the soundclash, the energy level stays on overdrive for the disc’s entirety.
Oliver Koletzki The Process
It must be cool to mess around with electronic gear and suddenly find your track hitting heavy club rotation around the world. Such was the Cinder-fella case for Berlin DJ/producer Oliver Koletzki when his single “Der Mückenschwarm” was discovered by the Cocoon label last year. The Process is Koletzki’s ode to the lean, minimal pull of microhouse, and there’s no question it’s expertly produced. If anything-because Koletzki sculpts The Process into a long, continuous composition-you wonder how this almost too-seamless mix meshes with his live DJing style; the jacking beats that surface later in the mix perplex even more.
Dictaphone Vertigo II
It’s true that moody, minimal soundscapes aren’t everybody’s thang, but Berlin’s Oliver Doerell and Roger Doering demonstrate why listening to bleeps and bird chirps isn’t just for sound-art installations. With day jobs in film and theater scoring, the duo’s aesthetic is clearly cinematic: Vertigo II has a sweeping feel, like the perfect soundtrack for suddenly getting beamed onto a deserted fjord in Iceland. Deconstructed jazz elements flutter into these compositions like friendly specters; warm, fleshy sax notes get juxtaposed against steely, glitchy clicks for a 3-D textured feel. Check “Bruxelles,” where a single thrumming tone lays the foundation for a mood exercise in loneliness.
