I was talking to a wonderful painter. While ago. Playing an SYR in the background. He said, 'Ah, this reminds me of Stockhausen.' As an art teacher he'd played Stockhausen for the schoolchildren in his class and their work had gained freedom and courage. Lines became more spontaneous, colours more daring.
SYR 4 found Sonic Youth engaged in the experimental notational scores of several modern classical 20th century composers. They left their own distinctive fingerprints while respecting the original intentions of the graphic compositions. Some rock fans were angered, some serious music buffs were taken aback. Rules and restrictions still seemed to apply. But not for this open-minded group. Other SYR records focused on those guitars; jagged, enveloping textures of eerie, threatening sound. Sometimes, Kim Gordon would sing, moving from a breathy hush to a challenging howl, continually sensual and disconcerting. This latest SYR record is a soundtrack to a French movie titled 'Simon Werner a Disparu.' It is subtly beautiful and idiosyncratic. Splashes, clicks, scratches disturb the reassuring, reflective flow. High frequencies, pianos, was that the cold blue rumblings of the ocean I heard or the gleaming drift of a night drive through Paris. Spaced-out and contemplative, they pick up electric speed and rhythm then float back into slow echoing chords. A beguiling episode in a fascinating series.
Her voice was clear as water, elegant as a swan. Her lyrics were enticing and enigmatic, spellbound by hidden meaning; Tender Buttons, Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age.
Fresh scattershot time signatures, bellowed gutter surrealism, real wise, real wild. Tough old boot with a softer side, let's get down to it-these records are capable of expanding and simultaneously exploding your mind; Trout Mask Replica, Lick My Decals Off, Baby, Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller), Doc At The Radar Station.
To say Needs! is an album from a well-regarded improv/jazz saxophonist won't do it justice. More like interconnection between radio dial, feedback hissing from the ashes, tapping the abstract, a shattered ritual, shaving off conventions of harmony. Gustafsson spurts and malts through an onslaught of morphed souls. It is unsettling, how he bumbles upon makeshift compositions, and that stuttering primitivism challenges apprehension, sinks in with fleshy bite.
The second breathtaking film of the year. In truth, despite winning Cannes last spring, it's a seamless continuation of Tropical Malady and Syndromes and a Century. These are works gifted to us from the gentlest shaman. What a pleasure, for those watching in the enlightened darkness, to luxuriate in his strange, spiritual and puzzlingly comic other-worlds. The red-eyed forest beings, the fish and the princess, the sweet out-of-body ghosts. A fantastical impression of reality. Take me back there, to that inspired, imaginative space, where the incredible is wistfully promised with seeping 