Smokey Haangala
Aunka Ma Kwacha

ABT072 - CA - 2019Deborah by Sorry Girls

Some Bias by Some ExerciseSome Exercise est le projet solo du producteur et multi-instrumentiste Sam Pichonsky. Après avoir joué de la basse dans le trio art-rock, Parapet, Pichonsky a déménagé à Toronto en 2019 et a commencé à faire des démos. Il trouve ses influences chez des artistes disco-mutants et no-wave comme James Chance et Come On.‘Some Bias’ parcourt un territoire sonore dense, trouvant un groove unique quelque part entre Neu et Gang of Four. Partiellement enregistrée sur un magnétophone cassé, l'ambiance du morceau est caverneuse et névrotique, tandis qu'un rythme 3/4 vif prépare le terrain pour les mosh pits et les mouvements de danse maladroits.Les coups de guitare nerveux du morceau sont sans aucun doute un clin d'œil au son art-punk étrange souvent associé à la ville natale de l'artiste, Calgary, qui a produit des artistes comme Women et Telstar Drugs.Le texte tourne autour des connexions entre l'identité individuelle et l'occupation de l'espace physique. "La chanson elle-même est une tentative de traiter la façon dont votre image de soi peut se déformer après avoir passé du temps dans un nouvel endroit", explique Sam Pichonsky, le principal auteur-compositeur du groupe.Pour combler vos envies de musique expérimentale, ce maxi-single inclut une pièce exclusive intitulée Tick Soup.Musique par Sam PichonskyEnregistré à Toronto et CalgaryLa face A a été mixé par Jason Balla (Earringusa)

Voor Harmonium by HellveteIn his essay ‘The Meaning of My Avant-Garde Hillbilly and Blues Music’, Henry Flynt talks about how his music should be analysed as an intellectual tribute to the music of the autochtone, setting aside plain folk references, but adopting academic insights to mold the music one makes as a folk creature. Much of Flynt’s discourse applies to the music of Glen Steenkiste’s Hellvete. Over the past twenty years he has been thoroughly investigating both the ethnic musical language of various regions as well as the contemporary pioneers that preceded him as a drone musician, internalizing concepts such as e.g. deep listening or just intonation. Casting off any redundant ideas or sounds, and stripping down the focus to develop singular concepts, his working method lead to pieces such as ‘Droomharmonium’, in which he shapes the endless variations on a theme, emphasizing detail and nuance rather than multitude. The Indian harmonium here serves as the main device to worship ancient ghosts and masters, and to preserve a continuum in a tradition that touches both folk and avant-garde culture. The materialisations are sustained tone compositions which become a means of appreciation of the people and cultures that paved the way for forms of mutual escapism. This might well be the core of what Hellvete’s music is about. As much as it is a form of self-entertainment – like folk music in the old days – it also invites the listener to a shared experience of sonic reverie, it is a casual gift to the community. This is certainly true for the pieces presented on this album. They were first presented in a smoke filled and darkened art space in Ghent, Steenkiste surrounded by only a couple of candles and just enough stage light to see him erratically moving to the rhythm of the piece, occasionally twiddling the knobs of a Doepfer synth that processed the prerecorded harmonium tracks. Unlike most of his other performances this piece embraced the audience in a trance that was similar to that of an old-school rave club. Flynt writes: ‘The music should be intellectually fascinating because the listener can perceive and participate in its rhythmic and melodic intricacies, audacity of organization, etc. At the same time, the music should be kinesthetic, that is, it should encourage dancing.’ ‘Voor Harmonium’ does exactly that; it builds on the artistic ideas that have long been established in Hellvete’s oeuvre, but the ecstatic nature of these pieces merges the usual spiritual transcendence with one of determined physical bliss. It encourages both mind and body to step into the sound, to be enraptured, to celebrate.

Hydroplane reinstate their formidable 1997 debut of sublime guitar atmospherics, fragile lyricism and droning incidentals with an overdue vinyl and digital reissue.An offshoot of the now-féted The Cat’s Miaow, the trio formed after drummer Cameron Smith decamped to London, charting new territory with tape loops, manipulated samples and a borrowed Jupiter 4 in the wake of Endtroducing. Adopting a handle that Dean Wareham once considered calling Luna, Hydroplane intended to only ever release Excerpts From Forthcoming LP, a single-sided 7” sonic collage, before imploding in mystery. Their label however insisted they deliver their taunted album. From the comfort of a Brunswick flat, they continued to record soaring melodies and restrained song structures to 4-track, sculpting dramatic Radiophonic Workshop cues weighted in reverb and near-perfect dream pop lead by Kerrie Bolton’s empyrean vocals.Bored of industry expectation and largely ignored by local audiences, the reluctant performers followed the way of The Cannanes and formed meaningful overseas alliances by mail and phone, securing releases on Michigan outpost Drive-In and Broadcast launching pad Wurlitzer Jukebox. Championed by John Peel with twenty spins on his converted Radio One slot and even polling in Festive Fifty of 1997, the humble three-piece still walked to their neighbourhood shops undetected.Previously only available as a US-issued CD, this reminiscent late-night suite establishes Hydroplane as an everlasting ember in Australia’s beloved indie nexus.