The Cure - 'Pornography' (Fiction)

Pornography is a deliberately bleak, dense record. All of the songs sound pretty much the same, and the band, still a trio, sounds huge thanks to overdubs, a scrupulous use of reverb, and the slow, plodding rhythms that eventually propel this record through its eight songs. Robert Smith has taken his great step away from the bouncy frontman of 'Boys Don't Cry' and towards the posturing foolishness of the late 80s. But here, it's balanced - the doom and gloom isn't that far beyond Factory output of the same period, though when the opening lyric of your album is 'It doesn't matter if we all die', it's pretty much the stuff "goth" is made up. I like Pornography a lot because of how relentless it is, and how it sits on the border of being overly sincere romantic body poetry and genuinely edgy yet bare sentiment from the imagistic planet that the Swans came from. Either way, it's honest, and Smith's guitar playing is just brilliant here. He's kept the long, sinewy notes of the first record but taken away the attack, without compromising the mood. It's decay all along and the monotonous rhythm (I think I criticised drummer Laurence Tolhurst for being kinda weak before, though really it's perfect, and while he moved to keyboards after this record, I sorta miss the plodding). Big hair and makeup are just around the corner, but I generally stop here, except whenever I hear 'In Between Days' I can't deny it's greatness.

Cometa Fever - 'Dead Light' (What The ...?)

A one-sided 12" means that I only have to write about half as much here, right? In addition to being only 5 songs, this is also pressed in an edition of 112 copies of which I have #108, so chances are you won't be able to find this for sale anymore. Three years ago these five songs felt like a weird, Italian take on bedroom psychedelia, clearly influenced by stuff like the Jesus and Mary Chain, Magazine, and A.R. Kane, yet with a somewhat more casual twang. And now, the indie blogs of today are filled with bands who sounds shockingly similar to Cometa Fever. The mini-band feel (Cometa Fever are only a duo, with all the rhythm tracks coming from a can) is certainly common today; this is probably not miles away from Blank Dogs, which in 2008 were just hitting the scene. 'Neon, Baby' is a drawling ballad that is sort of beautiful in its monotony; of course, all the vocals are mixed in such a way that the lyrics are pretty unintelligible (though they're clearly singing in English). Lo-fi textures are everywhere, never that radical but with just enough static and hiss to feel amateur; how about the title track's guitar grind? 'Black' closes the record with a jaunty bassline, somehow singsong in its darkness. It's not proper melancholy but a bit of an act, which I like - it suits the style well. Over time, this has grown on me immensely, though it feels a bit unremarkable given the glut of things sounding like this; I dig it, though, a ton, maybe irrationally so.

Cabaret Voltaire - 'Eight Crespuscule Tracks' (Giant)

Fast-forward eight years later from Red Mecca, and somehow Cabaret Voltaire have transformed into a full-on dance/club act, though still with some "scary"/dark elements to reference their original sound. This is a weird compilation, originally three songs released on the Crespuscule label, and here filled out to LP length. These original three songs, all titled 'Sluggin Fer Jesus', open side one and do the sampled Evangelical Christian thing -- I hate to sound so cynical, but this is actually a step backwards (if you ask me) from Negativland's 'Christianity is Stupid'. Compared to their early 80s roots, the late 80s Cab Volt has much brighter production and a very strong tendency towards the goofy dance-orientated cop-out. I must sound like I don't care for this record much, which is probably true -- I'm not sure how it ended up in my collection. Side B contains a mess of things - the wrly intoned 'Your Agent Man', and the theme from Shaft are both present. There's still a really heavy emphasis on tape loops and interesting textures, but many of the tapes are vocal samples -- like they've sacrificed mood for the dancefloor aesthetic. In some way though, I think it fails at that too - I can't imagine any of these tracks actually being played in a club. Though the drum sounds are bigger, they still have a tinniness to them that I can't imagine being particularly compelling in a dance club. It feels to me a bit like Red Mecca CV was a band trying to figure themselves out, and Eight Crespuscule Tracks is a band that found it. I'm just not sure if I like where they ended up - maybe I should check out the intermediary journey, as it's bound to be interesting. There are plenty of interesting, experimental elements on this LP to justify it; it's certainly not awful, just somewhat, I dunno, compromised. And the Shaft cover isn't even that bad!

Anthony Braxton - 'Composition No. 95 For Two Pianos' (Arista)

Here's a departure from the fun, jazzy sounds of Anthony Braxton - a lengthy piece for two pianos, but actually also for zither and melodica, recorded in an Italian studio in 1980. Thirty years ago! Mr. Braxton himself does not actually appear on this record, but rather we get Ursula Oppens and Fred Rzewski, who are adorned in medieval cloaks at the pianos. I wonder if this title means that Mr. Braxton has composed 94 previous pieces for two pianos, or that this is just his 95th composition overall, which happens to be for two pianos. Plus the other instruments, but I suppose Composition No. 95 For Two Pianos, Two Melodicas and Two Zithers doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. But neither does this record! This is total 'head' music, a very structured interplay of pianos that gets a bit tiresome at points. When I feel the stone breath atmospheres it works, though it's far too easy to stop listening. But the melodica really saves the day with it's weird tightening circles, and the zithers are scratchy and tinny in a good way. This is exactly the type of record I would play someone if they wanted to know what "new music" sounded like - neo-classical, overly composed and full of the cold/distant character that people often think about in relation to Braxton. The thing is, the excellence of the past few LPs here have certainly proven that Braxton is capable of the other extreme - of warmth, colour, and expression that is stridently innovative yet reflective of the past simultaneously. These angular, brain-driven compositions have their place but they're not exactly what I reach for when I'm wanting some Braxton. This has stayed on my shelf for so long because I generally love the sound of piano on vinyl, and this is two of them -- and honestly, I dig the cloaks. That this contains Rzewski is perhaps of mild interest, though if you come looking for dirty, mind-expanding MEV soup you won't find it here. I saw Tony Conrad play once and his assistant was wearing a similar medieval robe, ringing some large hand bells occasionally over his dense drones. So maybe this is the hybrid of Renaissance Faire fashion with 20th century avant-garde composition - or wait, that's actually quite a lot of prog.

Anthony Braxton - 'New York, Fall 1974' (Arista)

This radio statio promo copy fails to put the graphical notation of the titles on the label, so I will use the same standards here. This is Braxton's move to a major label, and from listening to side one you'd think it was a blatant stab at commercial success. The three cuts here are based around a traditional rhythm section (Jerome Cooper and Dave Holland) and it swings quite nicely in post-bop quartet mode. The chord changes are somewhat golden, and it goes quite well with the ghostlike autumnal walk in the woods on the back cover. "Side One, Cut Three" gets the most intense, with a mind-numbingly repetitive bassline over which Braxton's alto and Kenny Wheeler's trumpet can scratch at each other. It's remarkably Apollonian but then again, Braxton is generally somewhat Apollonian (at least compared to other "difficult" composers). Side two introduces some crazyness -- a Braxton/Richard Teitelbaum clarinet/Moog duo opens up, and it's slow and exploratory, with lots of bubbling, gurgling sounds and fast/slow clarinet doodles. It's more of the push/pull we heard in the album with Jarman, but they occasionally lock into sync and make some amazingly mindmelded tunes. Overall, it's the highlight of the record and a nice entry into the Arista catalogue. "'Side two, cut two' is a predecessor to the World Saxophone Quartet, but with Braxton subbing for David Murray. The piece is kinda goofy, almost like an experiment of what they could get away with, with four saxophonists. Braxton's on soparino (which is even higher than soprano), leaving Hemphill to play alto and Oliver Lake on tenor. Hamiett Bluiett's baritone is quite restrained but occasionally it blasts a jarring jolt that makes me sit upright and pay attention. By the end it's an exercise in repetition with everyone playing staccato notes at the same time, and it's not the most enlightening of the man's works, to put it mildly. 'Side two, cut three' returns to the quartet of side one, but with Leroy Jenkins added. It's now 6 years since his contribution to Braxton's 3 Compositions of New Jazz and I daresay it shows a new sense of resignation. It's as slow as the duet with Teitelbaum, but this time there's a full band to enforce the misery. Maybe this bird gets unhappy when he leaves Chicago, or maybe he's anticipating the financial pressures that would virtually kill avant-garde jazz a few years later. Maybe I'm reading into it too much, but, my point is, it's a sad and oblique ending to a mixed grab bag of an album.

Astral Blessing (Mad Monk)

Some Sunburned Hand guys are in this band, I think; Astral Blessing is a free rock guitar-based ensemble. Two side-long improvisations with guitar squeals galore and swirling messes of fuzz, avoiding crunchy Sabbathy riffs in favor of flowery, organic soundrings. Side one is almost hilariously lo-fi, not distorted but just thin. It begins with echoing guitars that ring out a lot before the rhythm section kicks in, and it builds up to something nice but there's altogether no focus. But that's the idea, right? Side two is a bit better sounding and follows a similar pattern, and at some point you realise that it's not hard to listen to and it's actually pretty good, like listening to an anti-jam band jamming. There's a short track at the end, a nice coda to what we've heard before; it's intensely nervous, a buildup to some release that never comes. And it kinda reminds me of 90s guitar indie bands like Come or Crain or something, though I'm sure they weren't going for that. I'm not sure how this ended up in my collection and it's not something I ever have the desire to listen to, but as another vinyl byproduct of the free-folk/psych thing that was big a few years ago, I guess it's a nicely electrified version of it.