Synthwave – Page 14 – 7th Level Music

Matthew Cardinal announces first solo album due this October.

Matthew Cardinal today announces his debut solo album, Asterisms – a dazzling collection of ambient electronic music that crystallizes moments in the amiskwaciy (Edmonton) based musician’s life. Known for his work in nêhiyawak – the moccasingaze trio whose debut album nipiy is currently nominated on the 2020 Polaris Music Prize Shortlist, and was nominated for the JUNO Awards Indigenous Album of the Year – Cardinal’s first solo full-length is an audio journal that explores “captured moments of experimentation and expression” in eleven entries: “asterisms drawing attention to where I was musically, mentally and emotionally at very brief passages of my life,” says Cardinal.

Illuminated by the first single “May 24th” and its accompanying video by multimedia visual artist SCKUSE (Stephanie Kuse) shared today, Asterisms explores emotional-sonic textures with an often gentle, dreamy tint – the glint of synthesizers dancing around atmospheric melodies and rhythmic accents.

WATCH: Matthew Cardinal’s video for “May 24th” on YouTube

Inspired by Cardinal’s ephemeral night-time flash photography, Kuse set out to create “something soft, hypnotic, and pretty to suit the music that also reflected the dreamy and nostalgic nature of his photos,” she recounts. “I spent a few evenings out collecting footage near the South Saskatchewan River until I stumbled on the right material – wildflowers and grass going in and out of focus as the camera trailed behind. The footage was then processed through an old TV to enhance the vibrancy and to add subtle distortion.”

“‘May 24th’ is the result of experimenting with generative synthesis and syncing external equipment, playing around and having multiple sound sources playing the same melody. I slowed everything down significantly and built on top of that,” reveals Cardinal, a consummate sound-shaper both solo and in his role in the nêhiyawak trio. Coupled with its successor track, “May 25th” – a brief retro-futuristic motif – “May 24th” features alternatingly ascendant and cascading celestial strands, buoyed by dramatic swells of synthesizers that emit a spacious sigh at the song’s gentle end.

———-

Created with analogue synthesizers, a small modular system, samplers, electric piano, and processed voice, each sonic entry came out naturally in improvisational waves, recorded often in single days if not single takes. The minimal instrumental framework, usually set up on the floor of Cardinal’s bedroom for maximum communion, created pathways through each machine to the album’s vast cloud of starry narratives. “I’m very influenced by the instruments I play,” says Cardinal. “I love the sound of reverb, the imperfect reflection of sounds and how it decays. The sounds of bells, chimes, electric piano, and cello. I find certain sounds very inspiring.”

Calling to mind the luxurious minimalism of Brian Eno, Erik Satie, Steve Reich, and Glenn Gould, and the swirling influence of Fennesz, Jim O’Rourke, Boards of Canada, and Slowdive, Cardinal creates a glacial, airy sonic universe that is personal yet evocative, subtle yet impressive. The album opening “Dec 31st” glistens with the crystalline climate synonymous with the day, while the album closing “Jul 23rd” ranges into Postal Service territory at the height of summer with a pulsing bpm that punctuates the amorphous map of moods that makes up the record.

Described by Cardinal as “music recorded mostly for myself,” the cathartic value of these instrumental compositions is found in their release. A collection of intimate contemplations becomes interpretive and intentional music, a catalyst and companion to reading, studying, working, walking, dancing, hand-holding, and sleeping. “I would like it if people listened and interpreted the music anyway they want to,” says Cardinal. “I don’t think these songs need a narrative, and I think certain moods come through some of the tracks, while other moods might only be heard by individual listeners.”

Cardinal found the title Asterisms to be the perfect encapsulation of the record he made. In typography, a near-obsolete character used to draw attention to a passage, and in astronomy, a visually obvious pattern of stars, asterisms connects the tangible and the intangible aspects that define this music. On his solo debut, Cardinal creates a document of his inner reflections that flourishes into an offering of sonic refractions for our own contemplation during these thought-provoking times.

Asterisms is out on October 27th via Arts and Crafts. You can pre-order it here.

Keep your mind open.

[Don’t forget to subscribe while you’re here.]

[Thanks to Conor at Hive Mind PR.]

Rewind Review: Brijean – Walkie Talkie (2019)

Blending Los Angeles jazz and funk with Detroit and Chicago jazz and funk with hip hop from both the west and north coasts, Brijean (Brijean Murphy – percussion and vocals, Doug Stuart – beats, synths) make moody dance music, trip hoppy meditations, and shiny summer grooves on their debut album Walkie Talkie.

Murphy’s opening percussion on “Like You Do” mixes so well with Stuart’s electro-grooves that it’s sometimes to tell where one ends and the other begins. “Fundi” seems to mix in conversations you’d overhear on a subway while Murphy sings about taking your time and lying low over Stuart’s space disco beats.

“Drive Slow” is perfect for such activity, especially when cruising along a beachside road or to or from a chillwave afterparty. The underlying hip hop synths are a great touch in it. “Time moves by so slow,” Murphy sings at the opening of the peppy “Show and Tell.” “Just let your body go, it’s easy.” She and Stuart encourage us to dance and forget our troubles, a crucial skill in this day and age. It’s a lovely track that will take you away to that ideal club in your mind, even if just for a little while.

The title track reminds me of some Thievery Corporation tracks with its electro-lounge grooves and feel-good dance beats. The closer, “Meet Me After Dark,” promises a cool afterparty for all of us somewhere in the future, which is actually the present, so celebrate now with Brijean’s sweet grooves, sexy bass, and toe-tapping beats.

Walkie Talkie is lovely. It’s a much-needed dose of sonic bliss in times of self-isolation and changing seasons. Don’t skip this one.

Keep your mind open.

[Walk on over to the subscription box before you go.]

[Thanks to Patrick at Pitch Perfect PR.]

Hannah Georgas takes it “Easy” on her new single.

On September 4th Hannah Georgas who, over the years has been an active touring member of The National and Kathleen Edward’s backing band, will release her new LP All That Emotion on Brasslandand Arts & Crafts. Produced by Aaron Dessner, founding member of The National and producer of Taylor Swift’s latest LP folklore, the album has already attracted an enthusiastic critical response with the mesmeric lead single “Dreams,” the calmly enveloping “Just A Phase” and pre-announce singles “That Emotion” and “Same Mistakes,” earning praise from outlets like FADER, Stereogum, The Guardian, Uproxx, The Line of Best Fit, Clash, American Songwriter, BrooklynVegan,
Exclaim, Earmilk, World Cafe and Consequence of Sound who dubbed Georgas “a new generation’s Feist.”LISTEN:
to Hannah Georgas’ All That Emotion LP
Private Stream
[download available on request]

Today, Georgas is sharing her final single from the LP, a slow-burning synth pop gem entitled “Easy.” Introduced by pulsing arpeggiators and a subtle blend of electronic drums and organic percussion, the track builds towards a glittering crescendo, with Georgas’ weaving in and out of harmonized vocal parts as she chronicles a search for closure at the end of a relationship.

WATCH: Hannah Georgas’ “Easy” lyric video on YouTube

“I was going through a break up around the time that I wrote this song and I felt like I kept searching for some sort of closure or definitive ending to the relationship,” says Georgas. “I found myself feeling frustrated that I couldn’t communicate well with this person and whenever I tried to reach out I was left feeling more alone in the end. I was going through this hard time and it felt like they found it easy to let it go.”

——

Hannah Georgas began creating the album All That Emotion about a year after the release of her celebrated 2016 album For Evelyn —starting with an intensive process of writing and demoing songs in her Toronto apartment, and finishing with a month long retreat in Los Angeles. She began the record making process in the middle of 2018 when she traveled to Long Pond, the upstate New York studio & home of producer Aaron Dessner of The National.

“Before each session, I would make the long drive from Toronto to Hudson Valley in Upstate New York.” Says Hannah. “It was really special getting the opportunity to work in such a remote space with Aaron and Jon and I was always itching to get back whenever we had breaks. At the same time, I appreciated the space in between and coming back with fresh ears.” Hannah continues, “Aaron and I agreed the production needed to bring out the truth in my voice. During these sessions we musically found a new depth and, vocally, a delivery that was more raw and expressive, allowing the emotional texture of each song to shine through.”

The writing of the album found Hannah creating her most personal album to date. “All That Emotion’s album cover is an old family photo,” says Hannah. “I love the image because it captures this calm confidence. It looks like people are watching a performance and it seems like he’s diving in without a second thought. Similarly, I find that it parallels the approach needed within art. The calm confidence of expressing yourself without the thought of consequence, regardless of anyone watching.”

On the album, you’ll hear about bad habits and prayerful families—right and wrong love—mistakes and moving on—casual cruelty and most of all, change. Plotting the boundaries of where to place this music it’s emotionally fraught but warm & fuzzy. “An indie-minded avant-pop artist” was the Boston Globe’s formulation for her charms. Think of Fleetwood Mac meets The National; Kate Bush-sized passion with the earthiness of Cat Power or Aimee Mann. The album grows inside you and sticks to your insides. The songs are big tent anthems, rough at the edges but relatable.

Hannah continues: “I still have long conversations with my friends over the phone, talking about love and relationships, pain and heartbreak, our upbringings and the hardships that come along with that.” In an era of social media quips and hollow memes, maybe it’s this kind of one-on-one contact a form of communication worth getting back to?

“In this way, I get a lot of lyrical inspiration through the individuals I interact with in my everyday life,” she says. “Then music becomes the forum where I work out these feelings, embrace and express pain and love, joy and anger, frustration and fear and hope. It’s where I can be uncensored, not hold back, and say what I want to say. In that way, making music is a cathartic and cleansing process. It’s always the best feeling when someone tells me my music has helped them out in some way. That keeps me going.”

All That Emotion will be released September 4, 2020 on Arts & Crafts/Brassland. It is available for preorder here.

Keep your mind open.

[Ease on over to the subscription box while you’re here.]

[Thanks to Tom at Hive Mind PR.]

Review: Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song

It takes guts to open your new album with a Radiohead cover, but that’s exactly what Kelly Lee Owens does on her (no shocker, if you’d heard her amazing self-titled debut – which was my top album of 2017) excellent new record, Innner Song. Owens has stated in press releases that Inner Song follows “the hardest three years of my life,” and one could view the record (and her) as a phoenix rising from ashes.

That aforementioned Radiohead cover is “Arpeggi” (from 2007’s In Rainbows) and she starts it with subtle, humming bass that’s almost subliminal. Owens sings about letting go of things in the past that cannot be fixed on “On” – which has her voice moving and sounding like birds released from a cage. It builds into a thumping, bumping floor-filler. Owens excels at tracks like this that take you on a journey from peaceful meditations to booty-shaking workouts.

“Melt!” – a song about global warming that samples collapsing glaciers and people ice skating – deserves to be on every DJ’s hot list of dance tracks this year. “Free yourself with the truth that’s already in you,” Owens sings on the haunting “Re-Wild.” It’s advice all of us can use, and Owens’ use of echoing synths helps it sink in like acupuncture needle. “Jeanette” is all bouncy synths and beats that make you want to dance and then hug everyone and then dance some more.

“L.I.N.E.” (“Love Is Not Enough”) has Owens realizing that “love is not enough to stay…love is not enough alone” as she walks away from a dead-end relationship with someone offended by truth. “Corner of My Sky” features none other than John Cale on vocals singing and speaking poetry over Owens’ lush synths. “Night” blends house, ambient, and chill wave, and “Flow” is perfectly named as it bumps, grooves, sways, and, yes, flows along like a happy balloon bouncing down the street on a summer wind. The album ends with sort of a reverse lullaby on “Wake-Up.” The soft song is great for relaxation, but Owens tells us (and herself) to open our eyes and move forward (the only direction we can move in this life, really).

That fact that Owens could create an album as lovely as Inner Song after “the hardest three years of my life” is a testament to her fortitude. I’m glad she made it through the trials and came out, like a phoenix, stronger.

Keep your mind open.

[Don’t forget to subscribe while you’re here.]

[Thanks to Jessica at Pitch Perfect PR.]

Rewind Review: Blanck Mass – Dumb Flesh (2015)

I had heard Blanck Mass (AKA Benjamin John Power) before with his work in Fuck Buttons, but had unknowingly heard songs from Dumb Flesh five years ago not knowing who had created them. So, hearing this album in its entirety for the first time was a real treat because it reunited me with songs I didn’t realize were my introduction to his solo work – which I have come to enjoy through multiple albums like World Eater and Animated Violence Mild.

Opener “Loam” is a weird backwards vocal track that lets you know you’re in for something out of the ordinary. No Blanck Mass album is necessarily “normal.” They’re all soundscapes that range from strange and sometimes creepy dreams (like “Loam,” which almost seems to be the sound of a possibly haunted lava lamp) to industrial dance tracks to ambient psychedelia.

“Dead Format” is the first Blanck Mass song I ever heard, and I was elated to be reunited with it on this album. I actually first heard it when I saw Blanck Mass perform at the much-missed Levitation Chicago in 2016. The thumping electronic beats and futuristic bounty hunter synths are a wicked combination that get you moving and absolutely kill live.

The title of “No Lite” is a bit misleading because it’s full of shimmering synths that fade in and out like sunlight breaking through rolling storm clouds as wickedly subtle beats pound underneath them. “Atrophies” mixes synth swirls with karate chop-like processed beats. “Cruel Sports” would be a perfect theme for some sort of cyborg octagonal cage fight. The bass hits hard, the beats sound like metal clashing with metal, and the synths gleam like stark overhead lights.

“Double Cross” is a great synth-wave dance track that’s dark-wave at the edges with break-beat subtleties. It belongs in the next video game you’re designing or playing. “Lung” pops and chirps like some sort of alien machine. It becomes somewhat hypnotizing after a short while.

The album ends with “Detritus,” which is a wild eight minutes and thirteen seconds of what at first sounds like some kind of excavation machinery running with almost no oil in the gears. The synths slowly build, like a creature rising from a junkyard to see the sun for the first time in a century.

It’s a powerful record, and just one of many such records Blanck Mass has put out there. Brace for impact before you hear it.

Keep your mind open.

[Blogging isn’t a dead format yet, so be sure to subscribe.]

Review: Automatic – Signal

I stumbled upon Los Angeles trio Automatic while listening to a radio station from somewhere in southwestern France. I was immediately hooked by their goth / no wave sound and had to find more. Luckily, their new album Signal was already available. I knew after one listen that I had to own it.

Halle Saxon‘s fretless, fuzzy bass opens the album on “Too Much Money,” and Izzy Giuadini‘s synths add a buzzy air of menace throughout it while Lola Dompé‘s drums are as precise as an auto assembly line. “Calling It” was the track I heard on French radio that made me sit up and think, “Who is this?” Dompé’s drums take center stage on the track and the echoed vocals are cold and sexy at the same time. “Suicide in Texas” is a goth-wave / David Lynch movie dream track. Automatic have cited Mr. Lynch and Dario Argento as major influences, so that already makes them great in my book.

“I Love You, Fine” is one of the best song titles I’ve heard all year, and the lyrics might be the best ones about female empowerment in a relationship since The Waitresses‘ “I Know What Boys Like.” “Highway” is a danceable industrial gem suitable for your next late night drive to an after-party. Saxon’s bass groove on the title track is undeniable.

“I see you turn into humanoid,” they sing on “Humanoid,” which I can’t help but think is influenced by Gary Numan‘s work. Giaudini’s synths and Dompé’s percussion on it sound like some of Numan’s work with Tubeway Army – which is never a bad thing. “Damage” is another killer goth-wave track as Automatic sing about walking away from a relationship that they know isn’t going to end well.

“Electrocution” has Dompé and Saxon in perfect synch on an upbeat track about what can be a downbeat subject – emptiness (“The sound of laughter, and then it’s over. There’s nothing after.”). “Oh no! We’re goin’ nowhere!” they sing on “Champagne,” which I think is a song about superficiality. The closer, “Strange Conversations,” is like something out of a goth prom night with its romantic bass line, slightly bright synths, and almost-slow dance drumming. Lyrics like “I thought I told you, I can’t stand anyone at all.” and “I’ve lost my patience. All you do is let me down.” also help boost the goth feel of the track.

The album mixes goth, synth wave, and no wave so well it’s difficult to tell where one influence begins and another ends, but who cares? Automatic blend everything so well that Signal becomes a lovely, hypnotic record that will surely be among my top releases of 2020.

Keep your mind open.

[Subscribe and updates automatically come to your e-mail inbox.]

Review: Nine Inch Nails – Ghosts V: Together

Ghosts V: Together is one of two instrumental albums released for free by Nine Inch Nails as gifts to everyone during the COVID-19 pandemic. The albums are meant for meditation, reflection, or ambient sounds for study or work or pleasure.

As the title suggests, this album is meant to inspire a sense of belonging despite separation. The titles of the tracks evoke hope and courage. “Letting Go While Holding On,” the album’s opener, is over nine minutes of meditative drones and minimalist percussion and lets us know that releasing our grip on the past is the only way to move forward. “Together” is over ten minutes of ambient sounds that resemble radio static, as if NIN is reminding us of our connection over distant miles as we try to tune in to stations we can barely hear. “Out in the Open” follows, reflecting what we all hope we’ll be soon. Its shiny synths bring to mind images of sunlight breaking through dark clouds.

We can get there “With Faith” – a song that blends simple, soft percussion with chant-like synths. “Apart” is the longest track at thirteen minutes and thirty-five seconds. It’s fitting, as sometimes it seems we’ve been apart during this pandemic for ages and will continue to be that way for the foreseeable future. “Your Touch” brightens things up a bit as it helps us remember the warmth of human contact.

“Hope We Can Again” sums up the mood of a lot of people well. It combines simple music box tunes with simmering synths that reflect a simple warmth that everyone hopes to have again. The closer is “Still Right Here,” which, thankfully, most of us are. We are here, biding our time, seeing changes that are happening and ones that need to be made, and looking forward to coming out to embrace each other, and the upbeat drums of this final track are there to encourage us.

Don’t expect industrial beats, trance floor-fillers, and angry yelling on this album (or the next). This record isn’t made for that. It’s made to calm all of us down. Let it happen.

Keep your mind open.

[We can be together by you subscribing.]

Rewind Review: The KVB – Only Now Forever (2018)

Recorded and self-produced in their Berlin apartment, The KVB‘S 2018 album, Only Now Forever, is a neat mixture of contrasts. It is melancholic, yet ebullient. Somber, yet hopeful. Moody, yet joyful. It’s an honest look at modern living and a warning against its trappings. The title of the album itself is a suggestion of presence. We only have now, this moment, forever. The past never existed. The future never will. We can embrace this divine truth or we can stay buried in a past long gone or worry about a future that doesn’t yet exist – and will be completely different from what we expect when it does arrive…in the now.

Opening single, “Above Us,” is a shadowed electro-pop tune with definite Berlin krautrock influences to its beats and bass as Kat Day and Nicholas Wood sing about rising above the drudgery of modern life. “On My Skin” is a beautiful track with haunting synths by Day and playful ghost-like guitar work by Wood as he sings a tale of a relationship that’s come to an end for reasons unknown to him.

The title track opens like a lost early 1980’s film score that backs a race on some sort of futuristic motorcycle. Day’s synth bass and beats are like android heartbeats. “And the past has all been done. The circle comes ’round again. All I fear will go away. It’s only now just begun,” Wood sings. Fear, like all things, is impermanent (if we allow it to be), and The KVB encourage us to step off the treadmill of fear and move forward under our own power. I’m sure “Afterglow” has been remixed and spun in multiple Berlin industrial / dance clubs by now because it evokes images of Replicants seducing humans and vice-versa.

“With everything, there comes a price,” Wood sings at the beginning of “Violet Noon,” which the band describes on their Bandcamp page as “a romantic ode to the apocalypse.” I can’t describe it any better than that. Day’s breathy vocals on “Into Life” will make your pulse quicken and your spine shiver. “Live in Fiction” is another warning from them. “Everything in the world has changed. I cannot find the truth,” Wood sings. People have embraced fiction over truths that upset their comfortable realities, even when those truths would improve their lives and the lives of those around them.

“Tides” is appropriately named because Day’s synth swell and ebb like the tide, almost catching you off-guard now and then with their sudden burst of energy. “No Shelter” slinks into the room like a femme fatale walking into a detective’s office in a 1950’s dime novel. The album ends with the upbeat “Cerulean,” which has Day laying down a wicked synth-bass groove and her backing vocals feeling like a cool mist as Wood’s feel like a warm canyon wall echo.

Only Now Forever encourages us to accept truth and embrace the present. It’s themes resonate even more in 2020 than they did two years ago.

Keep your mind open.

[You can embrace the now by finally subscribing.]

Rewind Review: Radar Men from the Moon – Subversive I (2015)

It’s a bit difficult to describe the music of Radar Men from the Moon (who are actually from the Netherlands). Is it psychedelia? Prog-rock? Synthwave? Shoegaze? All of that? None of it? I’m not sure. They were all playing synthesizers, sequencers, and drum machines when I saw them at Levitation France a couple years ago, and Subversive I is heavy on electronica and synths, whereas other albums are more guitar-based. I do know, however, that everything I’ve heard from them is good.

Subversive I is the part of a triptych of albums released in consecutive years starting in 2015. Subversive I is only four instrumental tracks, but the shortest one is six-and-a-half minutes long.

That one is the first track, “Deconstruction,” which starts off with fuzzy synth bass and sharp drum beats before robot pulse guitars come in to get you moving. It’s an industrial dance track in many ways, again making RMFTM difficult to categorize.

“Habitual” takes on a darkwave tone with guitars that sound like they were recorded in a dark tomb and bass and synths that sounds like some…thing pounding and clawing it’s way out of that tomb.

“Neon” is the longest track on the album at eleven minutes and sixteen seconds. It starts quiet and brooding, like a slow, building rain hitting a tin roof. It turns into a theme for a cool futuristic mystery-thriller movie you think you’ve seen but never have.

The closer, “Hacienda,” is the most “in your face” song on the record with its buzz-saw guitars and “Peter Gunn”-like bass that gets under your skin.

Subversive I, like a lot of RMFTM’s work, is one of those albums that changes the feel of the room when you play it. It’s one of those albums that makes people ask, “What is this?” Sometimes they ask it out of intrigue, other times out of confusion, and other times out of apprehension. If that doesn’t make you want to hear it, I don’t know what will.

Keep your mind open.

[Be subversive! Subscribe!]

Rewind Review: Public Image Ltd. – This Is What You Want…This Is What You Get (1984)

The fourth album by Public Image Ltd., This Is What You Want…This Is What You Get, came out in the Year of Orwell – 1984. The world was in the middle of the Cold War and people were wondering which side was going to first heat it up. It was the “me decade” here in the U.S. for Wall Street tycoons who were grabbing all the wealth they could while the rest of us were waiting on Trickle Down Economics to make our lives easier. Spoiler alert: We’re still waiting.

John Lydon and guitarist Keith Levene were working on the album and had an early mix, entitled Commercial Zone, completed. Levene took it to Virgin Records, but Lydon abandoned the project and re-recorded all of it to create This Is What You Want…This Is What You Get.

It starts with the buzzy “Bad Life,” which was the first single off the record. It mixes funky bass with cool horn blasts as Lydon sings, “This machine is on the move. Looking out for number one.” It’s a nice shove at 1980’s yuppies stepping on others to get what they want. The title of the album is repeated over electric drum beats toward the end of the track (and throughout the album).

“This Is Not a Love Song” was Lydon’s poke at people who kept asking him, “Why don’t you write a love song?” He write a brassy jam that mostly repeats the title and ended up being one of his biggest hits. “Happy to have and not to have not. Big business is very wise. I’m crossing over into the enterprise,” he sings, telling all of us that he could take the money and run if he wanted.

Louis Bernardi‘s bass on “Solitaire” is downright nasty. You could easily slap it onto a funk record and it wouldn’t sound out of place. “Tie Me to the Length of That” is a reference to Lydon’s birth, even referencing the doctor who slapped him when he was born. It crawls around the room like a creepy goblin. The horn section echoes from the background like some sort of distant warning.

“The Pardon” has Lydon calling people out for being resistant to change. The beat is a weird tribal jam that is hard to describe but one that sinks into your head. “Where Are You?” is barely controlled chaos as Lydon searches for…someone. I’m still not sure whom.

“1981” is a post-punk classic with Lydon ranting about everything he could see was going to go wrong in the decade and how he figured it might be best to leave England for a while. The drums are sharp, the baritone sax angry, the cymbals sizzling, and the lyrics biting: “I could be desperate. I could be brave…I want everything in 1981.”

The album’s title is repeated again at the beginning of the last track – “The Order of Death” – killer drum beats back dark piano chords. The guitar chords are like something out of a Ridley Scott film score. It’s a cool ending to a cool record, and somewhat of a forgotten post-punk classic.

Keep your mind open.

[I want you to subscribe, but will I get it?]