Back in 2015, this came from a group of Icelandic doomtronica merchants who do cool so much better than the whole of Shoreditch. Take that, hipsters.
Keluar are part of Alison Lewis’ trail of amazing projects. Currently in hibernation, while Lewis focuses on her Zoe Zanias character, Keluar were captured in this video from 2015. Playing live in Leipzig, it is clear that Lewis and Sid Lamar know how to fuse dark wave and minimal electronica in ways that will spook your parents.
Page are Sweden’s original poptronica band. Founded when Eddie Bengtsson traded in his drum kit for a couple of monophonic synths, Page’s melodic signature has been a key feature of the Nordic electronic music scene for more than three decades. In that time, the line-up has sometimes changed, as have the commercial fortunes of the band, but the arrival of a new Page release is still a reason for excitement.
“Lägger Av” (Energy Rekords) doesn’t break the mould. Upbeat, Moog-driven, singalong pop is what a Page single should sound like. It’s music for parties, driving with the roof down and catching the eye of someone cute. The gloom of a Swedish winter cannot penetrate the harmonies and handclaps.
That’s a theme taken more literally in the virtual flip track, “Det Syns Ingen Snö.” A remake of an early Page favourite, this is a bouncy and punchy update from Bengtsson. First rolled out in a live setting in 2014, the “Music Lover’s Version” begs for remix treatment and release as a 12″ single. Marina Schiptjenko’s synth lines could eat most dance music for breakfast, while Bengtsson has transformed the song into an uplifting, romantic classic.
There are two other tracks on the release, including a version of “Sånt Som Inte Går” by Johan Baeckström and an industrial remix of “Spottar Långt” by Covenant’s Joakim Montelius. They apply very different treatments to the raw material, which makes for interesting listening. At this pace, the forthcoming Page album might be the first to invite its own remix companion.
DJs of the world, take note.
“My life is my art,” says Cosey Fanni Tutti. On the flip side, “My art is my life.”
When the two are so completely intertwined, it can be hard to distinguish them for analytical or critical purposes. Is it an invasion to look at pictures of Cosey unrobed in adult publications or an act of aesthetic appreciation? Was Cosey engaged in deception of the publishing sector when she posed akimbo with chains, or was she deluding herself by thinking that she was different from the girls in the next photo essays?
It doesn’t matter, really. In the end, her art is her art and her life is her life; and, whatever one might think about them, those choices were hers to make. Both art and life are vulnerable to judgement, when opened for examination, but the fellow-traveller of publicity is the audience’s complicity. No one makes you look, so don’t complain if you don’t like your reaction to what you see.
Cosey Fanni Tutti, the artist, was born into the age of the postcard, rather than fiber-optic broadband. Together with Genesis P-Orridge, with whom she was a part of the COUM art collective, she sought ways to subvert conventions and mores using the available technology of the 1970s. Initially, that meant skin, bodily fluids and the post; with time, it grew into electronic instruments. The development of the latter drew in the graphic artist Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson and Chris Carter, with whom she and P-Orridge formed the legendary Throbbing Gristle.
The musical history of Throbbing Gristle has been told and re-told by its participants, but Cosey’s Art, Sex, Music (Faber) reveals just how complex and emotionally charged the personal relationships between its members were. As the sole female member of the group, Cosey spent time in bed with each of her bandmates, separately or together (though, in Sleazy’s case, it must be said, in the interests of an anatomy lesson). This fueled tensions that eventually pulled the band apart: P-Orridge, who initially encouraged group escapades, grew to resent Cosey’s independence and used violence to show his feelings; while Cosey and Carter sought relief from P-Orridge’s tantrums in each other.
The story of P-Orridge’s emotional wrecking doesn’t end with the break-up of TG. Attempts to re-form and tour or record are consistently upset by P-Orridge, who transitions to an intermediate state between divo and diva. Solicitors are paid to write letters. Intellectual property rights are asserted. At one point, all of P-Orridge’s contributions to a Nico cover album are stripped out. In light of Cosey’s revelations about the singer’s controlling and bullying behaviour, none of this comes as a surprise, though followers of P-Orridge’s pseudo-cult, Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth, might struggle to accept it.
Art, Sex, Music isn’t a tell-all story. There is still more that could be said about Chris & Cosey as an artistic project, and it seems P-Orridge might have gotten off lightly. However, as a survey of a life in music and performance art, with excursions into the world of sex work, the book is accessible, well-structured and provides ample new information for fans and researchers to absorb. Written with dark humour, Art, Sex, Music illuminates the spaces other TG biographies can’t reach.
Prose Edda is based on a 13th century textbook of Icelandic poetry, but you won’t need a guide to Old Norse to appreciate it. FRKTL’s latest album is a set of electro-acoustic soundscapes, wrought from the materials of heaven and earth, so a pair of wide-frequency headphones will do just fine.
A project of the Anglo-Egyptian polymath, Sarah Badr, FRKTL has consistently impressed with tracks crafted from intricate rhythms and high doses of reverb. Prose Edda taps a Nordic vein, taking for inspiration stories of the Viking gods, and Badr extracts some truly glacial tones from her strings. There is fighting in heaven, though, and she introduces fabulously kinetic drums at the outset.
The entire project is exceptionally well executed; and, even if your knowledge of Thor comes from Marvel comics, it would not be hard to make sense of the material. It is theatrical, dynamic and possessing – just like the Northern landscape that bore the Norse creation myth. Hewn from granite and Atlantic mists, Prose Edda is a real accomplishment.
Wire were always sonic alchemists, turning rock’s basic materials into art-pop with distinctive properties. The band’s mercurial songcraft has transformed the resonance of guitar strings and the knock of wood against mylar into a million different textures since their 1977 debut.
Forty years later, Silver/Lead shows Wire emerging from the lab on the front foot, turning out the kind of material that the dream-pop set can only dream about. From the delightfully retro sleeve to the cleverer-than-a-chemist lyrics, Wire continue to hold their ground. Over their four decades as a combo, they haven’t blown with the trends of the times, nor have they been stopped by line-up changes, time apart and a near-fatal experiment with drum machines. The new album continues the pattern by drawing on the strands of psychedelia that were hinted at on last year’s Nocturnal Koreans mini-album and infusing them with a sense of groove.
If you start at the beginning, the album kicks off with “Playing Hard for the Fishes.” Bassist Graham Lewis takes vocal duties, stepping through a surreal poem while guitars swarm around him. “It’s hard to pretend,” he declaims, and that must be true given Wire’s consistent authenticity.
Jumping ahead, “Diamonds in Cups” was the obvious choice for a single release. It has a summer haze about it, as well as a rhythm that lifts it into the upper tiers of Wire’s pantheon. XTC, a band with which singer Colin Newman shares regional roots, also moved into a trippier place as they matured, and there is the warmth of a Salisbury Plain midsummer in the production of this track. Hippies Wire certainly are not, but they can expand minds even when they are moving feet.
On “This Time,” Lewis takes the microphone to tell us, “Some folks believe in magic.” There is strong evidence for that outlook, based on the quality of the material assembled here: from the propulsion of “Short Elevated Period” to the airiness of “Sleep on the Wing,” Wire are at their grooviest in years.
The scene outside of George Michael’s house in North London reflects the love felt for him by music fans. Hundreds of bouquets, messages and pictures have been left by visitors. Even the dust on his car, parked forlornly outside the residence, has been rubbed to leave messages. We took some pictures to share with fans.
Hélène du Thoury is best known for her work with Minuit Machine. Hante. (with the period) is her solo project, and it’s as dark, moody and sensual as you would expect. French is the natural language for minimal wave material, just as German is for EBM. In this brooding track, taken from the recent album, No Hard Feelings, du Thoury turns on the sonic smoke machines to their highest setting.
Lau Nau is an impossibly talented artist from Finland. Her music draws on folk roots, but like the shamanic potions of lore takes listeners to distant dimensions. At times, she is capable of hewing magic from the ice; at others, she makes you hold your breath at the delicate tones of her voice. In this video, released to support her third album, she’s somewhere between the Earth and the Moon.
A cold day in the run-up to Christmas finds Sarah Badr in the newest branch of a Finnish café in London’s Covent Garden. The place has just opened but is heaving with tourists, resting between credit card-facilitated dopamine fixes. It’s a nightmare of reverb, as the walls reflect the chatter of shoppers and the roar of a single-engine espresso machine, but Badr’s voice comes through clearly. A fitting metaphor, then, for FRKTL, her solo music project, which first cut through the background noise of Soundcloud with Atom.
An apple bun and coffee provide fuel for our conversation, but Badr is still up after a night of clubbing, riding a wave of energy that never seems to slacken. It will carry her to New York shortly, and then to the next node in her global network. A child of the internet, Badr is like a character from a Bruce Sterling novel, coding and communicating digitally while moving through the analogue world with a data packet’s disregard for borders.
In her FRKTL skin, Badr has just released Qualia, an album of processed electro-acoustic music that sits high up our list of 2016’s best releases. She also works in a world of graphics, interfaces and words that spans multiple disciplines and media. Our conversation occasionally takes a technical turn, but it is a relief that Badr consumes coffee as easily as machine code. Over a cup of Java, she tells the story of FRKTL.
In the fall or winter of 2010, I was loading everything on Soundcloud. People started getting in touch to see if it was available anywhere, so I took all those demos and put them in consecutive order – and that is that album. I didn’t sit down and make an album. It was more of a mixtape, in a way. And then what didn’t fit was the B-Sides [Ed: The companion album to Atom], and I just made that a free download. I was trying different things, different approaches.
Badr’s choice of instruments is very traditional, considering the level of processing that she subjects sounds to. A piano, violin or guitar are her tools of choice, rather than synths, and with Qualia she has added her voice to the mix. That leads to discussion about her musical training.
I did classical guitar as a kid, and then I started playing proper piano with recitals. I was living in New Jersey at the time, and there is a piano federation where you go and they mark you.
I played festivals and did marching band and jazz band. When I moved to Cairo to finish high school, I continued on with piano but independently; just learning songs that I liked.
Badr was born in London but moved around the world with her family. She speaks with a neutral American accent but is a polyglot. She champions obscure experimental music but grew up with classic pop. The conversation moves towards the evolution of her tastes.
The music I grew up with was classical Arabic music, which was more or less like pop music back then, and oriental, instrumental, modal music. I remember hearing The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” – my Dad had a huge tape collection that I still have in Cairo with me. It had Abba, jazz – I listened to all sorts. It was more about exposure – it wasn’t that I was actively listening.
The first tape that I bought was Ace of Base. My second was Janet by Janet Jackson, and I might have had a Michael Jackson, as well. That was before the Free Willy soundtrack came out, so there was a track on there, as well. The first CD I ever bought was Hootie and The Blowfish. That was around the time when everyone was into Nirvana, GooGoo Dolls – grunge, Metallica. I liked rock and hip hop and watched a lot of music videos on MTV, when they still played music videos.
Electronic music came much later. I started to like trip hop – Massive Attack, Portishead, Mandalay. I was into Radiohead, as well. I guess with Kid A they started to become more electronic, and with OK Computer. There is that one track, “Idioteque” – Thom Yorke’s solo albums started to sound more like those tracks.
I just like good music, and I tend to go for more things in minor keys or modal. I like dark music. I’m a huge fan of Nine Inch Nails. I used to listen to Marilyn Manson. I went through all the music phases. When I was working out in California in 2012, I went to a country music festival.
I listen to Depeche Mode and David Gahan’s solo material. It’s really good. I’m now revisiting Tangerine Dream and synthwave stuff. I’m a huge fan of Vangelis and John Carpenter. I love soundtracks. That’s why I’m applying to sound engineering school – I love both sound and visuals. I’m happy to do them both together or separately. That’s why I’m obsessed with music videos.
Badr’s phone vibrates throughout our chat. The world is calling. Certainly, there is recognition growing for her work: she was chosen to attend the Red Bull Music Academy in Paris as Egypt’s selection.
I got in, but I didn’t go. I might be the only person who didn’t go. Things got really hectic towards the end of last year and I took a break from the internet – regrouped – and had that not happened, I don’t think I would have made this album.
Part of the distraction came from Badr’s involvement in documentary film, a publishing channel she founded called Cairowire, and strings that wrapped around the world.
I’m trying to reel it all in and just focus on the audio and the visual – just make music and stick to sound and sight in different contexts.
So what about a FRKTL live show? Plans are in the works.
I want visuals. In terms of my set up, definitely much more than a laptop. My set up is quite low maintenance – I don’t have a modular synth. I have an Ableton controller and my guitar and violin. I have a pitch-shifting pedal and a microphone. I still don’t know – that’s what I have to work on next.
I leave Badr in the café, but it seems unlikely that she will sit still for long. Her plans include a move to Berlin to study sound engineering, and from there to jack into the media currents flowing through the city. Collaborations have been mooted, and the promise of live shows offers new possibilities, but first there is an apple bun to finish and a stack of texts to catch up on.