First Impressions 051: Closely guarded things.

Initial vibes on new music

Hello,

The Guardian UK is one of the only major broadsheets I will still regularly cast an eye on for truly engaging music coverage. In general, I think there has long been an approach to music appreciation in the UK where Throbbing Gristle and Blur could be equally assessed and lauded in a large publication without question, or the natural place where The Wire remains a thriving operation..

Guardian UK’s Alexis Petridis and Laura Snapes are two great writers - sharp, insightful and,importantly, enamoured with the artistry of music, to which they apply a broad, clear-eyed sensibility and passion. However, Laura's description of drone - 'the sound of one organ key being pressed down for half an hour' - isn't going to send anyone down a Phill Niblock rabbit hole . . see her beautiful piece on Roy Montgomery to get closer to the fire. I read this last week, in The Guardian as part of a conversation between Laura and Alexis based around an editor’s challenge to either stop using Spotify for week or only listen to its playlists, to generate thoughts on Spotify's ubitiquous presence in music listening and consumption. Mood Machine: The Rise of Spotify and the Costs of the Perfect Playlist, Liz Pelly’s recent exposition on Spotify’s extractive pratices and use of technology to steer market dominance, is invoked to frame the discussion. Frustrations with the algorithim and artists’ work demonetised from ther platform are shared. Funnily enough, radio isn’t mentioned, though the value of human curation is. Ultimately, both agree that in spite of what they effectively ringfence as shortcomings, Spotify won’t change how it presents music and no alternative seems viable, despite Pelly offering some: “I appreciate her trying to put a positive spin on it – “there is another way” – but I don’t think there is”, says Alexis. Laura follows this up by saying "I think we’ve seen a lot of larger-scale alternatives collapse". Perhaps this is why the industry by and large calls for fairer returns and wider foregrounding of music from Spotify as opposed to pursuing oter options.

While I don't have a solution, what I'm keen to know, though, is why is an option not a solution if it doesn't work at scale? Is it not the scale itself that is a big factor in all the problems Pelly cites in her book? It’s like, if you want to get Taylor Swift tickets, you have to deal with Ticketmaster. Deal with it.

Laura mentions earlier she subscribes to various newsletters (including this one - thanks for reading, Laura!) to discover new music. Of course, I'm hoping Laura has found something to enjoy from First Impressions, as well as those many other newsletters. These newsletters will never challenge any data-first behemoth, but new cultural movements are not going to be formalised or structured in the way data collection works. Cultural movements don’t grow through algorithms. They’re not going to come from one place, let alone a platform. Have you ever been to a record store on the other side of the world, only to find they stock the same things as everywhere else back home? That’s scale at work. When we travel, we want to visit loads of places, experience local activity, and perhaps find something new to share. How can we reorganise the integration of technology in our lives to redefine the terms of engagement towards new ways of discovery? I would love to know what you are listening to, and how you found it.

Andrew

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OK, let’s go:

The Air Outside Feels Crazy Right Now - Perila: I never thought I’d hear Perila slow-walk her delicate, somatic sound toward moody post-rock, but here we are. Made mostly from guitar and voice, The Air Outside Feels Crazy Right Now is both brittle and a comfort - two feelings Perila has refined into one within the open space and flow of her work. When not looped into low-hanging, clouded tones, her real-time guitar figures wobble and wander like a child’s first steps. Yet it’s not quite melancholic - more like tracing the shape of a dream just after waking, reaching for something already gone but still somehow present. In these spare, ghosted and hushed surrounds, Perila’s voice has never sounded so luminous in its light touch. What remainsis the ultimate soul of her music, in continuous bloom from isolation to an offering.

Antigone - Eiko Ishibashi: Whatever the guise, Eiko Ishibashi’s music strikes a curious poise between elegant and stormy. After the expansive realms of her film works and the impressionistic fusions on albums like For McCoy, she has returned to clearer song forms, while maintaining her signature pattern for both the hypnotic and disorienting. In its swirl of lush orchestral pop and jazz syncopation, for all of Antigone’s swing and pulse, Ishibashi’s seductively urgent vocal puts her songs in constant freefall as they play out, open and unguarded. Antigone is a tragic heroine in Greek mythology, known for her resistance to societal pressures. Ishibashi is similarly resolute, pushing back against a tide of unknown forces in her Antigone, giving it its power and spirit.

Open Vocal Phrases Where Songs Come In And Out – Arthur Russell: A fascinating collection of live recordings from two performances in 1984 and 1985, this release is a magnetic reminder of how the enigmatic Russell held song and experimentation as mirroring entities. For both shows, these pieces — some of which were transformed for his revered World of Echo album — are pared down to cello, effects, and voice, his cello largely reduced to a buzz or current that follows the treacly tenor of his voice. When I say ‘buzz’ and ‘current’, it’s also with the knowledge that these shows were conceived by key drone exponent Phill Niblock for his New York loft. Niblock heard the power and possibility of Russell’s cello and its elemental nature, filtered through his own deep understanding and obsession with frequencies — tangling with the mixed emotions in Russell’s lyrics. In listening, there is an immediate transfixing charge and the feeling that no matter how exploratory Russell could be, his songs were closely guarded things.

Music Belongs To The Universe - Nico Georis: Nico Georis’ first album was called Cloud Suites, and this follow-up’s title suggests his piano and keyboard improvisations are meant to travel further and higher than our earthly confines. While Cloud Suites carried ornate, Bill Evans-style melodies into a kind of New Age ascent, Music Belongs to the Universe feels more like primal pulses transmitted into the ether. That he calls these pieces desert meditations is apt - they are stark, resonant, and vast. The pacy rhythmic throb of Geological Observations pushes Georis’ sound toward a sweep that feels infinite, while elsewhere he slows to a rippling hum, approaching a state of quietude.

Falling Window - April Magazine: April Magazine have been together since 2018, though this is my first time orbiting their world. Like Yo La Tengo stretching out slow beneath the haze of the California sun, April Magazine drift with a distinctly ’90s narcotic pop pull - perfectly baked guitar bliss, curling and languorous, capturing a twilight mood you could hover in forever. With trip-hop whispers and four-track glow, it could be a lost cassette gem, but its sparkling tones have an instant ring.

Owls, Omens, and Oracles – Valerie June: I wondered where I’d heard this scratched-up, twangy soul before - studious in its nod to past glories, but radiant in its telling of age-old stories. When I saw it was produced by M. Ward, it all made sense. Its brassy, Bobbie Gentry-style bust-outs and gritty country knees-up vibes are the kind of gold Ward has been panning for decades in his solo work and with She & Him. This doesn’t have the same commercial panache as She & Him - it’s more spit than polish, more garage than Grand Ole Opry - but it’s higher on spirit. Where She & Him swing, Valerie June bumps and grinds, hotwired to love and joy and delivered with woozy delight. High on elation, it’s a reminder of how soul music can be a gift. Valerie June wants us all to join in and shine on.
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Thanks for reading. I’m traveling a lot lately, including next week, so I don’t expect another edition to pop up then.
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Andrew Khedoori is the curator of Longform Editions.
First Impressions visual by Mark Gowing.