Maroma was there long before the Moors. The Moors were there long before man landed on the moon half a century ago. Drum machines meant you didn’t have to take Ginger Baker our for a drink. Life takes on sublime logic. In retrospect, everything takes on a new meaning from a different perspective. The past is the future. From Glasgow to Edinburgh to Andalucia. This music is about a small journey, an aural triptych of sounds
The cover art text, translated: “Shakti, a three-man formation around Praga Khan. With this first mini-LP, Praga once more proves his capability to drill into new rhythmic territories. Demonic Forces is a dance record. Western discotheque rhythmics mixed with Eastern influences — a unique creation that certainly can be called astonishing. The use of original Eastern instruments gives the whole an extra mystik dimension. With the help of some friends amongst whom, amongst others, Naburak Pran, Shakti succeeds in attaining an unparalleled atmosphere without losing sight of the ever so important dance beat. Demonic Forces, a revelation.”
TRjj is made up of several people that meet regularly since 2016. It is practiced collectively with interchanging names and roles, so the full control about disguised authorship would be guaranteed. Everyone involved was set to meet half way. TRjj is a filter for the kinship of many. Its the freedom attained, once you have gotten rid of yourself. This heteronomic practice would be ideal to advocate against reasons which are claimed, biographies that are scripted, economies that are fueled and histories that are written to be recognized as something apparently truly valid and fully finnished.
Icelandic producer Isar Logi Arnarsson aka Cold originally released ‘Strobe Light Network’ on Thule Records in 1995. Traversing iridescent, hallucinatory electronics and submerged, slow dub techno rhythms, the 15 minute beauty was picked up by Sven Väth as the closing track of Love Parade 1996, and now 23 years later it’s lost none of its lip-smacking lustre, surely set to light up a thousand sets over summer 2019.
Drawn from some 30 years of Pablo’s Eye material, ‘Dark Matter’ oscillates between the shadowy feels found in their ‘Spring Break’ compilation, and their rhythm-driven inclinations from the stunning ‘Bardo For Pablo’ 12”.
As Stroom so beautifully put it, the sound of Pablo’s Eye “is a temporary atmosphere, like a taste or dream…”, and that ephemeral nature is poignantly key to the 12 tracks on offer’, as they drift from theatrical vignettes such as ‘Worship & Passion’ to intoxicating, noirish percussion and drones redolent of Muslimgauze in ‘Different Observers’, and onto reverberating, spacious drum and drone works such as ‘A Pagan Use’ and the trip-hop of ‘Out of the Corner of Her Eye’, via absorbing arabesques like the serene blush of ‘When You Were Asleep’ and ‘L.A. Desert’.
Kyoto’s ‘Venetian Blinds’ fines the tightest line between flash funk and in-the-pocket cool, with Belinda De Bruyn glyding icy over blinding FM synth stabs and puckered bass hustle to jog a precious part of collective memory – it nails a vibe so well you think you know it, even if you never heard it before.
Zoë Sinatra’s ‘Mais Qu’Est-Ce Que Tu Fumes?’ hugs the B-side like a velvet bodysuit. Produced by legendary New Beat guy, Gery François (Teknokrat’s), it’s much slower and sexier than his club gear, destined for the after-party and quite possibly directing you to the cold shower Zoë mentions in the song.
This album is the result of some musings on what drives us in life and how we come to terms with our place in the world. I wrote it around the time I was finishing my philosophy degree. I had also come to a point where I wanted to make music that was more personal, emotional and conceptual than before.
We are deficient creatures. Powerless and ignorant of reality as a whole, and unfortunately our characteristic existence makes us painfully aware of that. Reality is fundamentally hostile (or indifferent rather) and we are not well ‘fit’ to live in it. We try to deal with this through emotional means. We seek comfort for our deficiencies, a sense of purpose and belonging…
Alessandro: “No one can tell for sure that a sound of love actually exists, but love and any other emotion can be reverberated by some musical colors always capable to make emotions resounding here and there during a song, ten songs, a thousand ones…”
The second to last decade of the 20th century was flourishing in its full glory with uncompromising decisions and emergence of new genres to experiment with. Several years before the boom of the 80s is when Alessandro Pizzin got involved with the creation of RUINS and was later joined by Piergiuseppe Ciranna in the fluctuating group constitution. After several alterations in the group it didn’t take long until their duo came together in an attempt to make the first wave twist towards experimenting with electronic sounds. In the frame of the birthtime of many new branches of musical subdivision, the artists fused their intentions and virtuosity to base the centerpiece of their prospective electro sound.
Piergiuseppe: “A characteristic of our music has always been that of moving transversely: from intense emotions to whimsical visions”
In a musical conversation between Piergiuseppe and Alessandro, the productions resulted in a relentless manifestation of a variety of contrasting musical colors. Springing from beneath sinister notes and arpeggiating chords to groundless joy and quirky noises. All of it encompassing the perpetual movement and shift of feelings and positions. Obscurity reflecting the anecdotal nature of life.
Alessandro: “I think that we both were keen on listening to all kinds of music, therefore our sound was the result of all these different listenings and concepts blended with new technology products and equipments we were used to experimenting with”
The ranging melodic palette within the compositions, is riddled with external influences manifested in the web of atmospheric scales. Mirroring a plethora of emotions, even though produced quite the while ago, this collection of compositions will undeniably have something to resonate with and object to. Conflicting love, uninhibited anger, driving passion, young maximalism, childlike cynicism. The joy of human existence is inescapably accompanied by utter suffering, taking turns between each other.
Piergiuseppe: “Artistic works, and even songs, should be by definition ineffable, giving suggestions that everyone must then frame and interpret even according to their own experience…”
The path into the light seems dark, the road forward seems to go back. The greatest love seems indifferent, the greatest wisdom seems childish. Each is up to their own interpretation of the songs assembled in this Valentine’s Day speciality. The contradictions perfectly balancing each other out will not leave anyone indifferent. After all, there would be no love without hate.
To understand where “The Attic” came from, we have to go back to one of my oldest memories: watching Der Phantastische Film on German tv. The movies that left the deepest marks on me were the ones that zoomed in on the possible bad sides of technology and predicted the downfall of mankind. A next personal cornerstone was Tubeway Army’s “Are ‘friends’ electric?”, from 1979: it was the first time I was blown away by the sound of synths. It felt so new, an expression of the perversity of technology through music. The song was about androids who seduced humans in order to rape them. The shortcomings of human beings transported to technology. It was machines turning against humanity. It wasn’t like Kraftwerk who were very first degree, unpersonal and too clean.
I was an early adopter of home computers, but the instruments and studio stuff to make music were still out of my reach in the early eighties. So when sampling came along, for me it was not only an important change in sound image, but it opened up all these possibilities too. And then finally, in the mid-eighties – I was working in the military – people started selling their hardware to make the switch to digital. I bought loads of old gear and started experimenting with sound. It was around the time when the whole new beat thing exploded in Belgium. I despised it. To me they were yuppies with smileys plundering a subculture, shitting out one bland record after another… At the time I was listening to B-2 Unit by Sakamoto, or the weird electropop of YMO. That’s probably where my idea of techno was shaped: this idea of electronics mixed with the German Bauhaus school, or with abstract Malevich paintings.
I quit the army around 1990, and shortly thereafter I had a dark dream that caused me to make ‘The Attic’. I was in the attic of a house. It felt magical, but there was a sense of underlying danger. I looked up and the roof came off and started to dissolve, and I heard voices with bird like frequencies calling from the cosmos: “come with us, come with us.” Maybe it was about the deification of technology? Anyway, the image and the feeling of the dream were so vivid I transcribed them to music in maybe two days.
When the demo was finished, we went straight to Boccaccio and handed it to Olivier Pieters, who immediately played it. ‘The Attic’ went on to become one of the signature songs for which they switched on the big lasers. It started to live its own life: I heard it in shopping streets in Amsterdam, it was blazing from cars, it was huge in Germany after the wall fell, etc. I quickly realized the music business wasn’t something for me though: all these people with their profiling urge, the bootlegs, the fact that music got pushed into formats … In retrospect, I was part of a scene without really taking part in it.