Something is not "artificial" because of its means of production, but if the act of producing it, in whatever form, goes against your inner convictions.
Why is it that the indie scene in music is so much more forgiving of self-production, where the indie scene in literature is less so?
The first of the posthumous releases from Alan Vega (of Suicide)'s vault, and it's a good 'un.
Ersatz Vangelis and fake Tangerine Dream, coming up! And maybe something more original after that.
A look back at the most deliberately frustrating album ever made for popular consumption.
You know how Woody Guthrie has THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS on his guitar? Peter Brötzmann's reeds should have signs that say THIS MACHINE KILLS, PERIOD.
When I'm happy, this record reminds me of what I'm transcending; when I'm not, it reminds me of how to transcend.
A thunderous fusion of jazz and industrial rock, way out of print but absolutely worth seeking out.
"The album that killed Skinny Puppy", an only partly realized concept record about a cult movement, has much to recommend it after 25 years.
Over thirty years later, a record as jarringly fresh now -- maybe more so now -- than it was when it first undermined everyone's expectations.
Most every story I've written has a soundtrack.
"Are we so desperate to solve our art?"
Alan Vega is dead, and that means there will never be another Suicide album. But it also means there will never be another Alan Vega album, and that matters at least as much to me.
"You’re going to find your voice.... The problem is getting rid of it."
My books have soundtracks. Faith No More begs to provide one for a book as yet unwritten.
Bonus beats for a world that lives technology rather than just using it.
Until we get a Tackhead box set, these two discs will have to do as a source for anthologizing most of the band's best sampler-drum-machine-and-funk moments.
The first of a series of records by Edition Omega Point that explores the undeservedly unheard Japanese avant-garde.
"Transgressive" isn't what it used to be. Maybe it never was.
Somewhere between Herbie Hancock's electronic pop-jazz of the 1980s and the more omnivorous, open-ended experimentalism of artists like David Byrne or Brian Eno.
If I'm in the habit of listening outside my well-worn grooves, nothing is disappointing or distasteful.
If there is an award for The Saddest Music In The World, I present it now and forever to William Basinski's Disintegration Loops.
Those purveyors of sinister whimsy went headfirst into the abyss with this undulating black mirror of a record.
Tar-caked, blackened, lugubrious, and barbed, the long-lambasted 1996 Ministry album has held up far better than seemed possible.
Lost treasures from the dungeons of the On-U Sound label, unearthed at last.
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