fredag den 17. juni 2011

The live-series reviewed

Peter Taylor has engaged in transforming of our live-tape-series into words, published on foxy digitalis (and here below) during the coming weeks. We are looking forward to exloring these tapes through his caleidoscopic perspective.

Live I - at the cube, split with Dreamers Cloth.
"A small brown parcel arrived from Denmark in my post box. Upon unwrapping the parcel I discovered four cassettes cased in rugged brown paper. Each cassette represents a live mix from various venues in the UK and EU. Each is loaded with the multifaceted sounds of Shiggajon, and journeys through the ever-evolving line up including members of Hunter Gracchus, Part Wild Horses Mane on Both Sides and Chora. So now to unravel the live world of Shiggajon over four parts, this week; Live 1.

A cacophony of instruments burst into the fore with an immediacy and purpose. Clarinet, Sax, Drums and vocal splatters set the tone with speedy florets into a maze of Fire and Improv. Jarring ambience and strangled guitar sounds like trying to jump-start the mother ship from ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’. The saxophone holds a steady route as the other members of this graveyard orchestra seem to spiral in all directions like shards of molten metal in the pits of some hellish factory. The drumming has a fiery and kinetic quality, the woodwind has a deep haunting tone that seems to ooze at an uneasy velocity in contrast to the storm brewed by the bewitching covenant. After the relentless onslaught there is a timid moment of rest, as the musicians seem to sizzle like popping candy on the tongue. This section reminds me of the fantastic Qbico sessions recorded by the Portuguese improvisers (see Golden Jooklo Age). The alien sounds amass with a ghoulish beauty that shakes the whole movement into an exquisite drama of shock and surprise. The putrid colours of Jodorowsky, and the mind-bending imagery of Asger Jorn springs to mind when listening to this piece. The drums build to a stomping psych rock din that shakes the fucking roof off. Bam! Bam! Bam! And swirls of space guitar and sun-crisped gulls, quake the very foundations of the room. This is what My Cat Is An Alien might sound like if you caused an avalanche in their Alp-side studio. The reeds strangle a violent death throw and all is vanquished to a very silent silence.

The second piece creeps in with a coyness yet unheard. Chanting via the human voice adds a distinctly alive quality to the proceedings. Taught strings clang, struck with I don’t know what. Violins hew curving masses from the air and cymbals tone a sullied trail. This ominous growl reminds me of the Divine Coils, that dissonant trembling via exquisite drones of cemetery whispers. Guitars lace a web of feedback that climbs the trenches of decay inhabited by the spluttering percussion and weeping strings. Guitar brings an acid tinge to the din with an Earth-like twang that sups at the dampness beyond. Feedback squalls a near silent call as the cymbals chasten and the strings tremble no more.

The flipside is a performance from Jonas Frederiksen, who plays under the alias of Dreamers Cloth. Dreamy synths fold, unfold and build into new age swarms of warm cloud. Tape loops precipitation, as a pitch-bent raga warbles space waves in shards of tumescent light. Ultraviolets and deep blues are inspired by the unravelling sounds within. The delivery is akin to Dolphins Into the Future, Fabric and John Elliott. The sound amasses to a blanket of loops that dwell ajar but on similar tangents. A repeated melody transcends above the canopy with a glass organ resonance. A kraut motif is delivered with relaxed fingers over a beatless backdrop of field recordings. A solitary synth smooth’s its way between the looped melody arcing in rainbows of colour. The theme continues throughout with an overall gathering of altitude to keep your brain dancing off the shards of sound. It’s a truly hypnotic side abound with blissful tones. The aqua / light sonics prevail to produce a truly exotic experience that carries the listener into a field of reflection and out into the metaphysical."

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