Catching The Waves

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

Netmusic enthusiasts are rushing to hear French musician Degiheugi's latest release, Only After The Show, because they've already heard the subject of today's egregiously late recommendation of an album that was released a whole three years ago. (Yep, Catching The Waves might as well be called Behind The Times.) Anyway, though Degiheugi's current work is fine and upstanding, it's his 2005 opus, Aquilon, that gets CTW shaking its finely toned and not-at-all-sagging booty.

Aquilon is a pretty seamless whole; tracks bleed into each other in a manner reminiscent of a concept album. No, don't run away. You'd be missing out. It's chock-full of samples, though I've no idea what is entirely original, what's been chopped up or what's been lifted wholesale. The album is ostensibly an instrumental hiphop workout but it's actually a finely detailed piece of experimental electronica. It's like buying a second-hand car from a back-street garage, only to find that you've acquired Herbie.

First off is Comme un enfant sans mère, which starts off with a crushing drum beat, calls in some dubby elements and then quotes from Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child, a well-known Negro spiritual. (Please note that I use the word "Negro" in its historical context only. Don't hit me.) It's a head-nodder.

The second track, Intro: Aquilon, (yes, intros should come at the start - don't blame me) makes good use of doom-laden strings, ambient drones and record scratches to place the listener in a comfortable armchair and a glass of something special, warm with the knowledge that a good album is underway.

There's some witty sampling in Un jour de printemps, featuring a sample from Greenfields by The Brothers Four. Degiheugi raises the pitch of "Once there were green fields..." so that it sounds like the Munchkin Massed Choir, slots it into a trip-hop rhythm, and then cuts it to just the first syllable, punning on the basic funk rule of emphasising the "one", the first beat of four. He also throws in some Spanish guitar, some gently mewling trumpets, and all of a sudden a track that could have been irritating becomes delightful, getting deeper and more reflective as it progresses, notwithstanding, and here my cup doth overflow, a breakbeat workout near the end.

My Rickety Piano is like something Michael Nyman or John Adams might have pounded out on their Steinways late one night in a who-can-use-fewer-notes contest. (A Steinway is not a euphemism. Get your minds out of the gutter.) A two-note piano riff gets chopped up and sampled until it sounds, well, rickety. It's a confident piece of music.

Mild-mannered hiphop is a feature of Ami, tu veux devenir poete until it rips its suit off to reveal a Superman drum 'n' bass costume, turning an atmospheric piece of maudlin Franco-jazz into something more invigorating.

My baby don't cares the shows [sic] introduces Nina Simone to glitchy beats and a thudding distorted bass. I'm not sure if this track is entirely successful. It's followed by Soldier In The Sky, an unusual mix of dub and electro with contributions from Virus and DJ Oscan.

Hot Girl (trip hop with naughty female noises), Entr'track 1 (lo-fi pop) and Plus de Souvenir are each just over a minute long, cleansing the listener's aural palate before serving meatier fare. Plus de souvenir is a dusty jazz loop with a trip-hop beat. CTW is defenceless against that sort of thing.

Baby Boom is helpfully self-descriptive, as you'll discover on hearing a baby gurgle delightedly through a breakbeat romp. For Organe au Gramme, Degiheugi produces a laid-back electronica piece reminiscent of Moby's Play. A thumbs up, in case you're wondering.

The album ends with Le Pince Oreilles, which is over ten minutes long. Hey, it's a netlabel release; no kow-towing to corporate record companies here. If Degiheugi wants to slap a Pink Floyd-ish cinematic/prog rock/trance/trip-hop epic on the end of the album, good for him. If you've bought into Degiheugi's ethos by now, you'll be a little annoyed that it's so short; it might even be the best thing on the album.

Aquilon is available from the mellifluously named Electrobel and Degiheugi's own site, where you can also pick up the previously mentioned Only After The Show. If you're hungry for music, visit both sites, have a rummage, download Degiheugi's stuff and then leave a donation at your preferred site. Or both of them. Or neither, if you must.

I'm so reasonable. Sickening, isn't it?

Aquilon L.P.-01 on Electrobel netlabel (Zipped album only. Sorry.)

Degiheugi's home page

Degiheugi's MySpace

Electrobel netlabel

 

Colour Me Pink

I'm still getting used to surfing the planet, and now I've been stung by an internet jellyfish. It seems that one of the links in the "Netlabels" sidebar on the right of this blog didn't actually go to the intended label but to, erm, a not entirely music-centric site that features people thoroughly enjoying themselves sans clothes and sans inhibitions. Usually, I copy and paste web urls to make sure the link works properly, but this time I must have typed in the address and, would you believe it, the lack of a hyphen meant I'd typed in an address to an entirely different website with exactly the same name. I've corrected the link but, oh, the embarrassment. I am now this colour.

By way of an apology to both the netlabel, Thierry Boucetta aka The Orientalist, and the esteemed CTW readership, at least I can now point you to the squeaky-clean link: Fresh Poulp, a lovely French netlabel run by lovely French people. It features some great albums, including one of my favourite netlabel finds, 1000 Sounds Lotus by The Orientalist (also with corrected link) and is well worth visiting, especially if you want to feel trendy and Gallic - often the same thing, in my limited experience. And their octopus always looks that annoyed, though I can't help feeling it's staring at me.

Right, I'm off to confession. Behave yourselves - not that there's anything wrong with ripping the clothes off each other and getting some McLovin' before we all die of old age/natural disasters/global warming; it sounds like a plan to me.

(...and I thought CTW was globally popular because of my astoundingly impressive reviews. Serves me right for using the word "pawn" in my previous post. Pawn, I said. Pawn. I'll try to, you know, actually recommend some music in my next post. It's been a while...)

Fresh Poulp netlabel

Go with the Phlow

To paraphrase an old Indian chess proverb, free netmusic is a sea in which a gnat may drink and an elephant may bathe. The subject is so vast, so hard to comprehend, that Catching The Waves can do little more than take the occasional sip and buzz ineffectively at the ocean of music stretching to the horizon. But there are some elephants who enjoy a good wallow: Netlabelism, Free Albums Galore and Netlabel Review, for example. Here's another pachyderm, and this one's wearing lederhosen: Phlow.

Phlow has quite a team beavering away: Sven Swift, boss of 12rec.net; Brigitte Bijoux, netlabel musician and producer; Christian Grasse, netradio (Frequency at Byte.FM), webzine (Metawelle.net) and netlabel guru; and Martin "020200" Wisniowski, founder of 2063music netlabel. All of which means that Phlow plucks the ripest fruit from the netlabel tree and posts new recommendations/reviews almost every day. Did I mention that the site is overseen by Moritz Sauer, founder of

*cue celestial light and distant thunder*

the Netlabel Catalogue? Herr Sauer/Mo must be the netlabel equivalent of Johnny Mnemonic or Tim Berners-Lee, though I can't imagine Tim saying, "Woah, dude. The net is, like, ossom."

Phlow tries to chart the unknown waters of netmusic, providing lots of navigational aids for the intrepid musical explorer: the aforementioned reviews; the monthly Their Finest Hour best-of-netlabels mp3 compilations; mixtapes; a regular podcast and a slick audio player loaded with the best tracks from the latest reviews. The "free mp3 downloads" section is organised by genre, making it easy to look for your preferred style, something that is surprisingly rare on the netmusic scene. (It also supports Creative Commons music and is a thoroughly pleasant and inspiring place to visit, so please think about making a huge big small huge donation.) It's the perfect diving-board for the netlabel newbie.

/seafaring analogy. I was getting green around the gills too.

What's more, Phlow Magazine, to give it its full name, is the English language offshoot of the much bigger and in-depth German webzine of the same name, so if you don't mind placing verbs at the end of sentences go there and yourself enjoy.

Of course, the most note-worthy thing about the site is that it's just earned a place in CTW's notorious famous and imaginatively named "General Netlabel Sites" sidebar, available to the right of this blog. No, not that far right - that's the wall, dummy.

Finally, I accept the award for Most Unoriginal Pun In An Article Title with gratitude and not a little pride. However, if "Phlow" actually rhymes with "cow" instead of "go", thus rendering my pun ineffectual, I'm not giving it back; it's going straight to the pawnshop. Pawn, I said. English is a tricky language.

Phlow (in English)

Phlow Webzine (in German. Bigger too. Can I say über?)

Fluffy Or Evil?

(Photograph by Will Simpson)

There's been a fascinating debate at Analog Industries on whether free music is harming musicians. I first heard about it in a thread at EM411, which is where I chipped in. Is Catching The Waves fun, useful and harmless, or helping to destroy future careers in the music industry? I really don't know. (There is a miniscule, tiny possibility that I might just be ever-so-slightly overstating the importance of CTW.) Anyway, please tell me what you think. Here's what I posted at EM411:

I have an amateurish and sporadically updated blog, Catching The Waves, in which I enthuse about netlabel releases that have tickled my fancy. I became interested in netlabel music because it allowed me to hear styles of music that I was curious about but couldn't afford to buy. It allowed me to explore genres that were new to me: chiptune, ambient, minimal, IDM, dub, electronica, breakbeat, experimental and so on. Now that I've heard some of those genres I am far more likely to buy songs/albums in those genres. The other day I bought a song from Jonathan Coulton, an artist I would not have heard of but for his online presence and habit of giving away free music. Similarly, I downloaded an album by Brad Sucks (Brad Turcotte) and liked it so much that I intend to buy his new album. Those are two artists who are going to get my money who would not have done so otherwise.

I don't make any money from my blog. In fact, it costs me money, but it's my way of saying thank you to people who have given away their music: the more publicity they receive, the better. I always link to the netlabel and the artist's own website, and I encourage visitors to my blog to make a donation or pay for some of the artists' other fare, whether that be albums, merchandise or concert tickets. Many netlabel musicians give away their music for no other reason than because they want to, though many use it as a marketing tool, building up a fan base that hopefully will “tip” them for their current music and/or pay for future releases. It's up to them. Either way, these people have made albums that might not otherwise have seen the light of day. The quality may vary greatly but no one is forced to listen.

It's not just one-way traffic. Netlabels spread the music; a website like Eventful allows music fans to “demand” that their favourite bands visit them. If a nascent band learn that 100 people in Nowheresville want to see them then they can stage a concert there, with a very good chance of a great reception and merchandise and record sales.

I'm not proposing an either/or music world. All I'm saying is that the netlabel/own-website scene can complement the existing music industry paradigm, allowing people to hear music without hindrance from financial constraints or perceived wisdom. Perhaps a site like Magnatune is a good compromise, allowing people to stream artists' music as much as they want to and, if they like it enough, to pay for a DRM-free mp3? There's also Jamendo, which offers over 8,000 albums of Creative Commons music, and allows listeners to donate to artists who might otherwise struggle to see any payment for their music.

Piracy is a bad thing. I am fully in favour of paying for music. If I want U2's latest record then I'll hand over the cash for it: I don't want to rip off musicians or companies. But the internet, whether in the form of netlabels or artists' own websites, allied with cheap software, now allows anyone to attempt to make a living as a musician. Most music, like most art, isn't very good. But the “long tail” theory of the internet allows people to find the music that chimes with their taste. Compose an opera for xylophone and noseflute and no record company will give you the time of day – but the internet allows the xylophone and noseflute lovers of the world to search for their favourite genre and discover your opera, which you've recorded and released under your own steam. Who on earth is to say what's good music and what isn't? The record companies?

Admittedly, everything is up in the air; it's difficult to predict what will happen to the music industry in the next few years. If I thought that netlabels were harming music and musicians then I would close my blog. But I don't think that netlabels and “free” music will hurt the Madonnas of this world. The large record companies will continue to dominate the charts and make money from sales, merchandising and tours. But those artists who sell “only” 1,000 albums, and can't continue because their record company has dropped them, might now be able to carry on because, thanks to the methods I've mentioned, they too can make money from sales, merchandising and tours. It depends what you want from your music-making. There might be fewer multi-millionaire musicians in the future but there may be more people who are able to make a living as full-time musicians. And there will be more choice for the listener. That's a good thing, surely?

*phew*

Time for a cup of tea. While I'm slurping the brown stuff, why not join in the debate at Analog Industries, EM411 or even, m'dears, at Catching The Waves?

The lovely photo was provided by Will Simpson under a Creative Commons licence. He's happy to see his images used so long as he receives attribution. I'm happy to oblige.

It's got a wonderful defence mechanism...

Listening to minimalism always makes me feel as though something weird is happening. It's music, but not as I know it. Tom Ellis's Switched Off EP, just released by Berlin netlabel Pentagonik, is strange. Different. Alien. It's like hearing a Martian watchmaker count sheep in his sleep.

The opener, Switched Off, is switched on from the very start, abruptly dropping the listener into a soundscape that could only be minimal: hardly any melodic content, precious little development, and an all-pervading rhythm made up of dry, short sounds. Snippets of piano flirt with spoken vocals and thus lend a jazzy, naturalistic feel to what would otherwise be a robotic listen.

Slim is reminiscent of what little Richie Hawtin I've heard. The beat is easy to dance to, but it's the barely noticeable synths and ticks and taps that give it that unmistakeably "minimal" flavour. The slurred, whispered vocals make it an intriguing listen.

Sixty One Be has a guitar-ish riff that tries to break through the super-detailed beat but fails, becoming a rhythmic element instead of a melodic one. Again, it's only after a while that you start to notice the subby, bubbling bass, so subtly is it wrought. Unlike that last sentence.

Beginners is minimal with an ambient slant; the dancefloor rhythm is still there, but background hisses and crackles and ghostly vocals lend the track a more human air than the rest of the EP, until the final minute ends in a sparse 4/4 beat, ideal for any DJ who wants to throw it into a mix.

I'm sure the whole EP will see the light of day gloom of night at minimal clubs everywhere. The precision and attention to detail is deeply impressive; more than that, Tom Ellis's exploration of jazzy, funking minimalism is a chunk of fun. And if you think that's difficult to say, remember that he comes from Wales, the land of vowels and phlegm. (He's also a co-founder of Trimsound netlabel, so is obviously an all-round good egg.)

Repeated listens will reveal more and more detail in these tracks, not least because their bit rate is an exemplary 320 kbps, but unfortunately this means that the mp3s are large. Pentagonik have thoughtfully provided the option to download individual tracks so those without broadband can still hear the music. It might be an idea for Pentagonik to offer the option of choosing a lower bit rate so that minimal aficionados on dial-up get to hear Switched Off before nature ensures their heads will no longer need shaving. Failing that, visitors to the label's very snazzy website can pretend to be a DJ on its ultra-cool home page. Now you're curious...

Tom Ellis - Switched Off EP (link to individual mp3s and zipped album)

Tom Ellis on MySpace

Pentagonik netlabel

Hit It Again, Sam

You know how sometimes you're walking along the street and you suddenly become Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, pondering how to merge jazz, hiphop, the Middle East and 20th century music into a pleasing, full-bodied cup of coffee? You get that too? See, I knew it wasn't just me. Tell me if this sounds familiar:

You're strolling down the shadowy alleys of a souk when a gold-toothed chap stands in your way and tries to interest you in a double bass, some reverberating middle-easterny woodwind, a cheeky saxophone and his shop's finest hand-made dusty beat. You agree to his offer, providing he throws in a completely new riff right at the end of the track. You shake hands and walk off with La Mousse des Femmes.

Life is good. Looking up at the roofline, you Applaudir Les Oiseaux and the backing they give to the chime-laden drum beat that serenades you along the streets. However, one whiff of the uncompromising, rather monotonous next rhythm and you hurry past the hunched figure who offers to show you Sous Les Cotes. Brrr. Salvation awaits as you pop into a cool, calm bar, and listen to Eol et Leo tinkle the ivories, crush some drums and waft soothing strings over the clientele.

How much more of this do you need?

All too soon, the song is over and you must face the sultry streets once more. Ah, Etre Un Papillon, you think, and float away on a jazz piano and drum loop...

There, see, I knew you'd understand. Either we're crazed or we've been listening to Impressions, a five-track sampler EP by ThoTho, available from...

*busts a move*

...Dusted Wax Kingdom netlabel, Bulgarian purveyor of lo-fi, crackly, dusty hiphop to the gentry, and the rest of the world if it asks nicely. ThoTho, a lover of Stravinsky and DJ Krush (that's the kind of talk that CTW likes to hear) comes from Dijon (goodness, the French are so funky nowadays) and has released Impressions in the hope that it will encourage you out there to buy the full album. If you do, you'll find an iTunes link at ThoTho's MySpace. Failing that, send a donation to the very huggable and kissable Dusted Wax Kingdom, where you'll find a few pearls of lo-fi hiphop and triphop.

If you download ThoTho's EP, not only will you have a few head-nodders on your hard drive, you'll also be able to peruse the Lovecraftian album cover in all its sepulchral glory. Why not make a poster out of it and scare yourself silly?

ThoTho - Impressions EP (link to individual mp3s and zipped album)

ThoTho's MySpace

Dusted Wax Kingdom

P.S. Marvin of the marvellous Free Albums Galore took my little jest about his site's acronym in good heart. Phew.

By the way, the French weren't always quite so funky...

Grand Theft Auto 5: Ambient City

EDIT 15/02/09 At some point, Choc changed this album's title, cover and song titles, which somehow resulted in Jamendo's mp3 player linking to a completely different artist and album. I've amended this review accordingly. Apologies for any confusion caused. Think yourself lucky - I still put my underpants on back to front. Mind you, at least it means I get an extra day's wear out of them to add to the original two days: normal, inside-out and back-to-front. Don't look at me like that - it's called being ecologically sound. *sniffs* Ah, sexy fresh.

I first heard Choc's work at the music production website KVR, where his Mimesis Algorithm knocked the dregs from my clay pipe. It's a click 'n' cut track, full of atmospheric glitches, with a sparse but effective piano and cello accompaniment. The clincher is the bridge, which is the sound of a modem firing up; in the context of the track, it's perfect. If you have a friend who likes classical music but isn't too keen on contemporary stuff, or vice versa, point them to Mimesis Algorithm. I don't think it's available for downloading at present, but you can still hear it at Choc's MySpace.

All of which leads me to Choc's highly downloadable four-track EP, Urban Solstice, available at Jamendo. But first, a haiku:

8000 albums

All free, no hidden charges

Jamendo calls you

Learn to say this in one breath and repeat it to friends and acquaintances. Your procreation will soar as people discover how cool you are. Back to the review:

Choc is a Frenchman who works in signal processing, statistics and telecommunication, making him eminently suited, I would have thought, to produce ambient electronica. To quote the man himself: "Urban Solstice is a collection of four songs composed in 2004-5 which reflect the universe of a fictive city." The album could be classified as "industrial ambient minimal" because intimate clanks (oxymoronic, I concede) and rhythmic thumps and thuds abound. Now, I could easily kick a dustbin downstairs and claim to be an ambient artist; the only difference between Choc and me is that he's composed addictive music whereas my effort would still sound like a dustbin being kicked down a staircase. I don't know how he manages to convey emotion through abstract sounds, but I'm happy to listen in dumb admiration.

First off, Choc gently prises your ears open with Industrial Resurrection. Imagine listening to the world's biggest glass harp being played inside a Tibetan monastery's boiler room and you'll get the idea.

Bit Synthesis introduces a pulsing bass and a flapping (yes, really) kick drum with feisty interruptions from what sounds like a short-circuiting fusebox. Most high frequency sounds are filtered out, giving the music a muffled feel befitting the track's title. It ends with a heartbeat, Pink Floyd fans.

The third track, Chaos Indus-nat, finds us among leaking pipes, their echoing drips slowly increasing in frequency until we stumble upon a hard-working computer terminal. It's like exploring a sewage system, but in a good way. I release that last sentence under a Creative Commons licence. Do with it what you will.

Digital Clock follows a classic electronica recipe: glitchy drums, smooth synths and a bit-crushed ending. Like the rest of the EP, I'm sure it contains a subliminal "keep listening" message.

 

 

It's perfectly possible to listen to this album while cruising the streets of GTA 4's New York. But I warn you, you might have to pull over, switch the engine off and recline your seat. Let others investigate the city; you're busy exploring sound. And, although it's optional, you could always put something in Choc's parking meter.

Choc - Urban Solstice (link to individual mp3s and zipped album)

Choc's MySpace