The Good x The Evil, Fresh Now x Fresh Forever
1 month ago, 25 June 2014  ·   1 note


A never-ending bipolar fight between the Good and the Evil, on a personal level, on a historical and society level, on all levels. There are days, which are dark, clouds hovering low, it’s hard to breathe. It’s June, and you’re not sure, if it’s because you’re depressed or allergic. A rapid storm followed by a cleansing heavy rain, Hungary would need such a purification, but not only Hungary.

Unaussprechlichen kulten - Az üreglakók

Ultra-primitive evil, minimalistic lo-fi black metal from the darkest vaults of the South Zala hill, Beherit Way, Von and Havohej. Biblical apocalyptic hallucinatory scenes, so dark, were they any darker, only a hole would remain, depicting the journey of the inhabitants of hell, without a chance of redemption, without a happy ending, nobody remembers the beginning anymore.


Then, there are days which are full of sun, pop-driven, June, when you sit at work and can’t wait for your holiday and keep reminding yourself how it was then. A tip for a summer hit:

Damiano CZ built their foundation on an ever-persistent phenomenon of the Disco Polo music style (Italo Disco Polish style, also described as so-called pavement music – a massive escalation and culmination of Disco Polo happened in the second half of the 1990s, especially in the Polish countryside and small towns, and to certain extent, it still survives there) with an added element of synth pop and chillwave. On the EP 1996, the duo offers five pieces “in the tone of the feverish-sensuous evenings/cold-lonely wounds drowned in pseudogangstarap – hetero4homo – psychopolo village dance parties vs post-holiday nostalgia, until the end of summer somewhere around your hypophysis, the rainbowy eo-eo will vibrate! Damiano ce-zet uo-o.”
Check it out here.

A track from the EP 1996, which came out in 2009 on the Polish net label By?em Kobieta (the predecessor of Grzelak’ s label Sangoplasmo). 1996 is composed of love songs, full of highs and lows of a duo one of whose – Szymek - is a member of the perhaps still hybernating, perhaps dead hypnagogic electro oldschool rap duo Chłopomania (together with Lubomir Grzelak aka Lutto Lento) and the artist Cocker Cock (the only artist whose solo album was too strange even for By?em Kobieta Records). They got together on the track Lodowisko.

By Jakub Adamec, I Love 69 Popgeju

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An interview with sound artist Svetlana Maraš
1 month ago, 22 June 2014  ·   5 notes


Establishing experimental and improvised music in Belgrade is a challenge: there are just a few funding opportunities, a conservative music education and a missing infrastructure. But musicians as the sound artist and composer Svetlana Maraš are moving back to Belgrade after years abroad and build up a new scene – with enthusiasm, good ideas and international collaborations. In this interview Svetlana speaks about her enthusiasm of living in her home town again, how she uses the laptop as an instrument in improvised music, and samples that attract her. Interview by Theresa Beyer from Norient.

Svetlana, six years ago, after your studies at the Belgrade music academy, you decided to leave your home country. What were the reasons at this point in your life?

At this time, Belgrade wasn’t really the best place to be. Music studies in Serbia were quite conservative. I wanted to learn things that weren’t possible to learn in the academic environment. I also felt that the system was slowing me down. I had a lot of creative energy and I felt that I could progress much faster in some better environment. That’s why I needed to go abroad. I found the Media Lab Helsinki, a school where I could learn about contemporary music in relation to new technology and sound arts. It turned out to be a wellspring of knowledge and ideas and one of the best decisions in my musical career.

Two years ago, after finishing your Masters, you decided to come back to Belgrade. Has the city changed?

Yes. The atmosphere in the city was getting pretty good, so I decided to stay in Belgrade. There appeared to be many other people who came back from their studies abroad. Although having different fields of expertise (some of us being sound artists, composers, instrumentalists), we all had a good academic background, lots of experience in playing improvised music and – what’s most important – we had this enthusiasm to establish our own music scene in Belgrade. With joined forces we are nowadays promoting experimental music, e.g. by hosting artists in our monthly series ImprovE.

How this growing scene in Belgrade is different from traditional centres of experimental and contemporary music like Berlin, Paris and London?

Belgrade surely is no hotspot. There are not so many things happening here or least not so often and there is also very little or rather no money for culture. So we can do projects just on a smaller scale and with a lot of effort. However, we are on the European experimental music map: we all work a lot abroad and there is a lot of exchange. More and more young people are interested in improvisation, noise, sound art and also the audience - created around events as Ring-Ring Festival or ImprovE - is getting bigger. These are all good indicators: Belgrade has the potential to become the leading place for experimental music in the region and wider.

Let’s speak about the work you create in this stimulating atmosphere. It is mostly based on samples. Where are they coming from?

I started building my sample library years ago, spontaneously, and I keep adding new materials when I find them interesting enough. I also modify the old ones until they become something new and I classify them very accurately. I use mostly these glitchy, digital sounds and the recordings of amplified objects. I also use field recordings and I sampled prepared guitar and no mixing input board, as long as I edit these samples up to the point that I can’t recognise anymore where they are coming from. At a certain point they start to be something else. Step by step my library became well defined in terms of sound. I think that gives a certain stamp to all of my works.

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After floods comes Potop
1 month ago, 18 June 2014  ·   0 notes

The effect of music is various, to entertain, provide an escape from everyday mundanity, incite, excite, sedate, inspire or bore. Then there is music that evokes certain moods and vibes, that hovers somewhere between reality and dream, between conscious states and the subliminal. That perfectly expresses the circumstances of its origin, but also somehow manages to precisely adapt to the setting of the listener-the receiver.

Putopisi is a selection of four tracks - or sono/journeys - each more than 20-minute long. It is a minimalistic, hypnotising rhythmachinistic seance sometimes venturing into 4/4 technoid territory with random samples of disembodied radio voices, coated in a liquid psychotropic echo. The recordings were created in May 2014 with two WWII military tube radio receivers without antennas “in a leaking studio”, vitebsk 1920, in Brestovik, Serbia by Nikola Vitkovic, a highly active and one of the most noteworthy and diverse musicians to emerge from the Balkan underground. This, coincidentally, was the period when Serbia and Bosnia got mostly affected by cataclysmic floods. The proceeds from the album will thus be donated to the official fund for victims of the floods.

Vitkovic’s father used to be a radio amateur, his vintage radio transmitters and receivers having found new life in the hands of his son Nikola. A droney, hazy and meandering session, the omnipresent aquatic terror present liminally, adding the recordings a hazy, watery, coating.

"I spent two months in a village at my family house. I couldn’t bring anything except the most necessary things, so I decided it’d be the perfect occasion to try and make Putopisi, which I’ve had on my mind for quite some time," says Vitkovic. "I’m obsessed with those ‘watered down’ projects, which were very prolific / productive with dozens of albums or long box releases and it takes really a mining effort to get through it in quest for some ‘juice’ in there."

The name of the project is Putopisi, and in translation, it means “travelogues”. The gratification of listening to these tracks is not instant, but even more rewarding. It’s the anticipation of the climax, which is always distant, out of reach, and eventually, sublimates onto the whole listening experiences.

You can get the album (and support the flood victims) here.

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The trippy world of Triple Sun
1 month ago, 11 June 2014  ·   4 notes

Just before I started to listen to Triple Sun's latest album on the recently launched Forum Absurdum imprint, related to the Bratislava-based DIY club Fuga (one of the best industrial venues in the city), I’d heard the new Plastikman album.

For some reason, it seemed as if these two were distant relatives of the lysergic lineage. Trippy, abstract electronics, digitally polished and ruminating, wandering and getting lost in subtle echoes, like on the former’s “Macro”, a labyrinthian maze of sounds, the Minotaur hiding in a Plato’s cave.

In its sonic experimentalism, it sometimes alludes to the heydey of the 90ties IDM scene, the Autechres and whatnot, but it is far from an epigon of a bygone era. It has its ebbs and flows, it’s menacing and mellow at the same time.

Triple Sun is a new project which emerged on the ever-vibrant Bratislava electronic scene, composed of active musicians armed with modular synths and plenty of vigour to explore the offbeat side of contemporary electronics.

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Samčo, brat dážďoviek - magazín TÍNEJDŽ
1 month ago, 9 June 2014  ·   0 notes

Samčo, brat dážďoviek is a rare beast. As one of the very few ones in the electronic scene around here, he doesn’t shy away from the context. Following in the footsteps of the likes of Negativland or The Residents, Samčo mashes up, twists and turns various pop-cultural references - a constant obsession with Justin Bieber serves as the slightest example (on this album there is a literal Slovak translation of his hit), as well as films like Kemonozume and Naisu No Mori, but also subverts various national/istic symbols and ideology of mostly Czech and Slovakian nature. A quick glance at the cover of the album is an analytical shortcut, featuring Ľudovít Štúr, the foremost 19th century Slovak national figure next to a painting of Jesus.  

For instance, the first track Fenn a Tátra ormán “contains the official Hungarian text of the Slovak anthem used in Hungarian-speaking parts during the period of the 1st Czechoslovak Republic. These topics have been explored before in his ouevre - most prominently on his Slobodný nezávislý album. There is also a “homage to the most annoying youtube ad” and a field recording of frogs.  

"Multicultural and multi-linguistic mashup of the traditional Slovak spirit," he says and adds. "Don’t play this to your neighbours and pets."

Check out Samčo’s Easterndaze podcast here. Reblog   Like