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Jared Leibowich in review

jared leibowich

nice surprise, today and yesterday, that fantastic lp by mr. Leibowich got another batch of raving reviews

Jennifer Kelly over at Dusted writes that Jared “has made an expansive, ebullient solo album here, meriting comparisons to the Papercuts, White Fence and Peel Dream Magazine and, even, once or twice, the Beach Boys in its full multi-tracked, multi-vocaled glory.”

Doug Mosurock says “Whenever I listen to this guy’s work I can think of nothing else but that work. I don’t drift and the songs stay with me for a good while after, like I’ve stared at a bright image and it’s burned into whatever I see next.” on his great Still-Single tumblr, here.

Not forgetting Matt Korvette at YellowGreenRed earlier last month who added “As perhaps his most textured and pulsating work yet, Leibowich is in good company with Bruit Direct’s stable of misfits.” Yup, that’s us right there.

and you too can join the misfists!

Jared Leibowich in review

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On Redlight Sanatorium

Here’s a website that I regularily read

I mean every time, named redlight sanatorium

and they have reviewed out last two records, comparing the Zusammen Clark to Luna or the Pastels and The Submissives to the Shaggs and Cate Le Bon, which is really alright by me!

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debased shapes review at volcanic tongue

Second full-length album from this amazing Australian homemade instruments orchestra, now upgraded to a seven piece big band: Debased Shapes is a revelation, with the group moving on from the weirdo Sun Ra/Moondog hands-on DIY improvisations of their first album into a liminal zone of left field pop synthesis and ‘debased’ songcraft. Parts of this beautiful album almost sound like a Scratch Orchestra re-imagining of the early Rough Trade sound, stuff like the Raincoats or even The Swell Maps re-crafted for clunky hands-on sound sculptures, with female vocals somehow directing every squawk and dunt towards a vision of psychedelic pop that comes out of invention more than technique. There’s still a dazzling afro-primitive free jazz feel to the choruses of honking geese and thrifty percussion but they feel more like hallucinatory song forms here, true DIY imaginings of heavenly pop hits. A stunning amalgam of sound sculpture, improvised percussive freak out and super personal pop vision. Still no one like them, highly recommended!
All text copyright © David Keenan/Volcanic Tongue
unless otherwise noted

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Atelier Méditerranée in Still Single

Members of Cheveu organized this recording with a group of mentally handicapped children, but before you can say Reynols (oh, go ahead and say it anyway), the end result of placing these kids in front of synthesizers and microphones precipitates an avant-garde tonic as bracing as you can hope. “Méditerranée” is like a high tension line snapped loose and whipping around the proximity, a bramble of guitar delay, percussion both live and digital, swarming keyboards, a high pressure atmosphere of effects, and a choir of shapeless, menacing voices. “Flunch” starts off with the ring of a synthesizer and some curious French vocalizing, but soon dissipates in a haze of industrial key pound and tantrum-like excess. “Artena” closes the record with droning, bent church organs that quickly lose their very form against vocals from the group and a communal, agitated descent down the drain hole of drone and irrational, spontaneous musicianship. I wish more singles that came through here were as interesting as this one, and credit must be passed – again – to labels like Bruit-Direct, who have never chosen the smoother path as to what they release to the world. Outstanding, densely (dis)organized music for enthusiasts of LIFE itself. (Doug Mosurock)

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reviews in Yellow Green Red

Atelier Méditerranée:
Not exactly sure why some messy splatters of electro-junk are so much more palatable than others, but this wacky single by France’s Atelier Méditerranée (who appear to be more of a “workshop” for kids than an actual musical group) is the type of freakout I heartily enjoy.

La Ligne Claire:
It’s slow-moving, off-key and gracious, like a drunk relative trying to pretend they aren’t as they stumble toward the fridge. I’m reminded of Menstruation Sisters’ quieter moments, Reynols interpreting the Velvet Underground catalog, or The Foams, had they grown up in a barn.

logo Bruit Direct has been on a roll lately, nicely stocking the “Euro-WTF” racks of any decent record shop.

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gutsofdarkness january 2011

Scorpion Violente, c’est le nom de groupe que j’aurais aimé inventer. Tout y est : le dérèglement syntaxique en guise de pseudo du flic pourri hors de contrôle, celui qui t’observe derrière ses lunettes aviateur, le jean serré et la moustache virile ; ou bien celui du pimp gay TTBM, le dard dressé, qui te foutra la mandale du siècle parce que t’as pas soulevé assez d’hommes mariés, et tu l’auras bien méritée celle-là, feignant. Ouais, il y a tout ça derrière Scorpion Violente, du sexe marchand, de la tristesse post-coïtale, de la violence gratuite, des mecs qui serrent d’autres mecs parce qu’il faut bien tromper l’etouffante tension d’une nuit trop chaude. Allez, pose ton blouson, mecton, et viens danser avec moi sur la piste souillée de sueur et de sang séché, là où se jaugent les mâles en quête de nouveau territoire, viens me faire vibrer au rythme de tes brusques ondulations, ce soir c’est le Scorpion qui joue, laisse-toi transporter, ça monte en toi, ça te rend plus fort, c’est bien, mais pars pas en bad, hein mecton, reste avec moi surtout, que t’aies conscience de ce qui va se passer… c’est tout ça Scorpion, de la syncope cokée, un son tripé qui pue le vomi de houblon à dix mètres, une main aux ongles douteux, dangereusement insistante, qui n’aurait jamais dû s’égarer dans la moiteur de ton skinny pants. (samedi 15 janvier 2011)

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etrangeressac aout 2010

C’est le duo dance version « Grande Triple Alliance de l’Est »: faussement technique, vraiment niqué. Nos deux gaillards aux pseudos de mercenaires cuvent de l’électronique pornographique dans un coin d’architecture. S’obstinent sur des notes, des combinaisons. Montent le son car il faut que ça sèche net la communication de proximité. Ils font ça avec l’aplomb de survivants balafrés mais la froideur affichée n’est qu’un gel psycho-activé: en leur for intérieur ils bouillonnent de crasserie punk à la bière chaude. Sous leurs ongles noirs ils font des miracles, catapultent un énorme night club suitant dans un PMU sordide de rase campagne, séquestrent le taulier à coup de jack et font péter les réserves dans une volée de tables. Même dans ton bunker ils viendront te chercher. Tu les entends. Ils sont là. Scorpion Violente.
Max Dembo

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still single July 2010

New mindless electro minimalism from France, part of the whole crew with the logo (I suppose it is called “La Grande Triple Alliance Internationale de l’Est,” an umbrella operation for A.H. Kraken, the Anals, the Feeling of Love and related parties). It took a few listens to grok whether this duo was taking the piss, but there is a method here, even if it’s one that sets the drum pattern apart from the speed of the notes played on the synth, either to disorient, or to show the listener that they don’t know/don’t care how to make it work like everybody else. That little difference is what makes “Roma Violente,” a long-ish, static disco-minimal melody into the serious track that it is. Examples on the flipside are more spare and with somewhat of an industrial bend – “Mi Pute Mi Soumise” marches along with distortion and death in tow, while “Ich Kann Nicht” delivers the Germanic, stark yelling and murderous shocks you might expect from such a title. Another great record from B-D that doesn’t fit neatly into any one style or category. 500 copies. (Doug Mosurock)