TUESDAY SEP 06, 2016
529 Presents:
CGI 3-Year Anniversary Party with:
Grey People
| Future Dz | Pamela_and her sons | TWINS / That Which Is Not Said
Grey People
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Pamela_and her sons
Y’know, I was about to start this review with some kooky conceit about chopped salads and chopped vocals. And I woulda gotten away with it, because this latest smorgasbord from Alessandra Hoshor, a.k.a. Pamela_ and her sons, could seem a baffling tossed mess to the uninitiated. But listen closer, and the blueprints for Hurt Plaza slowly fade into view, like invisible ink over neon green paper. We’re not talking about Autechre-level austerity, nor the alien designs of Nicolas Jaar, but something more akin to the super-textured, crazy kinetic scrapbook approach of Actress. In other words — bizarre but deliberate, and definitely not leafy. If Hurt Plaza were indeed a plaza, then Hoshor’s effervescent vocals would spring forth from the central fountain. Like the L.A.-based sound architect Katie Gately, Hoshor forges breathing landscapes out of artificial babble, with several layers stacked and slanted into a precarious Janga tower. “All Out” perhaps spins into the dizziest round, with bubbles of synthesized “ohs” blending in with Hoshor’s own warped voices; “Sad Laugh,” too, beguiles with a dizzying array of laughs that pop like pistons. Whispers and murmurs lend texture to the walls, like in the 5 a.m. factory after-party of “Rush” and the clattering “Almost!” Those weird loops are what make Hurt Plaza so alien, even when the tiles on the floor look like the same damn tiles in other plazas. But where Gately throws in everything and the kitchen sink into her 3-D pop mazes, a Pamela piece doesn’t need many twists or props to turn yr head in loops. Lead single “Green Light” drifts on little more than a staggered cymbal; “Fantasy” ping-pongs phantom calls through a stuttering vacuum. It’s an economy that you won’t catch at a casual glance, thanks to the bustling pace — and that’s both fascinating and frustrating. For, despite Hoshor’s cunning in the layout, there’s still a flatness here that leaves the listener hungry still. “Xx Restless xX,” in particular, seems unfinished, an electro temple run intended only to bridge “All Out” with “Bom Bom Bop.” Still, even if some areas of Hurt Plaza seem undeveloped, Hoshur at least knows how to keep guests on their toes. The songs here land all over the map: “Citybridgefucker” pulses with the moldy industrial shade of Front 242; “Bom Bom Bop” traipses downward into the frost of UK grime; “Down the Hall” shuffles like sidewinding footwork into a flurry of topsy-turvy piano. Given the aforementioned economy, though, the “variety” here is really more like a selection between snacks at a vending machine than, say, a spread of food joints in a mall plaza. But, eh — Hoshor probably isn’t planning to build a food court, anyway. All told, Hurt Plaza may not be the artsiest installment ever, and definitely not the most original design in the vast strip mall of the internet. But on the local block, Pamela_ and her sons stands apart from the pack — and shoppers should hang around a while, if only to marvel at the pretzel-shaped layout. -Immersive Atlanta
Y’know, I was about to start this review with some kooky conceit about chopped salads and chopped vocals. And I woulda gotten away with it, because this latest smorgasbord from Alessandra Hoshor, a.k.a. Pamela_ and her sons, could seem a baffling tossed mess to the uninitiated. But listen closer, and the blueprints for Hurt Plaza slowly fade into view, like invisible ink over neon green paper. We’re not talking about Autechre-level austerity, nor the alien designs of Nicolas Jaar, but something more akin to the super-textured, crazy kinetic scrapbook approach of Actress. In other words — bizarre but deliberate, and definitely not leafy. If Hurt Plaza were indeed a plaza, then Hoshor’s effervescent vocals would spring forth from the central fountain. Like the L.A.-based sound architect Katie Gately, Hoshor forges breathing landscapes out of artificial babble, with several layers stacked and slanted into a precarious Janga tower. “All Out” perhaps spins into the dizziest round, with bubbles of synthesized “ohs” blending in with Hoshor’s own warped voices; “Sad Laugh,” too, beguiles with a dizzying array of laughs that pop like pistons. Whispers and murmurs lend texture to the walls, like in the 5 a.m. factory after-party of “Rush” and the clattering “Almost!” Those weird loops are what make Hurt Plaza so alien, even when the tiles on the floor look like the same damn tiles in other plazas. But where Gately throws in everything and the kitchen sink into her 3-D pop mazes, a Pamela piece doesn’t need many twists or props to turn yr head in loops. Lead single “Green Light” drifts on little more than a staggered cymbal; “Fantasy” ping-pongs phantom calls through a stuttering vacuum. It’s an economy that you won’t catch at a casual glance, thanks to the bustling pace — and that’s both fascinating and frustrating. For, despite Hoshor’s cunning in the layout, there’s still a flatness here that leaves the listener hungry still. “Xx Restless xX,” in particular, seems unfinished, an electro temple run intended only to bridge “All Out” with “Bom Bom Bop.” Still, even if some areas of Hurt Plaza seem undeveloped, Hoshur at least knows how to keep guests on their toes. The songs here land all over the map: “Citybridgefucker” pulses with the moldy industrial shade of Front 242; “Bom Bom Bop” traipses downward into the frost of UK grime; “Down the Hall” shuffles like sidewinding footwork into a flurry of topsy-turvy piano. Given the aforementioned economy, though, the “variety” here is really more like a selection between snacks at a vending machine than, say, a spread of food joints in a mall plaza. But, eh — Hoshor probably isn’t planning to build a food court, anyway. All told, Hurt Plaza may not be the artsiest installment ever, and definitely not the most original design in the vast strip mall of the internet. But on the local block, Pamela_ and her sons stands apart from the pack — and shoppers should hang around a while, if only to marvel at the pretzel-shaped layout. -Immersive Atlanta
TWINS / That Which Is Not Said
That Which Is Not Said is an album about learning to accept oneself within, and accept the reality of all that comes from without. It’s an eponymous abstract exposition on navigating the realms of intimacy that the living world inevitably unveils and their equally inevitable fallout, the panic of abandonment and the loss of desire, and dragging oneself back up the hill once the lonely valleys lose their allure. Written and recorded over the course of two years in TWINS home studio in Atlanta with various synths, samplers, drum machines, and his very own flesh-and-muscle vocals, That Which Is Not Said is the result of countless studio sessions and experiments that were refined and distilled into the songs presented here, rigorously worked out through live performances and repeated critical overhaul. The material was all conceived more or less the same way: a mood or feeling would be channeled through whatever machines were plugged in at the time and eventually a foundation would be developed upon which a loose structure would be improvised. Experimenting and throwing around vocals came next, making up phrases and lyrics on the fly until something clicked and a pathway cleared through the fog and mist. TWINS (the acronym from which the album derives its title, if one’s curious about the order of origin) is the mutant machine-pop project of Atlantan producer, label operator, and all-around aesthete-visionary Matt Weiner. Having spent the better part of a decade reveling in a moody murk that intersects seductive synth-pop with Featureless Ghost and grotesque industrial-dance grooves in his own right as TWINS, Weiner has more than proved his sincerely sinister and auspiciously artful finesse of synth-based music. Operating from his home studio, arrayed with various tools of the trade, Weiner tempers his subtle scourges of sound with an unending sense of bold exploration, processing tracks of pulse-heavy aural catharsis. When performing these songs live, he brings an array of hardware to back up his flooring vocal performances, using his entire being to work the audience into a frenzied trance. When not making music as TWINS, Weiner also runs the CGI Records label and co-runs the DKA label, between the two releasing music from Boy Harsher, Profligate, Alex Falk, High-Functioning Flesh, VALIS, Scott Fraser, Beau Wanzer, Featureless Ghost, Golden Donna, and more. Weiner also performs in the duo Pyramid Club with Chris Daresta, and produces music in the studio with Stefan Ringer as SM42 and with the esteemed CH Rom as Wo.
That Which Is Not Said is an album about learning to accept oneself within, and accept the reality of all that comes from without. It’s an eponymous abstract exposition on navigating the realms of intimacy that the living world inevitably unveils and their equally inevitable fallout, the panic of abandonment and the loss of desire, and dragging oneself back up the hill once the lonely valleys lose their allure. Written and recorded over the course of two years in TWINS home studio in Atlanta with various synths, samplers, drum machines, and his very own flesh-and-muscle vocals, That Which Is Not Said is the result of countless studio sessions and experiments that were refined and distilled into the songs presented here, rigorously worked out through live performances and repeated critical overhaul. The material was all conceived more or less the same way: a mood or feeling would be channeled through whatever machines were plugged in at the time and eventually a foundation would be developed upon which a loose structure would be improvised. Experimenting and throwing around vocals came next, making up phrases and lyrics on the fly until something clicked and a pathway cleared through the fog and mist. TWINS (the acronym from which the album derives its title, if one’s curious about the order of origin) is the mutant machine-pop project of Atlantan producer, label operator, and all-around aesthete-visionary Matt Weiner. Having spent the better part of a decade reveling in a moody murk that intersects seductive synth-pop with Featureless Ghost and grotesque industrial-dance grooves in his own right as TWINS, Weiner has more than proved his sincerely sinister and auspiciously artful finesse of synth-based music. Operating from his home studio, arrayed with various tools of the trade, Weiner tempers his subtle scourges of sound with an unending sense of bold exploration, processing tracks of pulse-heavy aural catharsis. When performing these songs live, he brings an array of hardware to back up his flooring vocal performances, using his entire being to work the audience into a frenzied trance. When not making music as TWINS, Weiner also runs the CGI Records label and co-runs the DKA label, between the two releasing music from Boy Harsher, Profligate, Alex Falk, High-Functioning Flesh, VALIS, Scott Fraser, Beau Wanzer, Featureless Ghost, Golden Donna, and more. Weiner also performs in the duo Pyramid Club with Chris Daresta, and produces music in the studio with Stefan Ringer as SM42 and with the esteemed CH Rom as Wo.