Not Turning Off: Volume 25

Works from David Boulter, The British Stereo Collective, Apta and more are sifted as the shutters come down on a release-heavy year

Whilst there have been many much-discussed logistical obstacles in bringing things to ears and shelves lately, 2021 has still been phenomenally overwhelming for the volume of releases, both new and archival. So much so that as we try to pull up the review drawbridge for the year, plenty more things have still appeared from all directions. Below is an attempt to capture just some of what was vying for this particular listener’s attention as the yuletide period started to loom large on the horizon…

Certainly David Boulter can be absolved for not unveiling his Twelve Bells for Libuše EP any earlier on Clay Pipe Music, given that it unambiguously follows Christmas-imbued conceptualism. Following on from 2020’s evocative instrumental Yarmouth album on the same label and the equally sublime self-released spoken word novella-like Lover’s Walk LP from a few months ago, the three gathered wordless pieces here carry yet more esoteric thematic allure.

Inspired by the sights, sounds and reflective sentiments of mid-winter coupled with tribute-paying thoughts upon the recent passing of Czech actress Libuše Šafránková – who Boulter had first encountered as a young boy via a BBC broadcast of the 1973 film Three Nuts for Cinderella – the gorgeous interlocked trio of recordings refract backwards-glancing festive season atmospherics through Eastern European cinematics. Constructed through self-layered keyboards, accordion, guitar and percussion (including sleigh bells naturally) along with Alexander Hledik’s violin, Vladimir Secky’s flute and Veronika Boulterová’s airy ululations, bittersweet dots are joined between the film scores of Mikael Tariverdiev, Boulter’s own most delicate moments within Tindersticks and the ambience of snowy night time strolls followed by hearthside huddling.

Presented beautifully as a flexi-disc book bundle (with download), so that the curation matches and enhances the quality of the music within, Twelve Bells for Libuše is another reassuringly desirable artefact for fans of the extended Clay Pipe family.

Also in a nostalgic mindset, albeit constructed with electronic sounds and far away from seasonal framing, is The British Stereo Collective’s marvellous Mystery Fields (Castles in Space). Through its combined sonic content and physical presentation, this full-length twenty-track set from Staffordshire-based graphic designer Phil Heeks mines the audio-visual imaginations 70s-to-80s British TV themes, vintage sci-fi film scores, dusted-down sound effects library LPs and antique back issues of the Radio Times.

Simultaneously sophisticated in its musicality and often infectiously melodic in its delivery, Mystery Fields may play with the familiar influences and idioms of the current intermingled synth and hauntological scenes but the execution is so surgically razor-sharp that it goes beyond straightforward home studio dabbling pastiche.

From the sculpted Wendy Carlos-meets-Airwolf orchestrations of “Theme from The Yesterday Children” through the juddering Jean-Michel Jarre-does-Doctor Who swoop and swirl of “Theme from Space Guardians”, via the Popul Vuh-like cinematics of “The Rain and the Darkness”, across the Knight Rider-goes-kosmische “Travelogue”, within the Vangelis-on-a-small-screen strains of “Wires are Dangerous”, inside the spectral gothic madrigal eeriness of “Ringstone Road” and up to the pastorally-tinged quasi-symphonic reverie of “The Bentley Saga”, much of the material feels like genuinely top-drawer accompaniments to both iconic and obscure TV series and films that have just been lost to the mists of time.

Connoisseurs of Castles in Space’s Scarred for Life compendiums, Trunk Records’ rediscoveries, the Ghost Box canon and seminal Saturday afternoon TV serials should absolutely adore this inside and out.

Whilst Woodford Halse could easily have continued bathing in the justified adulation for the label’s still-fresh Undulating Waters 6 and 7 CD compilations for the rest of 2021, well-oiled production line processes mean that three more cassette/digital albums arrive just before serious mince pie munching commences.

Whilst the disorienting Throbbing Gristle-meets-Aphex Twin digital dismemberings of Spykidelic’s False Dread and Santa Sprees’s blending of Jad Fair and Daniel Johnston-like eccentricities with Swordfishtrombones-to-Bone Machine-era Tom Waits warpings on Fanfare for Tonsils are certainly intriguing, it’s Cahn Ingold Prelog’s Confidence that commands the most attention.

Apparently assembled from ‘commercial stock audio’ by Simon Proffitt (also of Master Musicians of Dyffren Moor and The Incidental Crack), Confidence is a gradually immersive selection of ambient balminess (“Powerful Epic Adventure”), desolate dronescaping (“Corporate Motivational”) and unsettling industrial-noise (“Grand Epic Cinematic Trailer”), that creates its own absorbing aural spaces as well as fitting around real life settings. Not easy listening for sure but there’s certainly plenty for those that like the darkest and most atmospheric explorations of the electronic world.

Having begun his 2021 with the esteemed Vignettes on Woodford Halse, followed by a smattering of cherishable compilation contributions as well as an expanded vinyl reissue on Polytechnic Youth of his earlier Rainbow Islands cassette release, Barry Smethurst bookends the annum under his Apta alias with Echoes, on the rapidily rising Werra Foxma Records.

Although not quite eclipsing Vignettes in terms of eclecticism and inviting engagement, the eleven-track LP extends the reach of the most amniotic ambient side of Apta’s aural spectrum, whilst retaining the operation’s consistently warming accessibility.

Moulded predominantly with a mesh of modular synth, treated guitar and bass, proceedings glide through Polypores-like percolations (“Swell” and “Ripples”), elegiac Brian Enoisms (“The Slide”, “Threads” and “DSI”), languid Vini Reilly-in-a-floatation-tank submersions (“Polar (+)” and “Same as It Ever Was (Bokeh)”), a dash of slowed-down Harmonia homage (“Wander”) and a spot of ethereality-concealed poetry-reading (“We Tire”).

Collectively, such crafted globules of sound make for another essential Apta affair and a fine finale to the enterprise’s strongest twelve months to date.

From the Sonic Cathedral stable comes two choice EPs from Cheval Sombre and Sennen. The former’s three-track Althea (co-released with Fat Elvis Records) acts a fine digestif to the back-to-back Time Waits for No One and Days Go By LPs released in March and May respectively. Packing in a sprawling yet imitate eight-minute cover of The Grateful Dead’s “Althea”, a sparse yet shrouded Sonic Boom remix of “Are You Ready” (from Days Go By) and a somewhat hipness-defying largely lo-fi acoustic cover of Dire Straits’ “So Far Away”, the EP acts as an interesting fan-friendly but not throwaway afterthought.

Sennen’s Transmissions EP scoops up six live-in-the-studio-for-Rough Trade session tracks cut in the recent promotional rounds for the acclaimed expanded Widows reissue. Although inevitably a little rougher around the edges, those that have missed seeing the band outside the studio will find rousing and strung-out renditions of cuts from Widows and a graceful cover of Big Star’s “Nightime” fulfilling and elevating.

Digging into the past as robustly as it champions the future, Mute’s late-2021 archivist excavations yield two radically different affairs.

Having its first ever vinyl edition (as well as a CD reissue) is Anita Lane’s Sex O’Clock. The second and final solo album from the sadly departed alumnus of Nick Cave’s The Bad Seeds – originally released in 2001 but overlooked at the time – sounds remarkably fresh some twenty years on.

Solitarily extending upon on her Jane Birkin / Bridget Bardot role on Mick Harvey’s first two sublime Serge Gainsbourg cover collections, the album segues between sumptuously-arranged symphonic pop, Stax-infused funk ‘n’ soul, murky disco, atmospheric noir balladry and Mazzy Star-tinged psych-folk. Stirring together covers and originals as well as drawing in versatile instrumental and arrangement assistance from the likes of the aforementioned Harvey, Thomas Wydler and Bertrand Burgalat, the album is steely in intent but light on its feet and certainly cements Lane’s lost Antipodean artistic heroine status.

This reboot will certainly make people lament that Lane left the world before a long-overdue sequel set could be considered. Hopefully, a refreshed version of 1993’s Dirty Pearl prequel will follow too before long.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on Mute (in conjunction with Spoon Records), Can’s already acclaimed live series continues with Live in Brighton 1975. Again, like the Live in Stuttgart 1975 set put out earlier in 2021, close resemblance to the meticulously-edited studio material is largely eschewed in favour of heady improv jams. So those looking for the core line-up of Irmin Schmidt, Jaki Lieberzeit, Michael Karoli and Holger Czukay simply ripping through their back catalogue will be challenged but those wanting to fully explore the group’s historically freewheeling yet focused spirit in the live arena will be enthralled.

Whilst the first part of the recording – in part due to the sound mix – does at times appear to document Lieberzeit and Karoli having some relentless ‘drums vs. guitar’ duels that veer between being cacophonously noodly and polyrhythmically funky, as things progress greater structure and finesse creeps in, with Schmidt’s synths and keyboards coming more to the fore, along with Czukay’s bass. This culminates in the closing and best two tracks; the mystic skronking “Brighton 75 Sechs” and “Brighton 75 Sieben”, which fuses some familiar fragments from the Can catalogue into an epic medley of hypnotic eeriness, motorik groovescaping and blistering psych-rock-meets-free-jazz.

Whilst not for the fainthearted overall, Live in Brighton 1975 holds some high rewards in its peak passages.