A set of late summer wares from the Second Language family, Sea Glass, Correlations, Tomorrow Syndicate, The Home Current and more

One of the strangest summers in our collective recent memory has continued to throw up a mixture of unwelcome and welcome turns of events. Mercifully though, in our little Concrete Islands corner of the world the music has continued flowing with plenty of the latter, warranting another seasonally slanted bundling-up exercise.

Whilst thematically the new multi-artist collection from Second Language – named Avenue With Trees – is actually more apposite for an autumnal arrival, it’s perhaps understandable that curator Glen Johnson just couldn’t wait any longer to unveil such an astutely-assembled artifact on his rebooted boutique label. With contributors given the steer to fit the mood of ‘Brussels, raining, 1983…’ in the spirit of pan-European compilations once put together by Les Disques du Crépuscule, Factory Benelux, Sordide Sentimental in the early-80s, this round-up is far from being a predictable makeweight assortment.

Fusing the metropolitan and the pastoral, Avenue With Trees is both a showcase of Second Language alumni and a cohesive self-contained statement. Given the vintage reverence in the overall premise, The Durutti Column’s influence hangs heavily over proceedings – in a good way – with erstwhile Piano Magic guitarist Franck Alba delivering the mesmeric wordless opener “Frédéric”, Paul Tombohm slipping in the fleeting fragile voice and electric guitar meditation of “Fear of Shame”, the quasi-supergroup of Statues in Fog coiling Vini Reilly six-strings around pedal steel plaintiveness for “The Gentle Hours” and Oliver Cherer dropping in a dreamy demo version of “Untitled 1983” from his still-indispensable I Feel Nothing Most Days LP. Elsewhere, in the more organic furrows, there is bucolic blissfulness from Gareth Dickson (“Manic in Peace”), baroque piano-led essaying from Yumi Mashiki (“Ophelia”) as well as Alter Later (“Palace of Catalan”) and a reflective rustic ballad from living legend Mark Fry (“Half an Hour”).

Through the ‘none of the above’ routes within Avenue With Trees, you’ll find the transcendental Steve Reich-meets-Tortoise percussive glide of David John Sheppard’s “Intonarumori”, Cédric Pin and Glen Johnson’s melding of early-Tindersticks organs, late-90s electronica and twilight years Leonard Cohen vocals across “La Voisine”, Pete Astor’s chugging homage to bedroom-DIY-recording veterans on “Record Rewind” and the elegant haunted house Victoriana of Jean Lancaster’s “Havisham”.

With such comradeship, warmth and invention spread over its baker’s dozen tracks – which also extends into the more oblique Secondaries bonus disc featuring returning appearances from several contributors – Avenue With Trees has the peculiar effect of invoking a longing for summer’s end, with some shorter days and fallen leaves to bolster its ambience. In all, this is undoubtedly one of 2020’s most exquisite and rich cultural ventures.

Sharing a similar should/could have been released in September/October vibe is the debut album from Sea Glass, the side project duo of The Leaf Library’s Matt Ashton and Melinda Bronstein. Shifts (Where It’s at Is Where You Are) finds the former’s home brewed blendings of guitars, keyboards and electronics being remotely infused by the layered vocals of the latter. Diaphanous yet detailed and loose but sculpted, the twosome tap into something inscrutably inviting over the ten gathered pieces, which draw upon The Leaf Library’s most minimalistic moments as well as extending into satisfyingly fresh territories.

Hence along the way, there’s skeletal space-folk with hints of the cruelly-forgotten Novak (“Splicing Shadows” and “I’ve Been Here”); less abstract takes on Julianna Barwick’s ambient balminess (“An Ending” and “Give Up”); unabashed yet well-finessed nods to Movietone (“Come to the Door”, “Berth” and “Silken Tide”); and percussion-free refunnelling of the hypnotic drone-pop parts of The Leaf Library’s terrific The World Is a Bell LP (“How Can I Be You”). Whilst it does take some concentrated headphone-listening to truly soak up its sensory delicacies, Shifts is a compelling and calming diversion all told.

Before knuckling-down to work on another full length album, Tomorrow Syndicate return again via Polytechnic Youth with a standalone single, that in a parallel universe could be the sleeper hit of late summer. Continuing to up their songwriting skills, whilst retaining sonic connections to some of their analogue-electronica loving labelmates, these two cuts feel very much of a pair. With its stomping drums, pulsing bassline, chiming guitars and interstellar synths underpinning Gerard Espie’s increasingly commanding yet still subtle vocal/lyrical presence, A-side “Populous” is a fine addition to the Tomorrow Syndicate canon, with strong hints of both New Order and La Düsseldorf in the mix. Flipside instrumental “Living in a Simulation” may miss Espie’s tones but it acts as a semi-reprising and moodier companion piece. On the evidence of this two part coupling and last year’s characterful Citizen Input mini-album, the next Tomorrow Syndicate long player should certainly be worth waiting around for.

Having delivered an almost entirely Moog-powered odyssey a matter of months ago, with the sprawling 45-track Mayan Gods cassette/download set, Neil Hale returns again as Correlations with the comparatively concise vinyl/digital Hot Pots (via Castles in Space). Exploring sounds extracted entirely from a 1983 OSCar synth this time around, Hale cooks up an altogether brighter and more easily digested suite in eight numerically-anointed portions. Thus, he shifts between glistening and fizzing kosmische cruising that bridges the gap between Harmonia and Eat Lights Become Lights (“Hot Pots 1” and “Hot Pots 2”); burbling retro-robotics (“Hot Pots 3” and “Hot Pots 6”); pirouetting chirruping art-noise (“Hot Pots 4”); glimmering airiness (“Hot Pots 5”); dense dronescaping (“Hot Pots 7”); and discombobulated techno (“Hot Pots 8”). As with Mayan Gods the ideas aren’t shockingly original but the execution is fortified with flair, wit and charm.

Carrying on a productive year, Mat Handley’s Woodford Halse cassette/download-led enterprise delivers two new releases spaced out by just a few weeks. The first is the multi-headed Undulating Waters Vol. 5. Like the previous instalment in this series, it brings forth exclusive pieces from the familiar and unfamiliar, albeit with more darkly-lit and more synthetically-fashioned elements on this occasion. Highlights from the previously-acquainted come in the form of Panamint Manse’s wistful electro “Saline Sands” and Field Lines Cartographer’s looping ethereal “The Glow”. Amongst the lesser-known characters there are some particularly notable wares from Greening Lambourne (with the shimmering ambient “Zones of the Interior”) and Benjamin Finger (in the form of the film-noir-goes-post-classical “Tangents Less Haunted”).

Second up is another long-player from The Home Current, to add to this year’s hefty catalogue expansions, in the shape of Devotional Syndrome. Self-confessedly ‘all about the bass’ this second outing on Woodford Halse from Martin Jensen’s never sleeping amorphous post-techno alias, is a solidly bottom end propelled proposition. In a self-crowded field this is probably one best tailored towards the loyal faithful rather than the later-comer. This is not to say that the electronically-built Devotional Syndrome isn’t a substantial construction however. Indubitably, the likes of the prowling “Rural Mad”, the voodoo-percussion clattering “Just Never Once”, the imagined 80s sci-fi-cop show theme “Desert Wanderer” and the funky low-slung title-track would fit well on a decent and increasingly necessary ‘best of’ anthology.

Adrian
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