In no particular order...
Jenny Hval – Apocalypse
Girl (Sacred Bones)
Norwegian
Jenny Hval begins the third solo record under her own name with a
track that includes, amongst other bizarre imagery, lyrics about four
large bananas rotting in her lap. It's a strange introduction to a
strange album and a track that, like Hval's live shows, performed
from atop the large red gym ball that adorns the record's cover,
blurs the lines between pop music and performance art. At first the
track appears to be abject nonsense, but as the themes unfurl
throughout the rest of the record it begins to become more clear;
Kingsize, like the rest of
the record is about domesticity, belonging, and a rejection of
the myriad expectations placed on women in the 21st
century. A record that is at once avant-garde and soulful (hear the
gorgeous, stomach churning vocal inflections when she sings
“Feminism's over, and socialism's over” on That Battle Is
Over), Hval proves a master at using abstract imagery to
represent concrete fears and grounding it all in a bizarre but
melodious soundscape.
Helena Hauff – Discreet
Desires (Ninjatune/Werkdiscs)
Though she's been a well respected DJ for some time, 2015 felt like a
breakout year for Helena Hauff the producer. Having previously
released a series of EPs and tapes that felt more like sketches of a
musician finding her feet and learning her equipment, Hauff used
Discreet Desires to present to the world a fully realised
vision combining, much in the same way as her DJ sets, techno,
electro and EBM. Hauff is an avowed synth and hardware enthusiast,
and the machines that are used on these ten tracks are probably all
around 30 years of age, but the sounds that she coaxes from them are
timeless – as much Victorian gothic as sci-fi futuristic. From the
cover art, to the track titles (L'Homme Mort, Piece of
Pleasure, Tryst) and the music itself, this record is dark,
smoky, ashen-faced and sexual.
Head
High – House.Home.Harcore. (Powerhouse)
Rene Pawolitz is a man who executes simple ideas exceedingly well. As
Shed and The Traveller, he releases thoroughly well respected
breakbeat-laced techno albums on the likes of Ostgut Ton and the
recently defunct 50Weapons. As Head High, WK7, and perhaps dozens of
other aliases, he crafts hard hitting dancefloor bombs whose chords
are as euphoric as their kick drums are distorted.
House.Home.Hardcore. collects many of the weapons released by
him as Head High and WK7 over the past few years. DJ sets usually
incorporate peaks and troughs of excitement, so 60 minutes or so of
pummelling Powolitz productions might seem intimidating to even the
hardiest of ravers at first, but it's to his credit that the mix
doesn't feel at all like an ordeal. It's certainly unconventional,
but Pawolitz has spent his career embracing rave and techno
conventions with one arm, and batting them away with the other.
Ultimately, House.Home.Harcdore. is a fantastic distillation
of what this supremely talented producer does best.
Regis
– Manbait (Blackest Ever Black)
Regis and Blackest Ever Black are the perfect match, synchronising
exactly in their bleak aesthetics and the tongue in cheek sense of
humour that their output is presented with. Manbait collects
Regis's productions and remixes for the label, which recently
celebrated its fifth birthday, as well as adding a number of
previously unreleased tracks. It encompasses the whole of latter-day
Regis's scope – from haunting (his remix of BEB signees Dalhous's
He Was Human and Belonged With Humans), to paranoid (the Regis
mix of Ike Yard's classic industrial Factory-released Loss),
and beyond to pummelling (any of the galloping, percussive Regis
originals). Manbait serves to deconstruct the myth of Regis as
much as it does to build it; it showcases that he's long since moved
on from the widely remembered and violently repetitive four to the
floor classics of twenty years ago, but continues to work within the
unknowable and acerbic yet facetious image he's constructed for
himself. Ultimately the compilation paints a picture of an illusive
character who, after two decades in the techno game, is as inventive
as he's ever been, and is working with his broadest scope yet.
Julia
Holter – Have You In My Wilderness (Domino)
Even though every album she's released since 2012's Ekstasis
has seemed like a complete and accomplished statement, there is still
a sense of growth between each of Julia Holter's records. On Have
You In My Wilderness her orchestration is as straightforward and
lush as it has ever been, while the lyrics seem a lot more grounded
in real world problems than the lofty academic musings she's
previously presented us with. That's not to say that this is simple
music, far from it in fact, but it's certainly accessible, as elegant
on the surface as it is deep. Whilst her live show is very much
acclaimed, it's undoubtedly on record that Holter produces her best
work, her style better suited to the freedom of inventiveness that
the studio offers over the live setting. Have You In My
Wilderness, equal parts unconventional and candid, perfectly
encapsulates this.
There is only one person who could include a William Shatner
monologue about the weight of one's own expectations on a landmark
50th instalment of a house and techno mix series and get away with
it. That person is Stefan Kozalla. For DJ Koze there is no transition
from the sublime to the ridiculous, and that's demonstrated by his
ability to intersperse 70 minutes of supremely poignant and affecting
music with genuinely hilarious skits, and somehow make it seem like
the most natural thing in the world. The psychedelic imagery on the
inner sleeve of this CD perhaps goes some way to explain the Koze
mindset - the whole package calls to mind The Beatles' late-60s
experimentation. It's worth noting that Kozalla is probably the only
club DJ to have gone on a spiritual pilgrimage to India. As much as
I'm loathe to admit it, most DJ mixes prize sheer functionality over
anything truly affecting or transcendental. Here is a mix that does
the exact opposite.
Sleater-Kinney
– No Cities To Love (Sub Pop)
Comebacks by rock bands rarely yield anything that sits amongst a
group's best work, but Sleater-Kinney have always defied conventions.
Their first record since 2006's bombastic The Woods, which was
as boisterous and loud as anything Led Zeppelin could have offered,
No Cities to Love returns to the band's earlier scratchy sound
and largely eschews their previous effort's confessions of love,
instead mostly focussing on their classic tales of people
(particularly women) fighting for their place in an unjust society.
That's not to say that this is a set of songs that aren't specific to
the band's situation; Surface Envy celebrates their two
decades of subverting rock's cliches, and Fade focuses on
Corin Tucker's struggle facing touring away from a young family. The
melodies are still as angular and Janet Weiss' drums are still as
punching, but most thrillingly Tucker's spine-tingling catterwaul is
still very much in tact. In a world that's still unfortunately
dominated by all-male lineups, Sleater-Kinney leave the men dangling
in their wake.
Circuit
Des Yeux – In Plain Speech (Thrill Jockey)
I first discovered Circuit Des Yeux at Birmingham's Supersonic
festival, where, face hidden behind her pushed-forward hair, she
throttled her acoustic guitar to within an inch of its life. Sole
permanent member Haley Fohr has previously spoken about the
difficulty of commanding a room alone, particularly as a warm-up act,
but the audience at Supersonic was taken aback by the intensity of
her playing and her deep, otherwordly voice.
It's that voice which is the core feature of In
Plain Speech, comforting the
listener as much as disturbing them. Although it's hardly a walk in
the park, it's significantly more bright than any of her previous
work, that dramatic, doom-laden voice contrasted with lyrics of
transcendence.
Holly
Herndon – Platform (4AD)
Holly Herndon is in many ways a 20th
century update of Kraftwerk. The Germans were amongst the first to
bring the possibilities of electronic musicianship to the masses in
the late 70s and were always keen to stress the positive side of the
rise of the machines and the combination of the biological and the
mechanical. Thirty five years later Herndon explores very much the
same territory, creating keyboard patches from her sampled voice and
utilising sounds from the vast bank on her laptop, the sonic output
of which she is constantly recording for later use. She's also
positive about technology, but has her reservations, using Platform
to comment on the way our online relationships influence our
face to face contact. Whilst the record is thematically and
intellectually thorough, it's also fantastically enjoyable, as
wonderful a listen as it is a societal analysis.