Second album by Sydney, Australia-based art/avant garde/prog rock collective Eunuchs, with vocalist Linus Hilton, drummer Kristo Langker, guitarist Enzo Legge, and a host of other musicians. Never heard their 2021 debut album ('The Castration of Gods') but after hearing this one, I think I need to check it out. First impression - this is one of the weirdest genre mash-ups I have heard of late. Although these guys are reminiscent of dozens of other bands, Eunuchs are impossible to pigeon-hole and classify. Singer Hilton channels numerous vocal personas in the prog-rock vein; I hear shades of Daevid Allen, Robert Wyatt, Pye Hastings, Richard Sinclair, Kevin Godley and more. Remember how weird Split Enz were when they started out (way, before "I Got You")? This is much, much stranger, and a lot more elaborate.

Thematically, the album serves as a sonic emblem of Sydney itself, unfolding as a melodic chronicle weaving tales of whispered lies, cunning ruses, elaborate scams, and maritime mishaps. Functioning as an anthology, the album reflects Eunuchs' impressions and interpretations of Sydney, a city celebrated as the most picturesque on earth. The music is much more elaborate than any prog-rock band of the '70s though, with a full horn section (and more!) that tackles both the normal and avant garde with a ferocity and virtuosity that would impress Frank Zappa. 'Harbour Century' is so far removed from any sort of pop music, yet the majority of it is accessible and hardly any of it is off-putting. Obviously a concept album (includes some spoken word, most notably on the 17:35 opus, "Heroin King") I don't think that it's important to buy into the concept to appreciate the album, as the music is quite enjoyable in its own right. The tracks on this album have a maturity and complexity in arrangement that is seldom found in music released by a group of young twenty-somethings. It will take much more than a listen or two to really get into this album, but the time investment certainly pays off in big dividends. Not for everybody, but if this review has maintained your interest so far, chances are really good you will L-O-V-E the Eunuchs' 'Harbour Century.' There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING out there like it.

'Encouraged To Lose' is Durham, UK ambient sound producer David Newlyn's fourth release on the Sound In Silence label, and for some odd reason his previous efforts eluded me. (I get a lot of SIS product for review.) 'Encouraged To Lose' is a mere five tracks in 32 minutes and I can't think of a more self-defeating title for an album, except maybe if Newlyn's parents, teachers, or friends were not very supportive of his career choices, or maybe this is just an in-joke we're just not privy to. Be that as it may, this is very minimalist ambient music, using piano, synths, field recordings, tape loops, etc. mostly in barely there fashion. When I first heard this, I did not like it at all; it sounded like hardly any effort was put into it. I put it away for weeks, and have just come back to it with a fresh perspective- it works pretty well for the most part, although the fourth track, "A Strange Kind of Confusion" can be a bit overbearing with a synth sound that verges on piercing. The radio static (or whatever it's supposed to be) on "17th Out of 19" seemed superfluous and unnecessary, but juxtaposed against the calm ambient pads it gives the track a certain uniqueness. If you're looking for a different brief trip into minimal ambient, this could be it. Comes in a limited edition of 200 handmade and hand-numbered collectible copies, or the digital download.

Prepare to be marionetted through a whimsical journey of soundscapes and synths with Kirk Barley's latest creation, "Marionette," an album that's as enigmatic as it is enthralling. Released by the end of November 2023 via Odda Recordings, this opus of organic minimalism is a testament to Barley's prowess as a composer and producer.

Drawing from a melange of influences – field recordings, found sounds, instrumental improvisations, and synthetic processes – Barley masterfully crafts compositions that unfurl like intricate tapestries, revealing layers of complexity with each listen. From the gentle crackle of vinyl to the hyper-real spaces his music inhabits, "Marionette" is a sonic exploration of rural England and its Victorian charm, as hinted by the quaint garden print adorning the album cover.

Tracks like 'Seafarer' transport listeners to turbulent waters with repeated synth swells, while the title track 'Marionette' conjures eerie scenes of shadows flickering by an open fire. 'Lake of Gold' takes plucked strings on a mesmerizing journey, creating a rhythm reminiscent of raindrops cascading on a tranquil lake.

Barley's sonic palette, influenced by jazz, minimalism, and techno, showcases his meticulous attention to detail. His alter-ego, Bambooman, found acclaim on Matthew Herbert's Accidental imprint, while under the pseudonym Church Andrews, he delves into synthetic, beat-focused music. With performances at festivals like Rewire and Waking Life, and nods from luminaries like Aphex Twin, Barley's versatility knows no bounds.

"Marionette" is a limited edition gem, released on black vinyl with a risograph print by artist Oliver Pitt, ensuring a tactile and immersive experience for listeners. Whether you're a seasoned aficionado or a casual listener, Barley's "Marionette" promises to pull you into its enchanting world of sound and leave you mesmerized long after the final note fades away.

In this avant-garde musical odyssey, Wallraf delves deep into the realms of surrealism, concocting a cacophonous symphony of tapeloop-based chaos.

Hailing from the potential avant-garde mecca of Hamburg, Herr Wallraf is more than just a noise artist – he's a veritable theorist, a sonic philosopher if you will. His work delves into the repressed and uncanny sonic residues of everyday life, crafting soundtracks for the existential crises that plague our modern existence. Move over, Spotify playlists – Wallraf is here to soundtrack the creeping disaster we call life. And so, for example, it seems to hear the nightmare seizing in the form of creeping distortions, the sleep of the snoring subject in the opening track "He Bit His Tongue In His Sleep"), or the patterns of wallpaper seem to evoke nightmares that crush the observer into deviations that might recall those of the narrating subject in Gombrowicz's Cosmos (on the following track "Where Nothing Happens But The Wallpaper"), and so on, on contemporary plots where drones of sounds, increasingly suffocating and vaguely reminiscent of the corrosive noise rock of Starfish Enterprises (the prodromal project of Koen Lybaert before it mutated into Starfish pool), become protagonists of these concrete nightmares.

But don't let his academic credentials fool you – Wallraf's sonic explorations are anything but dry. His works have graced the shelves of numerous international tape labels, proving that noise knows no borders. And if that wasn't impressive enough, he's also dabbled in the live scoring of silent films, because what's better than watching a silent movie accompanied by a cacophony of industrial noise?
"The Commune of Nightmares" is more than just an album – it's a manifesto, a rallying cry against the banality of capitalist realism. Each track is a tape-looped fever dream, crafted from a hodgepodge of discarded cassettes and dusty 4-track tapes from the bowels of the late 90s. It's a musical game of cadavre exquis, played with random strangers and former versions of Wallraf himself. Because who needs sleep when you can have nightmares this avant-garde?

So, if you're ready to embark on a sonic journey that will leave you questioning the very fabric of reality, look no further than "The Commune Of Nightmares" by David Wallraf. Just be sure to buckle up – it's going to be a bumpy ride through the depths of the uncanny.

I had the chance to listen to both the debut and the recent second album by the Tuscan band Tanks and Tears, and despite their self-proclaimed claims of originality, their sound seems to cling even more like a symbiotic organism to the trunk of new wave and synth-pop from four decades ago, which undermines those aforementioned self-certifications. However, it must be said that amidst the many makeovers of those sounds, mostly made famous by Depeche Mode in the years when the aesthetic torches that characterized the early years were beginning to fade, the stylistic choices of this bunch of rascals are interesting. So, if we are to speak of originality, it would be at most a relative originality rather than an absolute one.

The almost 2-minute Intro (not exactly concise, but oh well), oscillating between post-apocalyptic tones and the harmonies infused by In The Nursery, almost made me fear that at some point a dulcimer or a medieval lyre would emerge along the lines of certain industrial neo-folk, but the title track made me breathe a sigh of relief with a breathtaking beat and melodies with a nostalgic touch where the past (or the departed) seems (or seemed) to resonate in a gloomy present so much so as to not foresee a better-defined future (the times when it was allegedly written were those in which it was fashionable to go out gagged to filter who knows what...).

Even more soaked in a tasty New Wave nostalgia sauce, the subsequent "Nightmare," released a couple of years ago but reissued after a remix and remastering, as well as "Darkside," which according to the band's words could be regarded as a model for their newly darkly catchy sound, according to a concise but fitting description always provided by the band. If you've vaguely framed the territories within which Tanks and Tears have concentrated their blitz, I won't take away the pleasure of discovering the rest of the album through rather pleasant tracks, among which, in my humble opinion, "Galaxies" and "Vampire Bite" stand out for their particularly melodic lines.

For several over-forties, the album may seem more like a historical evocation, and there is a feeling that those years are known more as an inheritance from some previous generations than from direct experience. I have to say that I don't know the age of the band members, but it would be commendable if they were millennials or slightly older, which would infuse some hope into the bleak musical landscape fueled by some younger listeners, despite the abuse of agogo (or similar artificial version of ethnic idiophone there were so popular in those years) and electronic drum equipment and synthesizers that the more seasoned listeners won't struggle to recognize, it's quite well forged!