Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win.

Oh, man – feast your eyes and ears on this thing of beauty, my friends. Spike Jonze, director of such classics as Being John Malkovich, Adapation, and Where The Wild Things Are, has teamed up with the Beastie Boys and given the world an epic, 11-minute short film for their first single off their latest LP Hot Sauce Committee Part II.


I just can't do this masterpiece of supermarionation (think Thunderbirds, the British 1960's puppet show about the organisation International Rescue and their various adventures) justice. Suffice it to say: There's GI Joe figures, an abominable snowman, action, brilliant set pieces, and ... zombies. Seriously, I am at a loss for words. This has to be seen to be believed.

I L U.

School Of Seven Bells

From time to time (but not as often as I'd like), a song swoops out of the ether, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and smacks me upside the head with its sheer brilliance and power. The dreamy and sensual track "I L U," off of School Of Seven Bells' second album, 2010's Disconnect From Desire, is one of these songs. My goodness, it's such a lovely song.

Brooklyn, NY's School Of Seven Bells (also known as SVIIB) used to be a trio. Comprised of guitarist Benjamin Curtis, who'd left his brother Brandon's band Secret Machines, and identical twins Alejandra and Claudia Deheza from On!Air!Library!, SVIIB have created a sound that literally drips with passion and ethereal mysteriousness. 

Sporting spidery guitar work reminiscent of Cocteau Twins and Wayne Hussey-era Sisters Of Mercy, angelic and breathy vocals, shimmering electronic whooshes, and poetic lyrics, "I L U" is nothing short of a revelation. The accompanying video does the song proud – it's a genuinely breath-taking piece of art that stands on its own in regards to visualizing the pains and the passion of falling deeply, madly, and crazily in lust. It just has to be seen to be believed. 

One can visit SVIIB's MySpace page to be treated to more of their music – both off of Disconnect From Desire and their 2008 debut Alpinisms, if one is interested. For now, watch this video. It's incredible. And it's mildly NSFW, just so you know.

School of Seven Bells - I L U - Official Video from Vagrant Records on Vimeo.

New Music: Disparition.

DISPARITION

NEUKRK

© Jon Bernstein 2011

Before charging headlong into the discussion of Neukrk, the terrific new collection of innovative electronic compositions by Manhattan-based one-man symphony Disparition (known to his friends as Jon Bernstein), I'd like to take a moment to say a few words about the neurological condition known as synesthesia. Put simply, it's a condition whereas the affected subject, known as a synesthete, sees colours or shapes when they hear noises. I'd done a little research on the phenomenon a few years ago, when I was writing a short story about a murder that took place in a seedy little motel room out in the boondocks. The only "witness" to the murder was a young woman in the room next door, who suffered from this condition. Whenever she heard another person's voice, she would see snaky, multi-coloured lines in her peripheral vision – the patterns and colours of the line would be unique for every voice she heard. Anyway, she heard the voice of the killer through the cheap, paper-thin walls of the motel ... and I never really got past that point. The story, with the working title "Shades of Murder," went into my "revisit at a later date" bin; to be honest, it hasn't seen the light of day since.

One of the cooler stories I read about was the case of the synesthete woman who only saw colours when she listened to music. Deeper notes resulted in darker colours, with various pitches and volumes creating a multitude of shades. This woman stated that music produced waving lines "like oscilloscopic configurations – lines moving in colour, often metallic with height, width, and most importantly depth. My favourite music has lines that extend horizontally beyond the 'screen' area."

Segue over. I bring this up because after my first listen to Neukrk, I thought to myself, What colours would I have been seeing if I were a synesthete? Normally I don't associate music with neurological conditions, but with this, the fifth electronic outing from Disparition, it immediately just jumped to mind. Here we have 18 tracks stretching over 1.3 hours – and there isn't a dull patch in sight. Neukrk is an absolute pleasure to listen to straight through from beginning to end. There are no breaks between tracks, and the flow is seamless. Needless to say, turn your shuffle off if you wish to experience the full power of Neukrk. This was designed to be listened to (I believe) from front to back. But that's just me – listen to it however you want!

How would I describe it? Neukrk (I love typing that) is first and foremost an electronic voyage that shifts and morphs into different moods and feelings throughout its duration. It flows and ebbs – varying subtly as it moves along from chilly piano-driven sonatas ("The Ballad of Fiedler and Mundt") to sweeping organic bridges ("Roscoff") to EBM-flavoured industrialism ("Ratchathewi") to surreal ambience to slices of German synth-pop inspired dance tracks ("Nieuwe Utrecht"). That's one of the things I like most about Disparition's compositional order – it never succumbs to just one genre, one idea. There's even a touch of flamenco guitars hovering in the background of tracks such as opener "Glass Tiger" and "Walled Forest." A general sense of experimentalism and discovery permeate everything on display here, yet – yet! – it's still quite accessible. Brains and intellect are the backbone of Neukrk, but not so much as to alienate casual listeners. Ghostly, swirling breezy effects shade the darkest shadows and corners everywhere you listen, and frankly I think that each subsequent listen will reveal new twists and turns that hadn't been noticed before. Pay special attention to the closing track "The Door" – my absolute favourite of the lot. Close your eyes. And think of that thing that lives in the walls of the old, dilapidated house, scratching and scurrying and keening in the darkness.

Frankly, it's fucking terrific, the whole package. Deeply recommended. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to dig "Shades of Murder" out of the bin and listen to Neukrk whilst writing it. Cheers, friends.

You can click here to either download Neukrk, or (better yet) purchase a hard copy for your collection. You'll be glad you did! And now, with no further ado, here is the video for "Ratchathewi". Enjoy!

EP Review: Class Actress.

Believe me when I tell you, you need someone ... real.

I usually have an idea of how a night at a show might go. I'll go with some friends, and sometimes the issue of the opening bands comes to light. "Well, we don't really have to show up until ten o'clock, 'cos that's when [insert band name here] starts."

Bullshit.

I'm always keen on catching the opening bands. I reckon it works like this: You never know who you're going to hear - and it may just be freaking awesome.

So imagine my happiness when I went to go see Little Boots at the Fillmore on the 9th of March 2010 - and discovered an excellent and interesting synth-pop number from Brooklyn, New York called Class Actress. Good fun ensued!

Class Actress was up on stage first. Before they showed up, the general disinterest exhibited by the crowd was typical for any venue anywhere in the world -- flowing like syrup, with folks supping their beverages and tipping their beers -- but as soon as they took the helm, people took notice.

As did I! Vocalist Elizabeth Harper, drummer Mark Richardson, and synth-man Scott Rosenthal took control of the room within the space of a half-hour set and stole my heart. Such passion. Such beauty. There's a feeling you have when you're in a taxi cab late at night in Paris, flying through traffic under the sodium lights that flicker and flutter over your head as you are jetted through the ink of twilight. I think Class Actress have taken that sensation and transposed it to their debut EP, Journal of Ardency.

After catching them on their opening slot, I have to admit I was intrigued. I was even a little disappointed with the rest of the show, which included Dragonette, a lovely pop number from Toronto, Canada, and -- of course -- Little Boots herself. It was remarkable; there was such a sensual energy emitting from the Fillmore's dusty black stage that evening. Here was their setlist:

All The Saints

LMLMLUU2 (Love Me Love Me Like You Used To)

Careful What You Say

LIMO

Journal Of Ardency

Let Me Take You Out

Someone Real

Long after the show was over, and Little Boots' little after-party DJing at the Triple Crown on Market and Octavia had faded into the background of subconscious bleeps and bloops (I love saying those words!), I found myself thinking about Class Actress and the spell they wove during that delightful half-hour set. I hadn't purchased their EP at the merch booth, seeing as it was only available on vinyl and, frankly, I haven't owned a turntable for quite some time. Finally I thought to myself, Jesus Christ Thomas, just buy the fucking thing already. iTunes, you dolt. And so I purchased it, and listened to it, and then I listened to it again. And again.

Wow, this record is good. It literally breathes fumes of love, wanting, and lust in intense wafts of Harper's sighing (and quite sexy) voice. Journal of Ardency, in that respect, is aptly named.

The Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary defines ardency as thus:

A characterization of warmth of feeling of feeling typically expressed in eager zealous support or activity.

And now I sit here at my desk writing this, whilst "Someone Real" emanates from my speakers for the fourteenth time, soaring in fits and starts during its epic 7:33 length as tendrils of Harper's smoky vocals hover delicately over a lovely shimmering synth, a dull throbbing bass, and snaky background noises and drumbeats. Thrilling stuff, really. I would recommend this record to anybody. And this song is the closer of the EP!

Another song to consider is the title track, "Journal of Ardency," a slinky and dangerous-sounding ode to a duplicitous lover in which, over a dark European synth, Harper delivers an excellent line (one of many):

Why can't you say to me I mean something to you?

'Cause everybody knows, everybody sees

That this is the thing you do,

Do to me.

And then there's "Adolescent Heart," a shimmery and buoyant track that brings to mind the best of '80s synth-pop band Book Of Love. Sure the music's floating and cheery, filled with bells and the attitude of a sunny spring afternoon; but the lyrics sing of heartbreak, emotional passive-aggressiveness, and what sounds like a very unfortunate conversation on the telephone.

I like to think of the EP and how it makes me feel when I listen to it a bit like this (forget the Paris taxi metaphor for a moment):

Imagine it's a sunny Sunday morning, and you wake up in bed with your partner close to you and the sun, it's filtering through the curtains and dappling the atmosphere with its muted rays and you both smile at each other. It's a lovely feeling, and this is a lovely piece of work. I, for one, cannot wait for their first full-length!

But, as I like to say, don't take my word for it. From their debut EP Journal of Ardency, here is Class Actress' "Journal of Ardency." Enjoy!