Tag Archives: WT Records

Free Radio Tesseract

Featuring : Chase Smith + Tagwell Woods

14-les-montres-du-placard-2-annees-70-72_900

Artwork by Philippe Caza via 50Watts.

(This is what came up on the radio the other day, distorted, obviously computer generated messages interrupting our joyful listening of WT Records’ most recent batch of releases)

12" LABEL.indd

Stern Overlord: “Puny humans, the time is nigh. You either get your act together and do what it takes to join the society of galactic civilisations, or we liberate your planet from you and plant another seed in it, hope that it evolves into a species willing to gaze further, one that is truly worthy of this prime piece of cosmic real state you are currently running to the ground.

A fleet of Juggernaut-class destroyers is now headed towards you, equipped with a varied array of fast-reproducing vicious predators who only find sustenance in your – to my taste –chewy and gross flesh, they will clean up Earth in a jiffy & get it ready for the next tenants. It hasn’t been the first time we have done this, you despicable mud-hugging insects, planet purging is an spectator sport, and a KDGBLNET media vessel will be broadcasting the proceedings across the galaxy in a highly immersive, even interactive (for a premium) format.”

Chase Smith – It’s Grim in Mala Jaskal

[Chase Smith’s recent release in WT Records has many different faces: that of dancers dissolving in a sea of glam, bounce and echo, and signals from recon drones penetrating the new greens of an alien Amazonia. But the face we are seeing today is the no-face face of a swarm of black pods crashing from the sky into your cities, blasting a numbly cruel dose of Chicago machine swearwords, further adulterated by the leading engineers of Belgium’s cyberpunk intelligentsia. This is their Ride of the Valkyries, and your future is a big chrome nothing.

Buy the record here]

tagwellwoords

Nice Overlord: “The threats that my good colleague here is proffering are very true humans, the proverbial stick he brandishes is approaching the position whence it irreversibly swings toward your collective face.

But please, don’t see this as a threat, but as an opportunity. We are not menacing you with obliteration, we are offering you bliss. The sight of new stars being born, old stars sliding into senility and death, portals ajar communicating with adjacent universes, communion with species evolved in oceans of acid and clouds of fire, the wisdom and woes of eternity. I plead you, put an end to this introspected self-obsession, stop navel gazing and look up, don’t aim your Hyperloops at each other, aim them at the stars.”

Tagwell Woods – Mercury

[Tagwell Woods is a London-based producer whose recent WT record release stands poised in the chasm between the present and the future, like an astronaut selecting which records to take in a journey with no return; flesh ballads and silicon ballads, ballads to tend hydroponic gardens near the zero-g core of his habitat, and ballads to analyse the coupling of entire stellar systems. Acid rifts summarise the abrasion of loneliness and cosmic rays, sheets of synth float like augmented reality planet cartographies, often blank with the beautiful miracle of no-information, and therefore mystery, spectres of sirens singing a song whose call cannot be denied.

Buy the record here.]

Sideways between the Future & The Past

Featuring : Nao Katafuchi

We are graced again by one of those press releases that perfectly describes the music it heralds, and in doing so, hurls us down the velodrome of dreams. It concerns Yumegoto, by Nao Katafuchi:

 This musical combination created a new wave cyberpop atmosphere that would not be out of place in a bar in Liquid Sky, Blade Runner, or Total Recall. Trashy Japanese retro-future pop out of New york City!*

Well, hello there, you fugitive of the consensual hallucination connecting the nodes of the 20Jazzfunkgreats neural network, you, come back here.

But how will you come back, trapped as you are in an infinite loop of reflections in the mirrored walls of the Gentleman Loser?

How will you come back, when it is not just you dropping into the projected distance like Max Renn in that Videodrome icon, it is you entangled with romantic memories resurfaced in Her heavily mascaraed eyes, another window among many, in this hall of replicants?

If you will not come back, we will hunt for you. You will run, our mechanical hound hot on your heels, into a cul de sac, yet foil it, spill into the shadows.

We will never see you again, but you will haunt the fringes of our reality, a Kaiser Sozse-like Phantom skipping through the patchwork of bootleg cassette covers lining Far-Eastern street markets.

Spying us through the air-brushed eyes of pop stars with which teenage walls are pierced.

You will be the supernatural force possessing the drunken salary-man at the Karaoke bar, making him go wild and bleed modern love from that stage. Second-hand songs, more reflections.

Our detectives will inspect the crime scene, to no avail. We will examine the evidence thus unearthed: A pair of dancing shoes, glitter, and a song.

Echoes of you, swirling in the wind.

Nao Katafuchi – Hidden In Your Eyes

Yumegoto is coming out soon in WT Records. Until then, you can check some streams there and at Nao’s page here.

_______________

* Written by William T Burnett aka Speculator.

 

Machinedrum Americana

Featuring : Ex Vivian

We have kneeled within the polygonal provinces projected by a stained glass made in Chicago, and bit the holy bread fuelling our march through the lands of dance.

And we have been automated out of a mass murder factory that only delivered prototypes, and scrawled romantic graffiti in its decaying toilets, before being locked out.

These are all formative experiences that WT Records has provided us with, but also exhausting. Once in a while, we just need a thermos of strong coffee, cheap cigarettes, and a gas-guzzling engine to drive aimlessly, down the abnormally straight back-lots of the great American hinterland, and into that weird Zone where the industrialised present overlaps with the country of its past.

It is here where Ex Vivian’s ‘Big Planes and Sharks’ slips into the turntable of that anonymous selector who soundtracks the travails of long-haul freighters, runaways and bank-robbers. She soars above the broken syllables of an Ash Ra Tempel haiku, motherly like Stevie Nicks, in her understanding of our failure and our fall, wicked like some recidivist Coyote Goddess, in her conviction to keep it up until she runs out of luck.

Ex vivian – Big planes and sharks

Get Ex Vivian’s debut from WT Records.

20jfg Podcast: Speculator’s Sophisticated goth mix

Oxidised gears have started turning at the industrially revolutionary 20jazzfunkgreats manor. Our haphazard mixtape series welcomes 2012 with ‘a bunch of weird stuff no one listens to’, as our curator today, the excellent Speculator, master of WT Records, puts it. Any seeker out there knows that when uttered by the right person, the stream of words before mean ‘awesomeness’, and you couldn’t find a righter person than Speculator to utter them.

Flying over the phantasmagorical streets of New Los Angeles, I glimpsed her. You can imagine the rest.

 Speculator’s Sophisticated goth mix

Artist list:
david harrow
fatal charm
stephan eicher
nash the slash
john etnier
david linton
rupert hine
crawl away machine
shadows of dreams
pas de deux
du du a
edgar froese
pysche (carl craig)

In the same way in which the heroes of the Cyberpunk underground jack into the platonic data perfection of the Matrix through their custom-made Ono Sendai consoles, we shift from the collage of romance and dystopia above into a simulation of  nature now ravaged by the hounds of history, guided by an AI of liquid mercury which recites Paradise Lost (what else) in beautiful Detroit patois.

This Shawn O’Sullivan (who we posted yesterday) video was produced by Jordan Levine.

Welcome to the Land of Exile – Week 1

Featuring : Shawn O'Sullivan

Dear 20JFG,

Streets are quiet, sporadic interactions with residents have been friendly.  Skies are large and blue.  The sea is far beneath us.  The world is full of comforts, like a trap.  A bit like that bit in Labyrinth in where Jennifer Connelly thinks she’s home but…she’s not!

…have attempted communication with the cat, in his language.  Cats are stupid.

Everything is single storied.

…internet: patchy.

Thanks for the parcel.  I shall use its foreboding rhythms as a breadcrumb trail back to you.

Shawn O’Sullivan – Free Flight
For it is a Techno ritual: the soft cloth of synthetic tones gliding between the monolithic pillars of throbbing bass and their gargoyles of snare.  The mere playing of its file, a portal to the half-remembered temples of bass.  This is cavernous dance music that requires a concerted level of spiritual submission that would put various theisms to shame.

Shawn O’Sullivan (of Led er Est fame) is responsible for this slice of salvation.  Coming very soon on WT Records.

Pitch White Jazz

Featuring : Momentform + Nothing People

Another WT Release, another retro gaming reverie. This time, with Momentform, whose frozen tornado of synthetic romance delivers us into the elegant halls of a Persian vizier’s palace, whose pixelated gray-scale we traverse in a quest for love, or rather, revelling in our own loneliness and the idea of love, key out of a prison and into a larger prison, whose garish colours will fade corrupted by entropy, whose elysian statues will metamorphose into Castlevanian ghouls, embodiment of realpolitik/realchemie forces that can’t be defeated.

This is the beautiful bleakness that poisons cold wave’s escapist chalice, and also the reason why we sip it so avidly.

Momentform – Momentform is Fake

Go and get Momentform’s ‘Momentform is fake’ here. And read inspiring excerpts from Jordan Mechner’s Prince of Persia diaries here.

http://youtu.be/ZkssHNmXFsM

Nothing People’s Cathode Ray Tube/Gut Wind is a primitive play in two acts – first comes the total awareness of an awesome situation akin to the psychedelic-induced uber-gestalt & ultra-high-res communion with the spirits beyond and besides, as sound-tracked by an atavistic ensemble of post-rock proto-humans jamming with instruments that resemble medieval siege engines (the picture of Mogwai’s feral reaction to a ‘Hills Have Eyes’ emergency is apposite here).

Then comes razor-sharp focus as the lizard brain coils within your skull, fight or flee? Fight every time, this damaged punk rock coda is the sonic equivalent of a pick-up truck race through unpaved roads de-braining (and the odd survivor, soz) with a baseball bat, any hints of dude comradeship that may creep in this scene replaced by an odd and grim feeling of spiritual alignment with a chaotic environment (insert footage of the metaphorical crucifixion and ritual dismemberment and ingestion of Iggy Pop’s incorruptible substance here).

Nothing People – Cathode Ray Tube / Gut Wind

Go and get their excellent Smells Like Metal from Captcha Records.

Pitch Black Jazz

Featuring : Ga'an + Kartei

On a Sunday Morning this Autumn, Z. sat in his kitchen and sipped on a mug of sour coffee. He planned his day. He leaned his dirty feet on the kitchen table. He scratched the back of his head. He stared at the empty ashtray in front of him. He tried to get going.

And then, long fingers spread from every crevice of his poorly fitted kitchen like an animated landslide from a medieval ossuary. From between the fridge and the wall, from between the oven and the dishwasher, from hair-thin cracks in the walls, long fingers followed by no hand, clicking their multiple joints like pale spider legs, slender digits of a piano player executing a symphony of claustrophobia, blindly capturing him within a brittle cat’s cradle of multiplying complexity.

And that was that.

Such things have been known to happen. They are reverberations of rituals celebrated in the dark side of the moon by tribes of exiles who flew away from planet Earth after its spiritual ecosystems were devastated by the advent of rationalism. Like the Sephardim, they kept the keys of the homes they were forced to abandon. These keys still open doors, and through these doors come things, sometimes. That is what happened that Sunday Morning, Z.

Suck it up.

Ga’an – Arms Can Speak

Ga’an are one of 20jazzfunkgreats favourite bands. A steel Hydra coiling and snapping from the undifferentiated sludge of contemporary music, an enigmatic troubadour staying for a night at the inn of this reality, regaling us with uncanny ballads about the chaos without so that we can writhe in gorgeous nightmares when we go to bed. They take off like Magma, into the heart of darkness like Goblin.

Their last album, Black Equus is an utter blast, it’s coming out in Captcha Records later on this month, and you should pre-order it here.

Kartei’s Lichtgarten is a Battlezone clone dreamed up by a cabal of Belgian techno perverts. Interactivity is null. A minimal thug made of stitched polyhedrons chaffeurs you through a wireframe euro-hinterland of grey, under a black sun. You have no control over your itinerary. The purpose of your journey is opaque, little is revealed. Enigmatic ASCII references to Substance X, and the fixer who supplies it. Evasive manoeuvres in the face of chitinously cuirassed security storm-troopers.

You reminisce of City 17 and Tron, think of guinea pigs strolling down virtual avenues designed by a disbarred Bauhaus architect.

Suddenly a blank screen.

And that is that.

This was a cult hit with the technologically literate drug sub-cultures of the late 1980s. We know why, but that knowledge can’t be put into words, only sounds, listen.

Kartei – Lichtgarten

Another WT records release, another collection of thrills surfing through the paranoid rim of the big room techno wave. Go and get it here.