December 31st, 2012

Vija Celmins – Web #2

Vija Celmins – Night Sky



Wolfgang Voigt – Rückverzauberung 6 (Magazin)



December 29th, 2012

Best of 2012


Demdike Stare ‎– Elemental Part Three: Rose (Modern Love)


Emptyset ‎– Medium (Subtext)


Ugandan Methods ‎– Sixth Method (Ancient Methods)


Christian Cosmos ‎– The Sharp Lines That Delineate His Robes (Bed Of Nails)


Vatican Shadow ‎– Atta’s Apartment Slated For Demolition (Hospital Productions)


Giorgio Gigli | Obtane ‎– A Sad Wandering Dreamer Trapped In Contemporary Memory Architectures (Zoolof)


Ø [Phase] ‎– Behind The Sun / The Chasedown (Token)


Kangding Ray ‎– Monad XI (Stroboscopic Artefacts)


Diamond Version – EP (Mute)


Karenn ‎– Sheworks 004 (Works The Long Nights)



Black Rain – Now I’m Just A Number: Soundtracks 1994-95 (Blackest Ever Black)


Raime ‎– Quarter Turns Over A Living Line (Blackest Ever Black)


Mika Vainio / Kevin Drumm / Axel Dörner / Lucio Capece ‎– Venexia (Pan)


Conrad Schnitzler ‎– Container T1 – T12 (Vinyl On Demand)


Kreng – Works for Abattoir Fermé 2007 – 2011 (Miasmah)


Voices from the Lake – Voices from the Lake (Prologue)


Claudio Prc ‎– Inner State (Prologue)


Shed ‎– The Killer (50Weapon)


Atom™ ‎– Cold Memories (Sähkö Recordings)


Madteo ‎– Noi No (Sähkö Recordings)


Sendai ‎– Geotope (Time To Express)



Various ‎– Stellate 3 (Stroboscopic Artefacts)


Forward Strategy Group ‎– Labour Division (Perc Trax)


Vessel – Order of Noise (Tri Angle)


Shackleton ‎– Music For The Quiet Hour / The Drawbar Organ EPs (Woe To The Septic Heart!)


Pye Corner Audio ‎– Black Mill Tapes Volumes 1 & 2. (Type)


Porter Ricks ‎– Biokinetics (Type)


Claro Intelecto ‎– Reform Club (Delsin)


Suum Cuique ‎– Ascetic Ideals (Modern Love)


Andy Stott ‎– Luxury Problems (Modern Love)


Deepchord Presents Echospace – Silent World (Echospace)


Ingenting Kollektiva ‎– Fragments Of Night (Invisible Birds)


Pjusk ‎– Tele (Glacial Movements Records)


Kane Ikin + David Wenngren ‎– Strangers (Kesh Recordings)


Kane Ikin ‎– Sublunar (12k)




December 19th, 2012

N u. A

Florian & Michael – Quistrebert




Ole Martin Lund Bø



“Alle unsere Maschinen sind Bildschirme, wir selbst sind Bildschirme geworden und das Verhältnis der Menschen zueinander ist das von Bildschirmen geworden.”

Jean Baudrillard, Philosophien der neuen Technologien



Wir sind auch….




December 18th, 2012




‘Suddenly, no, at last, long last, I couldn’t any more, I couldn’t go on. Someone said, You can’t stay here. I couldn’t stay there and I couldn’t go on. I’ll describe the place, that’s unimportant. The top, very flat, of a mountain, no, a hill, but so wild, so wild, enough. Quag, heath up to the knees, faint sheep-tracks, troughs scooped deep by the rains. It was far down in one of these I was lying, out of the wind.’

Samuel Beckett, ‘Texts for Nothing: 1’
It seems like a long time ago now, but I was once a boy scout. It’s not that long when I think about it in perspective, but it feels like a long time. A very long time.
Whenever I tell people that I was in the scouts, I hear the same old assumptions; and, to be honest, I can’t disagree with any of them. It strikes people as strange for a child to look for order and discipline in their free time, after spending the day behind a desk in school. But for me, joining the scouts was an opportunity to meet new friends and seek out adventure. That was its appeal.
It was in the scouts that I met one of my best friends. We bonded almost immediately through a shared sense of humour, and could appreciate the absurdity of the uniform and the badges. There would be activities every Friday evening, where we would learn new skills and share wisecracks, all the while preparing for the away-from-home activities planned in our calendars. Together we looked forward to the adventure weekends and camping trips that were to come.
One such event was a night hike scheduled in the autumn time. The whole troop met at a specific point, dropped off by our parents, and wearing our backpacks we head out into the valley in the dark. I walked with my friend, and we shared a sense of excitement while climbing a steeple and seeing the stars reflected in an anonymous lake.

‘How long have I been here, what a question, I’ve often wondered. And often I could answer, An hour, a month, a year, a century, depending on what I meant by here, and me, and being, and there I never went looking for extravagant meanings, there I never much varied, only the here would sometimes seem to vary.’

Texts for Nothing 1

I often think of that night, even now. We passed the lake and entered a forest, no longer seeing the clear night sky above our heads, no longer seeing the moonlight. I can feel the cold on my skin, and remember buttoning my cuffs to avoid the draught. There was mud under foot, everyone following the two compass leaders with their minds on the camp so far ahead.

In some ways I think it was one of the longest nights I ever spent. But my friend made it feel short, as we passed the time together. We talked about the walk itself, and then moved onto impersonations of troop members, characters from films and television shows we liked. We talked about school, our brothers and sisters, and chocolate (both carrying ample supplies). And we planned what we would do with the next morning, heating beans over a camp stove.

‘And in the way of sensation? My God, I can’t complain, it’s himself all right, only muffled, like buried in snow, less the warmth, less the drowse, I can follow them well, all the voices, all the parts, fairly well, the cold is eating me, the wet too, at least I presume so, I’m far.’

‘Texts for Nothing 1’
When I think of the time before he died, one memory remains particularly strong. I think back to the night hike we shared, and the hill we faced halfway along our journey. My legs ached, and fatigue had set in. Knee-deep in grass, I complained to the sky and whoever would listen. I remember him smiling and rolling his eyes at me: ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’re almost there.’
Reading Samuel Beckett’s first of the Texts for Nothing, I feel an almost overwhelming personal reaction. It’s a story written when Beckett’s father had long-since passed away, and seems to be located out in the country hills they shared together.

‘[…] we walked together, hand in hand, silent, sunk in our worlds, each in his worlds, the hands forgotten in each other. That’s how I’ve held out till now. And this evening again it seems to be working, I’m in my arms, I’m holding myself in my arms, without much tenderness, but faithfully, faithfully. Sleep now, as under that ancient lamp, all twined together, tired out with so much talking, so much listening, so much toil and play.’

‘Texts for Nothing 1’

I still think of him often, now five years since he passed away, and wish he was still around.

I miss my friend.
source  ‘like buried in snow’


December 14th, 2012


Gelso Nero


Philip Weigl – So Far The Stars



December 12th, 2012

Omar Galliani



Ø Phase – The Chasedown (Token)

Smoke Machine Podcast 049 Ø Phase



December 11th, 2012

Felix-Gonzalez Torres, Untitled (Blue Curtains), 1989/91



Tropic Of Cancer – Fall Apart (Electric Voice Records)

… and darkness came by Various (Headphone Commute)



December 10th, 2012

Lois Andison – Heartbreaking



Primary Shapes – Moisturising Flowers

Primary Shapes – Moisturising Flower




December 8th, 2012



Christoph Berg – Paraphrases



December 3rd, 2012

Wolfgang Volz – Wrapped Vestibule, 1990




Prologue Special – Claudio PRC & Svart1 – 111 (live and unreleased)

ERFUNDEN | Pod 002 | Yves De Mey

Samuli Kemppi – Live PA @ Ghosts, about blank, Berlin

Smoke Machine Podcast 069 Rrose

Convextion / E.R.P _ Mix _ _ 014

Donato Dozzy @ Sirup 19.05. – Clubberia Podcast

GLISSANDO densinghour vol. 24 by Łukasz Hanusik

Smoke Machine Podcast 068 LADA

Slam Radio – 006 – Regis

Andy Stott – Live @ Moogfest 2012

William Basinski – “Vivian and Ondine” (Live @ Issue Project Room)



December 2nd, 2012


David Noonan



Tropic Of Cancer – Children Of A Lesser God / I Feel Nothing


Tropic Of Cancer – Wake The Night / I Feel Nothing




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