Aural Fixations

KINSKI
Airs Above Your Station
(Sub Pop)
CIRCLE
Raunio
(Squealer)
This was my introduction to two hot bands on the neo-psychedelic/prog rock scene, Kinski and Circle, who like many groups, are more identifiable by their "sound" than by their "songs." While this is an artistic pose many take in order to avoid the escapist trappings of traditional structure, it may be due in these cases also to the collective creative process that is inherent in the psychedelic tradition, one that has no room for a single-ego writer. The Americans, Kinski, and the Finns, Circle, share an aesthetic grounded not only in heavy psychedelic rock, but also in the extreme volume, chops-protocol and dynamics of heavy metal, and in the drone-based abstractions of Krautrock pioneers such as Neu!

Where they differ is primarily in the side elements that they incorporate into their respective sounds. Kinski incorporate into their sound the weighty tradition of American post-punk from the discordant histrionics of Sonic Youth through the down-tempo tension and release of emo wunderkinds Slint and their legion of followers. Circle, on the other hand, share neither of those affinities, but rather embody a more bluntly childlike experimentation associated with fringe psychedelic acts such as the Silver Apples. Free from such stylistic boundaries, Circle's vocalist/keyboardist Mika Ratto is delighted to ignore the concept of keyboard as ambient device as he inflicts sweeping Arthurian modulations on his audience, all the while waxing frenetically in Nordic tongues.

Modern psychedelic rock, as evidenced by these groups, differs from 60s psychedelic rock (Pink Floyd, Blue Cheer, etc) primarily inasmuch as there are no more cheesy blues guitar lines mixed into the mayhem. It was almost as if those guitarists back then couldn't resist from squeezing in a few distorted Elvis licks that they learned during their pre-teen years. Nowadays, we've already been sonically ear-whacked by Pere Ubu, Captain Beefheart and Suicide, so stripping things down to the abstracted state as posited by Neu! seems like a good way to go.

The Kinski record, which is on the excellent Sub Pop label, is understandably more controlled than the Circle record because of its studio setting. It also introduces a band that can make an incredible variety of sounds with their loud guitars and their various guitar toys. The top half of the album has several marketable and derivative points, like the aptly titled "Semaphor," which pits shards of pulsing guitar mutations though a variety of filters against a Pornography/Seventeen Seconds Cure backdrop. "Rhode Island Freakout" is a brash industrial pass at "Teenage Riot"-era Sonic Youth, complete with bassist Lucy Atkinson's obvious Kim Gordon-esque spoken word vocal. "Schedule For Using Pillows And Beanbags" tools expertly with the emo thing for a few minutes (see also "Steve's Basement"), but is followed by a quite lovely, expansive and impressionistic interlude that serves as a set up for five minutes of glorious sonic payload. Kinski's full-force conviction to the extreme side of noisy drone psych is what I'm talking about here, and it's their main strength. About half way through the CD, they reveal the most highly original aspect of their talents in "I Think I Blew it," a new-age symphony of orchestrated guitar/guitar-like sounds, distinctly different from anything shoegazer, like Sigur Ros. I'm talking Andreas Vollenweider here. Very interesting.

The Circle "performance" on the other hand (it is a live album, albeit with minimal audience interference) is psychedelic not only in terms of style, but more so in the literal squirming feel of lysergic acid diethylamide on your tongue. Reserved to almost straight blasts of downbeats, Circle's front line displays sheer mega-fuck scoundreling under the thunder-smut of a drugger/drummer that is pulsing-mad-off-his-willy-good. Take the eleven-minute performance of "Lokki," which sounds like the Stooges trying to gnaw their way out of Kraftwerk's studio. Or the nervous system overload, and submarine howls of "Dedofiktion," which reminds me of what it feels like to be half conscious when being wheeled into the emergency room during an amphetamine nightmare. Drilling through the center of the Earth with your tooth roots never sounded as fun as on the thirteen minute "Potto," where Mika Ratto delivers Gregorian chants and guttural rasps to what sounds like digital Satan in a rat-piss cage. Or the metal spectactulatude of "Alotis," which far surpasses offending all my sensibilities about what one should go with volume or a guitar, all the while approximating the fantastic glimpse of Robert Plant in a centrifuge. No wonder there is so little audience interference. Or "Raunio II," where Mika broods over a Ray Manzerek "Crystal Ships" piano straight into the white noise brutality of "Kultas." What a great show! (more)

Album reviews of new music by:

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And enjoy in the refreshed sounds of the Clash and the New York Dolls.