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  <title>New from Bruit Direct Disques</title>
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  <description>New from Bruit Direct Disques</description>

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      <title>Blason : Blason - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/blason</link>      <description>
                Before long the fireflies were being released continuously from the top of the tower. “Continuously”was not really the right word, for the men who were gathering a handful of fireflies at a time before tossing them out had trouble catching them – or perhaps deliberately calculated the timing – so that the crowd’s excitement would surge up, ebb again, then rise still higher. Kawabata Yasunari – The Lake



“Boundary Missing a Reactor” is the studio version of our live concerts which took plac      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Before long the fireflies were being released continuously from the top of the tower. “Continuously”was not really the right word, for the men who were gathering a handful of fireflies at a time before tossing them out had trouble catching them – or perhaps deliberately calculated the timing – so that the crowd’s excitement would surge up, ebb again, then rise still higher. Kawabata Yasunari – The Lake



“Boundary Missing a Reactor” is the studio version of our live concerts which took place in 2022 (Non-Jazz at Le Générateur in Gentilly, Sept. 30 at Blockhaus DY10 in Nantes, etc.). These concerts were conceived as failed/illusory attempts to reproduce our previous LP in a live setting. The result turned out to be so far from the intended target that it seemed to us it deserved to become a piece in its own right. “Boundary missing a reactor” is a condensed/crystallized form of the music we were playing at that time.

“How to drink Gyokuro with a casual mind” is a piece born from the preparatory sessions for the concert given at Présences Électronique in March 2024, recorded at the INA GRM studios shortly before. Its title could evoke the musicians’ state of mind during those sessions, that of the listener, or a tasting tip poorly translated from Japanese.



First of all, we just do things, and then whatever we might say about it afterwards is really just what we think about once we’ve done it, but the sequence of it is that we make music first, and then afterwards we think about what we’ve done.

He felt faint, as if wrapped in the five-couloured clouds on which Amida Buddha rides to receive the spirits of true belivers. This exquisite fantasy lasted only an instant. – The Lake

Pronunciation \bla.zɔ̃\ 
]]></content:encoded>

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      <title>Supermalprodelica X Blason : Mer changeante - CD Double Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/mer-changeante</link>      <description>
                &quot;To whom does a record belong, once it’s been released, once it&apos;s released and lives its own life, outside the thoughts of those who composed it? Does it not also belong to those who listen to it and find in it realities, unsuspected joys and desires at the time of its creation? For as long as I&apos;ve known him, Michel Wisniewski has been exploring, under the pseudonym Supermalprodelica, the effects that the music of others, which he listens to with a sensitive ear, produces on him. And he has the       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA["To whom does a record belong, once it’s been released, once it's released and lives its own life, outside the thoughts of those who composed it? Does it not also belong to those who listen to it and find in it realities, unsuspected joys and desires at the time of its creation? For as long as I've known him, Michel Wisniewski has been exploring, under the pseudonym Supermalprodelica, the effects that the music of others, which he listens to with a sensitive ear, produces on him. And he has the unrivaled ability to draw substance from what he has heard in order to invent something else, a dialogue between his ears and the material on the records. His first album was made of reconfigured samples, and many of his records are made of covers, rereadings and reconstructions of tracks that seem to haunt him in one way or another.

And here, on this new album, he tackles one of his heroes, Scritti Politti, from whom he takes over an entire record, but in his own way: Michel no longer samples, he replays, with what is very much his own, a synthesizer called Persephone, and a desire to paint the room with tones both joyful and melancholy, natural and artificial. The beauty of this record lies in its impossibilities: to cover a work that lies on the edge of genres, between post-punk and pop, chanson and variété, is a challenge in itself. But tackling a late work by an artist you love is more than a challenge in itself, it's a labyrinth, almost a dead end. And Michel, pretending to get lost in the meanders, builds his own path, abandoning the voice to concentrate on the instrumentation. He plays as if in a dream, as if the original pieces belonged to him. They seem to haunt him so much that he plays them again as if he were listening to them from a dream. Is this a fan gesture? No, I think it's more like an author's attempt, a dolly shot through what he's heard, producing a musical image whose harmonies produce something else. And then there's the beauty of the possibilities: listen to the record at low volume and it's a perfect ambient companion. Listen to it loud and you'll find a partner of unfeigned joy.

So to whom does a record belong? Surely not Michel, who knows this so well that he has passed on what he has done to a duo, Blason, who have in turn taken up the covers to record a twin album (it suits them, really...) to that of Supermalprodelica. An album that's even less subject to gravity, as if intoxicated by the ever-increasing distance from the original. Where exactly are we? In a universe that has disassociated itself from its roots to invent something completely different. The two Blason have taken the Supermalprodelica arrangements and replayed them on their ARP, giving them a different patina and velocity. Something slower can be heard here, even more damaged electronics, very gently flayed, resonating with the ghosts that have built up around the Supermalprodelica covers. Some play with the ectoplasms of others, and I must confess that this game whirls around in my mind like a strangely melancholic threnody, and a very fertile one too. A record doesn't belong to anyone, especially not to those who make it. A record is what you make of it, when you listen to it, and afterwards." - Joseph Ghosn]]></content:encoded>

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      <title>City Dragon : Smokes and mirrors - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/smokes-and-mirrors</link>      <description>
                City Dragon is Max Kaario, who is part of different bands such as Altersgruppe, Teenage God, ski attic etc. Canadian, he lives in Paris since a big ten years where he organizes concerts such as
cmptrmthmthcs in bars that are always changing and kebabs sometimes.
The first time I saw Max play with City Dragon was at Pauline Perplexe, an artist place in Arcueil where his friends have their studios. He was singing and improvising with a drum toy, and dancing spinning right round a bit like Calvin      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[City Dragon is Max Kaario, who is part of different bands such as Altersgruppe, Teenage God, ski attic etc. Canadian, he lives in Paris since a big ten years where he organizes concerts such as
cmptrmthmthcs in bars that are always changing and kebabs sometimes.
The first time I saw Max play with City Dragon was at Pauline Perplexe, an artist place in Arcueil where his friends have their studios. He was singing and improvising with a drum toy, and dancing spinning right round a bit like Calvin Johnston. The disc he proposes here has been recorded on tapes and is composed of 31 short tracks which flow one after another in a radical way, like musical and poetical cut-ups. The format of these tracks reminds me of the ones of Split or even
Urinals and one wrote about Urinals that their lyrics were like punk haikus. I do not know who wrote this. Well, it is not really the same here, it is more about loops and cuttings. Music seems to be arranged like cinematographic sequences where images appear and disappear on the film very shortly, on the magnetic band here to be precise. It barely gives you the time to catch a glimpse of a fragmented story and then vanishes and that’s fine. The disc is made out of many noises sometimes saturated, drum machines, synths and pedals meet with recorded sounds of a dog barking, sound of toys, and absurd nursery rhymes one can invent everyday and which tend to join other orphan pop songs. It’s tender, and onirical as well as ironical at the same time and creaky
like old computer’s sounds or circus like theme in a horror movie. City Dragon also crosses in his disc the furrows of the music of Mayo Thompson with Corky’s Debt to his father, Beat Happening,
Alex Zhang Hungtai, some might say Daniel Johnston, the Holy Modal Rounders or maybe a wobbly Steve Reich, and many others but it is never exactly that. The dragon roams the city slightly, elusive. As well as the loops he uses which seem to be sabotaged, lopsided and stretched
out to something else before being clearly-cut in their dreamy visions. One could imagine that the record would start spinning and oscillating on the turntable, then fly away like a dragon, you’ve got to listen to it before it happens.
- ¨Pauline Roches ]]></content:encoded>

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      <title>LK (Creative Victoria) : ENDLESS BULLSHIT VOL.2 - CD Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/endless-bullshit-vol</link>      <description>
                &quot;In a garden of everything I was everyone and we were everything and they were me and we were us and we were me. I experienced free.&quot;      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA["In a garden of everything I was everyone and we were everything and they were me and we were us and we were me. I experienced free."]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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      <title>The Austrasian Goat : Clouds Ov Deconstruction - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/clouds-ov-deconstruction</link>      <description>
                Dans une zone sonore où les ombres dansent, menaçantes et belles, audacieuses, un endroit hors de la vue, où seule l&apos;oreille permet d&apos;embrasser respectueusement la structure qui se dessine, hypnotique, faisant fi de notre présence, ce sont dans ces cathédrales sonores que s&apos;aventure The Austrasian Goat avec courage et détermination. Le partage d&apos;une expérience dépassant de loin la volonté de séduire, il offre un journal de bord à qui sera à même de le déchiffrer.
On pense au Lovecraftien On Lan      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Dans une zone sonore où les ombres dansent, menaçantes et belles, audacieuses, un endroit hors de la vue, où seule l'oreille permet d'embrasser respectueusement la structure qui se dessine, hypnotique, faisant fi de notre présence, ce sont dans ces cathédrales sonores que s'aventure The Austrasian Goat avec courage et détermination. Le partage d'une expérience dépassant de loin la volonté de séduire, il offre un journal de bord à qui sera à même de le déchiffrer.
On pense au Lovecraftien On Land de Brian Eno, où aux machines de métal et de chair de Inade, au mysticisme de ceux qui ont osé s'aventurer derrière le voile d'Isis. Et ce dès le premier morceau.

Car The Austrasian Goat a affronté ce que d'autre ne percevraient pas, et nous conte ses voyages, au delà du langage et de la conscience, dans cet espace onirique où rien n'est vrai, tout est permis. Il murmure, grogne, ose la folk qui sent la taverne, le drakkar, toujours hanté par un au delà sonore, flirte avec le beau, la peur, les audaces que d'autres fuiraient, et accomplit cette prouesse sonore sur le fil du rasoir, sans que la magie ne s'entaille, se fragilise.
« Et mes fesses, tu les aimes, mes fesses ? » Du folklore païen, paillard, on dépasse la chair, pour la sacraliser, à travers un sample qui peut difficilement ne pas évoquer la chair, le corps, avant de la transmuer, en faire une ostille. N'oublions pas que c'est nue qu'Ishtar atteint le Royaume.
D'un son ancré culturellement, un échantillon de Bardeau avant le déclin et de Godard, on s'échappe à l'oblique, prêt pour la suite du voyage.
Sommes-nous dans un hotel, où chaque chambre enferme une histoire ? We are sitting in a room, où le son se délite avec grâce, effleuré par les murmures inquiétant d'un narrateur, ou un écho d'une scène s'étant déroulée dans le secret de ces quatre murs... Sommes-nous perdus dans le rêve d'un autre ? Les cendres rougeoient encore quand, déjà, il est temps de retourner le disque.

Cueillis dès l'entrée par une mélodie qui fait écho à la face A, à un détail près : après s'être enfoncé dans des réverbérations fantômatique, elle redevient chair sonore, puis s'évanouit pour s'achever dans le silence .
C'est peut-être un détail pour vous mais pour moi, ça dit beaucoup, cette proposition sonore accomplie, ne laissant pas deviner ce qui vient après.
Vinegar, le morceau suivant, après une ouverture inquiétante, laisse la voix non plus à un narrateur, mais à l'auteur, entre aveu et blessure interne.
Et si vous savez la Tarentelle telle qu'on la dansait autrefois, The Goat nous montre celle que l'on danse au delà. Les frottements de corde sont tels une aiguille transperçant le temps, et reliant le cœur et l’éther, avec grâce. On pourrait imaginer Haino et sa vielle à roue (Edit : on m'avait interdit les private jokes, mais bon, l'image s'étant imposée, le compositeur sourira au moins).
Et arrive déjà la fin du disque, dans les ombres de chiens (Shadows of dogs), cerbères vu du coté du réel, adieux déchirants, sur une mélodie simple et triste. Car le temps détruit tout, et ce voyage doit inexorablement avoir une fin.

Ce disque est une réussite, une vraie, entre le dark folk, le néo-classique qu'ont pu nous offrir Les Joyaux de la Princesse ou Regard Extrême (ahh, le voilà, mon point Godwyn!), certains percevront des échos de l’œuvre de The Caretaker et son magnum opus sur les différents stades de la maladie d’Alzheimer.
Et tous auront raison, tous auront tort, car l'essence de cet album se trouve ailleurs, dans les replis d'une âme créative, capable tant de produire que de créer, sans nous laisser bêtement rôder devant le seuil.

Toma Überwenig (Scorpion Violente, Tears of the Electric Horseman, ...)]]></content:encoded>

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      <title>Terrine : Jazz Band Theory - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/jazz-band-theory</link>      <description>
                Here we are with a new LP by Terrine. Jazz Band Theory is Terrine’s fourth album for Bruit Direct Disques. Neither one nor the other are what they were when the first came out. Jazz Band Theory is a river and a drop in a river. You are another river, or another drop in the same river. Or you are Jazz Band Theory, for a few minutes. 31 minutes and 10 seconds pass. Or you are Bruit Direct Disques, the river is full of water. 31 minutes and 10 seconds of inattention in a river of drops. Plic, Plic       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Here we are with a new LP by Terrine. Jazz Band Theory is Terrine’s fourth album for Bruit Direct Disques. Neither one nor the other are what they were when the first came out. Jazz Band Theory is a river and a drop in a river. You are another river, or another drop in the same river. Or you are Jazz Band Theory, for a few minutes. 31 minutes and 10 seconds pass. Or you are Bruit Direct Disques, the river is full of water. 31 minutes and 10 seconds of inattention in a river of drops. Plic, Plic and of course Ploc. Terrine.

RIYL: Graeme Revell’s “The insect musicians”, Test Department and the enemy within “Strike”, Tori Kudo “At Goodman 1984-1986”, David Grubbs dances down the El Train line on Chic-A-Go-Go, Terrine.

Listen to track 8 “Back To Salouel” if you only have 2 minutes 52 seconds within that river of yours.
- Guy, Historical Materialism snob

Terrine/sound is a salutary balancing act-convincing to destabilise prevalent control systems ;- a proto -resistance assembly/and (meta ) language. Organic /electronique in the guise of “techno£”? Who for !?=the tech adventurous surely as much as for those declaring a tech-no-phobia /immunity/,the tech-sceptics ((for those who desire such antiquities ?as mood ,feelings ,words!!?,worlds !!,provocations !!!, As the agnostics will vouch techno often wont or cant supply these within the functions of the track . Here is terrine occulting ,geography, journey, mapping ,infiltration ,her strategy herein an exposure /introduction/seduction to the play and mischief in her machinery.Essential to playing THE MACHINE ! at its own game !
- Chris Rowley (Huggy Bear, Unmarry Me, etc.)

File under “Minimal Industrial”
- Record shop owner to his clerk 
]]></content:encoded>

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    <item>

      <title>Another Dancer : i Try To Be Another Dancer - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/i-try-to-be-another-dancer</link>      <description>
                Brussels is a highway where rainbow-fuelled melancholia kids race its track, mountain and road bikes. Endless summers cherish the collective chosen chaos of the city; every corner displays wild micro-natures, buzzing insects, and rare weeds fourishing organically; tape hiss and AM radio compression are the soundtrack of everyday life. And hear! Originated in the Brussels DIY, indie rock and noise scene, a new kid on the block appears: Another Dancer.

They deal in utopian music - of the open,       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Brussels is a highway where rainbow-fuelled melancholia kids race its track, mountain and road bikes. Endless summers cherish the collective chosen chaos of the city; every corner displays wild micro-natures, buzzing insects, and rare weeds fourishing organically; tape hiss and AM radio compression are the soundtrack of everyday life. And hear! Originated in the Brussels DIY, indie rock and noise scene, a new kid on the block appears: Another Dancer.

They deal in utopian music - of the open, welcoming and whatsoeverish kind. It’s fresh, snotty and neurotic art-rock deeply rooted in 90s and early 00s indie rock aesthetic. The songs on their debut album balance gently between forgotten pop hits and broken sound experiments. In their world, any shitload of weird, random, and badly synchronized
sounds unveil broken-hearted pop mastery. In the Another Dancer universe, radios are stuck to WFMU and Soulseek is a self-conscious AI producing 80ies psychedelic FM-rock.

The Another Dancer is outdated, wild at heart and elegantly shy. Their full album I Try to Be Another Dancer is out now on Bruit Direct Disques and Aguirre Records!

Another Dancer is: Dries Robbe, Margo Mot, Mike Crabbé, Lucas Schreel & Timo Vantyghem.

- Niels Latomme]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Tori Kudo : Studio Village Hototoguiss 2007-2022 - 12&quot; Vinyl Double Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/studio-village-hototoguiss</link>      <description>
                Matsuyama in Ehime is the birthplace of haiku, and to this day, haiku submission boxes are placed around town. Young people gather in a haiku society-like manner. In other words, they observe and contemplate well, but their approach is generally instant, casual, and somewhat careless. There is a local disposition here, which they call “yomoda” in the dialect—a blend of humour and sadness. It’s as if they pretend to agree to demands in a laid-back way, all while delaying the big decision. It’s a       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Matsuyama in Ehime is the birthplace of haiku, and to this day, haiku submission boxes are placed around town. Young people gather in a haiku society-like manner. In other words, they observe and contemplate well, but their approach is generally instant, casual, and somewhat careless. There is a local disposition here, which they call “yomoda” in the dialect—a blend of humour and sadness. It’s as if they pretend to agree to demands in a laid-back way, all while delaying the big decision. It’s a matter related to the moment and ethics.

Near the famous Dogo Onsen is Studio Village Hototogisu, named after the magazine Hototogisu started by Masaoka Shiki, the father of haiku. The studio was once a large psychiatric hospital, which Mr. Tsuru, the owner, completely remodelled, turning the third floor into his music studio. Tsuru-san is both a psychiatrist and an avid enthusiast of classic rock. He’s a broad-minded adult who also accepts my type of music. About once or twice a month, I randomly select an instrument or device from his vast collection, gathers whoever happens to be around, usually his family, and in about two hours, we record and mix a piece. This album is a compilation of those recordings. The album label is designed after Matsuyama’s specialty confection, “Ichiroku Tart.”

From around the time of the pandemic, I started layering his dobro guitar or mandolin over my tracks on purpose. The mainstream and the fringe—once opposing camps—merged after this pandemic, a convergence in rock history that’s etched on side D of this album, reflecting the current global situation.

Could a society of free-verse haiku poets sharing both love and resentment for Matsuyama be possible? It’s a question that touches on the future course of nationalism.

– Tori]]></content:encoded>

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      <g:shipping_label>Double 12&quot; Vinyl</g:shipping_label>
                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Kenji Kariu : 雨 / 水 - Rain / Water - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/-rain-water</link>      <description>
                &quot;rain / water&quot; is the fourth album by Tokyo’s Kariu Kenji. Following 2021’s Sekai, which was also released by Bruit Direct Disques, rain / water is a gorgeous haze of song, a modern driftwork that’s creatively rich, and full of fleeting sensation – it’s an album that captures its artist in process, moving through ideas and sounds with a deft hand. It’s also another step in a ‘career’, of sorts, that’s been continually compelling, from the experimental prog touches of Kariu’s group OWKMJ (Orewako      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA["rain / water" is the fourth album by Tokyo’s Kariu Kenji. Following 2021’s Sekai, which was also released by Bruit Direct Disques, rain / water is a gorgeous haze of song, a modern driftwork that’s creatively rich, and full of fleeting sensation – it’s an album that captures its artist in process, moving through ideas and sounds with a deft hand. It’s also another step in a ‘career’, of sorts, that’s been continually compelling, from the experimental prog touches of Kariu’s group OWKMJ (Orewakonnamonjanai), to his first two solo albums, KK (2009) and KK2 (2011), both released on the Japanese label Manso-Sha, and soundtrack work for Sawada Thunder’s Hikari no Tabi.

These twelve lush pop songs point in multiple directions, outwards to bossa nova, modern R&B and soul, ambient bliss-outs, city pop confections, and electronica. But rain/water also has a sly experimentalism at its core, the kind of experimentation that doesn’t need to call attention to itself, but that exists ‘between the cracks’ of the songs – in small, curious gestures of arrangement, in a sudden twist in melody, or an unexpected detour in a song’s narrative. In this way, they share something of the stylistic free range in other great recent avant-pop moments – think, perhaps, of the music of Maher Shalal Hash Baz; Stereolab’s more late-night, hermetic moments, or High Llamas’ recent Hey Panda.

Like those artists, there’s both intimacy and openness at the core of rain/water. It has a bedroom-studio mood, in that it’s very clearly the conceptual work of one intensely focused mind, but the music isn’t closed off to wider possibilities. You can hear this spirited riskiness in the way Kariu garlands his songs with lovely details – see the sly harmonies and vibrant purr of keyboards in “Flower Name”, for example, elements that benefit from the support of an insistent two-note figure for guitar. “Water” has a sugar-spun fragility in its chord progressions, and guitar playing, that’s pure bossa – you can hear the spirit of Vinicius Cantuaria in the music here, or maybe Arto Lindsay’s run of nineties albums, where he enacted a rapprochement between his No Wave past and the Brazilian tapestry of his early life.

"rain / water" feels borne of a similar impulse, to bring together compellingly divergent aesthetics. The cherry on top, though, is Kariu’s unassuming way with melody, and the sweet cadences of his voice. The lightness of breath in Kariu’s delivery is perfect for the stylishness of these songs; it’s soft but characterful, and the melodies here crumble at the edges of Kariu’s lips. It’s a lovely album – light but never slight; breezy but with a curiousness and wisdom at its core that belies the gentle touch of these twelve delightful songs.
-
Jon Dale ]]></content:encoded>

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      <title>Terrine : Standing Abs - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/standing-abs</link>      <description>
                Terrine/sound is a salutary balancing act-convincing to destabilise prevalent control systems ;- a proto -resistance assembly/and (meta ) language. Organic /electronique in the guise of “techno£”? Who for !?=the tech adventurous surely as much as for those declaring a tech-no-phobia /immunity/,the tech-sceptics ((for those who desire such antiquities ?as mood ,feelings ,words!!?,worlds !!,provocations !!!, As the agnostics will vouch techno often wont or cant supply these within the functions of      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Terrine/sound is a salutary balancing act-convincing to destabilise prevalent control systems ;- a proto -resistance assembly/and (meta ) language. Organic /electronique in the guise of “techno£”? Who for !?=the tech adventurous surely as much as for those declaring a tech-no-phobia /immunity/,the tech-sceptics ((for those who desire such antiquities ?as mood ,feelings ,words!!?,worlds !!,provocations !!!, As the agnostics will vouch techno often wont or cant supply these within the functions of the track . Here is terrine occulting ,geography, journey, mapping ,infiltration ,her strategy herein an exposure /introduction/seduction to the play and mischief in her machinery.Essential to playing THE MACHINE ! at its own game ! Tripping up with a hair(trigger)-pull glee ,
The insistent persuasions to the cardio vascular, mapped and insinuated,-the CLUB HEDONISM , links to commerce,control ,rule by dulled perceptions . (only the sweats your own )..
Terrine on this fabulous recorded document ,a la D J RUPTURE /AKA JACE CLAYTON.or the subverting absurdity of early LO RECORDINGS ARTIST RICHARD THOMAS understands and is compelled ,nee duty bound to construct her musics without fear. Assured the world is already TECHNO “TM”/EDM -PLATED AMBIENT SATURATED ,syphoned and dominated by grids of numbers as money$$$£££,Shapes as colours as delimiters of movement, Data -flow rush limiting access through the currency coordinated, vacuum sealed secure hallways of THE MODERN WORLD.
These masculine encodings insist a keep-moving conveyance. Spend at speed wait quickly listen closely worry instantly repeat unquestioningly,,, Terrine’s liberation /mission here,is to tilt and up end rigidity, mix and upset the colours ,discombobulate and prank the asserting rhythms ,fox security ,tease voice and trad sound recognition software’s ,shake up identity profiles !!
RUN FOR THE FUN OF IT !! Under the barriers ,to reacquaint within her RICKKETTY TICKETTY wind-up percussive sound world ,the quirksome,the unpredictable, goofy and disturbing to re install
What now !?-revulsion? Wonder, In her wandering and meandering AIM/LESS/NESS?(opening up)??
Outside the palaces and financial institutions ,the power manifestations -they who will not negotiate ,train laser beams upon protesters ,inadmissible when court reconvenes RUN FOR THE FUN HIT FOR THE THRILL !! Terrine’s possessed !of a not so accurate accuracy /acuity
She knows what time it is. She moreso doesn’t wish to have to know or tell , Her sound is off that clock,,.. (SET )FREE PIANOS PARACHUTE drop To revive concentration flops
Ignore the craven GRAVITY PULL OF THE COMMODITY CULTURE() VOID) REBELLION!!/?easy to preach and shout out from behind decks with a glass in your hand ,
Terrines sound is from her and of her streets ,she arranges here ,
As tech/noid as protestors carrying banners and battered satchels full of books with dried flowers between the pages ,cheap stimulants folded into a circuit-bent compass ALLEZ ALLEZ !!
SHE DRAGS THE STICKS PAST AND ALONG RAILINGS GATHERING VOLUME signal-to-noise alerting “like minds “ awake dreamers and even dancers !
- Chris Rowley (Adulkt Life, Huggy Bear) 
]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Oimiakon : Comptoir Des Vanités - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/comptoir-des-vanits</link>      <description>
                The (very) short introduction may have mislead the mystic-craving listeners into believing this record to be a weird tribal ceremony. But OÏMIAKON, as soon as the second piece, glides shamelessly towards a weird glitchy backroom dark electro, which could easily prove as dangerous as Aphex Twin’s Window Licker for a skater. Jog, dance, flee or try to keep the beat at your own risk. You’ve been warned.

Then the ambiance takes a darker turn, barely one minute later, deeper in an underground rave      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[The (very) short introduction may have mislead the mystic-craving listeners into believing this record to be a weird tribal ceremony. But OÏMIAKON, as soon as the second piece, glides shamelessly towards a weird glitchy backroom dark electro, which could easily prove as dangerous as Aphex Twin’s Window Licker for a skater. Jog, dance, flee or try to keep the beat at your own risk. You’ve been warned.

Then the ambiance takes a darker turn, barely one minute later, deeper in an underground rave where dancing proves even harder, wet bodies rubbing, awkward desire melting on the sticky dance floor, for five minutes this time. Is the music off-beat or LSD kicking in ? The rhythm is easier to track, but harder to dance to.

Need a break from the dancefloor, water my face, good idea. Sound cuts. I fall. the room seems like moving on its own. A Man helps me, eyes like saucers, and I feel his hard-on slapping gently my cheek. The muffled loud sound almost covers his lusty “Suck my cock ?”. The massive ten-minutes long “Viande de race”, bastard child of Plastik Man, Farmers Manual, and the hidden Warp catalogue. Are these glitchy sounds, way too rythmic to be accidental, in my head, caused by the wet ambiance on the shitty sound system, or deliberate ?

If the A side was structured to turn every senses to the max, the message of the B side is clear : either leave right now or live the trip to the fullest. After listening to the long” Viande de Race” from the bathroom of a Zeigenbock Kopf concert, OÏMIAKON doesn’t use gloves anymore and punches for real, bare knuckles, until the orgasmic last track, just like an “encore”, an explosion closing a Panasonic live based on frustration.

Vincent Cassel fleeing from the Rectum and from Gaspard Noé, no more norms, just pure pleasure, from the ears to the crotch, a single line labyrinth, the best kind according to Borges…but the emergency exits are blood-red…
Has Elvis actually left the building ?

– Toma Uberwenig 
]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Equipment Pointed Ankh : From Inside The House - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/from-inside-the-house</link>      <description>
                The third full-length from Kentuckiana studio chiselers EQUIPMENT POINTED ANKH – was recorded on the Windy upper end of I-65 and fortuitously blown back home to their port town hamlet in an effort to take full advantage of Morricone’s Peavey Rage.

Seven (eight?) tracks of Great Lake inspired genre transgressions as filtered through the muddy minds of Ohio Riverpeople! Instrumentation within this program includes (but is not limited to): drums, pianos, plastic clarinets, 16 string guitars, sli      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[The third full-length from Kentuckiana studio chiselers EQUIPMENT POINTED ANKH – was recorded on the Windy upper end of I-65 and fortuitously blown back home to their port town hamlet in an effort to take full advantage of Morricone’s Peavey Rage.

Seven (eight?) tracks of Great Lake inspired genre transgressions as filtered through the muddy minds of Ohio Riverpeople! Instrumentation within this program includes (but is not limited to): drums, pianos, plastic clarinets, 16 string guitars, sliced up youtube clips, sounds of people walking made by expensive microphones, the keyboard from “Superstitious,” a landline telephone and vigorous employment of The Satanizer.

“Porcelain… ceramic… copper… brass… I’m thinking of something else” ponders EPA newcomer Jenny Rose, pulling back for a wide angle meditation on art, life, and the rental biz. Her ruminations are fleeting, however, as the Ankh train soon departs for further deviations, descending blurrily through a dim forest of reverberant melodica, synths-of-paradise and bowed chimes-of-underworld… until – at last! – our protagonists are swallowed whole, as one, in flame, by a pulsing pink horizon.]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Zusammen Clark : Earlier - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/earlier</link>      <description>
                Genteel, springlike sounds emanate once more from Paris. Those who live there or have visited will know a joy in this that non-residents or travelers can only imagine, but one senses that there’s a texture to it all that bakes into the human experience when winter finally lifts and trees blossom, warm breezes blow. After being stuck at home for two years, once the weather picks up and the world hopes to shift back in gear without millions of deaths, one’s imagination begins to run.

Parisian d      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Genteel, springlike sounds emanate once more from Paris. Those who live there or have visited will know a joy in this that non-residents or travelers can only imagine, but one senses that there’s a texture to it all that bakes into the human experience when winter finally lifts and trees blossom, warm breezes blow. After being stuck at home for two years, once the weather picks up and the world hopes to shift back in gear without millions of deaths, one’s imagination begins to run.

Parisian duo Zusammen Clark have codified this sound of openness and warmth using known goalposts of sound – the subtle drag of these sturdy, easygoing songs, a direct path from Jean-Charles Delarue’s previous outing in Bruit Direct outfit City Band; the descent of chord structures, a deep voice going high and staying louche. Maybe a bit of Felt’s cherry red pastoral, shades of that time in speculative fiction where Pavement signed to Postcard (remember? it was the same year that Dandelion and Les Temps Heureux got out of bed and toured coffeehouses together), the Go-Betweens just before the wheels fell off, or NYC underdogs Plates of Cake. Horns swoop in at the right moments and don’t linger. Hooks lock in and down, lead guitar casually doubles itself. Hair gets done, stubble let fashionably go.

Along with bandmate and cousin Jerome Lemee, Delarue constructs a frame, pencils in the outline and begins decorating these songs with all the right touches and a confidence that knows where to place them, not just the value of the objects. This is a world of sound where everything has a story and a place, every room can provide a closet mix. It’s a world that opens into a larger world, a human world, maybe a world these two knew from childhood, maybe one they’ve built for themselves. Earlier is too well-assembled to not have a foundation in profoundly comfortable moments in life, and the knowledge of how to get there, even if one knows they can never stay. It’s a catalogue of delight, impossible to oversell. – Doug Mosurock 
]]></content:encoded>

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                  <g:adult>no</g:adult>
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    <item>

      <title>Nusidm : The last temptation of thrill - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/the-last-temptation-of-thrill</link>      <description>
                This record needs ,or is pleading to have a FAC/tory catalogue number, but for an “actual”? factory state-of -mind ;-documentation for the disenfranchised and exiled snot !;-the love herein is turned fumescent and gluey NUSIDM (THE Australian Glen Schenau) has “de” and “re”-constructed a cell dwelling paradigm to his desire, or for it? Where whatever’s “ugly”? And squalid is honorable or not at all .
The artist, hard to believe, means to communicate through his incarceration, self -imposed but       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[This record needs ,or is pleading to have a FAC/tory catalogue number, but for an “actual”? factory state-of -mind ;-documentation for the disenfranchised and exiled snot !;-the love herein is turned fumescent and gluey NUSIDM (THE Australian Glen Schenau) has “de” and “re”-constructed a cell dwelling paradigm to his desire, or for it? Where whatever’s “ugly”? And squalid is honorable or not at all .
The artist, hard to believe, means to communicate through his incarceration, self -imposed but needing people “still” and needling away from people. Society .Community. Ptoooey,,
So, here is the sore kneed agitation audio. The cranky, sullen ,broken telescopic perception.,(for your delight). Here’s a record out of it !
Here’s a record because of it !!
,,the tap ,tap,tapping Throbbing Gristle as his Sam Cooke,coughing up hearts into his pillow, Cabaret Voltaire in times like these of strike anxiety,power outs,schematic curfews,
Can you hear !?-Through his wall
Dead c -on -45-faking Otis unplugged and dismissive of prescriptive sleep and food regimes , The most elegant ornamentation in the place is Chinese take out containers for drums ,leaving food half -eaten and ideals colder still,
Factory pharma #16
In isolation (quarantine ),the artist is many Itchy ,scrapey,picky,fidgety a neurasthenic rhythm orchestra hitting shit to establish his “voice”, corrupted and begging for translation,through crust caked sonic layers Ooze and stuck poster foliage ,
By the time he’s “understood”?
He’s enraged
Beyond “rescue “?Wronged again and flattening bugs not fast enough to scurry for cover with shoe heel percussion,
There’s anxiety in the hint taint of incoming Mass production, this after all is a small project, uncommodified Rodent protest to Romance Enjoying a bit too much the taste and texture of its own chewed up tail,
But Wait!! On occasion there’s light!!
Accessible toy flutes and whistles ,
Flare and scratch colors across the drain stained sound fields
Subliminal swathes from out of cut up ventilator shafts ,
Herald Interzone !! rooftop epiphanic -cacophonies of promise !1!
,as if Royal trux are scoring a requiem for a hasty wedding for quicker money ,
The only kindness ,..He may be gone already !?
He’s crossed out !
Abandoned himself to rumor
Of course he’s left , This before he “clocked out” as a big FACt#0 Gotta love NUSIDM ,,
- Chris Rowley (Adulkt Life, Huggy Bear) 
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      <title>Center : Over The Stations - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/over-the-stations</link>      <description>
                Center. The name may define the furtive action of search engines, but it says plenty about the music made by this trio, whose members reside in New Haven, Connecticut. Stefan Christensen, Ian McColm, and Dave Shapiro make music so weighty that it generates its own gravity, and yet transparent enough to see straight through to its center. They have arrived at a sound located within a matrix of possibilities suggested by their many shared and separate ventures. It is the sonic orb around which Chr      </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Center. The name may define the furtive action of search engines, but it says plenty about the music made by this trio, whose members reside in New Haven, Connecticut. Stefan Christensen, Ian McColm, and Dave Shapiro make music so weighty that it generates its own gravity, and yet transparent enough to see straight through to its center. They have arrived at a sound located within a matrix of possibilities suggested by their many shared and separate ventures. It is the sonic orb around which Christensen's post-Xpressway analog alchemy; Shapiro's expositions of acoustic guitar expressivity under the name Alexander and as an accompanist for Kath Bloom, McColm's generation of pulsing freedom as the drummer for Heart of the Ghost and diverse improvisational ensembles, Shapiro and Christensen's unification of historically sound psychedelic practices from either side of the Pacific Ocean as part of Headroom, and McColm and Shapiro's explorations of electric guitar turbulence in Nagual all turn.
If you were to search for Center's generative root, you'd find it in Nagual. Christensen first joined the duo in 2016, first as a deputy, and ultimately a full member. Their improvisations acquired a quieter, more spacious character. This transformation necessitated a new name, and they have been working towards completing this LP ever since. While all of the music on Over The Stations originated spontaneously, it has been subjected to centrifugal forces of evaluation and collective debate in order to distill the trio's essence. Modulated chimes, squeezebox respirations, strategic drum beats, humid reeds, and pond-dwelling synth voices augment what is essentially a stringed instrument trio. Listen in, and listen deep.
- Bill Meyer

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      <title>City Band : City Band - 12&quot; Vinyl Album</title>
      <link>https://bruitdirectdisques.greedbag.com/buy/city-band</link>      <description>
                Here’s a document of a Paris now gone. The city was yours and ours. Strolling down the streets in your tired jeans and bright red polo shirt, a gentle breeze rustles a girl’s long hair or maybe it was a boy, passing by in the aluminum sun. Sitting at your neighborhood café, talking with your friends, one of them a traitor, about the last football match, you are French and also maybe support Chelsea, a good move will enchant the evening. Now you work, now you don’t, measly government money spent       </description>
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      <content:encoded><![CDATA[Here’s a document of a Paris now gone. The city was yours and ours. Strolling down the streets in your tired jeans and bright red polo shirt, a gentle breeze rustles a girl’s long hair or maybe it was a boy, passing by in the aluminum sun. Sitting at your neighborhood café, talking with your friends, one of them a traitor, about the last football match, you are French and also maybe support Chelsea, a good move will enchant the evening. Now you work, now you don’t, measly government money spent on instruments and chemicals. Drinking a can of beer outside the noise gig Are you 15 years old? Or are you 35? Maybe you’re 62 all of a sudden. Laughing out loud in the street, at some joke that, at some point, was on you. Maybe start a fight, too much of this and too much of that under a bright white moon. You move along and there’s no reason for concern, everything is wrong anyway. It’s Paris and it’s the suburbs, a seamless grey landscape that is your past and present, it’s a reverie, might as well kill yourself again tonight.
The city’s now locked down and maybe it’s best to leave it to die. The law can’t erase the memories of what will come back anyway, against it. Paris still jingling in our heads, it’s a stretch from Françoise Hardy’s timid voice to the best French indie pop band you’ve never heard of, Freluquets. It’s a stretch, still fighting in the streets over the capitalist laws or over a girl, or was it a boy? Gentle strumming, lonely notes for lonely garçons, now men. Going nowhere in your head, still hearing The Go-Betweens, a bit of quirk and crunch à la Monochrome set. How that makes for an imaginary Paris of 2020 going head on at a very slow speed, very slowly and maybe a bit numb but never limping, stumbling over, head over heels at a backwards pace. There is one smile, the dissolving smile of the future, neither here nor there. The City is always yours and ours for the taking, in a slow punch, our raison d’être. 
]]></content:encoded>

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