New Music From Alison Statton & Spike, Anguish
Alison Statton & Spike
Bimini Twist
(Tiny Global Productions)
In an alternate universe, the trio Young Marble Giants—formed around 40 years ago in Cardiff, Wales by brothers Stuart and Philip Moxham with vocalist Alison Statton—might have released, without fanfare, its stark, chilly masterpiece album Colossal Youth (one of this writer’s all-time favorite albums) and then simply disappeared, as seemingly quietly and mysteriously as it appeared.
However, as it turns out, it served as the roots of a blooming musical family tree; after Young Marble Giants disbanded in 1980 (reunion shows would happen, years later), Stuart Moxham started The Gist—its album Embrace the Herd being an overlooked treasure—and Alison Statton co-founded the breezy-yet-sophisticated pop band Weekend with Simon Booth and Spike, which had a brief but practically flawless career.
After singing for Ian Devine starting in the late ’80s as the outfit “Devine and Statton,” Statton reunited with Spike from Weekend for a fruitful run in the ’90s, ending with 1997’s The Shady Tree, another unheralded album with a gently puzzling demeanor and spooky electronics.
After a 20-year gap, Alison Statton & Spike have finally released a welcome full-length follow-up to The Shady Tree, entitled Bimini Twist, that will particularly appeal to fans who were drawn to Weekend and its eclectic ways.
Actually, the liner notes of Weekend’s 1982 album La Varieté state that the title is “the French term for popular radio, everything that’s not heavy rock; music drawing on diversity and depth.”
That title could certainly apply to Bimini Twist—comprised of home recordings solely made by Statton and Spike — which celebrates both small moments and occasional arrangements that sound large, with stirring Latin-influenced rhythms.
The opening “Just Us Two” is the intersection of the duo’s various methods, with Spike’s trademark jazzy nylon-string guitar chords sporting a Brazilian tug but also some odd electronic chimes; the enigmatic “Alone Together” resides in its own alien world with metal percussion and hazy viola flourishes.
“Curse or Pray” is a number that comes straight from a smoky lounge, while “Under Cover” offers a pert, tight slice of pop that never overstays its welcome. “Distraction” saunters with an easygoing mood before its surprise final minute, where it speeds up and magnifies its samba style.
Consistently, Statton sings with her calm, warm voice on such upbeat numbers or more minimal, intimate tracks such as the closing “Sleepless,” with an uncanny ability to tap into your person, as if delivering a secret to your cupped ear.
Anguish
Anguish
(RareNoise)
The new band Anguish has one hell of a setup—put together two-thirds of the sinister New Jersey hip-hop outfit Dälek, two members of the intense Swedish free jazz trio Fire! and keyboardist Hans Joachim Irmler from the legendary German band Faust, with each element capable of making bold and disorienting sounds.
With so many distinctive and strong musical personalities in the room, the payoffs could be rewarding but there are challenges present, as well; does this new amalgam have its own identity, and how do the pieces fit together without everyone stepping on everyone’s toes?
The opening instrumental track “Vibrations” is a warm-up, with dark ambient tones and Mats Gustafsson’s piercing and echoing tenor sax terror-bleats, tag-teaming Mike Mare (of Dälek) who supplies distorted wah-guitar licks.
A cathartic release happens on the following dense track “Cyclical / Physical” but it doesn’t go quite as far into sonic obliteration territory as one might expect, perhaps so that the lyrics from Will Brooks (a.k.a. MC Dälek) are still distinguishable.
The album’s title track is thick with smoke in its dirtied-up jazz approach, with Irmler and Gustafsson showing restraint amid ambient noise.
After some amorphous treading, the album seems to really launch with “Gut Feeling,” partially due to its heavy beat that draws listeners in, combined with sick, queasy sounds and delirious reeds; Brooks barks out defiant wordplay (“Neither saved or a savior / Always minor never major”) with the chorus of “F--- your frail feelings” sticking out.
The eight-minute “Healer’s Lament” offers slow doom jazz with Brooks’ desolate spoken-word descriptions and ends with wailing, animalistic free jazz, and one of the album’s most effective moments is the instrumental “DEW,” with unfettered, filthy sax bleats and evil, guttural noises.
“A Maze of Decay” uses some genuinely unsettling sounds with buzzing electronics and wispy, shadowy sonic spectres, and the final, glorious track “Wümme” (named after Faust’s hometown) uses a driving rhythm that wisely avoids the (overused) strict motorik beat—its mounting intensity, pained shouts, and inspired disorder demonstrate the powerful synthesis of this ensemble, although the album takes a few tracks to find its footing.