Deradoorian — Disembodied Improvisations Vol. 1

Since the departure of Angel Deradoorian in 2012, Dirty Projectors have been on a steady path into self-importance and simplicity. Deradoorian has conversely carved her way into quiet, playful and more experimental territory than ever before.

Disembodied Improvisations Vol. 1 seems to have been released as a sort of non-album; a nebulous collection of noodles. But it should not be dismissed as some kind of side-project. It's a narcotic, mysterious and foggy thing. There is far more to peel back here than on Projectors' recent Lamp Lit Prose.

The album is as broad and strange as it is understated. The best description of its sound would be an ecclesiastical reimagining of the Doors. It's loose, improvisatory and freewheeling, but has a breathy delicacy never really attempted by the Lizard King's band. Images are brought up of water gardens, temples; placid, pastoral scenes and sublime nature.

In some moments, Deradoorian approaches the gentility of Liz Harris. It's hard not to think of the Portlandia sketch 'Battle of the Gentle Bands', given how feather-light the artist's touch is here. But even then, simple bass riffs underline songs. These grooves ensure a trot, rather than a trudge. Avoiding the ambient pitfalls of 'wishy-washy'-ness, Deradoorian has knocked it out of the park. Here's hoping her former bandmate can turn things back around soon too.

Disembodied Improv… can be purchased or streamed here. Pre-and-post-Angel Dirty Projectors can be found here.

Words by Andrew O’Keefe

Will Guthrie — Some Nasty

Great improvisers always have one foot dangling over the cliff's edge. Their work seems ready to crumble under itself; to tangle, snag or melt like a cassette tape. Will Guthrie is no exception to this rule. The Australian percussionist works in many spaces, and with a wide roster of collaborators. But the work is invariably electrifying and dangerous.

Some Nasty sees Guthrie performing alongside Indonesian gamelan and gong players, and delving into a new world of electronic backing tracks and esoteric field recording. As ever, the atmosphere is heavy. Dark clouds are punctuated by clattering raindrops of noise. But some surprises, like a spirited homage to My Chemical Romance's 'Black Parade', liven proceedings. And the extreme energy of Some Nasty's noisier passages will bring out anyone's stank face.

One movement on Side B slips into an irresistible groove. It's a conventional sort of playing rarely heard from Guthrie, but all the more successful for it. Bordered on both sides by erratic and challenging traditional percussion, it's a stark and welcome contrast.

This release as a whole benefits from its diversity. Phrases and moods appear like cats eyes, rushing in in a bright and surprising surge. It's as difficult to pin down as one of Guthrie's cacophonous crescendos. Perhaps he's the only one who can truly keep track of it all.

Will Guthrie’s Some Nasty is available for stream and purchase here. Tetema, a fantastic collaborative project with Mike Patton and Anthony Pateras, can be found here.

Words by Andrew O’Keefe

No Home — hello, this is exploitation

Charlotte Valentine has delivered caustic indie rock as No Home since 2016. Hello, this is exploitation distinguishes itself — both from previous No Home projects and their peers — with a newly unrefined sound and a self-described grossness.

Hello… is a wilful confrontation. A mosaic of shoegaze by way of Tonetta; dissonant, deadened, quasi-trip-hop; ceremony, invocations; the wavering delicacy of tremolo guitars. And all this packed into three brief tracks.

There's some neat production, like the mournful choir of '[A] Lullaby', but this release largely eschews meddling and elaboration. Valentine has dropped the techniques that previously softened their sound. The result is a bare, forthright and proud release.

Its prickly edges provide a much-needed antidote to the usual lo-fi schtick. There's no place here for the knockabout, happy-go-lucky charm favoured by Girlysound or Mac Demarco. The sincerity of Hello, this is exploitation unsettles rather than relaxes.

It's telling that Valentine would list Nina Simone among their influences. The two artists' work shares some rawness and clarity of purpose. And both seem somehow unknowable, yet too close and too candid to ignore.

Hello, this is exploitation is available for streaming and purchase here.

Words by Andrew O’Keefe