The fourteen piece Transatlantic Art Ensemble, led by Roscoe Mitchell on soprano sax make some fine noise. The highly lauded Mitchell is one of the world's foremost abstract jazz composers, and this selection of nine interwoven works, recorded in 2004, tell his history. It tumbles, rumbles and whispers, it wails and bellows. Composition/Improvisation Nos. 1, 2 & 3 paints a wild, yet saavy picture of our striated sense of universal change. The melodious notes he plays speak from worn lips telling bittersweet stories, in fact, there's a passionate melancholy bolstered by a backing ensemble nimbly gyrate through Mitchell's shattered, scattered blowing, around wiggly projections and roads less travelled. It's something of a collected circus chaos that bleeds delicately into a faded watercolor of the buried sea. [Purchase]

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Portugese guitarist and electronic composer Rafael Toral delivers a stuntifying new release based in space. To accomplish this he's employed filters, empty circuits and feedback, sparsely construed to make for a minimalist collage that pops, hides away and squeaks as if repelling a wooden floor in rubber soles. Toral is equipped with a board full of effects that he then fashions like a clown twisting balloons into poodles, though the result is far more contagious. There's something as sinister, but not as, er, clownish to these bloated antics. By manipulating various gassy overtures, sliding and stretching them into new sound shapes it becomes aural cinema. The faster he works the more removed and expressionist the sounds of 'Space Solo 1' become. And yes he leaves room for open air white noise that's pretty hush. But not too much, as there's a sense of antsy, frictitious disorder at play. "Echo Feed" plays into the whole notion that life may exist outside our perception with its nod to 50's b-movie elongated bleeps and warm vortex exterior, built for two. [Purchase]

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Low are back. Drums and Guns has got the raw spirit one might expect during wartime. While so many "Pretty People" are out there jazzingly distracting us with their never-ending booty call stage antics this is an uncertain quirky alarm call to arms. To hear something like this from a longstanding threesome who actually have built a home in the realm of the avant garde is uneasy these days. Mind you, this is probably their most accessible record to date, and they sound great here, and focus more on crafting songs with strings alongside electronics. The bass is self-evident. "Breaker" recalls the rootsy ramble in some early, less righteous, pre-MTV Peter Gabriel. They seem straight-forward, caressing the wounded in acoustic caress, by dispelling their personal maybes in a distillation of truths. Harkening to the stance of a myriad of legendary drum and bugle corps, they cleverly admit beats as well as smart lyricism. The band seems poised to fall between the intersection driving forces like Bjork and Spiritualized, without bells and buzz. The record is pretty stark and elemental until track six of thirteen where "Always Fade" adds some warm percussion and broken electronica which swirls around the vocals of two singers. This makes for something a bit distinctive, and less of another homage to age old Dylan-like anthemic stylings. The record plays like a poker faced reality rich in the same tonal qualities once heard from the 4AD label. Phrasing like "Always a whisper, worthless and tender. Breaking my arm that won't heal" prove their may still be poetry in the arena of independent music. The disc comes housed with a colorful picture book that illustrates the mood by Jimi Sides. [Purchase]

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Nijmegen's duo Beequeen (Frans de Waard and Freek Kinkelar) release a compilation of 23 various works recorded since 1989. Certainly one of the more notable experimental outfits of the last two decades, this collection numbingly sets a certain tone (or atones) both to the past and future. There's a delicate balance of low chords breaking into dark ambient space ("Does He Do As If He Is") from their 1994 recording 'Split'. You're in the dark, someone is casting a vague echo while slowly bowing a cello, you see a faint light. There is this sense of passing figures, black on black shadowy movements hinted at in your peripheral view. At points queasy, others like your spinning in a Spanish villa for just a dazzling moment ("Fond II"). They firmly use the guise of industrialisms to build the droning layers of works like "Land Above Us" which has both a sense of open continuum and repeat cycle that can, for many, become unnerving. Though, they do so with a certain grace that kind of rounds the corners of chaos. The final stage of production, so to speak. And the point is clear, these two men have built a passionate body of work that is at once striking for its qualities emulating the codec of film, secondly they have used that motif to concoct music which is out of the personal body, told from the vantage point of the other. And third, it takes you some place you may have not dared, distinctively told with a fusion of pace, timing, fore/background. Then there are these themes of meditation, observation, then realization. When you sample tracks like "Brasillian Fond" (1989), you are just barely eavesdropping by way of the slight incorporated field recordings. Part mysterious travelogue, part staging for how you might compose music to send to navigate the hole in the ozone and then into the deep universe to cultivate answers to its questions. The work of Beequeen simply trips the mind.

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Karl Hyde and Rick Smith are back after several years where they toured and parted with their former label, V2. Here the duo continues their fully produced wide-open dancefloor wash of warm rhythms and beats galore. The lead in cut, "Crocodile" sounds like an immediate hit, though with a few grungier and vocal dynamics in today's mix how will these gents compete? First, they have a world class sensibility of what people are physically move to. They've proven themselves live over and again, and this collection of bright tracks really captures the spirit of how arms and hair and torsos dart between the sweat of light and the darker chords of chillout. This is plain on "Good Morning Cockerel" where the sweet tinkling piano plays to Hyde's unplugged, no-nonsense vocal. Back in June Smith was injured by baseball bat wielding hoodlums during a concert at the Ejekt Festival in Athens, though it sounds like these gents have made it back firmly to their feet. A lot of what appears here is balanced by the construction of song structures as opposed to the pure dance work of some of their former work. This harkens to similar strategies made by other electronic colleagues like Moby, Chemical Brothers and others in the recent past. "Boy, Boy, Boy" sounds more like what you may hear in a White Stripes pop song as opposed to late night in Ibiza. And then there's "Ring Road" which features the beloved Brit-rap they came to fame on the wave of. It's dressed down, almost spoken. Add some skeletal percussion and the beat is basic, bridged by a beautifully slightly vocoded chorus. It's thick and in the trends set by themselves, De La Soul, Soul Coughing and a handful of others lip-serving the masses at one moment or another. The nice surprise here is 'Faxed Invitation' built on the mechanical mutations of an old machine that transmits messages. Their message is all kept on the warm down-low. The funky dance hooks are in "Holding the Moth" though they've hurdled some of their catchiest phrases for a larger focus on the vocal throughout. For that look to "Beautiful Burnout." The title says it all in that which amply re-uses some of their classic flow, and will surely be the dance single for what it's worth, which is more than two bits (or is that bytes)? [Purchase]

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Developed from a series of live shows over two years, Guillaume Graux sorts out seven tracks that source the sounds from his laptop with mastering by Yves De Mey. The result is dense, cryptic and punctuated with clicks and pops encrusted with electronic noise and space as heard on the rambunctious "Insomnia." Elsewhere on Shallow Water Blackout (a loss of consciousness caused by the lapse of breath) there is hazy dulling set of harmonies, pale as a blue sky at high noon, effectively in mid November when the chill has just set in full on. The mix of assorted tones are intertwined on "Lady Jane." Fingers to strings like spider to web, a nervousness arises and dissipates, leaving a warm stretched passage that meanders in speed and density. Yet there's still room for the branding of chunky noise on "Stillnox Parties" which sounds like a factory in full production as interpreted through teletype. Like a haphazard collision between Merzbow and Kim Cascone, this recording jumps around a rock and a hard place. Solid in fearless tracks like "Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through" which cranks out a gyrating percussive beat that rolls and rocks, through colliding distortion and a raspy undertone. Hard in its edgeless experimentation. This is an impressive second full length challenge of any basic formula.

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Well oiled, to a patina perhaps unlike any other avant band ever out of Germany, Einstürzende Neubauten decided to release this latest ten-track collection on their own accord. With lyrics by resident spoken croonster Blixa Bargeld, the band offers a heavy piano on opener "Die Wellen." Building and building with their signature percussion, things slowly come to a crescendo and close abruptly. It's dramatic, alive. The record continues with the clip-clop of "Nagorny Karabach" which sounds like an intimate, dusty travelogue. Since the early 80's this quartet have offered a wide angled discography with fiery experimentation that never seems to cut itself short from beating its own drum(s). That outcome has provided amazing work like the powerful tin beats as heard on "Weil Weil Weil" alongside a spirited vocal by Bargeld and other electronics and a barrage of amped samples. It's probably the best "song" for them in years. It's got a contained structure. All sung in German, their sound, gutteral, poker-faced and at times poking fun at itself, becomes another instrument telling a story for any ears, bilingual or not. Elsewhere on Alles Wieder Offen you'll find field recordings mixed down as on "Von Wegen" which is a cross between an acoustic folk rock number with the vestiges of a operatic prelude. But when the percussive beat blends in things become more uncalculated. And this is what these gents are known for. Taking it way out. The title track starts like something from 80s new wave, with a noir Nick Cave-like vocal. Rhyme may have a reason. Most lovely here I must point out "Susej" which something of an industrial love song. Posing in a bit of a whisper over the clink of a repetitive beat that comes and goes with dramatic flair. [Purchase]

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This is an explosive barrage of droning guitars and percussion. It cranks and careens and crashes and burns. There is a broad peripheral soundscape here, something drown in amplification and its absorption of everything in its path. Not loud for the sake of it either, there's more of a twisted containment of an abundance of noise junk, being controlled and manipulated with a keen construction. The flailing metallic jamboree of brass and small explosions breathe from inner earth. This hour is split in near even quadrants, so it's as if you are listening to an aural play in part. The volume shifts, but there is a beating that is constant, blurry at points then open and raw in others. By part three they are in a quieter space, wider, more about harmonies in the atmospheric strings, and the chamber music crated by the din of the background. A pale sense of sadness in the air rides towards the final track when things become nearer and clearer. Actually, this is done with a stretched drone that is as balancing as it is menacing. The long washes of guitar are mixed and filtered like light fading into a distant valley. But that is edged out by the clamor of heavy bass and distortion at midpoint which continues its path until the very last minute where things settle with the sense of a angered, mysterious cliffhanger. [Purchase]

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Here's a debut from an Icelandic producer who has worked with Bjork, Sigur Rós, Coco Rosie, among others. The sounds are wafting delicacies with strings and breezy buzz, music boxes all intertwined with guest vocals and other sensitive arrangements. Symphonic strings with breaks, recalling the soundtrack for Dancer in the Dark which he worked on with Bjork are evident on the sauntering stop/start of "Focal Point." The harmonies are bright and flickery. "Baby Architect" with J. Walker has a rambling, cut-up feel to it, like they are humming along inside a machine that is slicing tiny portions and feeding it back. There's a warmth throughout the entire record that spills softly. At times this sounds like a lost record from the 70's hidden rock opera vault as peaked at in tracks like "Winter Sleep" with its Craig Armstrong-like overtures and ambient texturing. Dawn McCarthy's voice is a lovely addition that makes for something brightly birdlike. As I listen the sounds fade away, on the romanticized "Equilibrium is Restored." It's a passage to a small gazebo in a forest, among nature, a recital with passing minstrels, and light faire. Ekvílibríum is a floating and dreamy record that suggests taking a much needed, contemplative pause from our advertising saturated, overproduced daily speed culture. Charming. [Purchase]

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This tight threesome of tracks collects a piece each recorded in 2003, 04 and recently in 07 – each with the concept of sounds that are cylindrical, emulating music boxes, player pianos or other motorized sound machines. Ethan Rose has been busy at work recording film soundtrack work with Gus Van Sant in between touring with his band Small Sails, and when he has the wherewithall even creates sound-based art installations. Here are some of the sounds that have not quite fallen between the cracks. Starting with the tinkling ringing metallic harmonics of "Singing Tower" which was recorded at Stanford University and manipulated from an automated carillon. Rose is fascinated by the potential of re-using these archaic instruments of yesteryear that didn't need a human to play them. He shows his penchant by taking their sources throughout this recording and filtering, modifying and otherwise completely reinventing their wheels. The results are powdery washes of ambient drones, undulating rhythms that bend above and around the listener. It's quite mesmerizing and centering. On "…the dot and the line…" he's used a series of player pianos and subteley coarse sound effects that carress the edges of the surface. The piano is distant as though a lone player is practicing in the dulling divide of another room. The earliest work here, "Miniature & Sea" sources optical film readers as well as small music boxes to obtain a figure-in-the-attic ghostly effect. There is a certain hollow that air whistles through steadily like a police siren a few blocks away, or the faded screech of roman candles in July. The pulse breaks the cyclical frame of the piece nicely, and shifts to a meandering sound haiku of sorts. The piece eventually roars like a passing train at a nosehair away until things slowly degenerate into a clump of austerity. [Purchase]

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Kick it Genesis (and crew)! From the climbing opening righteous rocker "Higher and Higher" to the wee notes of "Milk Baba" this really explodes all over the place. A bit with the vengeance of 80's bands like Love & Rockets, Icicle Works and others who focused more on the guitar than on the synthesizer. Jammed in here through smart samples and sound effects are some real pop rock gems, without the trite structure of bridge, chorus et al. For example, "In Thee Body" starts like some industrial dirge that spins into a jamming guitar with a spoken word vocal questioning the reality of the self in the body. It meanders just long enough to bring about a streaming of consciousness of the listener, then brings you back. It darkly rambles about, partly unrecognizable lyrics, chantlike to a degree. A rock anthem or sacred code? On "Maximum Swing" the bold tribal percussion is blurs the buried, gutteral Tom Waits-style vocal which spouts "She could take the poison from a bee sting…She can pull the feathers off a black angel wing". It's high tone attitude, aha. "New York Story" is their out loud, hazy-dazy nod to Velvet Underground, tamborine and all. Serrated strings and shoegazer crooning mixes rightly with the saltiness of it all in a similar style heard primarily from bands like Spiritualized. And then there's the near trance-like "Hooka Chalice" which transgresses the whole variance of PTV stylings, from noir visualizations to chamber music until it blows the roof off the mother about a minute and a half in. Wow. Unexpected grinder totally nailed. A riot in all senses of the word. [Purchase]

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Sawako has been making soft, atmospheric works for the last few years and this is of the same ilk. Where things seem to grow is in the overall sense of composition. The sounds are less 'tiny' sounding, and roll around in space more fluidly. She's managed to tour and play live, and the spatial plane here has been effected by a growth in a greater sense of spatial sound management. The whispers on "August Neige" sound channeled like apparitions rather than a collaged patchwork of added sounds in the mix, there is an overall sense of fusion in the way she is now layering and laying it all down. The ambience is perfectly mood setting, then building. There's this sense of an endless lagoon of sensuous, cool water rippling, a fine mist on a hot day, and this sated feeling to the tips of your being. "Appled Soapbox" is a warped piece with an indistinguishable voice sample that repeats in and outside itself. Throughout Sawako hints generously at the landscape of her native Japanese roots with themes of quietude and balance.

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