album reviews

from Little Village Central Iowa Issue 10: Reader-Submitted Photo Issue

GOyF anD BODIaH

Goyf/Bodiah Split

LIMINALENNUI.BANDCAMP.COM

You don’t have to spend much time digging to discover talented contemporary artists in Iowa. Whether you’re a hardcore, a hiphop head, an indie-folker or a stoner-metal enthusiast, you’re bound to find something to satisfy your particular niche in one of the state’s population hubs.

When it comes to searching for electronic music in this state, however—particularly the lesser-listened-to styles you won’t hear in Court Avenue clubs or college town bars—you’ll need to put in more time to scratch that itch.

To that end, anyone dedicated enough to prowl Bandcamp, Soundcloud or Discogs for hours has felt the satisfaction of stumbling upon something refreshing and local. The new self-titled split EP from Iowa-via-Oakland producer Goyf and Des Moines-based Bodiah delivers that satisfaction for leftfield clubbers and open-eared music lovers alike. The debut release from experimental house and techno imprint, Liminal Ennui, released in November, showcases two unique approaches to abstract dance music.

Side Goyf is arguably the more immediate of the two, characterized by atonal and temporal aggression that recalls a hardcore punk ethos. Heavily overdriven and overtonal synths on the opener “Grokked” mimic the forceful strums on some hand-me-down Ibanez before giving way to rugged kick drum thumps and static-ridden low-end pulsations. The more sporadically arranged “Biofeedback,” with its harsh yet alluring synth loop and filter effects, borders on the misanthropic missives of power electronics music. Side Goyf bores through with brute force and raw energy, an ideal soundtrack for a host of sweaty 20-somethings packed shoulder-to-shoulder in an unfinished basement, skanking the night away with abandon.

Side Bodiah, by contrast, provides the listener some more breathing room, favoring airier atmospherics and stereoscopic effects over the heavy distortion and direct-input feel of Side Goyf. Sputtering harmonic synth snatches expand and contract throughout “Con” in an almost aleatoric fashion, disintegrating and just as quickly reconstituting themselves via playful delay parameters, while the track’s stuttering rhythm section supplies forward momentum.

“Cocooned,” with a heavier lowend emphasis, skippy, compressed kick pounces, and elastic synth lurches, would fit comfortably in any left-of-center 140 DJ set. Its very title mimics the metamorphosing rhythm and atmospherics of its music that never tarry too often on the repetitive. Side Bodiah, meticulous in its sound design without sacrificing groovability, calls to mind the broken-beat excursions of London label Hyperdub or Bristol imprint Livity Sound.

What ties the two sides together is their shared penchant for atonality and rhythmic spontaneity, as well as a creative playfulness that, whether better-suited for four concrete walls or in an acoustically tuned club space, is often endearing and warrants multiple relistens to fully appreciate. Here, Goyf and Bodiah offer a taste of the musical avenues to be explored by Liminal Ennui, and any electronic music fan in Iowa worth their salt will be watching for what comes next.

The Goyf/Bodiah Split, out now on Liminal Ennui, is available digitally and on cassette tape on Bandcamp.

JInnOuCHI POWEr

Kaleidokoi

JINNOUCHIPOWER.BANDCAMP.COM

Apeek at the cover art of Jinnouchi Power’s recently released album, Kaleidokoi, offers a visual clue to the textured, hypnotic jazz/rock tracks that lie inside. The brightly colored koi encircled by clouds and lightning bolts look like whimsical madness, but with a collective goal. On first listen, Kaleidokoi evokes a feeling of curated chaos, in the best sense, with each song taking unexpected twists and turns.

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Based in the Sherman Hill neighborhood of Des Moines, the band has worked on the 11-track project for almost eight years. Patrick MacCready, Jinnouchi Power’s lead songwriter, describes the album as “soothing, but rock and roll,” a fitting portrayal for the web of soundscapes intertwined within the rock anthem hooks and folky sadness. Though common genre tags would be indie pop rock, experimental folk or even psychedelic rock, my personal favorite, and possibly the most accurate, would be the category of “nerd rock.” The album is made up of a combination of impressive technical ability, quirky song inspirations, and an unapologetic nod to specialized yet odd subjects, such as kung fu.

Jinnouchi Power makes certain there’s never a dull second in Kaleidokoi from the moment it begins. Sprinkled throughout are crunchy guitar hooks, intricate picking and quirky lyrics that are guaranteed to keep you guessing. For example, the second track on the album “Motion Blue” lulls you into a trance-like vibe, then catapults into an energetic, solid rock outro, sudden yet delightful. “The Wind” flows in and out of a surprising two-step groove between crackling electric guitar transitions, ending with a pop chant catchy enough to get stuck in your brain for days.

The album feels intentional, with every musical decision seemingly deliberate, even amongst its playful humor. As the band states on their website, each verse of the song “Kung Fu” was inspired by a different martial arts film, an interesting challenge for any lyricist. I couldn’t help but laugh at the snarky line, “It’s not your technique, it’s you,” followed by the repeated refrain of “I love kung fu,” words you rarely, if ever, attribute to a song.

“Wedding Song” begins with sweet melancholy, “I wear my heart on my sleeve, oh what a fool am I / Now I roam the streets at night like a cynical werewolf”—an absurd twist but weirdly relatable. The surprises continue with an introduction of saxophone on the ominously titled, “Get in the Van,” an eclectic instrumental track, reminiscent of experimental jazz.

Of course, no album would be complete without a ballad, a spot which “Kale & Eggs” beautifully fulfills, combining intricate guitar picking and spacious strings. The song includes the most poignant lyrics of the album: “And pay the price of art with your own skin / the shifting eyes will generalize, your self expression will be marginalized,” a jarring reality of the vulnerability required to create something from nothing. But Kaleidokoi masterfully conveys its voice, lawless and raw, with a dazzling result. —Gigi Vanderpool

KyLE JaMES

Climbing

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When Des Moines-area native Kyle James released his debut solo LP Datum in February last year, I was impressed, but disappointed. Not because the album was anything less than stellar. Across seven delicately composed instrumentals, James showcased everything he presumably learned studying jazz at Western Michigan University over the past four years. Datum served as a testament to James’ maturity and poise as a serious saxophonist, producer and composer.

But after listening through the record the first couple times, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the teenage James I remembered from years ago—the dynamic multi-instrumentalist and vocalist I saw tear up 80/35 and the PBR-soaked stage of Vaudeville Mews (RIP) with his rambunctious high school alternative rock projects 515 and the Yelps. I couldn’t help but feel slightly let down with the release of Datum, despite how much I genuinely loved the record in abstract. I wanted a Kyle James pop record.

And only six months later, I got it. As if one debut wasn’t enough, James released his second album of 2022, Climbing, in September. Spanning nine alternative pop tracks (and clocking in at a breezy 25 minutes), James introduced a new side of the jazz aficionado he proved himself to be with Datum, returning to the more outwardly expressive singer/songwriter persona from years past.

“Fear,” the mellow, self-referential opener to Climbing, sets the introspective tone of the project as James reflects on his own hesitation to deviate from the more behindthe-scenes world of producing and composing traditional jazz. The layered vocals and luscious synths of “Fear” gracefully ease the listener, both sonically and thematically, into the record before the bombastic “Fast” takes over with a rambunctious bassline, boxy punk drums and blistering guitar work performed by James himself.

Aside from a wonderful jazz interlude featuring bassist John Hébert, James carves out the middle chunk of Climbing on his own. His lyrical confidence blossoms in real time as he explores themes of personal growth and the unnerving tightrope walk of falling in love over plucky synths, electronic pianos and subtle, atmospheric percussion. On the record’s penultimate track, “Be Around,” James emerges from his metacognitive state as confidently romantic with help from featured vocalist Lauren Elliott and jazz producer Stratøs.

While “Fast” and “Be Around” are perhaps the most accessible and infectious cuts from Climbing, the record’s deep cuts (including its closer, “Why Would I?”) drive home what makes James such a compelling artist. The range of his vocal performance and the harmonic depth of even his most simple compositions cement James as a uniquely talented artist—one capable of delivering the deep, melodically complex jazz instrumentals of Datum and the dynamic, colorful R&B/alternative pop songs of Climbing.

The timing of James’ double debut seems almost intentional—like he was almost expecting to disappoint biased scene junkies like myself with Datum. Intentional or not, the release of Climbing erased any doubt I had in James’ future as a singer/songwriter. I truly can’t wait for (nor can I predict) what else Kyle James has in store. —Chase Schweitzer

JuSTIn K COMEr

Undustrial Devolution 1 & 2

JUSTINKCOMER.BANDCAMP.COM/MUSIC

Justin K. Comer and his friends who play on Undustrial Devolution 1 & 2 are on the vanguard for free improvisational music in Iowa. That means they’re somewhere out in a cornfield where the other footprints stop, striking out in random directions. There’s focused intent here, but a personal, idiosyncratic one. Consider the opening track, “Animalia Tranquilalia,” a sequence of tightly constrained spare riffs on a few notes. Comer and David Clair play deviously syncopated and polyrhythmic drums that drop into a loose latin groove for a while. But the whole is spacious and skeletal, leaving room for the music of silence.

“Transportation Systemization” uses penny-whistles for wobbling, sweet/sour melodies, played in two or three parts. Each part shares no common pulse with the others. It has a strong connection to the contrapuntal vocal music of the Mbenga in Congo, with similar interwoven melodic lines. The parts are simple, but they rub against each other in complex yet accessible ways.

This music is part of a new tradition, in dialog with the African and Asian sounds they take as inspiration, without imitation. Comer and his collaborators have absorbed so much, from world music traditions to jazz, from classical to experimental noise. But when they play, it’s not just performance, it’s play; they mess around until something catches their ear, then they improvise further on the sounds they like.

“Festivities and Commercial Activities” is built around a Casio MT-68 keyboard preset drum and chord pattern. Subtle layers of dark trombone, mandolin and beat-boxing make magic from the most industrially commodified music imaginable. One finger drum, bass and chord auto-accompaniment—the most perfectly fake music ever created—gives them license to subvert and transform it into something sinuous and sly.

In “Certartiodactyla Introductila,” Alex Taylor’s didgeridoo defies the clichéd use it’s been put to in new age music. It adds a rough, wild edge that blends seamlessly with Comer’s bass and baritone clarinets. The piece recalls Ornette Coleman and Art Ensemble of Chicago first and foremost, which is part of the musical canon Comer and his collaborators (Clair, Taylor, Chris Emery and Roland Hart) start from.

On volume two, things are a bit more abrasive, with occasional flashes of humor. “Vocontra the Vanquisher” builds on a weird combination of cheap keyboards processed with aggressive audio effects. The organ part that comes in at 80 seconds has a random, wonky pitch shift. It’s like Tom Waits’ carnie band music, but with lots more raw noise.

“Rumpus and/or Ruckus” is “composed spontaneously” by Comer, Emery and Hart. in the course of a live performance on prepared piano, mandolin and hand percussion. Neither arbitrary nor slapdash, it fits together as three people all having the same idea.

These artists have put their hearts into making the weirdest, most uncommercial music they can imagine. They’re seeking hidden corners of liquid beauty and hysteria. This is the academic style of jazz taught in U.S. high schools, adulterated with every corrupting influence, from Pharoah Sanders to Captain Beefheart to Nine Inch Nails.

This is the sound of musically talented people trying something new 500 different ways, for the pure joy of it. Then they made these recordings, as a snapshot of how their personal music fit together into a wooly, intricately simple whole. —Kent Williams