An editorial intended originally for the unpublished edition of Adverse Effect's Winter 2006/2007 edition. Instead, it was posted online in Spring 2007 and is here again now...

A TORN HEART
IS BETTER THAN
NO HEART AT ALL

by Richo

Although this has taken considerably longer than the usual eternity, I cannot believe I am here again already. Whilst bombarded by all manner of shit, I have recently been diving deep into my record collection?s murkiest corners and rediscovering precisely why I will never part company with, for example, my Amor Fati, Luigi Nono, Kaleidoscope (the US group, not the British one, who I?ve still to hear, despite Steve Pescott?s perpetual recommendations...), Bob Bannister and H.P. Lovecraft albums. Amor Fati?s has been particularly delightful, as the notes adorning its sleeve, penned in 1985, assume the kinda guise of a Des Esseintes-type misanthropist or superiority complex worthy of some of the flak I?ve been subjected to over the years (no lie, either...). And yet the truth remains a world away. The impassioned (try to remember this word, please) screams for individuality and non-homogenised thinking from these notes sound bells that?ll always ring the loudest, as far as I?m concerned. Y?know, I can?t keep reiterating why, precisely, I keep ploughing on with Adverse Effect or any of my other endeavours. I?ve said it all before and, quite frankly, am almost as fed up with it as you doubtlessly are...

Individuality is something that, for as long as I started to question such matters, has always seemed hard to find. Perhaps I?m automatically setting my goals too high with this pursuit, however? Maybe I?m simply priming a destiny anchored in disappointment? I dunno. It?s one subject I found particularly fascinating in Michel Houellebecq?s third novel, Atomised, actually. In it, he illustrates how society (as tainted by the Western world) has, for a long time, been focusing on the individual and, to a greater extent, the pervasive selfishness inherent within. Naturally, it?s a point I can hardly dispute, but it certainly got me thinking about precisely how ?individual? most people still really are. After all, we?re an animal that generally thrives in social groups and, subsequently, we are immediately compromised by a need to feel accepted by them.

As such, I fully understand my continued yearning for anything truly unique is largely a lost cause (and has been for a long time). And yet I still tend to gravitate towards anything and anybody at least attempting to tear at, question or defile such constraints. It?s what keeps me motivated and furnishes my life with a whiff of ?meaning?. To do otherwise would, quite simply, deflate the little ?point? it has...

I find it incredibly hard to understand why so many people are prepared to put up with crap they are often unsatisfied with. I fail to comprehend why most people don?t push themselves as far as fucken possible and, instead, settle for options that are safe, easy, predictable, mundane and unchallenging. The reductive nature of our minds itself appears to have been conveniently filtered out without so much as even a cursory nod of recognition...

Despite appearances, I generally feel there?s much to embrace in life, but most people choose to insulate themselves from it out of fear: they are afraid of upsetting anybody, afraid of not pandering to expectations, afraid of actually being true to themselves, afraid of social stigmatism...and, ultimately, afraid of their very own yelps about individuality. At least, this is how it all seems to me, anyway. Beyond this, I also feel most people are even too scared to fucken attempt breaking any bonds which might otherwise keep them precisely where they are ?supposed? to be. It?s much easier, after all, to adhere to the options they?ve been told are ?safer?. It?s far more comfortable to remain inside the boxes they have been told to stay in. Rocking the boat commands too much effort. Allowing one?s mind to spill beyond everything it has been taught leads only to dark places perhaps best left unexplored...

Personally, altho? clearly constricted by the very same daily afflictions we all have to contend with, I want to explore as much as I am accorded and still want far fucken more. The whole notion of being wholly content or satisfied is one which doesn?t sit too comfortably with me. It points only to the very same pools of complacency I first felt like blowing apart when I was a goddam teenager...

I?m now (much) older, yet am simultaneously compelled to keep mining seams that appear rich with nourishment and, in turn, remain confounded by the fact so many people I personally know will, for instance, prefer to spend time complaining about the trash TV they?ve wasted their miserable lives on. I will never understand their mindset. It just doesn?t fucken register on any scale I?d adhere to even in my weakest or most despondent moments...

Equally, what I then fail to fathom is the way some of these very same people have caught snatches of what I listen to or watch or read, and deem it all ?depressing? or ?miserable?. They seem incapable of clutching anything spitting out with pure ?n? raw soul. They misread anything which screams loudly from the heart. They, once more, fall readily and hopelessly into traps where the senses have no meaning. Blindness is the order of the day and served in heaps so liberal it?s a wonder that these very same senses which determine us haven?t begun to actually close down.

I?ve often been told that my generally refractory attitude is ?negative? as well. This is an accusation, however, levelled at me when I have mostly complained incessantly about being bored when I have felt I could be putting my valuable fucken time to far better use (the truth here is that I?m never actually bored, really, but resent not being able to do some of the things I want to do when I actually feel like doing them). Furthermore, it arrives from those blinkered and complacent fuckbulbs who can only turn to wearisome clichés in order to try and compartmentalise those of us who feel at odds or uncomfortable with the rest of humanity.

To simply cast me aside as a cynical curmudgeon would be too easy, too fucken lazy. The truth, like so many things in life, remains a world away...

Richo x

THE GREAT BRITISH INSULT

Richard Curtis Doesn?t Think Very Much Of His Audience

by Anton Black

FOR REASONS NOT WORTH EXPLAINING, I find myself living in the Polish town of Krakow, teaching English, earning what is really too much money given the job I do, and sharing a flat with an attractive Polish girl (actually, to talk about an ?attractive Polish girl? is the greatest of tautologies, but I digress). Said girl, Kasia, has a fundamentally decent heart and has suffered from a shitty upbringing which has left her emotionally needy (beware girls whose daddies didn?t love them enough, guys - it?s a guarantee of psychodom). I shouldn?t really be with her - we?re not remotely suited - but I fancy the tits off her. I also feel bad at the idea of splitting with her - she needs people, and her choice of non-platonic housemate shows that she?s not choosy. She also fantasises about the whole knight-in-shining-armour soap opera concept of kids / marriage, / true love / domestic bliss, despite being old enough to know better. And needless to say, she?s lonely as fuck.

One thing she does when she feels like no-one cares is to watch the film Love Actually. It makes her feel better about feeling shitty. To her it is apparently the epitome of romance and what romance should be. And she seems to think that if I watched it too I?d really like it.

Of course, I initially refused. I have spent my life buried in cinema and considering its every aspect, how it reaches its effects both technically and emotionally. I used to earn my living analysing and developing film scripts for big production companies. I know everything about films. Frankly, my cinematic sensibility is so finely honed that I?m always right even when I have no idea what I?m talking about. No, I?d never seen Love Actually. I didn?t need to. I knew it was vile without having to suffer watching it. But being such a nice guy, I eventually consented to sit and watch the sodding thing with her.

I never thought any film would make me long for Four Weddings and a Funeral.

*********

It starts in an airport arrivals lounge (Heathrow, presumably). We see various people embracing newly-arrived loved ones. The unmistakeable tones of Hugh Grant provide a voiceover concerning the idea that this is the epitome of love. Referencing the 9th of September, Hugh goes on to explain that love actually is all around. This cues up the inter-textual use of the song of a similar name (read: this is Richard Curtis film, and you?ve already seen and loved his other stuff). After this musical atrocity (number one in the UK for about 16 weeks as memory serves - and yet people still wonder why I moved to a different land mass) we witness a bunch of relationships unfold: as memory serves, these concern, amongst others, a movie extra (Martin Freeman), the PM (Hugh Grant) and his charlady (Martine McClutcheon), a hapless caterer off to America to get laid (that googly-eyed fucker off the sitcom with Robert Lindsay and Zoe Wanamaker), some bloke and his mate?s wife (Andrew Lincoln and Keira Knightley), a Yank (Laura Linney) and her colleague, her boss and his wife (Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson), a has-been rock star (Bill Nighy), a writer (Colin Firth), some bloke (Liam Neeson) and his stepson (no, they don?t have the romance - though that would have been a much more interesting subplot). We see these people meet their soulmates, discover the nature of their soulmates, struggle through various obstacles to be together and finally unite to spend their lives entwined. Or at least we would, if this was a proper film and Curtis had bothered to construct actual plots and characters.

It really is some time since I have seen a film so devoid of any redeeming features, a film that is so soullessly tailored towards making money and emotionally milking its helplessly retarded target audience, a film that is more ?product? than almost any other that springs to mind, a film that makes me want to fuckin? KILL. I hated it from the moment it started and have not stopped hating it yet. It is immediately and totally vile on every possible level.

No easy device is left unused here. Naturally, the film takes place around Christmas because that is when magic happens and people can say what they really mean to each other, and someone even says at one point, ?All I want for Christmas... is you!? (Black Christmas... Silent Night, Deadly Night... A Christmas Evil... now there are some real Chrimbo movies!) . The climax takes place during a school Nativity play in South London which, due presumably to Euclidian geometry and despite there being about twenty of them scattered around the capital., each and every main character attends. There is a 10-year-old kid who is supposedly sooo cute but who is in reality an absolutely repellent little turd (compare and contrast the sterling child performances in real films such as Magnolia or Signs and Wonders). It even ends with the ne plus ultra of lazy cinematic finales, the chase to the airport.

The performances are crap. Martin Freeman proves that all he can really do is the confused-but-likeable-everyman schtick (invaluable in The Office, pretty bloody useless here and in Hitch-Hiker?s Guide), Alan Rickman does the camp-and-bored thing he always does, Emma Thompson is as annoying as ever, and as for Huge Grunt [Hey, Anton, you ?borrowed? this from me, you cheeky sperm droplet - Ed.]... why has no-one killed him yet? Mind you, the blame here lies with Curtis - no-one has a thing to work with, since he just gets them to play the Eastenders archetypes we already know them for. McClutcheon plays Tiff from Eastenders again, a sort of plain-speaking EveryBird for foppish PM Grant to find adorable. Nighy plays the same rock-star has-been he played in Still Crazy (yet another unspeakably shitty British film - now there is a tautology for you). Colin Firth basically plays Mr Darcy, and even gets a swim in the lake! It?s rather cheeky of Curtis to claim a sole screenwriting credit here - his un-credited co-writers must surely include Jane Austen. He also includes moments that you see in every film like this: Nighy stringing a sequence of swear-words together (?bugger, fuck, arse, shit and wank? sort of thing), someone dancing silently due to feeling ballsy after doing something brave, someone silently screaming for joy as their new romantic conquest waits in the next room. As per usual, everyone lives in the luxurious flats that are completely out of the price range of most Londoners, although Curtis, seemingly stung by the ?where are the negroes" barbs flung at Notting Hill, has stuck a few black faces in Grant?s cabinet. What a fucking coward Curtis is. He?d do anything to make people like his film.

Perhaps he?d be better employed providing actual narrative drama? The relationships in this film are based on absolutely NOTHING. People meet each other, fancy each other, then get together. There are no obstacles to overcome, no struggles to be fought, none of the factors that have been mainstays (for good reasons) of romantic drama for centuries. These subplots just don?t develop. Nothing happens to make you wonder what might come next. There are no challenges. There are no (to use that dreaded you-too-can-be-a-screenwriter-guide word) arcs. There is no reason to continue watching the fucking thing, in fact. This film is so easy. It?s a whore of a film.

What plotting there is is deeply lazy and full of infeasible nonsense. After his mum?s funeral, the 10-year-old snot, apparently unfazed by his mum snuffing it, starts going onto his stepdad about being in love with a classmate, and the pain of unrequited passion. What prepubescent male ever talked like that? Then his stepdad suggests that what they need is a dose of the film Titanic. What sort of homosexual paedophile watches Titanic with a boy for God?s sake? They should be watching a violent Hollywood action movie. Later, nice PM Hugh Grant (utterly unconvincing, though it?s depressing to think that the UK electorate would probably vote him into power, a la ex-B-movie star Reagan reaching the highest office in the US) catches the US President snogging the teagirl he fancies and denounces him as a bully in a press conference. In real life this would be political suicide and an economic disaster for the UK, but here the press lauds him and he becomes a hero. How stupid do you have to be to let this stuff slip past without thinking, ?now hold on a minute...??

Stupid enough to make the Curtis target demographic, which seems to include most of the domestic market given the success of his output. His films really are the best argument for the long-overdue mandatory sterilisation of 90% of the UK?s population. The UK cinema-going public really is verminous. I loathe them... and so, it seems, does Curtis. He really thinks they are shit. Presumably not a stupid man, he feeds them lowest-common-denominator faeces and they lap it up and ask for seconds. He recycles stupid myths and stereotypes and gets away with it: for instance, in a subplot which conflates love with lust, one character heads off to the USA to get laid, because every American girl goes loopy for a Limey accent, right? (NB: I was in Boston last summer and, trust me, it?s not true) Sure enough, this ugly cunt ends up with Jack Bauer?s hottie daughter from 24 within minutes of arriving in the States. How astonishingly lazy. Yet it gets more blatant: ?In romances, people only get together at the end? says the brat at one point, Curtis pointing out to his audience how schematic his film is. He could be holding up a sign saying YOU ARE ALL THICK CUNTS. He is also quite comfortable with blatant plagiarism: one of the less awful moments has a character communicating his love via placards, an idea torn straight from the famous Subterranean Homesick Blues video. Has the audience never heard of this video? Actually, no, they probably haven?t, unless it has ever featured on Tricia or Richard And Judy. Music lovers be warned - a blasphemous use of ?God Only Knows? also features.

I have seen few supposed romances that have less to do with the actual emotion of love. By convention, the emotional payoff of a romance is the first kiss, delivered after various obstacles - self-created or imposed from outside on the characters - have been overcome and the relationship finally reaches fruition after all our waiting. Here we have no challenges. Everyone gets together arbitrarily. This film is absolute emotional pornography, full of cum shots and nothing else. And therein lies the appeal, I think. After all, my Polish paramour said that when she feels down she puts it on and feels better for the couple of hours it lasts (and sweet Jesus, does the fucker ever end? It drags on like you don?t know what!). She feels bad again after that of course, but... I know something that has a similar effect. It?s called heroin. Your life is shit, you take heroin, and your life feels nice for a few hours. Then your life is shit again. That is maybe the essence of Love Actually: filmic heroin for the desperately lonely, for those happy to be deceived and given false hope in exchange for the price of a DVD. What a disgrace that someone should have made this film. Did this man really once write Blackadder, one of the finest comedies ever to grace UK TV? Mind you, his co-writer was Ben Elton, and look what happened there... one hates to regurgitate the over-used phrase ?sell-out?, but if ever there was a justified usage of it... anyway, don?t ever watch Love Actually. It may not be the worst film ever made but it?s definitely one of the most evil. In a perfect world we?d be looking forward to the Alexandro Jodorowsky- / Gaspar Noe- / Jim Goad-penned sequel Hate Actually. Never happen of course, but I can?t help dreaming about it. I guess I?m just a romantic at heart.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

What follows here is a rambling reviews section for what would have been the Adverse Effect (Vol.III.) #3, Winter 2006/2007 Edition had it been published. Enjoy, savour, tear apart or simply ignore...

LET'S PERSECUTE SOME FUCKERS...

By Richard Johnson

One of the reasons that this edition has taken so long to put together is due to the fact I emigrated to Poland at end of August, 2005. I?ll spare you the reasons for this but, believe me, they are many and have been assisted immensely by an overwhelming sense that I was right to finally act on them. Although a part of me feels that everything is bound to go wrong, I regret not having done something like this much sooner. The opportunity certainly existed for longer than my actually doing anything about it. However, what with two children in Lincoln and plenty of other family & friends I wanted to maintain relationships with, I guess I can understand why I took so long to reach a firm decision. Returning to the original point, though, and as can be testified by the contact address for Adverse Effect even, I now reside in Krakow and relocating here probably set back a number of my commitments and plans by a few months despite, ironically, the fact I have freed up plenty of time in the process for other matters. Such is fucken life, I guess.

Needless to say, because of the move holding everything back by at least half a year, some of this edition?s content is perhaps slightly too old, but I?d contest that it?s interesting, relevant and still has its place. As ever, I find it impossible to keep up with absolutely everything sent to review, too, but I?ll resort to my usual trick of meandering through a round-up of some of the more recent arrivals, or others lost amongst the piles here, and shall at least use this opportunity to reiterate my point on the website about being grateful for most of the material which arrives and keeps fanning the flames. There?s absolutely no way I?d be otherwise able to keep up with even a fraction of it, and that?s the simple truth.

Anyway, let?s commence with the reissue of Michael Gira?s The Body Lovers/The Body Haters eponymous 2CD (Young God Records, USA, 2005). The copy I have sat before me is the web-exclusive version (I very luckily was amongst around ten people to receive this, according to Gira?s accompanying letter, which is goddam ego-nourishing to say the least...) and therefore packaged in a fine gatefold cardboard sleeve with a few extra pages inside featuring both the original and some new artwork by Nicole Boitos which is both fantastic and compliments the release perfectly. Besides the original recordings, from 1998, an extra new piece has been added especially for The Body Haters? disc here and slides alongside the array of measured noise & melancholic sound-washes beautifully. Found sounds, archive loops, fragments from Swans? live recordings, sine waves and acoustic gtrs feature throughout this largely filmic & instrumental set, as well as sound-sources by Pan Sonic, Origami Republika, Deathprod and others, creating a unique whole deserving of its own status in Gira?s expansive career. Overall, its highly-charged stuff, capable of pulling in even the toughest of hearts, and warrants nothing but the warmest attention. A standard issue in a jewel case is also available. Get the fuck to it. Visit www.younggodrecords.com for further details.

Moving on briefly from reissues to collections now, I also received the Current 93 Judas as Black Moth 2CD (Castle, 2005) and Nurse With Wound Livin? Fear of James Last 2CD (Castle, 2005) releases dedicated to overviews of work by both intended to, presumably, serve as primers for the uninitiated. Once past the relative shock of Castle Music?s endorsement, they both rather surprisingly work as solid albums in their own right and highlight the themes & threads that have run throughout their respective catalogues. With suitably loving attention to the presentation besides the content of each, they?re ideal introductions for anybody whose interest hovers by the precipice of caution and is in need of a firm shove. The Black To Comm Rückwärts Backwards CD (Dekorder, Germany, 2006), on the other hand, is the debut by Dekorder label owner, Marc Richter, and brings together eight cuts generally derived from loops sliced from old psychedelia, free jazz, vaudeville and traditional records. Field recordings, some gamelan and the occasional burst of voice treatments are then cast into the hiss-addled scuffles to weave worlds faltering between those charted by, I dunno, mebbe Pimmon, Gas and The Hafler Trio or somesuch. Delightful blankets of textures, tiny swirls and colourful passages sometimes impregnated with a hint of unease prove themselves to be a considerable distance away from the nod to MC5 that Richter, I imagine, has made with the Black To Comm moniker. On third cut, ?Lucifer Lacca?, a short vocal segment sees The Residents paying a visit but, altogether, as contemporary artists go who continue to try and blur edges, Rückwärts Backwards is well and truly amongst the front of the pack. Just a pity the muddled sleeve lets it down, really. www.dekorder.com

Although, at the time of writing, I?ve yet to see the film itself, Nick Cave & Warren Ellis? The Proposition OST CD (Mute, 2006) actually snags these two Bad Seeds on a creative impulse barely sniffed at by their main group these days. Plaintive strings, gentle strums, funereal beat throbs, near-ambient loops & piano flesh out some of the finest arrangements Cave?s smeared his name on in a number of years, whilst Ellis? violin stabs suitable shapes over the proceedings that compare well with The Dirty Three?s best work. Only Cave?s half-mumbled, half-arsed vocal contributions really slight what?s otherwise an incredible, haunting and evocative set of music, but their presence is kept to a merciful minimum. Beyond that, this work ultimately illustrates Cave isn?t quite the spent force the majority of his albums, post-The Boatman?s Call, indicate. As such, maybe he?d be better off following this curve to more logical conclusions than acting as tho? there?s still a fire blazing away in his heart elsewhere? www.mute.com

Next up is ENT?s Fuck Work CD (Baskaru, France, 2006) debut. This collects five pieces which draw heavily from improv, turntablism, electronica and some of the places sketched by Thrill Jockey?s stable crafted together by Italian duo Michele Scariot and Emanuele Bortoluzzi. Although an array of interesting sounds are teased from the palette, they mostly form a convoluted whole which lacks the power to engage emotionally. A couple of cuts, ?Eternal Plans? and ?Nothing For Money?, attempt to compensate, however, with their somewhat deeper atmospheric & rhythmic strides but, generally, Fuck Work delivers like Oval or Microstoria having had their souls sent to the North Pole for a while. I wonder if this duo realise also that their name bears similarities with a certain UK grindcore group from the ?80s, though? www.baskaru.com

Paul Bradley?s Liquid Sunset CD (Twenty Hertz, 2005) catches this prolific UK soundsmith delivering two lengthy pieces of Thomas Köner-esque shimmer ?n? hum which lap at the shores of yr mind like fronds caught in a breeze. It?s very easy to lose yrself in such music, and that?s no bad thing for my present state of mind. Bradley is also known for his collaborative work with Darren Tate and Andrew Liles and, without doubt, appears to be on to something. The pieces here breathe with a passive determination rarely found in contemporary minimalist music and have a calming effect worth letting yr imagination dance patterns over the insides of yr eyelids to. It?s almost enough to make me actually not reach for a beer today. Almost... www.twentyhertz.co.uk

According to the press release for the new album by Julie?s Haircut, After Dark, My Sweet (Homesleep, Italy, 2006), it?s a ?psychedelic masterpiece? but, bizarrely, fails to either register on any scale that Syd Barrett perhaps cast shadows over or as an album which can sit comfortably alongside, say, Marquee Moon, Blood on the Tracks, Unknown Pleasures or What?s Going On in the rock ?n? roll hall of genuine classics. Sure, it?s a sprightly affair when compared to the last dull fix of an album, bringing with it an energy impossible to put down, but the lengthy, mostly, instrumental forays don?t really fulfil any promise to move into previously uncharted regions. Everything here has been done so much better by the very same groups whose heights I suppose this Italian outfit aspire to. Can, Loop and Spacemen 3 all readily spring to mind. Equally, and rather more distressingly, Fleetwood cunting Mac, too. On top of this, Sonic Boom guests on a coupla tracks, but does little to render ?em viable listening experiences. I?m all for psychedelia if it actually kicks open some new doors, but this retro bilge just doesn?t cut it when compared to some of today?s real purveyors. Thighpaulsandra and the now defunct Coil, for example, operate(d) on a plane way outta the grasp of the hideously named Julie?s Haircut and, heck, it?s a fact that even this simple truth won?t hit home in the manner it fucken ought to. Nonetheless, if so inclined, discover more at: www.homesleepmusic.com

Far more engaging arrives the Lawrence English Happiness Will Befall CD (Crónica, Portugal, 2005) which, over six pieces comprising field recordings collected by this Australian during travels to New Zealand, Singapore, South India and within his homeland in 2004, rather magically unfurls senses barely prodded at by most of today?s electronica set. Gentle notes and textures interlock gracefully, sometimes giving way to slightly more dishevelled tones that never once upset the overall feel, and ultimately conjure up a rather plaintive air hard to argue with at this point in time. Alongside artists such as Phillip Sollmann, Eric La Casa and Minit, it?s comforting to know certain artists furrowing their way through this particular pocket of ether have a good enough handle on what they?re doing in order to avoid the usual lazy and detached crap generally witnessed. Haunting and melancholic, Happiness Will Befall proves itself to be a fine addition to Lawrence English?s already impressive catalogue of work. www.cronicaelectronica.org

Completely blasting apart my present state of cold-addled contemplation (of which, I?d love to know precisely why I?ve now had something like four shitty colds in eight months of living in Krakow next to my not having been afflicted by any in the UK for a good few years...) now, however, arrives the Guilty Connector Beats, Noise & Life CD (Planet Mu, 2006). Dr. Kohei, the Japanese hybrid ?human/noise-machine? responsible for this guise, creates Masami Akita-proportioned whorls of hallucinogenic noise on hand-made generators built from iron plates. These are then banged into colossal lava-streams of brain-fuckery before being stripped back every once in a while to short psycho-ambient bridges not, I suspect, far removed from the sounds in one?s head following a three day long Becherovka bender. Dynamics, I guess. I dunno how, on the whole, serious or committed to his cause Kohei actually is, but Beats, Noise & Life appears to subscribe to a cranked-out code only the Japanese (and, mebbe the Finnish, in their own way) can effortlessly fathom. Shades of The Hanatarash abound, perhaps, but it?s hard to resist anything with titles such as ?Nishi-Ogi Punk Waste? and ?Inokashira Park Brutality?. Well, at least today, anyway. Seven cuts total and a total running length of around 38 minutes, too. You can?t go fucken wrong. www.planet-mu.com

In much the same way I kinda lost track of Gira?s activities for a few years after the Swans disbanded (I dunno why, really, because their final show at London?s Astoria was, for me, akin to ejaculating inexorable torrents of manna over a fleet of starving female virgins), I also clumsily let my foot slip regarding Jarboe?s work. I think it may have all approximately corresponded with a period when my (ex-)wife abandoned ship and I (belatedly) began to make up for lost time in going to clubs to listen to the most brutal techno around and pulp my mind with enough chemicals to kill a few infants, tho?, but cannot really remember. On the other hand, mebbe I felt nothing either party would ever again produce could reach the very same summits the Swans scaled? Either way, the bottom line is that I ignored both for a while and even now have, unlike Gira?s work, only mostly dabbled with several of Jarboe?s releases through default rather than design. Whatever, the album I have here is some kinda collaboration/split with guitarist Niç Le Ban, titled Knight of Swords/The Beggar 2CD (Vivo, Poland, 2005) and collects a disc by each, altho? Le Ban features on Jarboe?s Knight of Swords and, quite frankly, is placed better in this setting than on his own, via the seven cuts forming The Beggar. Despite being sometimes partial to the sounds of a soul laid bare by a raw & minimalist bout of gtr strums, the songs on the latter disc seem like they need fleshing out with a few other instruments, really. The moody and pained atmosphere they evoke can?t be faulted for its sincerity, but is simply too skeletal and awkward to get hooked by. I dunno whether The Beggar falls near his other work or not, but would certainly love to hear it transported to a point where it doesn?t resemble a work in progress. By contrast, his contributions to Jarboe?s Knight of Swords offsets everything, and it?s here that I equally realise that, indeed, her own work is as enchanting as it teeming with ideas enough to keep it alive. The nine songs here, all composed & recorded with Le Ban apart from ?Knight Five?, which comprises music performed by Y. Malka and vocals by Jarboe in the Middle East, feature spectral keyboards & sounds ringing to the strains of a beast gnawing on knots of gristle dripping with melancholia. Inflected by folk?s darker waters or even, on ?Knight Four?, the kinda organ sounds many a ?60s outfit played around with, this is a mesmerising and beautiful album. And, released as a numbered and limited edition of 600, there?s even greater reason to try and nab a copy. Vivo Records, Konopnickiej 27, 18-300 Zambrów, Poland. www.vivo.pl

Very occasionally, I receive bundles of releases, old and new alike, from certain labels. More often than not, however, I can understand exactly why these people are throwing their wares at me and, to redress the balance slightly, am susceptible to similar antics myself with what?s otherwise largely dead Fourth Dimension stock (anybody new that I meet who?s so much as suggested a modicum of interest in my releases will tell you that they?ll then get handed a bunch of freebies they?d probably rather not own...). Sometimes, I?m left with a bunch of CDs that then prove to be as impenetrable as the obscure countries from which they were sent from (and, believe me, we can all live without Latvian neo-industrial music, for example...) and haven?t a clue what, precisely, I should do with ?em beyond salvaging the jewel cases for personal use and giving the contents to half-dead winos clearly in need of a mirror. At other times, however, I receive such packages from labels and am instantly blown away by what?s in store and end up wondering how come I?d been so ignorant beforehand. One such label to have had this effect on me during the past year or so is USA?s Hand/Eye, who?re dedicated to serving a fine array of modern folk and experimental artists or groups from the middle of a remote, dense and barely moonlit forest. The label has operated for well over 12 years now and began, like so many good labels, by releasing cassettes a few years before it embarked on its mission as Hand/Eye. Whatever, Timothy Renner, the man responsible for it, kindly sent me a bundle of CDs that go back a few years but represent something wholly timeless regardless. Besides a V/A Hand/Eye 2CD, which itself collects exclusive material by The Iditarod, Pelt, Drekka, Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso UFO, Martyn Bates, Stone Breath and others, and provides invaluable enough insight to the ground being stamped here, Timothy also furnished me with CDs by Stone Breath and his own alter-ego, Timothy Revelator. All of it wholesome stuff and heartily recommended to those sharing a penchant for anything from The Wicker Man OST to Renner?s own original sources of inspiration: Current 93 and Pearls Before Swine. Absolutely perfect for the winter months that you just know will return sooner than you imagine. A sister label dedicated to more traditional music, Dark Holler, is also in operation and, well, if you invest in a visit to the website, you?ll be treated to a range of jewels finer than anything to be found encrusted on any goddam crown. Write to: Hand/Eye or Dark Holler via P. O. Box 131, Glenville, PA 17329-0131, USA. www.somedarkholler.com

There?re some other equally enticing mounds of CDs and records from Alternative Tentacles and Drone sitting here as well, but I?ll have to move onto them later, if I remember. Right now, I?m too distracted by a coupla text messages I?ve just received on my shitty Polish mobile phone sent by a Krakow-based collective of ?creative?-types who really shouldn?t bother doing anything unless it involves placing shotguns to their mouths first. I dunno, I recently bought a copy of the Nathan Barley DVD, in the vain hope it?d prove itself more rewarding given a second chance and (it didn?t, by the way - Chris Morris sold himself well short by simply targeting the kinda media-types who?re easier to pull apart than soggy bread) but, regrettably, it only served to remind me that such people are absolutely everywhere. No city is safe, and that?s as glaring a fact as Bono being a self-righteous and pious streak of stale cum. Whatever, onwards and, well, possibly upwards we go...

Another label I hear from every once in a while is NYC?s fantastic dedication to many things so ?outsider? and ?underground? it?s impossible to hammer any discernible shapes into its restless soul. The imprint?s called Flipped-Out and they kindly mailed me two CD albums by lo-fi singer-songwriter Connie Acher, Love Sick Lip Service and Love Pop, which is a collaborative one by Connie Acher & Jelly. The latter spans just over 35 mins in total and encompasses fourteen vocal & acoustic guitar-anchored compositions that sway heavily and heartily near the kinda crudely-recorded contemporary skewy-folk terrain responsible for spitting out Devendra Banhart. Some cuts also favour a vaguely bluesy psych-pop feel, too, as witnessed on ?Summer?, but everything hangs nicer than a cheap Matisse print. All the way through, Acher?s voice soars like an angel?s whose heart has been bruised, lending everything an air perfect enough for all of yr regrets and reminisces. Love Sick Lip Service once more barely betrays its 4-track recorder?s roots, but shines with a slightly poppier sheen and is sprinkled with more overdubs. Nonetheless, the eighteen songs possess a purity altogether hard to find in today?s rock ?n? pop wasteland, and it?d be a crying shame if Connie Acher remained a name to barely juggle with at its very periphery on this count alone. Place in a tray somewhere near, say, Jandek and, I dunno, an even more bare-souled Cat Power and you?ll be climbing the right cabinet. Not sure when these were released exactly, but I imagine they popped out sometime during the past year or two. Flipped Out Records, P.O. Box 8656, Albany, New York 12208, USA. Email: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

By way of contrast now, Tetsu Inoue?s Yolo CD (DiN, 2006) catches the New York based composer serving up another ten intricately-woven chunks of sound built around harmonious textures, tones, glazed shimmers and microscopic details. Every track creates a fantastic space where lilting hooks and tiny plates of drifting, colourful timbres pull you helplessly along like a late night hit on some high-grade green. In fact, what I?m personally most reminded of whilst listening to this are early childhood journeys home from my grandparents? place and gazing dreamily upwards at the stars through the car?s rear window as my two brothers chattered away in the background about fuck knows what; which probably posed a similar state. Presently with over 40 albums to his name, it?s hard to imagine where exactly Inoue can still go but, somehow, different rabbits are pulled outta his hat each time. In the wrong hands, such work could so easily coast too closely to wishy-washy crud aimed at stinking, soap-dodging New Agers, but there?s too much movement in evidence and, ultimately, Yolo proves itself on so many levels that it cannot be dismissed so readily. Completely and utterly absorbing. For more information, visit: www.DiN.org.uk

Staying with virtually quieter realms for a while longer, next up is the tenth entry in the forever restless Frans de Waard & Extrapool collective?s Brombron series, Frank Bretschneider & Peter Duimelinks? fflux CD (Korm Plastics, NL, 2006). Gathering seven pieces that clock at less than 35 mins total between them, this collaborative album is the result of an idea both artists wanted to realise a long time ago but, due to other commitments, never had a chance to. Of course, both are long established and highly prolific and accomplished artists already, with Bretschneider having stamped his place on the micro-works map through his being a part of the raster-noton team and Duimelinks? own endeavours going back 20 years and spanning from co-founding THU20 to present involvement with Kapotte Muziek, Goem and, indeed, his V2_Archief label. Given all this, it?s easy to understand why fflux has taken a while but, fuck, it?s been well worth the wait. Bretschneider?s signature leanings for melodic pulses and micro-swirls are kept in check, yet magically, magnificently and somewhat lovingly are squeezed into forms well ahead of the pack. With the addition of some fluttering pops and tics, plus neatly measured rhythm blocks more often associated with Goem?s work, also lending a fairly pronounced air to the proceedings, the album comes off as a pretty unique move forward for the genre. Respect fucking due. www.kormplastics.nl.

More rambling muck of this nature to follow in due course...

Dear Richo,

Just to inform you that I received the new Adverse Effect. Presentation is second to none. The TNB ad is fine. Good to see the Peter Hammill interview. At the height of punk he, along with Neil Young, was one of the few artists it was OK to admit to liking. Have you heard Vasilisk's rendition of 'The Ritual Mask'?

Also, I was surprised to hear that Whitehouse were featured on Radio 1 (although it isn't the first time William has appeared on Radio 1 - John Peel regularly played Essential Logic in the late '70s).

Several (final) TNB (and related) releases due soon incl.:
TNB/Coil/Vortex Campaign 'The Melancholy Mad Tenant' CD (Black Rose)
TNB/Thurston Moore/Jim O'Rourke LP (Ecstatic Peace) / CD (Hospital Prod.)
'Viva Negativa! - A Tribute To The New Blockaders' incl. Kraang, Nocturnal Emissions, Scanner, V/Vm, srmeixner, Asmus Tietchens, RLW, Achim Wollscheid, MB, Zbigniew Karkowski, Christian Renou, Pita Rehberg, Schimpfluch Gruppe, Thurston Moore, Jim O'Rourke, z'ev, Emil Beaulieau, The Haters, Daniel Menche, Damion Romero, John Wiese, Wolf Eyes, Merzbow, Incapacitants, Aube, MSBR, etc.

Regards!

Richard Rupenus, The New Blockaders, via email

Glad you liked the mag and PH interview. Although punk was responsible for igniting my own music interests, I still believe it?s a pity, in hindsight, that it also closed a lot of doors on many groups and artists whose own work only gor re-evaluated and accepted again years later. I guess we all live and learn, though. And, on that note, it?s probably about time the Sensational Alex Harvey Band also received some kinda overview in these pages. Any takers for the task...? ? Ed.

Richo,

Thanx for yr words on (the) Slugfuckers Cds... one of the few who got things spot on! I'll send you some new crap soon...

Steve Underwood, Harbinger Sound, via email

Well, fuck, it?s about time I got something right around here.

Dear Richo,

Thanks for the ? , which I?m still reading. Plenty to think about in there, tho? by and large the music covered isn?t my kinda thing.

I noticed you are flogging a copy of the Remora CD in your secondhand list. Once again you embarrass me with your praise for what is, for the most part, a cobbled-together piece of rubbish. Ok, the first track has a fairly nice spooky atmosphere (but who needs spooky?), then you have to jump to the last two tracks to find anything half-decent. Even then, the last track is too long, the whole shebang is badly mixed, poorly recorded and in summation I wish I?d never sanctioned its release. Really, your comments in ? about the never-ending deluge of crap CDs and CDRs is spot on (so much for the democratization of music-making!) and, I?m ashamed to admit, my small pile is as bad as the rest. Of all the hours and hours of recording I?ve done, I?ve only been able to compile one 60 minute CDR of ok stuff (not great, just ok, mind). So I doubt I?ll be contributing much more to the dungheap that is culture.

Best of luck with your move to Poland.

Ian Middleton, Alva, Scotland

In defense of both my own opinion of your debut CD and my general judgment, I stand by absolutely everything noted. I think you feel the same way about your own recordings as many other artists do about theirs. I mean, fuck, I?ve been there myself (and with good reason in the case of some of my own musical endeavours!) and, furthermore, am very quick to pull apart every single edition of Adverse Effect before anybody else has even seen it. Glaringly obvious mistakes make it through every fucking time, plus I am never entirely content with it, anyway, and often wonder why the fuck I bother with something which appears to have very little ?point?. I touched upon this in the last edition?s editorial but, just to reiterate, I don?t think fucking anything has a real ?point?, either! The fact is, Ian, I personally believe some of the sonic landscapes you have painted over the years are good enough to warrant whatever attention I can help bring to them. If you, or anybody else, has a problem with that, then it?s clear that Adverse Effect?s own purpose has been lost... ? Ed.

Dear Richo,

Many thanks for Adverse Effect. Most enjoyable. The Peter Hammill [interview] was top hole. In the ?70s, I was a big Van der Graaf Generator fan. Pawn Hearts is my favourite VdGG LP. I don?t know anything at all of his solo work, tho?. Awesome read...

I liked the Whitehouse [piece] as well. Very interesting.

On the whole, a great read and it?s good that you?re still hard at it.
Myself, I?m still busy with my new Dark Corridor tape, called Near Ethos. I will send you a copy.

Thanks again,

Steve Snelling, Dark Corridor

The Dark Corridor play kinda grubby psych-swirl-via-ATV and have so far released a few cassettes packaged like the past two decades haven?t happened. Write to them at the following address if interested: 246 Lime House, Harper Lane, Radlett, Nr. Shenley, Herts.,WD7 9HQ. Or you can email them at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it - Ed.

Dear Richo,

I?ve just bought your magazine, AE Vol.III. #2. What a great extreme view mag [Huh?! Are you sure you picked up the right magazine...?! - Ed.].

May I say that I am a goth [Oh boy, here we go... - Ed.], but one with an extreme difference [Ouch, that word again! Don?t tell me that yr favourite group is The Lighthouse Family?! Now THAT would be pretty ?extreme? for a ?goth?...! - Ed.]. I don?t like all the self harm / ridiculous side of the fashion [Doesn?t really leave much left then, does it? - Ed.]. Can?t stand the white make-up / black eyeliner / eye shadow / black lipstick tossers. I also hate piercings too. Why are there more stupid lesbian goths about now [And that?s just the men, I presume...?! - Ed.]? I?m into it for music, art, literature, poetry, photography and the subjects that make ?normal? society become ignorant towards [I have no idea what you are going on about - Ed.].

I would like to place a 15-25 word advert in AE at some stage. I?m just seeking unworldly dark gods / goddesses who detest ?normal? society and their ways [sic]. Not everyone takes drugs, gets drunk and lives a self-destructive lifestyle [You are definitely reading the wrong mag, pal, because they certainly do around here! Ah, but we?re not goths, tho? - Ed.]. Some of us can be profound without the dope & spliffs, etc. [As we can clearly see! - Ed.].

I?m trying to find stuff by Strawberry Switchblade. Possibly their Best of... compilation. I?m also after a lot of early ?80s flange bass stuff. I?d love to hear Furniture, UV Pop, Kissing The Pink, Blue Zoo and Lotus Eaters. And what Current 93 would be best for me to go for, as a first-time listener? Possibly I heard them way back in 1983/1984 or so. Possibly.

Sadly, I don?t have access to the internet, so I need postal addresses please. I?m also seeking The Passions on CD, too.

I write a lot of epilogues and create weird / eerie music [I fucken bet it is as well - Ed.]. How about feeding a synth through a flange pedal [Yeah, fuck, THAT?s pretty weird! - Ed.]? Probably been done before [No, surely not...?! - Ed.]. I?ve been trying to find creative gothic female musicians [With or without all that ?cadaver stylee? make-up? - Ed.], but haven?t found any yet.

Here is a cool band I highly recommend: Lycia. They?re from America [I had the misfortune of hearing ?em a number of years ago, actually. Fucken diabolical... - Ed.].

Please write back soon. Send me info. on your next issue, etc.

Yours sincerely,

Raven Heart, Oswestry, Shropshire.

Is this letter for real? Jeez! It?s comforting to know that cunts far more sad than myself exist, anyway... ? Ed.

Hi Richo,

Enjoyed the latest AE. Mark Ramsden had more interesting things to say than most musicians, I guess. It?s true you?ll end up in some very bad places if you type Peter Sotos into a search engine - e.g., checking out copies of his first editions at ?200 a throw on eBay, ha ha. The list by Nathan Barley from The Horse Hospital [Unfair! However, I?ll come to that later - Ed.] made me happy again that I don?t live in London or have anything to do with that world...fascinating to read Paul Bradley?s memories of trying to be in a rock band. I can sympathise with him entirely. The drummer who?s there because he owns a drum kit...the gormless alcoholic bassist [It?s all beginning to remind me of Splintered! - Ed.], ?one of the lads?...the guitarist and lead singer vying neck-and-neck in the talentlessness & egomania [Yup, it?s definitely my last group! - Ed.]...Steve Stapleton was right about Spinal Tap being straight social realism! Then again, I?ve found it a real challenge trying to get something fresh out of the rigidly conservative format of the ?rock band?. I?ve only ever created formless mediocre noise when all the rules are thrown out.

Enclosed a disc of Hobs singles which might accompany a cheap Merlot (totally with you re: wine snobs). I only got this pressed so I could hear some of these tracks clearly myself, rather than on crappy GZ Czech vinyl pressings. Did you know that in all probability worldwide vinyl pressings will end by 2009? They?re running out of the petrochemical byproduct it?s made from...

All the best for now,

Simon Morris, The Ceramic Hobs, Blackpool.

Hopefully there will be fewer crappy rock groups inflicting vinyl versions of their mundane albums on us in 2009, anyway...?! Otherwise, have to defend James B. Hollands and The Horse Hospital as being, mostly, leagues away from both the kinda trustafarians prone to running or hanging out in such places in London and, indeed, the world depicted in Chris Morris? disappointing TV series, Nathan Barley. Morris is capable of finding far better targets than trendy fucknuts who think they?re important because they work in the media or claim to be ?artists? or ?creative?. He could have gunned those bastards down in a 5 minute sketch. Whatever, getting back to the point, The Horse Hospital honestly ain?t like that. It?s a real anomaly and, as such, deserves our encouragement. ? Ed.

Hey Richo,

Good to hear from you! What prompted your move to Krakow? Can you still set the tap water on fire? Is the nuke plant still conveniently located downtown? Do John Paul II jokes go over well? [I wish! Sheesh, one can?t comment on his fantastic contribution to Africa?s AIDS crisis without even a supposedly liberal-minded type grabbing some ammo in defense of the country?s late ?n? dearly beloved ?saviour? - Ed.]

Anyway, here?s a few of our latest; which of course I hope you dig. How fitting to release an EAR [LP] on Lumberton Trading Co. I?m definitely open to checking out the other stuff too. I?m way behind on Polish music [And, rather ironically, Polish music is mostly way behind! - Ed.]. Polish hardcore finds its way over here, but the last Polish band that really broke the mould and blew me away was Brygada Kryzys!

So, any unusual Polish sounds you have laying around are welcome.

Hope all?s well for you and yours.

Burning bushes,

Jello Biafra, Alternative Tentacles, USA

Krakow? I think it should be renamed Krapow, going by the amount of dog shit lining the pavements around here. Otherwise, well done, sir, for spotting the source for the LTCo label name. Some Polish music will be comin? yr way soon! ? Ed.

Please note that all emails and correspondence sent to Adverse Effect, Fourth Dimension, Richo or any of his other endeavours may well end up here. If it?s that much of a problem, simply don?t write and, well, leave me alone. Thanks.