Altered Zones

[All photos by Erez Avissar and Erik Liam Sanchez]

Altered Zones is proud to present some photo memories of our unofficial CMJ showcase at the New Museum last Saturday:

Dive

MP3: Light Asylum: "Dark Allies"

MP3: Prince Rama: "Rest In Peace"

MP3: Xeno & Oaklander: "Sets & Lights"

MP3: Teengirl Fantasy: "Portofino"

MP3: Forma: "FORMA237"

MP3: Eric Copeland: "Krankendudel"

Nis Bysted, Nis Sigurdsson, Anders Jørgen Mogensen, and Andreas Hauer-Jensen have been quietly releasing albums and promoting shows in their hometown of Copenhagen since 2005. Escho, the label they founded together, takes its name from a made-up word that Bysted spraypainted on Sigurdsson's wall six years ago, essentially slang for "ultra," "extra," or "super" (examples: "I was escho mad." Or, "it was escho not cool when you puked all over my limited edition 88 Boadrum poncho.") The imprint began putting out records by Scandinavian bands that were popular exclusively in their native lands (my favorite unpronounceables include Gæoudji Sygnok and Düreforsög), but has since found international acclaim with releases from Iceage and Black Dice's Eric Copeland (both of which were Zoned In), and even earned a nod in Artforum's "Best of 2010" feature last year. During a brief stint in Denmark's capital back in June, while covering Iceage's DANISH PUNK FUCK YOU showcase at the Distortion Fest, I sat down with Anders Jørgen Mogensen for a chat. The label had just hosted a DIY pop-up show in an alleyway for "Sleepy" Doug Shaw of Gang Gang Dance's solo project, Highlife, and we spoke about throwing shows, the Copenhagen scene, and Escho's beginnings.

AZ: Tell me about how Escho began.

Anders: We were all musicians and in a strange phase creatively. There were so many of our friends who had recorded records that they couldn't put out. We were big fans of Gang Gang Dance, and we couldn't get any venues to put them on, so we just started a venue ourselves. After booking shows, one of our friends-- T.S. Høeg, who was a jazz musician, in his fifties-- said, "I got some money from the state to do a record. You can just have the record, use the funding I got, and put money into the company." He was actually part of the first punk generation of the late '70s.

We didn't have any distribution or anything. We rode around on our bikes, asking record shops if they wanted to sell our things. And they said "Yes," because even though it was only six years ago, things were different for record labels. That was the first time for us; it was very different then. [Then] a lot of small record companies started surfacing and people started putting out a lot of music, but people weren’t buying records anymore. With the Iceage seven-inches, we went around to stores and just gave them away.

By Michael C. Powell

Black Dice are often considered the noise band for people who like pop music, cresting with their chromatic 2004 effort, Creature Comforts. While dissonant and structurally fluid, the trio's music was striking for its warmth and a playfulness, qualities widely missing from the power electronics scene of the early aughts. With his solo project, Eric Copeland takes the opposite approach, creating pop music for the noise kids. His 2007, Paw Tracks-released Hermaphrodite album combined discernible synth melodies with frenzied freeform thrash, and Copeland hasn't turned back since.

His latest full-length, Waco Taco Combo, picks up where 2009's Alien in a Garbage Dump left off, albeit with a more tuneful ear. While retaining the disorienting effects of his more cacophonic earlier work, the vaporous pastiche of extraterrestrial dance rhythms and destroyed dub see Copeland at his most accessible yet. No, you won't find any verses, choruses, or hummable melodies on Waco Taco Combo, but you'd be hard pressed not to bob your head to booty bass summoner "Krankendude," or the wobbly, warped jazz groove he lays down on album opener "Land of Foot." Warbug" brings into focus a truly mischievous chopped and screwed psych-out, while the live version of "Beatlemania" conjures a tightly wound dance hit poised to shut the club down.

Of course, Copeland still indulges in wild experimentation, especially toward the record's final lap. "Wao Taor Condos" propels demented, woozy beats over a bed of creaking static. The 17-minute, kaleidoscopic musique concrète of "Spangled" closes up shop-- a cohesive medley of song sketches, murky half-bangers, and field recordings of street sound he captured while assembling the album during a six-week stint in Copenhagen. Though Copeland has not completely eschewed his noise roots, Waco Taco Combo is unequivocally his most song-oriented work yet. Headphone-rattling rhythmic intensity à la Growing and Excepter are a new priority this go-round, but sculpting dense and subtly wonked soundscapes is still job one for this spirit warrior.