a r t i s t : Transmission
t i t l e : st
d a t e : 2006
l a b e l : Table of the Elements
g e n r e : Avantgarde
r l s. d a t e : Dec/2006
t r a c k s : 06
b i t r a t e : VBRkbps
s i z e : 34,5 MB
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Transmission is a suitable handle for the exotic, archival
smudges left behind by monster drummer Jonathan Kane and
Franco-Tunisian visual artist and sax player Daniel
Galliduani. Resuscitated by Table of the ElementsÆ ôrock
imprintö Radium, the pairÆs previously unreleased recordings
suggest alien broadcasts as well as the rattling metal innards
of a large, gas-guzzling automobile.
Transmission resided on the fringes of post-no wave Manhattan
from 1981 until 1983, both before and after Michael Gira
recruited its personnel for the original lineup of his nascent
demolition squad Swans. But aside from sharing a loud,
slightly macho vibe, the duo sounds markedly different than
the better-known band into which it was absorbed. Roaming free
on its own terms, GalliduaniÆs tenor dominates the proceedings
like an enervated, mechanized pachyderm. ItÆs quite a shock
compared to his parenthetical performance on SwansÆ tentative
debut 12ö, where his contributions were edited and mixed away
into a relatively anemic background whirl.
Rampaging in a manner that evokes North African trance
orchestras, South Seas cannibal rituals and a chorus of
pissed-off, 300-pound jazzbos, Transmission reveals Galliduani
as an unheralded colossus of molten horn action. (The guy even
went so far as to spray-paint his instrument black.) From the
sustained, tugboat-meets-traffic jam groan of the opening
ôFireballö to the staccato, guitar-simulating chug that
carries ôBattlecry,ô he camouflages and super-sizes his bleats
using a stockpile of harmonizers, delay pedals and assorted
sci-fi effects. Galliduani comes totally unhinged during the
locomotive finale ôPower Stationsö: He grabs a microphone and
bays the songÆs title through his patented amplification
system, channeling some lunatic, futuristic scat singer.
In sharp contrast to the sleek propulsion of his
collaborations with Rhys Chatham or the slow, bluesy grooves
of his recent solo efforts, Kane responds with ecstatic, tom
tom-crazed percussion that references immense taiko-style
thuds, military-industrial marches and sub-Saharan tribal
celebrations. As always, his obvious virtuosity never
overshadows his commitment to brute force.
Though itÆs not nearly as monumental as SwansÆ 1983 Filth LP
or KaneÆs 2005 album February, the Transmission EP is a choice
little chunk of downtown history. This cross-cultural, urban-
primitive relic û which could have only been spawned in early
-Æ80s NYC û stands as an inventive and joyously pugilistic
footnote that radically redefines the designation ôworldbeat.ö
Which in this case means beating world music to a bloody pulp.
(http://www.dustedmagazine.com/reviews/3265)
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01-Fireball [04:21]
02-South Wind [03:45]
03-With Dawn [03:04]
04-Battlecry [04:30]
05-Surrender [02:14]
06-Power Stations [04:27]
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22:21 min