Let's start by saying: "concrete music for concrete people!" and even if it's not that much it will give you an idea of what you're going to listen. Claudio Rocchetti comes from Italy and is one of the most interesting, active and above all personal musicians of the "experimental jet set" (check his website). If on his solo debut the most of the song had a sort of framework constantly manipulated according to Claudio's will, on "I could go on singing" the musician plays much more patiently with noises and silence. If on his previous record Mr. Rocchetti could remind the collection "Cinema pour l'oreille" that came out on Metamkine, this 3" reveals he's much closer to the musical ideas that belonged to John Cage. Field-recordings, audiocassette, turntables (the real power point of his live performances), radio, objects, mouth dosed wisely like every expert "chef" should, therefore if you're looking or something noisy and chaotic that's not your cup of tea. Both of the songs have a rare gentle taste which many concrete musician are lacking nowadays, this work could be listed in the dictionary among the definitions for "self control".

Jernej Marusic is back. He released his first album "Idei Lahesna" back in 2002 for Technika and three years after, VARIATIONS sees its release for the new label Rx : Tx. Divided into eleven different movements VARIATIONS is a blend of ambient dub, techno and even hip hop music (even if the influence is really light), where asymmetric rhythms duet with long pad sounds. The base idea behind VARIATIONS is that in nature there aren't two identical things. Applicated to music the concept create a flux of sounds and rhythms that change continually: is like creating a living creature out of synthetic instruments and recording his breath. Musically the album could be hard to be enjoyed by an occasional listener because of its experimental nature but if you are into the genre, you could dig the magmatic glitch effect of Jernej's music.

Avant-jazz quartet Etron Fou Leloublan seem to represent a legacy of sorts. Apparently part of a movement called "Rock In Opposition" (RIO), EFL existed and toured extensively in the United States and all over Europe in the early 1980s. This CD, Les Sillons de la Terre ("The Furrows of the Earth") is the re-release of their penultimate recording in 1983. The band had swapped talent among the likes of Fred Frith, who produced their prior album, Les Poumons Gonflés. I don't think it would be at all a stretch to say that EFL utlimately came to serve as a bridge from classic French pop and film music of the 1960s and '70s to the neo-retro-lounge stylings of Stereolab and Air. As far as I can tell, the avant scene they came from may not have been an isolated occurrence in recent musical history. Les Sillons sounds like genuine black-beret-wearing-existential-poetry-reading music, folks, and about half of the songs contain poetic platitudes loudly intoned all in French by either Ferdinand Richard (bass), Jo Thirion (piano and organ), or Guigou Chenevier (drums and tenor sax), in place of lyrics per se. Whether the songs be about a bathroom sink, people from Alsace, or Guigou's childhood, they are a fun opportunity to dust off that French dictionary you haven't used since high school. This provocatively upbeat recording would also go perfectly well with a trip to the beach with a bottle of your favorite cabernet, or perhaps a round of the Milles Bournes card game with your postmodernist philosopher buddies. Oui, I say.

Though I'm awfully late at reviewing it, this excellent work was the final one in the first series of eps from Cold Blue, and possibly it was not a casual choice - if Jim Fox's "The city the wind swept away" evoked departure and long goodbyes, Peters' four-track cd is like an embrace - like finding a shelter, indeed, or being warmed by recollections. Originally written in 1997 for Lane Lucas' dance and theater work "Shelter", it features "Three short stories" where Alicia Ultan's multiple violas recordings create slowly drifting textures, while in "My burning skin to sleep" Peters' sparse piano touches and Marghreta Cordero's painfully beautiful vocals lull you to a state of suspension and wonder. In his long career, the composer has used very different idioms and means (from Gamelan to field recordings to found objects to installations), but maybe this represents his art at its most intimate.

For most new listeners of experimental music that is classical in instrumentation and structure, Emily Hay is like no other artist you have ever heard before. Her new CD, Like Minds, is a tour de force of voice and flute laid over percussion and a small orchestra of instruments ranging from bass to brass and woodwinds to "electronics" and "field recordings." When I say "voice," by the way, I mean that she uses her voice purely as an instrument: animal growls, yelps and clacks, baby talk, gutteral rumblings and other utterances, occasionally followed by classical operatic passages to temper the mix. Now, it's quite a lot to get used to, and it's by no means your typical EBM thud, but it's serious avant-modern-classical music made FUN, okay? Just listen: the opener, "Call to Unarm," evokes a primitive, deep jungle-y atmosphere. The aforementioned percussion and flute take center stage, while her vocals only subtly jut out of the mostly free-form musical tapestry. But her singing jumps out into full prominence on track number 6, "We Are"--pre-verbal, glossolalic vocalizing, sung rhythmically and staccatto to the instrumentation. On "Waiting for Sara," track 10, her vocals even sound sexual--especially if you expand that particular thought balloon to include feline as well as human interplay. Track number 8, "Wha' 'Bout," features cool background samples--a hint of machinery shadowing the acoustic drumming. The second and last tracks have (respectively) my favorite tonal and chordal structures on the disc: "Liturgy of Sound" is echoey and dreary, and "Swamp Moss" is simply bluesy, with hypnotic, droning guitar twang.

The tracks for Like Minds were recorded all over southern California between 1994 and last year, in both live and studio situations. I, who also live here in La-La land, am starting to wonder what could possibly have kept me from attending an Emily Hay performance, aside from sheer obliviousness to my surroundings. And on top of all that talent, she's a high-flying music law professional who could pass for your average So. Cal. surf babe (blonde and pretty, that is.) Anyone who can't dig such an unbeatable combination doesn't know what the word "fun" means.