Egzotigenijalno.
kaboomkaravan.wordpress.com/
Imagine music by René Magritte, arranged by Max Ernst and played at a
carnival of lost souls...heard on the wind...from a distance...
...a kind of mystical masterpiece...a mirage flickering on the far
horizon of an imaginary land...or in the case of Sardonis, an island
dreamt up by Les Baxter...
...strings plucked, bowed and strummed form somnolent rhythms and waves
of sound...sending the listener into a waking dream state where what is
barely heard exerts a mesmerising kind of power...
...musique liquide...fantastical, morose, whimsical...wherein a lone
trumpet or saxophone may meander...and the spirit of old-time
finger-clicking Jazz and 'boom-ba-doom' vocals almost collapse,
disappearing into the ether...
...electro-acoustic alchemy awash with submerged voices, strange strings and unnameable things that creak and groan in the night...
...like folk forms from a bygone future...
...playful & plaintive...
...a soundtrack for the film in your head that's filled with fantasmagorical sights and sounds...disturbing and delightful...- includemeout2.blogspot.de/
...electro-acoustic alchemy awash with submerged voices, strange strings and unnameable things that creak and groan in the night...
...like folk forms from a bygone future...
...playful & plaintive...
...a soundtrack for the film in your head that's filled with fantasmagorical sights and sounds...disturbing and delightful...- includemeout2.blogspot.de/
An issue of life cycle diminishing through an excess of sensory data, the limiting applied to events, and their timespans conducive of finding a true ideal point from where connection is activated and severed…often this is ushered by leftfield thought from formulae. Kabooom Karavan’s creator Bram Bosteels applies leftfield thinking to the noir-laden Modern Classical template with a revolving counterpoint aesthetic. As if dumbbell-heavy clouds of noise are weighing down the aural minefield. And it’s a minefield with many explosive moments.
“Kolik” commences proceedings with an ominous saxophone/violin hybrid timbre cloud, blending instruments so they become extensions of a further field. The mood is one of relinquished abandon, building layer upon layer of textural weight before, at 2:30, introducing an undercutting bass morsel to poke at the forefront. Its effects on the listener beckon a Machinefabriek-esque toxicology to membrane and memory combined, setting up a captivating album worthy of much more than journalistic hyperbole.
“Omsk” starts with primitive chanting sounds and a rhythmic orienteering befitting the most abrasive The Thing. Jazzy chords and demonic bass quakes ripple at the surface while sparks of sarky violin jabs at the inner core. The implemented touchstone is something akin to shrugged off paralysis that scary music can bring. And this is a scary record, no two ways about it. But it’s also one of much beauty, an inversion of stasis that carries with it charm and fortitude of delivery.
“Kipkap” is the first piece to integrate the acoustic guitar, and slack strumming ain’t hay here. Chanting akin to the Flamenco tradition adorns the repetitive figure and surfeits of saxophone keys sound out the overall picture like a Jazz cafe with saints of the brotherhood. Melody rides on two chords with snippets of noise from other instruments, whereas “Lovzar” straddles greater heights of imperfect solemnity, forever looking for improvement on its own axis. The acoustic gently plays away to itself over a resonant slumber tide, vocal samples permeating its relationship with gravity, with looking upward and even around to other things in the room.
“Kartoon Kannibal” begins with a bright vista of beats sounding like filling up a glass of juice. The atmosphere is impregnated by a specific tension that wraps its way into and over your ears, a poison dart of much salvation. Loud vocal judderings leap out at the listener in a frantic yet constrained joie de vivre, panting by the end as if time has swallowed its own larynx. “Barbaroi” starts in the same way that the last contained its succor with lower volume. It’s very busy but at the same time absolved of any responsibility to do anything, which makes the trolley-like percussion movement and saxophone progressions more poignant when they happen. Sharper sounds intrude later, and the percussion builds its artillery to a resonant matrix.
“En Avant !” is the jolliest of all tunes here, working in vocal samples of children playing and a party popper centred horn sound. Oompah-loompah bass meanders a story it told oneself earlier, blending into “The A Theme” with a virtue to survive a creepy, earth-searing joy. This time the electric guitar is the driving instrument, bobbing through interwoven passages of Jazz swing drums and mesmerising leitmotifs. Saxophone is again an auxiliary function that makes its mark on the record in another incarnation.
“Sardonis” shapes up as the most electronically minded of all the works on the album, bouncing like Amon Tobin’s “Four Ton Mantis” to a sprightly percussive diablo and high contrast reams of neo-classical glitter. Drum machine flickers syncopate the rhythm section and supplement the textural base with an underpinning melodic furore. Last piece “MIss Okee” is the really emotionally grounded tune on the LP, coming off somewhere between Brian Eno, Roger Eno, Daniel Lanois and Svarte Greiner for execution of a lavish, all the same dark tendril of bass synth exploration. Train track percussion – percussion once more – takes the hearer to a destination far off from the mainstream auditoriums, into a cavernous space full of wonder.
“Hokus Fokus” is a magical recording, sure to please and satiate the open-minded doom-mongers and shadier characters of the world, but also transcend this audience by sheer depth of material. Undoubtedly recommendable, and another release for Miasmah with all the stops pulled out! - Mick Buckingham
www.fluid-radio.co.uk/
The good folks at Miasmah are set to release yet another incredibly moody, exquisitely detailed album, this time by Kaboom Karavan. It’s called Hokus Fokus and sees Bram Bosteel amplifying the surreal and filmic qualities of his music, evoking both terror and immersion with structural suspense and textural versatility. The album sounds aggressively modern, with its interplay between abstraction and narrative, but it also sounds anachronistic at times, with the creepy Kreng-like atmospherics heading straight into a pre-WWII smokehouse of clunky Tom Waits rhythms and sinister vaudeville theatrics. - www.tinymixtapes.com/
An album by a frequent Kreng collaborator, mastered by Nils Frahm? Forget dragons, locusts and blood, the apocalypse has officially arrived. On a less important note, Frahm has just cemented his status as the Kevin Bacon of instrumental music. Combine this with the invitation from Belgium’s Bram Bosteels (Kaboom Karavan) to sing along with the first single, and one realizes that this is going to be one of the most original and oddly (make that very oddly) experimental albums of the year. Doh doh doh doh doh doh. I’m trying to sing along. Is that really a slowed-down Tom Waits, or was that just a press metaphor? If so, it was a good one.
While Hokus Fokus is already the second disc of the season (on the heels of Deathrowradio’s Yummy) to reference Focus’ “Hocus Pocus”, it’s the first one to do so intentionally (or so we believe). That progressive track was primarily instrumental, save for the yodeling, which fits in nicely with Kaboom Karavan’s eclectic approach. What is that morose, yet grinning creature on the front cover, who appears to have an ear trumpet, a cape and a didgeridoo? He’s scary, yet fun, a lot like the album, which contains multiple access points, unlike Bosteels’ 2011 album, Barra Barra. Easy enough to fall in, but how deep does that hole go? And can one get out?
At various points on the disc, we hear saxophone, kazoo (or demented flute), parrots, monkeys (we’re only guessing here), old records, static charges, and the sound of laughter (does anybody remember laughter?). Someone’s having us on, and we love it. This is the sort of album that spoils us for other albums, because we know that after we listen, we’re going to have to return to a less creative world. How did Alice feel when she returned from Wonderland? Or the children who crawled through the cupboard? First charged, then melancholic, and finally bored. Bosteels wants us to do a jig, walk a tightrope, hop a train. The world is bigger, more mysterious, and more fun than what we know. Five tracks later, I’m still trying to sing along. Badoom, badoom. Rhymes with kaboom. Coincidence?
“KipKap” may be a single, but for whom? For those who follow the night circus. For the magician’s assistant, who really shouldn’t touch that – oh, too late. Now we’ll need another assistant. The guy with the didgeridoo looks available. Or perhaps he’s used some flypaper to catch the sounds of the orchestra tuning, then rolled it up and disguised it with candy cane paint. One would never suspect. Hokus fokus ~ listen carefully and you can still hear those elusive notes, struggling to escape. You must admit, it’s a clever way to capture them, traveling at 340 m/s. The drum rolls are quick, but the caped creature is even quicker. He knows he’s a superhero, and perhaps that’s why he’s grinning. - Richard Allen
"Brick Mask manages to capture the combined elements of
post-everything doom-metal where each musician uniquely represents
his own aesthetic in sound, while managing to seamlessly blend the
output into one single stream of consciousness" - Headphone
Commute
With Kaboom Karavan it's hard to know quite where to start – the Belgian collective led by Bram Bosteels have a history in theatre, film and contemporary dance, but that doesn't really help shine a light on their music. They have collaborated with musicians all over the world including Miasmah's very own Kreng, and released a debut album on Mexico's Umlo imprint, but again this probably only gives a small indicator of what the collective actually sound like. There is something effortlessly surreal about the band, and surrealism is an aspect of art often attempted and very rarely perfected. Here Bosteels abuses his choice of instruments (and players) to the point where the listener would barely be able to place which instruments were being used at all, in fact at times you'd be hard pressed even to place what sort of music it was. Through a haze of pizzicato strings, clouds of sullen reverberation and clamorous percussion you get the feeling that you have been catapulted into a universe just outside of perception; somewhere cold and unforgiving where regularity is turned upside down just to toy with our strict ideas of reality. Jazz and Dadaism might be the cornerstones of 'Barra Barra' but these disparate influences are twisted and melted beyond recognition leaving only remnants on the finished product.
'Barra Barra' is a complex album which takes patience to navigate through; you could hear the German clanking pre-industrialism of Einsturzende Neubauten, the slow brooding doom of Bohren & Der Club of Gore and the stuttering abstraction of Black To Comm yet it still feels fresh and distinctly current. Unusually the most fitting comparison might be the work of the Brothers Quay, as the ticking, creaking, stuttering songs feel perfectly matched with these flickering, haunted images. This is what makes the album such an appropriate addition to the Miasmah canon, and one that will haunt your dreams (and nightmares) for months to come. - www.miasmah.com/
Kaboom Karavan is the working moniker of Belgian Bram Bosteels, and true to Miasmah's unshakable form he conjures dense and beautiful soundtracks to lost reels of flickering cinematic weirdness from the embers of Eastern European cinema and Gallic surrealism. Bosteels has been at this for a while too, and has his scraping soundtracks perfectly in check - they never get overwhelming or drift into self indulgence, instead constructing small vignettes, odes to puppetry and the Grand Guignol. There is a sense that Bosteels may have grown up just around the corner from a carnival that's seen better days; his creepy horns and scraped steel strings could almost hold up an old Big Top, with the wretched abominations that weave their way throughout 'Bara Bara' stepping out from the wreckage of its sideshow. The album could almost be linked to the clamorous pre-industrial stylings of German pioneers Einsturzende Neubauten; their deep, influential signature works as a sort of anchor for the material. 'Bara Bara' never gets too electronic, or overly processed, but the themes are there and the echoes of industrial music are unmistakable, emphasising its Dadaist soul, coughing up piece after piece of dilapidated, rusted scrap. We are blessed with the task of picking up the pieces, enjoying another slice of essential, beautiful and slightly creepy weirdness from Miasmah. Recommended. - boomkat
If you haven’t been properly spooked by the previously reviewed Grimoire from Kreng, well perhaps this little gem will do the trick. At times borderline creepy, the hair-raising screeching howls of Kaboom Karavan convey an atmosphere already painted on its cover (courtesy of the label’s head, Erik K Skodvin): an unidentifiable feathered being, with a dark hooded head and piercing (human) eyes stares back at us from its outlined tree-dwelling.
There are, however, more than just a few similarities with Kreng. Kaboom Karavan is also from Belgium (what are they drinking there?) and has a background in theatre, film and contemporary dance. So it’s not a surprise that this collective, led by Bram Bosteels, previously collaborated with Kreng. On their sophomore album, Barra Barra, instruments spring forth beyond their orchestral constrains, wiggle and wail in angst, as if obstructed by their players. Organic sounds are writhed and bent beyond their recognizable framework.
“Through a haze of pizzicato strings, clouds of sullen reverberation and clamorous percussion you get the feeling that you have been catapulted into a universe just outside of perception; somewhere cold and unforgiving where regularity is turned upside down just to toy with our strict ideas of reality.”
Slowly lurking beneath peripheral sensations, the music of the album is fitting for a haunting dream and a terrifying nightmare. Something is shifting, clanking, breathing, and scratching above the surface of your ear canal, threatening to crawl in and occupy your awareness with its foul and vile essence. Be sure to check out Kaboom Karavan’s previous release on Mexican label, Umor Rex, titled Short Walk With Olaf (2007). I highly recommend you listen to Barra Barra with all the lights on. I claim no responsibility otherwise. A great find for Miasmah! - reviews.headphonecommute.com/
On Barra Barra,
Kaboom Karavan distill generous portions of poetry and horror, weaving
them tightly into the fabric of each track until they become almost
indiscernible from one another. Their
soundscapes, built from acoustic instruments, found sounds and
electronics, are twisted little formations, often fairly minimal, yet
extremely complex and intricate. Out of distorted instrumentation and
broken sound collages occasionally escapes fragments of melody, but they
are swallowed back into the flow of sonic debris which populate the
backdrop of these tracks as quickly as they appeared, leaving virtually
not trace of their existence behind. This intensity in the execution
contributes greatly to the feeling of oppression which taints the whole
record, and while KK occasionally temper this with delicate touches,
these remain too isolated to make lasting marks on the overall work. As
they are, they only appears as no more than small clearings in an
otherwise extremely thick jungle of noise.
Through the distorted lens of their approach, KK create a universe half way between cataclysmic post industrial chaos and enchanted fantasy world. The journey they embark on is quite simply breathtaking and full of surprises. From the unsettling humming (or is it a growl?) of opening track Lentetooi and the pressing flow of violins on Nuit Nadar to the textural Parka or Thyres, the suspiciously playful Wälzer to the plain disturbing assemblage of the title track, KK conscientiously deflect the course of the record at every opportunity. Barra Barra is a maze of sounds, noises and atmospheres which never settles, and in which it is impossible not to get irremediably lost. One can only let the flow carry the mood and admire the foolish ambition of such an undertaking.
- See more at: http://www.themilkfactory.co.uk/st/2011/05/kaboom-karavan-barra-barra-kreng-grimoire-miasmah-recordings/#sthash.a2UVL04c.dpuf
Through the distorted lens of their approach, KK create a universe half way between cataclysmic post industrial chaos and enchanted fantasy world. The journey they embark on is quite simply breathtaking and full of surprises. From the unsettling humming (or is it a growl?) of opening track Lentetooi and the pressing flow of violins on Nuit Nadar to the textural Parka or Thyres, the suspiciously playful Wälzer to the plain disturbing assemblage of the title track, KK conscientiously deflect the course of the record at every opportunity. Barra Barra is a maze of sounds, noises and atmospheres which never settles, and in which it is impossible not to get irremediably lost. One can only let the flow carry the mood and admire the foolish ambition of such an undertaking.
- See more at: http://www.themilkfactory.co.uk/st/2011/05/kaboom-karavan-barra-barra-kreng-grimoire-miasmah-recordings/#sthash.a2UVL04c.dpuf
On Barra Barra, Kaboom Karavan distill generous portions of
poetry and horror, weaving them tightly into the fabric of each track until
they become almost indiscernible from one another. Their soundscapes, built
from acoustic instruments, found sounds and electronics, are twisted little
formations, often fairly minimal, yet extremely complex and intricate. Out of
distorted instrumentation and broken sound collages occasionally escapes
fragments of melody, but they are swallowed back into the flow of sonic debris
which populate the backdrop of these tracks as quickly as they appeared,
leaving virtually not trace of their existence behind. This intensity in the
execution contributes greatly to the feeling of oppression which taints the
whole record, and while KK occasionally temper this with delicate touches,
these remain too isolated to make lasting marks on the overall work. As they
are, they only appears as no more than small clearings in an otherwise
extremely thick jungle of noise.
Through the distorted lens of their approach, KK create a
universe half way between cataclysmic post industrial chaos and enchanted
fantasy world. The journey they embark on is quite simply breathtaking and full
of surprises. From the unsettling humming (or is it a growl?) of opening track
Lentetooi and the pressing flow of violins on Nuit Nadar to the textural Parka
or Thyres, the suspiciously playful Wälzer to the plain disturbing assemblage
of the title track, KK conscientiously deflect the course of the record at
every opportunity. Barra Barra is a maze of sounds, noises and atmospheres
which never settles, and in which it is impossible not to get irremediably
lost. One can only let the flow carry the mood and admire the foolish ambition
of such an undertaking. - www.themilkfactory.co.uk/
Track after track, Bosteels et al strip down a multitude of instruments to the sheer body of their sounds. I can hardly remember an album that had such a three-dimensional quality: sounds become bodies as you can almost see the air that is resonating. Fragments, bits, pieces of such sound-bites are arranged, rearranged, made vanish and resurface as ghosts. Non-rhythmic percussion might be most prominent, but plucked strings and electronic drones are also key to the Kaboom Karavan sound, which is Dadaist not only by allusion in the album title, but also by the liberties it takes with the means of musical expression.
Does that sound contrived? I think it does. And maybe that also holds for “Barra Barra” as a whole. But maybe that’s just what it takes to transform the (to my ears) often mindless doodling of free jazz into, err, haunting atmospheres and ever-so-allusive narratives. This album is worth listening to precisely as it’s not just a cello-cum-you-name-it-cum-iBook exultation but a composition that derives its power from its pieces – and which invests its pieces with meaning. For example, the plucked guitar into to “Koboi” is poked by needles of percussive clutter – but echoed later, when “Nuit Nadar” folds into the drama of rhythmically bowed strings that has me think of the Dead Man soundtrack on an album that would otherwise be a perfect score for the Vienna of Carol Reed’s The Third Man (there’s even a “Wälzer” on here).
Short Walk With Olaf (2007) streaming
Short walk with Olaf is Kaboom Karavan ´s debut album from 2007 that appeared as a freely downloadable album on the Mexican based imprint Umor Rex, creating a cult following in the MP3 label scene at the time. Finally now properly mastered and given a well deserved vinyl release.
Mixing influences from the Electronica and Ambient scene with Americana, Free Folk and Avant-Garde Jazz to name but a few, Short walk with Olaf is first of all an incredibly beautiful and mystical piece of work that should fall in taste with everyone interested in film music, travels, small villages & deserted places. Olaf finds his place somewhere between the atmosphere of Jim Jarmousch films, Lounge Lizards and Volcano the Bear and is a great starting point for getting into the strange sound world of Kaboom Karavan.
http://www.miasmah.com/
"Kaboom Karavan's debut album from 2007 that appeared as a freely downloadable album on the Mexican based imprint Umor Rex, creating a cult following in the MP3 label scene at the time. Mixing influences from the Electronica and Ambient scene with Americana, Free Folk and Avant-Garde Jazz. Olaf finds his place somewhere between the atmosphere of Jim Jarmousch films, Lounge Lizards and Volcano the Bear and is a great starting point for getting into the strange sound world of Kaboom Karavan." - boomkat
“One Way Of Going”, shortfilm by Liesbeth Marit, with sound and music by Bram Bosteels is selected for Celeste Prize ( category Video/Animation ).
You are invited for the screening of Yuri ( & the frustration of our ponies ),
the first feature film of Liesbeth Marit, with music by Bram Bosteels.
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