Matmos

Plastic Anniversary (Thrill Jockey)

Leave it to Matmos to defy all expectations. Known for using unlikely objects as instruments—balloons, cigarettes, a deck of cards—the veteran experimental electronic duo might have just outdone themselves with this visionary piece of environmental activism. In the spirit of their last record, Ultimate Care II, which was composed entirely from the sound of their own washing machine, this new album is created from another single source: plastic, cleverly acknowledging our complicated relationship with the synthetic material. Using the likes of plastic gloves, pricked bubble wrap, and Styrofoam containers, these songs begin as a playful, pop-esque carnival of sound, reflecting our early, excited relationship with the product, before ultimately unraveling into an unruly dystopia. In a time when grocery store bags are strangling our wildlife and water bottles are filling our oceans, M.C. Schmidt and Drew Daniel use plastic itself to forewarn what the future could hold. On top of that, some of the album’s proceeds will benefit The Ocean Cleanup nonprofit.

Chaunter

Dream Dynamics (self-released)

Consider this duo a new Baltimore band to know now. The brainchild of art scene denizens Brooks Kossover and Jenghis Pettit makes its debut with this idiosyncratic first record, featuring Kossover on vocals and flute and Pettit on guitar, as well as an aspirational league of local heavyweights, from Dan Deacon (“Goodbye”) to Sam Herring of Future Islands (“Lightning Games”) to Lower Dens’ Jana Hunter (“Mirror Mirror”). With trappings of shoegaze, ’80s pop, and ’70s prog-rock, it guides you through a mythical world, landing somewhere between the glory of Labyrinth-era David Bowie (“Boo Cat”) and the golden age of Baltimore DIY dream-pop (“The CopyCat”). Each song unfurls as if in reverie—swirling in gauzy synth, smoldering with reverberating guitar, brimming with both hauntingly singular vocals and grand group harmonies. See for yourself at the Metro Gallery on March 29, as Chaunter’s performances are a theatrical, fantastical feat in and of themselves.

See our interview with Brooks Kossover and Jenghis Pettit of Chaunter.

Matmos
Ultimate Care II (Thrill Jockey Records)

You know the routine: throw in your clothes, add detergent, pick the cycle, crank the knob. Soon the water fills the basin and the low, heavy, seaside swish-swash builds as your clothes begin to wash. It’s so familiar you almost don’t hear it, but now the local experimental electronic duo Matmos—famed for using mixed mediums, unusual instruments, and synthesized soundscapes—has taken this part of your everyday life and turned it into an entire album—their ninth. This isn’t the first time that Martin “M.C.” Schmidt and Drew Daniel have pushed traditional instruments aside for more unusual sources, like balloons, insects, cigarettes, playing cards, whoopee cushions, and oatmeal. Now, their very own washing machine becomes the star of the show, and right before your ears, this ordinary object comes to artistic life. As the water falls, you drift into a magnitude of imaginary underworlds, swinging between tumbling tribal safaris, fiery abysses, and the twinkling cosmos. Across 38 minutes, the sounds evolve into an avant-garde symphony—and a mesmerizing feat. You’ll never look at laundry the same way again.

See our interview with musicians M.C. Schmidt and Drew Daniel of Matmos.

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Great American Canyon Band
Only You Remain (Six Degrees Records)

With spring finally upon us, there’s no better time than now to throw a duffle in the trunk and take to the open road. It doesn’t matter where you’re going, but, as this young indie-folk group teaches us through its debut album, what matters is the journey. The band began in 2011 with husband and wife Paul and Kris Masson, who cut across the country in search of a new home. As they drove from coast to coast in their old ’82 Mercedes named Dolly (as in Parton), quietly discovering the American landscape and reflecting on the horizon, they distilled their adventures into music. Rich in reverb, full of hearty harmonies and dreamy melodies, you feel like you’re right alongside them, barreling down some desert highway, standing under a moonlit sky, or admiring the sun at dawn. Now settled in Baltimore, the couple has brought on two more bandmates who play guitar and drums to round out their earthy, Americana sound. It’s made for dreamers, be they on city streets or country roads.

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Horse Lords
Interventions (Northern Spy Records)

Since 2012, Horse Lords has been a band to watch in Baltimore. The local experimental quartet makes intricate, instrumental grooves that ramble off into sprawling, ambitious jams. Like some wild, wayward thing, each song uses singular sounds that build and morph and combust into something uniquely minimalist yet complex. They defy genre, though we called their last album, Hidden Cities, a “No Wave/Fela [Kuti] mash-up.” Much of this third album stays true to that funky, foraging approach, like the first track, “Truthers.” But then the band also takes some surprise turns. At times, it reaches rich, guttural depths with songs like “Bending to the Lash” and “Time Slip;” at others it tweaks out into strange terrains during intermittent interludes called “Interventions.” Somehow throughout, the band manages to maintain its trademark momentum while simultaneously smashing any potential for categorization on its head. So we stand by our words: Horse Lords is a Baltmore band to watch. We’re excited to see what they come up with next.

Be it music, dance, art, or experimentation, Baltimore is a town that breeds artistic expression. Local electronic duo Matmos has been breaking the mold for almost 20 years now, known for their mixed mediums, unusual instruments, and synthesized soundscapes. Now, on their ninth, new record, they take it to the next level, with an album created entirely out of their very own washing machine, Ultimate Care II. On the heels of its release, we chatted with Martin “M.C.” Schmidt and Drew Daniel about cycles, sounds, and Baltimore’s fertile music scene.

How’s everything going since the album’s been released?
Drew Daniel: We’re figuring out all the details about how to take this show on the road. I’m a professor at Hopkins so spring break is the time to go on tour.

What needs to be figured out?
Martin “M.C.” Schmidt: It’s really just the logistics of getting all of us across the country on time. We’re bringing some of our friends, and, of course, the star of the show—the washing machine itself.

Cue the lights! I didn’t realize you were going to actually take it with you.
MS: Yeah, we actually play the washing machine live—with water!

Do you put clothes in it?
DD: No but we make a big show of putting colorful fabrics in at the start because we want people to realize we’re actually running the machine.

MS: We already played in Baltimore.

Right, at Floristree.
MS: People really liked it.

DD: I know it sounds suspicious, because we’re big-upping ourselves, but I gotta say, it was a really good vibe. People were very good listeners and really got into the moment when we stopped playing and just let the washing machine go.

MS: There were like 200-plus kids there and when we got to that minute? Everyone was absolutely quiet, which was very impressive.

That must be one of the hardest parts about your performance. But I imagine its mic’ed.
MS: It is mic’ed in many ways.

DD: There’s also video that Martin shot from inside the machine that’s projected above.

MS: I got waterproof cameras and put them in the machine while it was running.

DD: We go hard.

MS: We exhaust that damn washing machine, that’s for sure.

Every inch. What was the genesis of this idea?
MS: Well, in a way, kind of from laziness. In that, our ‘recording studio’ is sort of a lofty word for our laundry room. Or perhaps, ‘laundry room’ is too low a term for our recording studio. But our laundry room and our recording studio are one in the same, so maybe there’s something about the washing machine coexisting in the same place where I think about sound. And the washing machine has a very complete music to it. It runs about the length of an album. It has rhythms and tones and it does a little song and then stops and then does a different little song. The filling song, the washing song, the rinsing song.

DD: We have this habit of trying to hear the noise of everyday life. Once you have that habit in mind, its sort of hard to shut off. And you do notice that washing machines are sort of funky. As the water fills and shakes, you hear these patterns that build up and fall apart.

MS: The classic noise that everyone knows is actually not the washing machine; it’s shoes in the dryer.

DD: And if you think about it, that’s so funky.

MS: It’s a cliché but everybody knows about this weird thing. Everyone has a relationship with that rhythmic or a-rhythmic sound.

You’re so right—everyone knows that sound.
MS: But the washing machine is more interesting.

DD: Yeah, the washing machine has these metallic patterns but also these liquid sloshing sounds and I think that makes it very rich musically. The filling of the washing machine is very peaceful and meditative and Zen, but then the wash and spin cycles have really pounding, fast tempos. They’re very, like, hardcore techno.

Rough and tumble, pun not intended.
Both: Exactly.

Those noises are extremely ordinary and recognizable, but put together, they become so unique and complex.
DD: Yeah, I mean, it’s been weird for us to do laundry after this album. It now feels like putting our record on.

I love how it begins with the cranking of the knob and the running of the water. And then it evolves—or devolves, however you want to put it—into this completely other world.
DD: We start with a note and then pull you into a sort of fantasy world, like a Jacques Cousteau undersea documentary if he went into our washing machine. What kind of machine do you have?

I honestly don’t know. It’s like this big, white, ancient beast that hangs out in my closet and makes terrifying noises in the middle of the night.
DD: Is it a front-loader or a top-loader?

A top-loader.
DD: Okay. Is it the one with the dryer built on top of it?

Yes! Exactly.
Both: Ohhhh! I had one of those.

MS: For many, many years.

On this album, intentionally or not, you anthropomorphize the washing machine. It seems to come to life—it turns into this living, breathing thing.
DD: The music explores the object on its own terms, but as you break out in to the music and make a suite of different patterns, some of which are kind of aggressive and harsh or wistful, then the object becomes humanized, subject to the different emotions and moods they make you feel. Like, you know how when you’re doing the dishes or mopping the floor, you’re busy, but your mind wanders and you often process something about your life? Chores are an engaging work but are also a weird form of therapy. There’s labor, but the labor is also kind of an emotional labor. You turn an idea around and around. Well, there’s something kind of obsessive in our music, too. Like the construction of a format that’s made of all these little details. But I think everyday life is also like that. Maybe I’m ranting here…

MS: Poor Drew is an English professor.

Don’t worry, I was an English major—I feel your pain. But tell me a bit about the process of actually making this album.
MS: I’m not kidding when I say it was partially laziness.

You can stay in pajamas the entire time.
MS: Yeah, exactly. We could make a whole album and never have to call in a guitar player or move a microphone further than the other side of the room.

DD: It became kind of social, anyway, because a lot of our friends are musicians and are over at our house hanging out. Some were even over at our house doing laundry. So we’d say, oh, hey, Sam [Haberman, of Horse Lords], do you mind drumming with Martin? Or, oh, Dan Deacon, will you come bring your rig? Even though the star of the show is always the washing machine, different people with different skills can turn it into a different sort of instrument. They have a different ear for what to do with the same object. So it was really fun to make this record.

MS: But to really specifically answer your question, I would break it into three categories. There’s the washing machine running on its own. We recorded it washing clothes, with mics inside and out, on the surface of the water and the engine, for those deep motor sounds. And then, to be perfectly blunt, there’s us hitting the washing machine…

That was obviously going to be my next question.
MS: This is probably what made me think that this would be a good idea in the first place. I love drumming on a washing machine. This came from the ’90s, when, in ye olden days, they were made entirely out of sheet metal. Every surface being a different size has a different drum sound to it. Like the front is a great kick drum. It goes like bughhhhhh. And the sides are higher pitched, so they’re like tom-toms. And the top makes a good snare. When you open the lid, it makes a great bell sound, like a clonggggg. And then there’s the cranking sound at the beginning, which we also use later like the Latin percussion instrument where you rub the stick . . . clrrrr-chh-chh, clrrrr-chh-chh.

DD: Guiro.

MS: Yes. And then we play a lot of drum brushes on it, too. But then the third category would be playing the machine while it’s running. Our friend Jason Willett who runs True Vine Record Store is another music weirdo. He wanted to turn it on and off and change its cycles really quickly—the kind of stuff where your mother would be like, ‘Don’t do that!’ And I must admit, as the owner of this washing machine, I was like ahhh!

DD: But it sounded really cool.

MS: He was playing the machine in a way I hadn’t thought of. He thought of it in a different way. That’s why other people are really useful. They give you ideas you never had.

To your knowledge, has anyone done this before?
DD: I mean, never say never. Washing machines have been around for a while. Somebody told us that a composer once tried to notate the rhythms of washing machines and then have traditional instruments play them, which is a cool idea. But I don’t think anyone has done a whole album out of just one washing machine.

MS: This is going to be all artsy and pretentious, but by no means did we think this is the most original idea in the world. In fact, we kind of knew it was a good idea because it’s so, sort of, dumb. But the music that we made is the important part. Even if you make a record out of a washing machine, the music still has to be music. And I’m not saying it necessarily is to anyone. So has anyone ever done this before? It kind of doesn’t matter.

I guess it’s like asking if anyone else has ever made a record with a guitar before.
DD: Exactly. If someone else made a record out of a washing machine, they’d make a completely different record.

MS: Exactly, exactly, exactly. And maybe the whole thing in a way is a given. If we were a regular band that usually made music with guitars and drums and then suddenly came out with this, I’d say, yes, but we’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s what we do.

DD: We work with weird stuff. And, you know, for us, that feels natural, because we’re not trained with any instruments. I mean, I’m not a violinist. Martin has some piano playing abilities.

MS: I had piano lessons in sixth grade and my music training ended there.

DD: Our ignorance partially means that we’re more interested in responding to the objects around us and seeing what sounds they make and then making music out of that. A trained composer thinks in terms of pitches, chord progressions, and that’s all valid, but there’s a lot of music like that, and we aren’t trying to replace it. We’re trying to do something else.

MS: I just don’t want people to think we’re like: this is the greatest idea ever! We know its sort of silly. Like, no question.

Do you think you’d do it again with another ordinary object?
DD: Oh yeah. People ask, oh, what’s next—the toaster? The vacuum cleaner? I think a lot would depend on which toaster, which vacuum cleaner. For us, we know this machine and we love its sounds, so we had a basic confidence in that.

Well good luck on the road. We’re looking forward to a few more sets with your Ultimate Care II machine in Baltimore. It’s awesome to hear that the first show was met with such open arms.
DD: People are amazingly open to weirdness here.

MS: It’s always hard to generalize about an entire city, but the music scene in Baltimore is so much more exciting and open and ready than other cities for what is generally considered “strange.” There’s something about Baltimore where people are—and, oh, I don’t want to use this cliché, but—unpretentious. But it’s kind of the truth. People in Baltimore want something to happen. They want it to be fun now, and they’re willing to bring it. They don’t want to sit in judgment.

It seems like as long as you are authentic, you’re given a shot.
MS: In places like New York or San Francisco, there are a lot of folded arms. Like, is this really cool enough? There’s very little of that in Baltimore. They’re like, I don’t care if it’s ‘cool enough.’ I’m deciding for myself. And I came here to enjoy myself or be illuminated so I’m going to give things a benefit of the doubt, which is a very fertile ground to be an artist in.

Bobby Donnie Plays the Bobby Donny Songs
Bobby Donnie (Ehse Records)

If you’ve ever hoped that Yeah Yeah Yeahs front woman Karen O and indie singer-harpist Joanna Newsom would collaborate, Bobby Donnie might be the group for you. Like the aforementioned songstresses, this female rock-and-roll duo exudes a pride in their weirdness. Their songs are raw and sparse, but they play around with vocals and rock out with intermittent drum and guitar. They walk the line between rock, pop, and something artsy-experimental, but they don’t settle. Embrace the enigma and sway (or head bang) along.

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Batu Malablab
M.C. Schmidt (Megaphone/Knock ‘Em Dead Records)

As half of Baltimore’s electronic duo Matmos, M.C. Schmidt is no stranger to breaking conventions. Schmidt isn’t exactly a musician; he’s a sort of non-musician. Instead of making pretty melodies, he experiments with sound, melding dissonant tones into something minimal, ambient, and surprisingly meditative, which he calls “imaginary global music.” It’s like the soundtrack to some mythical samurai tale: full of ancient bells, chimes, and woodwind—riddled with drama and suspense. In the end, you’ll find yourself in a state of zen.