A new compilation documents a very healthy presence of female practitioners in Australia’s experimental noise scene, writes RENÉ SCHAEFER.

The concept behind the ongoing series of Ladyz In Noyz compilations originated in America. Portland-based Marlo Eggplant, of the record label and distribution network Corpus Callosum, has issued several previous LIN releases, although how widely these are known or available in Australia outside the tight-knit community of experimental music aficionados is not clear.

Still, connections to the local scene were forged through the inclusion of the occasional antipodean artist, and the suggestion was floated to document some of this country’s more exploratory female noise artists. This task was taken on by Melbourne-based musician and sound engineer Lara Soulio (aka Laral/Onion). The result is the beginning of a branching off of the LIN brand, with plans already afoot for a follow-up volume and showcase gigs taking place locally.

The success of these events, and the considerable interest generated by this compilation, indicate a very healthy presence of female practitioners in our experimental scene, going beyond the kind of tokenism usually associated with the lumping together of female musicians purely because of their gender. Who can forget the particularly cringe-worthy attempts to promote “women in rock”, which mainstream record companies would periodically churn out? No such cringe factor attaches to this album, which works surprisingly well as an over-all listening experience, as well as a timely snapshot of a scene that has been bubbling away under ground for a while now.

More than the average male extreme noise and tablecore performers, for many of whom unpalatability seems to be an end in itself, each of the pieces collected here embraces subtlety and nuance. This adds extra layers of depth, down-playing the obvious trappings of noise music, and exploring its more textural elements, including rhythm, the human voice and (shock, horror) structure.

Ladyz in Noyz Australia Vol. 1 by Lars Von Onion

Bleach Boys ease listeners into this CD with an 11-minute track of slowly building grinding sounds, sonar bleeps and juddering percussive effects. Restraint is the key, as the music rises to peaks and subsides again. Bonnie Mercer contributes an almost delicate construction of amp hiss, guitar drones and diaphanous cyclical melody. Her absolute control of guitar sounds is palpable, having been honed over a number of years of playing in the semi-improvisational rock group Grey Daturas and its more abstract off-shoot Breathing Shrine.

The enigmatic Daisy Buchanan cut her teeth as a member of Bad Cop Bad Cop, Dad Vibe and as an occasional vocalist for Aktion Unit. Her solo shows often see her multi-tasking on keyboard, guitar and vocals, but here she limits herself to creating a doom-laden instrumental based on a fuzzed-out keyboard riff that threatens to go haywire numerous times, but somehow is always reined back in at the point of dissolution. It perfectly compliments Eko Eko Azarak’s ‘Ornithophobia’ (a fear of birds), in which Emma Albury mixes electronically generated bird calls with her customary layered medieval/Buddhist chanting, delicate electronics and minimal percussion. It evokes an atmosphere of plague-ravaged winter landscapes and burning piles of dead bodies.

“More than the average male extreme noise and tablecore performers, for many of whom unpalatability seems to be an end in itself, each of the pieces collected here embraces subtlety and nuance.”

Festive Jackals burst the contemplative mood with a brief onslaught of electronically distorted industrial grindcore malevolence that threatens to blow out cheap speaker systems and sensitive eardrums. After this blast of brutality, Onion’s ‘Black.Red’ seems almost pastoral in comparison. A softly strummed guitar is gradually subsumed by drones, warm layers of feedback and the hum of machinery, before fading to silence.

Onnie Art continues this collage-like approach to music making, introducing harsher electronic sounds, which shift between rhythmic repetition and complete deconstruction. Finally, Fjorn Butler, in her Oranj Punjabi guise, winds things up with a fine piece of musique concrete that seemingly takes the listener into the workings of a clockwork music box in which mice have built a nest. There are all sorts of scraping and chiming sounds, which are oddly intimate and inviting.

Most of the tracks on Ladyz In Noyz, Australia are brief enough not to bore listeners. Rather they are like a degustation sample menu, which should whet people’s appetite to check out the main courses presented when any of the featured acts play live – and they frequently do. Its aim is not all-inclusive documentation after the fact, but an open invitation to explore the sounds made by adventurous female musicians in this country right now.

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'Ladyz In Noyz' is out now through Corpus Callosum Distro.