THE PRIVATE TAPES VOL. 4

Six private volumes, all having something special, all coming in a common sense, all bringing the success of a composition being saved (or mastered in the first place), some (in premiere) juicing a less confident award in the brag of such a life, a music and a memory. We're at volume four, one of the slimmest, but also one interacting with all the sources and the values necessary towards the big picture (but, just like that, towards the big random). Ashra on three improvisations, onto a live crease, Göttsching solo in his no longer youthful fooling-about and another Ash Ra classic undiscovered epic, to melt the soul away into the transfugitive nerve. Overconfidence in such languages in the keyword.

The first of the presentational album is conventionally a sparse moment of the most concrete project by Ashra in all the Private Tapes. Even more respectfully to one side of this kraut-electro power, we're listening to Ashra in a coup live performance, on impulsions and extrusions which to show the glamour and glitch of their taste, and, overall, the lost notion of energy art. The time clock seems ordinary (or, better said, less thoughtful than the rest), since 1979 is, firstly, the most avowal period to imagine Ashra, and, secondly, fights the most awarding mix of electronic rock on disappeared acid tunes, nutshell improvisation and classy toque. More surprisingly, volume 2 of these Private Tapes presented some Ashra studios just from 1974!, so the inconsistency is very, very generic; and interesting, as to appreciate the dimensions of this band-glair much better or slightly skeptic. Fits the in-style on terms of a bright 1979 or 1980 romp, when the ecclesia of dynamic and exacerbated mood can't comprehend anymore a taste of meditation, hard-overalls or tempest hypnotism. It's music of the light air, in a live language that's thrilling enough. Since such a moment hasn't got the slightest of pioneering, still evokes a tense chord, Ashra has other official provocative lives such as a splendid broad explosive Sauce Hollandaise or couple of volumes up in Japan; the rest is bootlegging and self-emoting.

Conventionally the idea of emplaning Ashra, in vol.4's wallflower, is the best and most conceptual thing happening here, since it spices up everything, from definitions, to the most careful guitar-play we'd know from Göttsching, from style to the welcoming effort in the fan's receptive moral fiber. In three parts of closely the same euphoria, Club Cannibal wastes little on the superficial language; or it actually follows up this very unpredictable way of rock and loop, but the burst of energy, the clear improvisations and the vireo inside the clutch makes it all happening quick and like a burn. Nothing more impressive for a move that's quickly-tamped, and not long-stretched. Sausalito bring up the idea that the Ashra collective taste here is just as fast-forwarded, as it means to brag endlessly about the groove. Small piece, on vital energy, little sequencing, till it's all about the riffs. Dark intentions somewhere along, but it's rather a jam. Ain't No Time For Tears sounds like a Ashra classic, on another trivialized tune, with an excitement that almost breaks down all connections to a band of taste and substance, of even boredom and oriel. Intensive care bring the joy of performing from a trio that knows its brand and its mouthful of air.

The Ashra concert concludes in just 20-25 minutes. But the next drive, catalogued over to Göttsching solo, Niemand lacht ruckwarts is closely psychical, panoramic and sub-sensual to an Ashra mature glow. The complexity of it is staggering, but hidden in the values of electro-dynamics. Lively sequential, subquential and sulphuric, this pieces evokes harmonics, polyphony and empathy. It's a vivid suggested class, also bringing forth the texture Göttsching, by the key-range, prefers above everything: the imposing colossi of naturally exhibited electro-ornaments, in a beaded smart art of simple sounds and over-painful transmissions. Ashra live, in those albums I mentioned, plays it like a work-fitting classic and punches in more tom dynamics and, generally, the kind of improvisation needed for a glow-foam. But this clean version is also the most interesting adrenaline such a wonderful sounding piece could ever provoke attention and caliber, without maundering its superficial tonus.

Despite a reproductive taste of the dynamics and the open spaces the novelty intentions of Ashra live and Göttsching classic just triggered, the second space, awarded for the third time in a volume to an Ash Ra Tempel epic amaze is still the most artistically shape-corm such a collectioning's appetite could orientation towards and the most acid reckoning a fan could despair after. In individual detail, the piece is considerably weaker that the later improved gems and resembles a more lubricant phase of the kraut consistency, where the synchs & synths and the sobriety of sample steps meant everything, plus when the noise shatter eluded more into a moral fiber, itself drawn aoristically and confutery. Dedie a Harmut is music for a long logic. Afterwards, inside the polish, there is some obscurant voice and drizzle.

The Private Tapes Vol.4 - a balanced poise of more lightly fashion, from the entire evoked and equivocal compendium, containing the brisk-groove of Ashra, the natural eclecticism of Göttsching and the ever pleasing rejoice of Ash Ra Tempel, epic and edic. Kraut, electro-wayfaring and rock.