Archive for the ‘Albums’ Category

Staubgold – Staubgold 141 –20th May 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

Vivien Goldman knows people. She’s written about so many in her capacity as a widely-published journalist, and she’s worked with a fair few, too, and as such, Resolutionary is a fascinating document of her collaborations, recorded during a particularly fertile period between 1979 and 1982. The roll-call of musicians featured on the eight tracks here is staggering: John Lydon, Keith Levene and Bruce Smith (PiL) Robert Wyatt, Steve Beresford and David Toop, and Vicky Aspinall (The Raincoats), and Neneh Cherry, amongst others, all feature here.

In many ways, Resolutionary is an odds-and-sods effort, a curio, a retrospective exhibition which focuses on the individual artist’s career more than its context, and which represents what was essentially a brief period in Goldman’s career, which has since been devoted to the documentation of music-making, rather than the actual making of music. But Goldman’s musical legacy is noteworthy, however scant. Her brief time with The Flying Lizards remains a career-defining spell, despite the fact that she wasn’t the one who provided the vocals on their biggest hit, ‘Money’. But in many ways, that’s a positive. No-one wants to be pegged as a one-hit wonder, their life spent in the shadow of that singular moment, and more importantly, Resolutionary serves to realign history, to an extent.

It’s an interesting aside to note that Public Image’s ‘This is Not a Love Song’ was inspired, in title at least, by The Flying Lizards track ‘Her Story’, which features here. Indeed, the two Flying Lizards tracks, ‘Her Story’ and ‘The Window’ (both of which feature Goldman on vocals, the latter of which was also composed by her) represent the detached, minimal pop they’re famed for. Big, strolling basslines are again the defining feature of these off-kilter noodles. Although readily available on The Flying Lizards’ eponymous debut, revisiting them in the context of Goldman’s output rather than that of the band offers an alternative context.

The dubtastic quirky kitchen-sink pop of solo cuts ‘Launderette’ and its attendant B-sides, released on the ‘Dirty Washing’ 12”, are worth the money alone. ‘Private Army’ is a colossal six-and-a-half spaced-out dub-based beast, the percussion and sax spiralling into a vortex of reverb. ‘P.A’ Dub’ – the dub version of ‘Private Army’ does dub out the vocals.

The Chantage tracks are the most accessible, with a lighter tone and style, with the pop reggae of ‘Same Thing twice’ proving a buoyant standout. But then, the Gallic theatricality of ‘It’s Only Money’ is equally beguiling and showcases Goldman’s range.

The interview with Vivien, recorded in 1981 and released on a cassette compilation is interesting, articulate, energetic, and insightful, although the audio quality is less than brilliant, and one does have to strain at times to decipher what’s being said. Still, as a historical document, its appearance on the disc is more than justified. The extensive liner notes, too, are pretty good, and overall, this is a quality package.

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Vivien Goldman Online

Sub Rosa – SR406 – 5th May 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s no escaping the band’s name. It’s striking, to say the least. Simply calling a band ‘phallus’ would be something, the connotations numerous and not all positive. Putting it out there is a strong challenge to the (potential) audience’s sensibilities, and is as likely to deter many listeners in itself. There may be puerile implications, and an element of silly shock, but what does this say about culture and society? Human history, even prehistory, is in many respects, the history of the phallus: the Romans were obsessed by the power of the phallus, rendering it a totem. Freud was famously fixated, and 60s and 70s feminism marked the opening of a discourse concerning phallocentric society, as they strove to rebalance things. While the phallus in this context is more metaphorical than literal, what matter is the fact that discourse is far from over.

While ‘cunt’ may represent the last bastion of hardcore swearing, and carries the most weight in terms of the offense it can impart, ‘it’s the hard dick that offends most’, as Philip Best spits on the Whitehouse track ‘Language Recovery’. Why is that? What is our society so hung up on the erection? Despite the enduring power of the phallus in society through the ages, art and popular culture is more given to celebrating the female form. And from classical antiquity (I’m thinking Michelangelo’s ‘David’, for example) to modern art (take Lucien Freud’s nude male portraits by way of an example here), male genitalia is understated if it’s to be accepted. It’s simply unimaginable that David, an image of the ‘perfect’ male form, could brandish a raging horn. Soft is art: hard is porn. The phallus may be all-powerful but it’s not acceptable on display, it’s ugly, repulsive, threatening, frightening, says society.

So what does this say about Ultraphallus? To take a blunt and literal view, individually and collectively, the band is cock. But not just any old cock. It’s more cock than that. It’s not only a throbbing erection, a pulsating meat truncheon, but amplified to the power of ten. Ultra… it has such a powerfully maximalist suggestion. This band isn’t just the simple encapsulation of the phallus, but thrusts into the public domain the phallus on a scale comparable to the Cerne Abas giant. Is it more confrontational and in your face than Throbbing Gristle? It’s a close call.

Appropriately, the music on The Art Of Spectres is overtly masculine: hard, heavy, rhythmic. It’s hard, uncompromising.

Ultraphallus are Phil Maggi (vocals, samples, electronics, trumpet, percussion); Xavier Dubois (guitars); Ivan Del Castillo (bass); Julien Bockiau (drums). A bunch of giant cocks. And they make challenging music, which pulls an eclectic range of styles together to forge something immense, dark and compelling. The press release notes that Ultraphallus defines their sound with some accents from styles including Western Music, Death metal, Doom-Rock, Avantgarde Psychedelia and Electronic Soundtracks, as a tribute to Rock Culture. But there’s a whole lot more besides lurking in the murky sonic depths of the seven tracks here.

Seven tracks were recorded in four days at Drop Out Studios, South London, with Tim Cedar (Part Chimp leader, Hey Colossus, ex-Penthouse…). The band say that the tracks are inspired by The Residents, Marc Bolan, Mark Frechette and Zabriskie Point, Swans, Autechre, David Bowie, Eva Ionesco, Polanski’s movie The Tenant and Death-Metal. In this respect, the title is germane, as the album finds the band exploring the spectres of their precursors and their peers. They loom large.

Opening track, ‘The Blood Sequence’ combines the grit of black metal with the squalling white noise of power electronics, delivered with the panache of Bauhaus and the theatrical gothic detail of Roz Williams era Christian Death. They really hit their stride with the second track, the seven-minute ‘’Madrigal Lane’ at the heart of which lies a throbbing bass and relentless beat.it builds hypnotically, reaching a frenzied climax of crashing cymbals while Maggi Hollers maniacally in a tsunami of reverb.

‘Let Him be Alistair’ finds Maggi hollering like a drunk impersonating Tom Waits over the skittering sonic backdrop, a slow grinding rhythm section churning out a grainy, Neurosis-like dirge. ‘Whitewasher’ is even slower and heavier: again, the percussion dominates, the lyrics are coarsely shouted, thick, and burning with anguish, evoking the spirit of Godflesh and ‘Greed’ era Swans to punishing and painful effect as the song batters the listener into submission over the course of seven-plus crushing, doom-laden minutes. If the tone mellows and the oppression lifts during the last two tracks, the hypnotic percussion and repetitive nature of the riffs prove every bit as powerful as the final track, ‘Sinister Exaggerator’ builds to a spiralling psychedelic shoegaze swirl.

Despite all of the myriad comparisons and parallels, The Art Of Spectres goes a long way from being any simple homage to the annals of rock and metal, because for all of the references, Ultraphallus don’t really sound like anything or anyone else.

 

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Ultraphallus Online

Cronica – CRONICA 111

James Wells

The sixteenth album from @C, like its predecessor Ab Ovo, began as a soundtrack for puppet theatre play Agapornis, inspired by the life and works of Anais Nin, and as such, has nothing to do with the kind of Three-Body Problem Elton John has. It also isn’t a soundtrack album per se: the soundtrack was rewritten after the play’s premiere, and as such, Three-Body Problem is a satellite work which evolved from the original concept.

So, what is the problem around the three bodies? It transpires there are in fact two distinct but related problems: the first descends directly from the production of the play itself, which is centred around two main characters, played by puppets, and a third character with several spoken lines, played by an actor. The challenge of representing the characters in sound was core to the development of the album, the actor being replaced by musicians.

And then there was the process of developing the album itself, from the initial soundtrack, through the album, to a third, ongoing process, of creating video pieces to accompany the album’s tracks. As such, the problem is concerned with both physical bodies and with body of work.

The nine pieces are sparse, static crackles, hisses and fizzing sounds spin in co-ordinates around dank, gloopy bass rumbles. Creating a spooky kind of ambience, it’s darkly atmospheric, ominous and unsettling. Toward the end, trumpet squawks and honks add additional texture and discord, and introduce further contrast to the squeaks and scrapes which flitter and twitter. The final track marks a change of direction, drifting toward the horizon on a wash of delicately strummed harp chords which ultimately evaporates in a wash of noise, far removed from the original starting point.

It’s this gradual, subtle progression that proves to be the album’s ultimate success, because it’s a work that confounds the expectations it sets. Intriguing and quietly compelling, the problem is solved.

https://player.vimeo.com/video/161043546

TRANSCENDENCE 115 from Lia on Vimeo.

 

Three Body

Ritual Productions – 6th May 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

PYR is the third album by sludgelords Ghold, and the press release promises an album ‘towering with a sonic thickness, frantic dizzying energy and shattering immediacy, penetrated by despondent howls and an uncompromising slice of remorselessness’. Christ. So it’s heavy, then?

You could say that. It begins with a slow throb, a low, deep bass tone that borders on ambience and lurks on the peripheries of awareness. Off course, you know it’s going to come in heavy at some point, but the suspense… The release is glorious. A throbbing beast of a riff ploughs in, the bass dominant, the occasional vocals barely audible in the landslide of sludge. After the 11-minute monolithic beast that is the first track, ‘Collusion with Traitors’, ‘Blud’ piledrives in with a squalling frenzy that’s more Fudge Tunnel than Sunn O))) and clocks in at an uncharacteristically concise five minutes.

‘CCXX’ brings more weight and overloading riffs with crushing bass to the fore, but it’s the 21-minute ‘Despert Thrang’ which dominates the album in every way. It’s practically an album in its own right. Again, it’d all about the build, about the pacing. Gradually, a tempest rises from not a whisper but a downturned, growl. Blasts of percussion and powerchords blast in, haltingly, threatening to break but holding back until finally, the levee breaks and the riff powers forth. What else is there to do buy clench your fists, mouth ‘fuck yes’ and get down? It’s got some serious heft, and evolves over the course of its epic span, finally culminating in a blitzkrieg of noise.

While this is very much an album made for vinyl – of the kind that you want to play rather than stick on your wall as some kind of hip-kid statement, the CD does offer a bonus cut in the shape of ;’Something of Her Old Fire’, a gnarly bass-driven grind that trudges its way mercilessly to a final climax.

For all the big distortion and emphasis on the bottom end, not to mention the relentless churn that defines the album, there is texture, and in terms of tempo changes and dynamic, PYR has considerable range. And yes, it’s devastatingly heavy.

 

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Ghold Online

Ici d’ailleurs… IDA102 4th March 2016

James Wells

Taking only half of a well-known phrase by way of a title, The Calm Before carries an implicit connotation of incompleteness, something unfinished, abridged. While there’s nothing remotely sketchy or half-formed about the six tracks on this album, their sparse, spare and elegant folk qualities do subscribe to a certain degree of minimalism.

As Third Eye Foundation, Elliott singlehandedly redefined the parameters of drum ‘n’ bass, while his solo work is broadly categorised as dark folk. The Calm Before isn’t really so dark, and doesn’t have the same sombrenesss of, say, Drinking Songs.

The simple acoustic instrumental piece, ‘A Beginning’, which appropriately introduces the album, has a lilting, lullaby quality, which drifts into the 14-minute title track. Elliott croons gently, quietly, calmly, the melody ascends and descends. Its simplicity is its strength, and the mood is at once uplifting and wistful.

‘I Only Wanted to Give You Everything’ finds Elliott in a darker place, a delicately picked guitar line reminiscent of early Leonard Cohen providing the backdrop to his Thom Yorke-like mumblings, before shuffling beats creep in and gradually swell while widescreen strings swoop in and build to a crescendo of abject rejection as he repeats ‘but you don’t love me…’ over and over.

There’s a downtempo Latin flavour to ‘Wings & Crown’, which demonstrates almost rockist tendencies, before the final track, ‘The Allegory of the Cave’ offers some light at the end of the tunnel as soft ambient notes drift over distant beats and piano and acoustic guitar skip lightly towards hope.

https://player.vimeo.com/video/153519419

Matt Elliott – The Calm Before (teaser) from Ici D’Ailleurs… on Vimeo.

Matt Elliott - Calm Before

http://www.thirdeyefoundation.com/

The Flower Shop Recordings – 15th April 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been a long time since Sophia last released an album. In fact, it’s been seven years since the appropriately-titled There Are No Goodbyes, the last studio release from Robin Proper-Sheppard’s post-God Machine vehicle. It doesn’t seem right to ask if it was ‘worth the wait’. How does one measure worth in the context of time? The burden of expectation inevitably leads to disappointment. It’s also inevitable that people will relate to different albums in different ways, for various reasons, I will always have a special affection for People Are Like Seasons. That doesn’t mean it’s Sophia’s best album. So it’s important to approach As We Make Our Way with fresh ears. And on its own merits, As We Make Our Way is far from disappointing.

The opening track, ‘Unknown Harbours’ is a delicate instrumental. With its chiming guitars and melancholic hue, it’s almost post-rock in form.

The first track proper, ‘Resisting’ offers some of the most overtly ‘rock’ music in Sophia’s oeuvre to date. While retaining the bittersweet tones that have come to characterise Sophia’s output, there are some surging guitars that not only hint at heavy shoegaze, but, more significantly, evoke the spirit of The God Machine. However, it would be a mistake to place too much emphasis on comparing Sophia to The Good Machine: they’ve very, very different entities, although at the core of both bands lies Proper-Sheppard’s ability to imbue his songs with an emotional depth.

While The God Machine were laden with angst and had an undeniable sonic impact, Sophia are much more understated in their sonic approach. And while there was an existential beauty that struck to the core of the human condition in Proper-Sheppard’s lyrics in his previous incarnation, the world of Sophia offers the chance for the listener to find the universal within the personal. It works, too – by which I mean, I can’t help but feel a certain emotional pull while listening to their albums, and As We Make Our Way is no exception.

If the album does settle into a downtempo, acoustic-led style, heavy with introspection, reflection and wistful sadness around the mid-section, then it does so with grace and maintains the form which has been a constant of the band’s work since Fixed Water in 1996.

Besides, there is variety, from the slow-burning anthemic indie of ‘Blame’, to the anxious bass-driven thrust of ‘St. Tropez / The Hustle’ with its psychedelic hue and refrain of ‘the shit don’t get no higher’. ‘You Say It’s Alright’ also brings some beefy percussion and swirling keyboards into the mix, and while on one level it’s a quintessential Sophia album, As We Make Our Way also pushes outwards to extend their pallet in so many directions. To describe it as a ‘triumphant return’ would be both an overstatement and a cliché, but with depth and range, As We Make Our Way has ‘grower’ written all over it.

http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3017009237/size=small/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/transparent=true/

 

Sophia - As We Make

http://www.sophiamusic.net/

Ritual Productions – 22nd April 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

The Poisoned Glass is the current musical venture of G. Stuart Dahlquist and Edgy59, formerly of Seattle doom metallers Burning Witch who called it a day in 1998. While former bandmates Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson have gone on to achieve world domination, Dahlquist and Edgy59 have maintained rather lower profiles. As such, The Poisoned Glass are unlikely to garner the kind of attention Sunn O))) receive, but this is no sleight on their output: 10 Swords is dark, heavy, textured, and immensely atmospheric.

The album begins sparse, stark and dark, with the six-and-a-half minute ‘Plume Veil’; a ringing drone hovers icily. Anguished vocals intonating impenetrable lyrics emerge amidst erratic percussion that hits like cracks of thunder, and bass notes that register the kind of vibrations that could cause mountains to crumble.

‘Toil and Trouble’ is an elegiac, spiritual piece, haunting in tone and vast in magnitude, its sepulchral tones rent by demonic howls of pain and extraneous crackles of surging noise which seemingly rise from the underworld.

It’s incredibly dark stuff that borders on the oppressive at times; drones and groans, rumbling piano chords echoing in empty rooms of crumbling castles. The vocal harmonies on ‘Verbatim’ are overtly rock in style, but set against a doomy bass trudge that’s as crushingly heavy as planets colliding.

CD bonus cut ‘The Still Air’ marks quite a departure from the rest of the album; it still features brooding, droning atmospherics, but is led by a soulful vocal acapella which is every bit as compelling as the cold noise that radiates from the other tracks.

 

New (March) PG album cover

The Poisoned Glass at Ritual Productions Online

ARTEksounds – ART003

Christopher Nosnibor

The extensive liner notes describe Glowicka’s latest release as an album 400 years in the making. This isn’t a literal statement, but a reflection on the evolution and reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s work over the course of the time since it was first written. It is, undoubtedly, testament to the way in which Shakespeare so adeptly tapped into the many facets of the human condition that his work still resonates today. In short, his work speaks through the ages and transcends time.

So what of Katarina Glowicka’s engagement with his sonnet cycle, first published in 1609 and the subject of intense debate in academic circles even now, long after a consensus has been reached over many of their deeper meanings? Seven Sonnets gathers two sessions from a decade apart, written and performed by Katarina Glowicka with Aaron Zlotnik and Rubens Quartet. Both combine string arrangements with Glowicka’s unconventional electronic soundscapes and quite remarkable vocals.

I’m not about to get bogged down in the technicalities of the sonnet form, the differences between the Petrarchan, Spencerian and Shakespearean sonnet here. Suffice it to say that a selection of Shakespeare’s 14-line verses provide the basis for the lyrical content of the pieces here, but musically, the compositions are far less strict.

‘Summers Day (1999) features three pieces, which are comparatively concise, but still manifest as quite organic, freeform musical works. ‘My eye hath played the painter’, drawing on Sonnet XXIV and Sonnet XXVII and grappling with a classic Elizabethan sonnet trope of the torment of love, is delicate, the trilling operatic vocal soaring heavenwards over minimalist strings.

The three pieces slide into one another, culminating in the dolorous ‘My love is strengthened’, on which the strings weep and wail, swoon and sway. Glowicka forges a rarefied spiritual atmosphere with her choral delivery.

The four ‘Spring’s day’ pieces are longer, with ‘When my love swears’ speaking of unconditional love over a fractured musical backing before the 10-minute ‘Love is too young’, which transitions through passages of soft ambience to pastoral strings laces with melancholy and flickers of dissonance.

‘Sweet love’ builds subtle drama, Glowicka skipping lightly through Sonnet LVI, before ‘All Naked’, a stripped-back audiowork which is spun around Sonnet XXVI concludes the album, leaving the listener feeling… how precisely does the listener feel? The power of any work lies not in the direct message it conveys, but in the way it resonates with each individual who engages with said work. Just as Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets stir different emotional responses in each person, connecting with different life experiences, so Glowicka’s Seven Sonnets is and album which does not require a critic to steer a particular line of engagement. It resonates on a uniquely personal, individual level.

 

Glowicka - Seven

 

Glowicka Online

Cult Records/Custom Made Music -22nd April 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

The album’s intro is immense. I mean, it builds and builds and threatens a blast of noise akin to Prurient, before the tide breaks and a sepulchral goth sound breaks out. Echoic guitars snake through a wash of reverb against a hipswaying bass groove as the mid-tempo opening track, ‘Confusion Hill paves the way for album steeped in vintage post-punk, but with more than enough inventiveness to stand up in its own right.

As much as it’s The Sisters of Mercy around the time of First and Last and Always it’s Suspiria. High on theatrical drama, bathed in reverb, ‘Observed in a Dream’ is an album which closely observes some old-school production values and uses them to good effect. The drums are up in the mix, the bass is low-slung and murky, and the guitars are brittle and fuzzy around the edges as they explore Dorian scales.

There are no shortage of highlights. The tetchy ‘Lovesick’ appropriates The Fall’s ‘My New House; and plays with a swampy psych vibe that’s both 80s Matchbox and The Volcanoes, throwing in a few dollops of Lloyd Cole and The Bunnymen into the mess.

‘Upside Down (the death loop’) plunges into deep psychedelic territory with its repetitive guitar motif and motorik drumming swathed in cavernous reverb, while the shadow of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry hangs long over the driving ‘Weightless’, and the title track sounds like a heavy collision between The Black Angles and The Jesus and Mary Chain, all throbbing bass, squalling feedback amidst an ocean of echo.

Whereas so many of the 90s wave off goth-inspired bands conspired to produce music that was arch and soulless, Mayflower Madame push a much more organic sound that’s geared toward psychedelic rock with a dark, smoky delivery that’s cool as fuck, evoking the spirit of The Doors as filtered through The Sisters, as if The Reptile House EP had been played with a live drummer. They keep it tight and keep it taut, but know how to cut loose and wig out when the mood takes.

Goth ain’t dead, it was just waiting for a new messiah. Mayflower Madame have got the life, and Observed in a Dream is one of the most exhilaratingly atmospheric albums I’ve heard in a while. It’s nice to see some guys wearing hats, too.

Mayflower Madame - Observed in a Dream

Mayflower Madame on Bandcamp

Mayflower Madame

Kscope – 29th April 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

Se Delan, a duo consisting of multi-instrumentalist Justin Greaves and Swedish singer Belinda Kordic, have gone for a more natural and human sound on their second album, Drifter, after the stark soundscapes of 2014;’s The Fall. They may consider it to be more raw, but given that their style of music of a dark, new-wave-inspired nature, it’s necessarily controlled, stark and detached.

According to the press release, their collaboration is built on their shared influences of ‘music, film and life.’ I’m in no position to comment on the lives they’ve led or how those life experiences have shaped ‘Drifter’, an album preoccupied with madness, and in particular how the line between sanity and insanity can at times appear frighteningly thin.

The concept may be something of a cliché, but it’s eminently relatable. Mental health is a big topic right now, and it’s a shame that policy and society is so far behind what so many of us already knew: life is challenging, confusing, and in a world gone mad, it’s hard to even know where you are on the sanity scale from one day to the next. The duo articulate this beautifully on Drifter.

The album presents a very personal exploration of the theme, but in the personal lies the universal, and the album benefits from being based around some excellent tunes. Kordic’s vocals are breathy and warm despite the reverb that enshrouds them. Shifting between a tremulous Kate Bush to Toni Halliday via Gitane Demone, she covers haunting, tormented, sultry and more.

Fractal, gothy guitars swathed in chorus and metallic-edged flange chime as they crawl, spindly and tense around throbbing bass tones on the album’s opener ‘Going Home’, and a thick, flanged bass rumble drives ‘Ruined by Them’. Dreamy, seductive and very much cast in shadow, the title track is a song of desolate introspection on which Kordic questions her own very identity. The stark atmosphere is accentuated by a claustrophobic production reminiscent of The Cure’s Faith album.

‘Blue Bird’ finds Kordinc coming on like a cross between Siouxsie and Kate Bush over a hypnotic guitar line that cascades over a rolling bass, while ‘All I Am’ again hits a dense Curesque atmosphere. The seductive ‘Blueprint’ spirals out on fractal guitars, contrasting with the driving ‘In Obscura’ (do I hear hints of ‘Dominion’ in there? Hints of Disintegration?), while the spiky ‘Gently Bow Out’ is far from gentle, bearing serrated edges worthy of Savages.

Album closer ‘No Fear of Ghosts’ is a classic slow-builder which begins low, slow and haunting and ultimately explodes into a crescendo of dark tension, with a tripwire guitar line dominating the swirling tide of sound.

Am I going to throw in comparisons to acts like Ghost Dance, Rose of Avalanche and Sunshot too? Yes. While Drifter is dark and often bleak, it has a hooky accessibility that places Se Delan toward the poppier side of the goth spectrum. Owing far more to 80s post-punk than 90s shoegaze, Drifter showcases a band whose sound is not nearly as claustrophobic as the Sisters of Mercy in their early days, nor as spiky as Siouxsie or Skeletal Family, but who nevertheless capture the sound of 1984. It’s also magnificently executed, and most definitely recommend it.

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Se Delan Online at KScope