We talk about stuff being heavy all the time. Stuff being crushing. Pummeling. Sludgy. We describe slow heavy music with words like tarpit, and lumbering, and plodding. Deep. Cavernous. Subterranean. We try desperately to evoke the sort of abject brutality that this music makes us feel, lets us hear. But the truth is, while all of those words do describe Black Boned Angel, they barely manage to capture just how slow and low, heavy and completely skullcrushing this new record is. In huge letters, printed on the inside of the sleeve, are the words "Transcendence Can Only Be Reached At Maximum Volume" and truer words were never spoken.
Black Boned Angel is the darkside of Mr. Campbell Kneale, better know for his long running blissdrone outfit Birchville Cat Motel. A fascination with metal, and a desire to reach the depths of utter heaviness, led Campbell from the droning path of BCM and into a world of black terror and skull peeling ferocity, a harrowing path of ear shredding, heart stopping, brain melting brutality. And it seems he has acclimated quite well thank you.
Bliss And Void Inseparable is the third installment in Kneale's insidious plan to create a record so massive, that it collapses all of time and space, sucking the entire solar system into an alternate universe the size of a pea. And he's almost succeeded. We will perpetually live in fear knowing that the next BBA record could be the one that destroys the world as we know it. For now, we will luxuriate in the massive soul shearing metallic doooooom that is BAVI. The record begins with massive plods, each one the footfall of a beast so large we can barely comprehend its mass, instead, when it steps down, shockwaves roll out in all directions, like a sonic boom caused by a million downtuned guitars, leaving an fifty foot deep impression in the earth, the compacted ground littered with skeletons and corpses, the dirt wet with blood. Over this occasional black hole plod is laid a white hot streak of upper echelon feedback, an endless stretch of high end reverberation. It's like some sort of Moss / Whitehouse mashup. But even then, the guitars grow, feeding off the darkness, the feedback fades and the strange plodding coheres into some sort of prehistoric riff, a groove so slow and low that it's like a black glacier sliding in slow motion across the desiccated earth. But BBA's hellish pit is not with out hope, not without light, or melody, chanting vocals hover right below the surface, barely audible under a gauzy veil of guitar crumble and amp rooooaaaarrr. At about the halfway point, ghostly piano is introduced, offering up minor key, slightly atonal melodies, adding color to BBA's black world. But also adding a creepy ominous edge. Like the soundtrack to thee sort of horror movie that leaves half the audience frightened to death. This funeral plod continues on until very near the end, where the low end drops out, leaving nothing but a snarled tangled web of feedback, a shimmering lattice of high end, which eventually fades into nothingness.
It's a bit hard to absorb, best to just lay back and let this snarling black beast have its way with you. You might survive, halo tarnished and soul a bit blackened, and if for some reason you don't this angel will carry you lovingly down into the depths.
SO RECOMMENDED!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We've never seen Black Boned Angel Perform live, but judging from the photo on the insert of this disc, the band might owe SUNNO))) some royalties, as the image features one of the Black Boned Angels (yep, now there are three) in a monk like robe, wielding an axe, but also poised to strike a drum! But fuck it, robes were a part of rituals long before SUNNO))), and BBA have their own ritualistic thing going on. Especially considering someone is simultaneously playing guitar AND drums.
The trio of BBA, now featuring not only main man Campbell Kneale on guitar, drums and tapes, and James Kirk on guitar and "amprifier worshippo" (?), but also now Jules Desmond on bass guitar, offer up the first recorded evidence we've heard of the three piece BBA on this here super limited TOUR ONLY cd-r, we got all the copies the band had left after their Australian tour, so once these are gone, that's it.
One single track, 34 minutes, beginning with nine minutes of washed out staticky buzz. For a minute there (actually for 9 minutes) we thought this might be it. One long buzz. Which would be fine, we love that stuff, but right around the 10 minute mark, the band kick into a slow motion doomy plod, the guitars thick and viscous, the drums a simple occasional plod (dude is also playing guitar!), the trio lurch and lumber, a woozy, spaced out tar pit dirge, the guitars throbbing and crumbling, eventually, blurring into a nearly static whirl of low end sound, an industrial soundscape of muted clatter and textured buzz, smeared into a slowly decaying outro.
Again, this is CRAZY LIMITED, pretty sure it's OUT OF PRINT, and thus these are most likely, the last copies ever...
Okay. We screwed up. It happens. What can we say? Sometimes we're easily confused. We get SO many records every week to listen to and review, hundreds in fact. But also, people don't always make it any easier. We recently got two discs in the mail, both with remarkably similar packaging, one WAS actually a reissue, of Matthew Bower's Mirag disc, a new version of a long out of print cd-r, the other, we now discover, is NOT in fact a reissue, but a brand new record, with -almost- the exact same title as the cd-r we wrongly assumed this was a reissue of. Arghhh. So anyway, enough of the scrambling to cover our screw-up-prone asses and on to this maginificent slab of murky malevolence.
BBA fans know what they're in for, a serious blackened pummeling, huge roiling washes of downtuned black tar riffing, swirled and smeared into epic waves of darkdarkdark ambience. Bookended on both sides by some Birchville style shimmery dronescaping, but those merely serve to ease you in, and ease you out, of this bottomless black pool of corrosive suffocating heaviness. Only twenty minutes long, but we're not entirely sure we could handle much more, even though we do pretty much wish this record would go on forever. Nothing but punishing blackness as far as the eye can sea. Nothing but rumbling crunch as far as the ear can hear. A never ending metallic drift into a swirling black hole of gloriously brutal doomdronedeathdirgesludge.
Packaged in swank silver ink on black sleeves!
The return of Campbell Kneale's (Birchville Cat Motel) shadowy cloaked, blackened dirge-drone-sort-of-metal alter ego Black Boned Angel. The latest in Celebrate Psi Phenomenon's Battlecruiser series of ambient experimentalists gone metal. This twenty minute chunk of grim sludge is a little teaser for a forthcoming double cd!
Not quite as overtly metal as the recently reviewed Supereclipse cd, Eternal Love starts off much more sonically aligned with Kneale's more ambient exploits with BCM. Things start to go south (as in south of Heaven) a few minutes in with the introduction of creepy crawly gothy bass lines, drifting through the abyss, bass riffs begin but are abandoned part way through only to resurface moments later, like the skeleton of Joy Division, reanimated and lurching drunkenly through the scorched and barren underworld. Eventually this haunting bass line slips off the edge and into a suffocating blackened swirl of downtuned ultra distorted bass, grinding slow motion metal guitar, and plodding industrial percussion, a head crushing plod offering some sort of rhythmic guidance through Eternal Love's hellish tar pit trawl. SUPER LIMITED AS ALWAYS!! NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
This�beloved blackened behemoth from New Zealand, AQ fave Black Boned Angel, aka Campbell Kneale, takes his first shot at spreading the disease via vinyl, with this two on one lp reissue of several long out of print cd-r's. Pressed on thick vinyl, and in a super striking silver-on-black sleeve, Eternal Love and Eternal Hunger are available once again, but only for a limited time!
Eternal Love is not�quite as overtly metal as BBA's Supereclipse cd, and thus starts off much more sonically aligned with Kneale's more ambient exploits with BCM. Things start to go south (as in South Of Heaven) a few minutes in with the introduction of creepy crawly gothy bass lines, drifting through the abyss, bass riffs begin but are abandoned part way through only to resurface moments later, like the skeleton of Joy Division, reanimated and lurching drunkenly through the scorched and barren underworld. Eventually this haunting bass line slips off the edge and into a suffocating blackened swirl of downtuned ultra distorted bass, grinding slow motion metal guitar, and plodding industrial percussion, a head crushing plod offering some sort of rhythmic guidance through Eternal Love's hellish tar pit trawl.�
On the flipside, Eternal Hunger�is�a serious blackened pummeling, huge roiling washes of downtuned black tar riffing, swirled and smeared into epic waves of darkdarkdark ambience. Bookended on both sides by some Birchville style shimmery dronescaping, but those merely serve to ease you in, and ease you out, of this bottomless black pool of corrosive suffocating heaviness. Twenty minutes long, a single side long track, nothing but punishing blackness as far as the eye can sea. Nothing but rumbling crunch as far as the ear can hear. A never ending metallic drift into a swirling black hole of gloriously brutal doomdronedeathdirgesludge.
A while back we got a handful of limited 3" cd-r releases on a label called Battle Cruiser, which just so happened to be a side label of Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, run by the very prolific and very loved around these parts Campbell Kneale. They were super limited, only 30-80 copies of each and we only got 10. The best of the bunch was a little black gem by the name of Black Boned Angel. BBA was Kneale's foray onto massive, pummelling metallic sludge and man was it good. Shame we only ever had ten copies. Well, thanks to our pal Dave at 20 Buck Spin, we all get another chance to pick this up. And the ten of you who got the first version will probably also want to get this because:
A. It's not a cd-r, it's a real cd.
B. There's a twenty minute bonus track!
Fuck yeah! But what does it sound like? Black Boned Angel is a crushing salvo of sub-bass, low end, Earth / Sunn 0))) / Skullflower / Corrupted deathdirgedrone, but filtered through Kneale's Birchville Cat Motel high end ambient, shimmering skree, free noise sensibilities. Guitar tuned so low, the strings droop all the way off the fretboard, amps with the treble controls removed to make room for even more bass knobs, amps dipped in hot tar and pointed at the center of the earth, waves of low end rumble slowly rolling and decimating everything in its path. Hollowed out skulls, pounded mercilessly, beating out a primitive barely-there rhythm from the black abyss. Mysterious incantations, hardly audible from beneath the massive slab of sonic sludge, seem to invoke the very same bass-heavy demons threatening to smother and bury them with this very recording. Totally essential.
Is it really the end for Black Boned Angel, the aQ beloved guitar/drum doomdronedirge duo? It sadly seems to be, as The End is apparently not just the title for this elaborately presented three part song suite, but does in fact supposedly represent the final musical missive from Campbell Kneale and James Kirk, aka BBA. And not a bad way to go. A three song epic, the shortest 16 minutes, the longest more than 24, and right away, the duo launch into it, with a sick, metallic howl, a crushing doom-ed lumber, all demonic vokills, and crumbling super distorted riffage, all wrapped around simple monstrous drum plod, and while that sort of intro usually signals some straight up droned out black doom sludge, quickly the sound reveals a surprising amount of melody and texture, the creep and crawl, and abject ultra doom miserablism, tempered by an inner light, and some super crazy catchy guitarwork, that gives the sound an epic, majestic, chiming dreaminess, and when the rhythm kicks in proper, it's a strange sort of wistful doom-sludge slowcore; but just as quickly as the sound coalesces, it seems to decay right before our ears and shift back into amorphous black buzz. And the song seems to push and pull between these two sides, the loping mournful melancholia, and the howling black hole heaviness, eventually, reaching a gorgeous sort of equilibrium, which is weirdly coupled with some seriously warped guitar, a sky full of tangled distorted melodic moan, not buzz, but a sort of haunting keening, unlike almost any other guitar sound we've hear, its ultimate effect giving the sound a seriously woozy, psychedelic vibe, although the last few minutes finds the drums ditched and the two guitars wound tight into a thick cloud of billowing guitarnoise and grinding black crunch.
The second movement begins like some demonic Arvo Part piece, all layered choral vocals and ominous drones, heady and haunting, it's not until nearly 5 minutes in, that the doom drops, and when it does, it's a tarpit chug, but again, it's laced with some unlikely beauty, at first sounding like a more blown out Blackwolfgoat, but soon, it turns into something utterly lovely and almost dreamy, of course still doused in crumbling black buzz, but beneath all the distortion and doomic swirl, is something lilting and melancholic, strip away all the heaviness, and we'd be talking total heartbreak ballad, but when fused to the groups monstrous lumber, it somehow only becomes that much more intense and darkly emotional, there's a definite Nadja vibe, but this is way dreamier and way more overtly melodic than ANYthing we've heard from them, it's like some crazy catchy song fragmented, looped and slowed down and stretched out into a gorgeous blackdoom dreampop dirge, eventually blissing out into a droned out drift of soft crumble, swirling effects, and delicate piano.
Finally, BBA finish things off (and by things, we mean the record AND the band), with another epic majestic dirgescape, this one too laced with melody, and unlikely texture, soaring and weirdly poppy, the melodic component here a strange wavery vocal like melody, that sounds somewhere between a warped theremin, and a vibrato heavy opera singer, that quavering 'voice' woven into the groups melancholy plod, and like the track before, the drums drop out, and most of the buzz, leaving a gorgeous haze of crumbling distortion, blurred riffage, and that ghostly melody, a haunting threnody, and a darly dream epitaph for one of our favorite bands. Who will be greatly missed.
Super elaborate packaging, all assembled and numbered by hand, an origami style inner jacket, with a full colored oversized insert, several envelopes/sleeves, all housed in a thick 7" sized vellum outer sleeve, through which the silver printed inner sleeve can be viewed. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
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We always sort of assumed Black Boned Angel, the alter ego of Birchville Cat Motel's Campbell Kneale, was just that, an alter ego, a one man exploration of things dark and drone-y and heavy, the sort of stuff that was maybe TOO day for his day gig in BCM. But here, on the latest BBA, Kneale has teamed up with fellow Kiwi noisemaker (and longtime aQ customer) James Kirk for something just a little bit different.
One single hour long song, that begins with all manner of barely there ambience, distant resonant rumbles, keening high end, fluttering chimes, super super minimal, tons of space. Eventually, the guitar comes in, but not crashing or exploding, instead, it comes in strumming dolefully, unfurling deep sorrowful chords, that are allowed to ring out, building a spaced out minor key melody that drifts in a melancholy haze. The sound is really quite pretty, some sort of post rock, minimal slowcore, think Dirty 3, or Low, but even slower and more abstract. And this goes on for nearly 30 minutes, lulling the listener into a soporific daze. But c'mon, this is BLACK BONED ANGEL, at about the halfway mark, the hammer falls, and the duo unleash a torrent of digitally processed distortion that buzzes and rumbles, all draped over a throbbing industrial crunch, until what sound like real drums join the fray, splattering out a spider web of disjointed beats beneath the nearly static undulating layer of undulating grinding buzz. When the buzz does shift, the chord change feels massive, the melody locking in tight, before slipping back into a metal-Niblock blur.
Eventually, the song ramps down, the guitars fade away leaving high end traces of what came before, keening streaks in the sky, shimmering lowend shadows underpinning coruscating arcs of distorted skree, eventually smoothing out into a soft, warm whirring blur that drifts off until the end.
Gorgeously packaged in a black on black digipak. Another winner from Kneale and his (for now) partner Kirk!
Latest slab of sprawling outsider minimal ambient sludge doom drone from this (now) duo, fronted by none other than Campbell Kneale, he of Birchville Cat Motel and Our Love Will Destroy The World, but as most of you probably already know, BBA is a whole 'nother beast. A snarling, slow motion, glacial, tarpit, black crawling beast, a sparse, yet still dense assemblage of massive riffing, the riffs themselves doused in crumbling distortion and left to just decay before our ears, only to have another crunching chord wash over us, not so much riffs as long arrangements of massive notes and chords, a forward momentum of nearly nil, these guys create some serious ultra doom, that rivals groups like Moss for sheer sonic weight.
The Witch Must Be Killed is a two sided two parter, the first side begins with a long stretch of near silence, hushed ambient drift, before the band really kick in with a Neurosis-at-16rpm dirge, and calling it a dirge is being generous, it's so slow, it's almost like a soundscape assembled from bits of riff, and occasional crashing drum pound, but the result is intoxicating, gorgeously hazy and blown out and weirdly epic, especially with the addition of a whole other layer of sound, what could be distant waiting vox, or another high end guitar, or some sort of noisemaker, but what that extra layer does is add some serious pathos, tension, what would otherwise be a metallic creep, becomes something totally emotional and intense, like a metal Godspeed crossed with an even more minimal Corrupted, but WAY spaced out, cosmic and otherworldly, more in line with something like Jesu or Nadja, but way heavier, and WAY more metal.
Repetitive, hypnotic, mesmerizing, nearly endless, a sprawling primordial metallic ooze, that envelops and consumes, sucking the listener into a black vortex of minimal metallic sound, the song itself developing slowly, nearly imperceptibly, for it is an actual sound, not just a hodge podge of sounds, a song that fills up nearly two sides, until about halfway through side two, when the band slip into their own sort of Filsofem, a blurred wash of buzz and rumble, of swirling hiss, of smeared effects and black ambience, laced with a haunting melody, played over and over, way off in the distance, partially obscured by the murk, while beneath it strange voices surface and swirl, the guitars smolder and burn, totally gorgeous and weirdly dreamy and otherworldy, as the record dissolves into an extended outro as bleary eared and buzzy as the best Birchville jam, just rendered via big amps and loud blackened guitars. Awesome.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
Birchville Cat Motel may be dead, only to be replaced by the quite similar sounding, but much more massive and electronic flecked Our Love Will Destroy The World. But thankfully, Black Boned Angel, the other long running musical project of Campbell Kneale, lives on, with not one, but TWO new releases this list. The other, a second collaboration with like-minded musical heavies Nadja, and this, the latest full length after last year's devastating The Endless Coming Into Life.
Verdun, named for the legendary battle presumably, is almost like an Endless Coming part two, dialing back the sheer heaviness and exploring space and dynamics, but in the process, somehow sounding so much heavier. Three long songs, all tracked as a single 52 minute epic, takes ages to get going, which is just fine, in doom as in life, it's not about the destination it's about the journey, and BBA's journey is a death march through burning fields and soot filled skies, but that's a few minutes away. A slow slow slow build, all barely there ambience, before some massive drums kick in, and then it's JUST drums, pounding away, in a spaced out vacuum, spare but punishing, and then THE RIFF, a massive one, the sort of riff, that once written, becomes a part of the writer, and soon after the listener. Sleep has a few, Sabbath has lots, now BBA has one, a slow, slithery crawl, a handful of notes spread way out into a dark descending minor key melody, the drums, just there to drive it home, as this is the sort of riff that needs nothing else, the sort of riff any metalhead could listen to looped over and over and over forever. About 12 minutes in, the tone changes, some high end shimmer sneaks in, sheets of feedback, the riff is pulled apart, various notes left to ring out, the drums a little more active, before everything drops out completely, leaving just a distant keening riff, left to moan and groan, to ring out, mournful and so so doomy, at about the half hour mark, the main riff returns, but this time it's been transformed into something strangely melodic, almost like power metal played at 16rpm, epic, but still so slooooooow, building ever building, eventually crumbling into a swirling bit of noise and crumbled buzz, and a gorgeous classical chorus, a choir of voices just below the churning distorted surface, totally epic and weirdly haunting, the sounds of warfare, guns and planes and explosions, surfacing from below the sprawling low end rumble, eventually taking over completely, the last few minutes a harrowing collage of death and destruction, of bombs and the cries of the dying.
Definitely a different beast than many of the older BBA records, which blended the kitchen sink drones of Birchville Cat Motel with a sort of abstract black doom element, Verdun is more of a proper metal record, although to be sure 'proper metal record' is really relative, since as metal as this is, it's also just as much an experimental doomdronedirge record, regardless, it is maybe the most fully realized Black Boned Angel record yet, not sure if it's THAT RIFF, or because Kneale just keeps getting better and better, or because it's a concept record, so it's essentially a suite of interconnected songs. It's actually probably a little of all three, although as you might have guessed, we're definitely leaning toward THAT RIFF.
Another matchup that had to happen eventually, it was only a matter of time. Campbell Kneale's Black Boned Angel, and Aidan Baker's Nadja. Two modern groups redefining doom metal. Filtering doom through their own dronedirge aesthetics, each with a distinctly unique take on doom, BBA's more of a glacial noise drenched dirge, Nadja's more of a blissed out metalgaze.
The two together though churn out what can only be described as epic grandiose doom pop. Or something like that. Soaring vocals, over thick churning crumbling distortion. It almost sounds like a sludge metal Queen, or a bit like recent Record Of The Week honorees Torche, or even Harvey Milk at their most dramatic and over the top.
The main riff is a slowed down classic rocker, turned sludgey and lugubrious but not losing any of its might or majesty. Guitars screech and soar and grind all around it, what sounds like a piano plinks along with the vocals, a sunshiney melody, but it's the vocals, that turn this into glorious sludgepop, a minor key lament, delivered in a plaintive wail, way down in the mix as well, but loud enough to totally carry the song, that main melody lodged in your head, forever!
Not really sure what else to say. If the math of Nadja + Black Boned Angel = Harvey Milk + Torche + Queen x loads of blown out distortion and sun baked buzz doesn't add up for you, you just might be reading the wrong list�
This is an ep teaser for the forthcoming full length from the same team on 20 Buck Spin, but fear not, this song, all 21+ minutes of it, is available only on this disc!!
The return of our favorite, blown out, minimal, psychedelic synth punks comes in the form of this frantic two track blast of gothed out garage rock pound. The screeched vocals of BB record past have been replaced by a dramatic moody croon, draped over some of THEE most distorted synth buzz you've ever heard. This is the kind of synth wave that induces punk rock pits. The "Frozen Energy" of the A-side is driven by sequenced pulsations, and lockstep drumming, a wicked chorus, and those goddamn synths. Imagine a super charged, meaner and moodier Soft Moon maybe. Regardless if you dug past BB records (the last full length came out on our very own Andee's tUMULt label) odds are this will push those very same buttons.
The B-side is nearly as bombastic, if not a bit more gloomy and glum, with spidery, sinewy basslines, some Cure-like jangle guitars, a pounding piano buried in the mix, and a wonderfully mopey main melody, not to mention the swirls of spaced out synth that pulsate and shimmer, and wrap the whole thing in a gauzy fug. It's like a gorgeously downcast pop song doused in FX, and smeared with sonic murk and we can't get enough.
Sorry, it's not the cheapest 7" in the world, though...
Most female fronted, angry rock bands probably get tired of getting tagged Riot Grrl, especially since for all intents and purposes, Riot Grrl ceased to be relevant years ago, maybe even ceased to exist entirely. BUT, if anyone was hoping to spawn a revival, Black Bug would be the band to make it happen. The A side of this 7", "I Don't Like You" is a mother fucking ANTHEM. The main riff totally distorted and so in-the-red it threatens to just fall to pieces, but then the chorus kicks in, and another guitar, EVEN MORE distorted and heavy and high in the mix, lurches into action, and lays waste to EVERYTHING. The drums are a mere pitter pat when faced with such blown out riffage, but it doesn't even matter. The vocals, though, seal the deal, distorted, wrapped in effects, howled with haughty pissed intensity, as loud and corrosive as the guitars it snarls around. And the hook, shit, if you gussied it up and got rid of some of the guitars and re-recorded it in a real studio we're talking something like the Breeders' "Cannonball", but instead, as is, it's a fierce fucked up, filthy fucking ANTHEM!
Like the Raveonettes if they were 13 years old, obsessed with Turbonegro, and SO pissed at their shit for brains boyfriend. Or maybe Daisy Chainsaw, but with a singer who is less waifish and sexy, and more bad ass and scary as shit. Reminds us a bit of Monarch punk rock alter ego Rainbow Of Death.
The flipside is not quite the ANTHEM as the A side, but it still slays, processed synthy buzz, tons of effects, this one more groovy and almost dance-y, in a sort of robotic way, more sassy pissed girl vocals. It's not hard to imagine Black Bug waiting outside some dance club and then kicking the living shit out of Uffie. Hellz Yeah!!
Cool thick black and blue sleeve, pressed on coke bottle clear vinyl.
This is the first we've heard from Swedish new wave garage rock,synth punk trio Black Bug since their mind blowing full length on tUMULt from a while back. Which itself was a furious collection of, as we described it then: "equal parts cold wave gloom, riot grrl yowl, in-the-red punk rock, and ultra raw blown out garage pop - from howling pounding furious crunch, to warped woozy synthy drone, to dour pulsing minimal cold wave, to super anthemic almost emo garage rock, and every variation in between. The recording raw and lo-fi, the drums, the synths, the bass, the vocals, in various stages of blown out distorted crumble, the drums clipped and weirdly processed, pushed as loud as they can go, the synth too, fuzzy, buzzy, wreathed in a sort of decaying haze, the vocals wild and unhinged and super emotional, sometimes a playful yelp, sometimes a cold croon, other times a full on hysterical shriek." Indeed.
And even then we were wondering why the hell BB weren't HUGE. And this brand new three song 7" has us again wondering how long it's gonna take before the rest of the world finally catch on. Cuz this stuff is so good, heavy, fuzzy, poppy, groovy, synthy, noisy and catchy like crazy. The sound on this new 7" finds the band dialing back a bit on the blown out crunch, but only a bit, the opener sounds like some seventies cop show theme fused to the chase scene music from a long lost futuristic thriller, a sort of pulsing kraut synth crunch, the bass thick and fuzzy, the vocals a softly distorted howl over the top, all wreathed in surprisingly swoonsome melodies, the result weirdly dramatic and cinematic. The second track is more like old school BB, and definitely sounds like an outtake from the full length, skittery machine like rhythms, lo-fi synth buzz and echoey vox, a definite Riot Grrl / DHR / synthwave hybrid, a retro futuristic chunk of garage-y synthpunk laced with creepy Gobliny melodies, and infused with hooks galore.
The B side / title track is a killer, all dirgey and ominous, another sprawl of futuristic sinister synthwave, and another jam that could be some sort of soundtrack, only this time it's some seventies zombie sci-fi thriller, the creeping, moody cinematic synths all tangled up into impossibly poppy hooks, the sort of hooks that you'll find yourself humming days later, the track continues to shift back and forth from hooky synthy fuzz pop to creepy seventies psychedelic soundtracky synth buzz and back again. SO GREAT!!
It's hard to be objective about this Swedish synth wave gloom punk garage rock outfit, 'cuz our very own Andee released their debut self titled record on cd back in 2011, and that record was a big time unanimous aQ store fave, not to mention a big hit with aQ customers. Heck how could it not be really? We probably won't be able to describe them better than we did in that review, so maybe we'll just borrow a bit for this new record.
We described that record as "visceral and immediate, emotional and bombastic, a bloody screaming sonic gem, equal parts heart and hooks, groove and grind, blast and buzz, an insanely catchy chunk of ultra blown out, bloodied and bruised GENIUS that we literally could NOT stop listening to." And the band specifically as "a furious feral synth driven monster, their sound equal parts cold wave gloom, riot grrl yowl, in-the-red punk rock, and ultra raw blown out garage pop, but even that's a bit reductive, there's something magical about what these three conjure up, both in sound and song, with just synth, bass, vocals and programmed drums. Their sound is all over the map, from howling pounding furious crunch, to warped woozy synthy drone, to dour pulsing minimal cold wave, to super anthemic almost emo garage rock, and every variation in between. The recording is raw and lo-fi, the drums, the synths, the bass, the vocals, in various stages of blown out distorted crumble, the drums are clipped and weirdly processed, pushed as loud as they can go, the synth too, fuzzy, buzzy, wreathed in a sort of decaying haze, the vocals of frontwoman Lily are wild and unhinged and super emotional, sometimes a playful yelp, sometimes a cold croon, other times a full on hysterical shriek."
Heck, it's obvious why we were and ARE so goddamn smitten. And if anything this new record is just as good. Managing to still sound buzzy and blown out, furious and fierce and punk as fuck, but also new wavey, and crazy poppy. The big difference this time around, is that there's way more boy vox, which gives this a whole different vibe, it sounds gloomier and more dramatically post punk, a quick run through of the first four songs, a head spinning 1-2-3-4 sonic punch that will have you reeling, and not only buying this record, but trying to track down everything they've ever recorded.
"You Scream" starts things off, all robotic rhythm, crumbling distorted riffage, a woozy dizzyingly psychedelic percussion, the vocals a brooding croon, the whole thing laced with little bits of twang, giving it a subtle whif of the Cramps, some serious garage rock stomp, but one that's driven by synths and drum machines as much as guitar. The second track is from a BB single we reviewed a while back and is all dirgey and ominous, a claustrophobic sprawl of futuristic sinister synthwave that could be some sort of soundtrack, some seventies zombie sci-fi thriller, the creeping, moody cinematic synths all tangled up into impossibly poppy hooks, the sort of hooks that you'll find yourself humming days later, the track continues to shift back and forth from hooky synthy fuzz pop to creepy seventies psychedelic soundtracky synth buzz and back again.
"Police Helicopter" is from the same 7" and lays down a weirdly jaunty beat, wreathes it in some low end synth buzz, before a creepy computerized voice intones some ominous phrase, and a second synth swoops in and wraps everything in thick crumbling melodic buzz, and then transforms into a crazy catchy melody, before peeling away, leaving a chiming music box melody, only to swoop right back in, another jam, that could be some modern re-envisioning of Carpenter/Goblin, and folks into the current wave of retro futuristic synthscapery, would do well do dig some Black Bug for sure. Then there's "TV Screen", which is from a BB single we never got, and is a fierce, muddy, murky blast of Brainbombs like buzz, the sound woozy and off-kilter, the drums buried in the mix, the main riff KILLER, and buried in all that buzz and fuzz are some squiggly sci-fi melodies. Weird thing is, it sounds a lot like one of our favorite Bongwater songs, albeit blown out and doused in buzz!
And heck that's just the first four songs. We're stopping right before "Masks", which might be the catchiest jam here, with the weirdest, most warped guitar sound yet, and "Delta" which sounds like it could have been plucked from some Dark Entries reissue, murky lo-fi synth wave gloominess, or "Threads" which is all lysergic dirge pop that should have John Maus and Ariel Pink looking over their shoulders.
Overall, Reflecting The Light is less fist in the face, guitar to the guy, synth to the solar plexus blown out noise drenched garage punk, although there's still plenty of that to be found, but the songs are more carefully crafted, the production varied, but at times massive, the synths so thick and caustic, it's like you have your headphones plugged directly into them, and then there's plenty of slow creepiness, that would most definitely sound right at home on any of those recent Death Waltz John Carpenter reissues. So good. And every time we review a BB record we wonder again, why aren't they huge?! Fans of weirdo garage rock who might be up for something even more weird and far out, we can't recommend Black Bug enough!!
We have been DYING for this. The Black Bug I Don't Like You 7" was probably our favorite single of the last however many years, we've played it to death, over and over, just waiting for a full length to materialize, hoping and praying it would be even half as good as the 7", but maybe steeling ourselves for disappointment. But thankfully that steeling was totally unnecessary, as the full length more than lives up to the impossible expectations set by that two song salvo.
This Swedish new wave garage punk 3 piece are a furious feral synth driven monster, their sound equal parts cold wave gloom, riot grrl yowl, in-the-red punk rock, and ultra raw blown out garage pop, but even that's a bit reductive, there's something magical about what these three conjure up, both in sound and song, with just synth, bass, vocals and programmed drums. Their sound is all over the map, from howling pounding furious crunch, to warped woozy synthy drone, to dour pulsing minimal cold wave, to super anthemic almost emo garage rock, and every variation in between. The recording is raw and lo-fi, the drums, the synths, the bass, the vocals, in various stages of blown out distorted crumble, the drums are clipped and weirdly processed, pushed as loud as they can go, the synth too, fuzzy, buzzy, wreathed in a sort of decaying haze, the vocals of frontwoman Lily are wild and unhinged and super emotional, sometimes a playful yelp, sometimes a cold croon, other times a full on hysterical shriek.
But it's not just the sound, the songs are incredible, short sharp bursts of new wave gloom pop. "Fell In Love With" is like a lo-fi riot grrl Soft Cell, with stuttery drums, insanely distorted synth and blown out bass, and Lily's vocals so intense and snarly, a depressive descending melody that is totally irresistible. "Inside Out", one of the few songs with male vocals, courtesy of Lily's partner Ruslav, a brooding propulsive chunk of synth doom, Joy Division via Cold Cave, like a more raw and lo-fi Sixx or Soror Dolorosa. "The Wave" is like an ultra raw lo-fi Aavikko a sort of woozy alien krautrock, "Beating Your Heart Out" is the buzz synth breakup song you blast in headphones to soothe your black and broken heart, a cathartic buzz drenched dirge, "I've Got Eyes" sounds like it could have been on Captured Tracks or Sacred Bones, that sort of modern retro synth wave weirdness that anyone into Blessure Grave or Blank Dogs should lose their shit over, "Make Her" is like some lost riot grrl anthem, run through a bank of busted effects pedals and broadcast through a wall of blown speakers, warped and warbly and crumbling before your ears, but somehow, still heavy and hooky and fucking incredible.
This whole record is visceral and immediate, emotional and bombastic, a bloody screaming sonic gem, equal parts heart and hooks, groove and grind, blast and buzz, an insanely catchy chunk of ultra blown out, bloodied and bruised, gloom-wave noise-pop genius. Record Of The Week, fuck that. Record Of The Year!!!!
The first 7" by this dynamic duo, was a serious blast of synth drenched post riot grrl fury, all new wave garage stomp and ass kicking punk rock genius! Record number two dials back the synth and new wave elements and ups the swaggery garage vibe, with these two new tracks. The A side features the boy half of this duo on lead vocals, shouting out a staccato invective over a groovy swinging garage jam, sounding a bit like a more upbeat Brainbombs, which is NEVER bad, simple, stripped down Pussy Galore / Royal Trux style RAWK.
The flipside finds Lily back on the mic, lamenting about how she knows she's not the prettiest girl but she doesn't need to hear that from YOU, all over another bad ass garage blues jam, some serious riot grrl revamped, a KILLER main riff, an amazing hook, all murky and muddy and blown out, fierce throaty, angry girl vox, if only the White Stripes were this bad ass.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
A teasing single of hauntological pop courtesy of the esteemed minds at Death Waltz. Nope, like their recent Pye Corner Audio 10" in this same series, this is not a soundtrack; but Black Channels would be well suited to the task of coming up with a score that could be witchy, gothy, gloomy, macabre, ghosty, spooky, Cronenberg-y, or any combination thereof. We're not given much in the way of informational background about this British duo, who simply credit themselves as Simon and Becky; and these three tracks certainly live up to the shorthand description of 'Broadcast meets HTRK'. Becky's breathy voice wavers between recalling the futurist dream-pop melodies that Trish Keenan once brought to Broadcast, and then diving into much darker territory with a seductive monotone akin to Jonnine Standish from HTRK; while the electronics, guitars, and rhythms are arranged into spacious and spectral tunes of slow-motion post-library music seances. Limited to a scant 450 copies, we must add.
What might one expect from a Black Cobra, one part sludge metal crushers Cavity and one part doom sludge slayers 16? How about two parts massive fucking metallic destruction. A pummeling two man chain gang, pounding sonic boom drumming and rumbling low slung dowtuned guitar chug and churn and a whole lot of yelling, Black Cobra are like a WAY more metal Karp, and hell, Karp were pretty dang metal to begin with. A thick gooey paste of noise and sludge as heavy as, if not heavier than, these two guy's former groops combined, but there's ONLY TWO OF 'EM!!! How in the hell do two guys make such an unholy racket??! Who cares! This is some glorious heaviness. 16, Cavity, Dove, Torche, Floor, you get the drift. Heavy and drone-y and groovy and sludgy and so goddamn heavy. We often wonder why heavy two piece bands always choose to ditch the bass player when it's ALL about the low end, but fear not, there is no lack of bass here, hell, the guitar is tuned low enough that it might as well be a bass!!
This is the shit we love. Massive feedback and utter heaviness. Big fat riffs. Lots of "chunka chunka" "chug chug". Huge ride cymbal smashing caveman-behind-the-kit power drumming. DOOM! NOISE! DIRGE! SLUDGE! HELL YEAH!!
Do you like riffs? Do you like heavy as fuck sludged out goodness that at times reaches cosmic proportions? Do you like the band Karp? If you answered yes to any of these, then the chances are good you will do real well with the latest sonic missive from the two headed metal machine known as Black Cobra, their first for Southern Lord. Chronomega is so chock full of subharmonic super low tuned guitars, pummeling war drums, and mean ass vocals that you probably won't even notice (or care) that there is no bass. This band is INSANELY heavy, and they truly understand the possibilities that a two man lineup can shoot for and achieve if they've got the right pedigree. Considering that these dudes have served time in Cavity and 16, you can bet your sweet ass they have that pedigree. The band manages to be both loose and precise, swinging and propulsive, and one could easily imagine Black Cobra at home somewhere in the center of the earth, or maybe in a giant cave. Their sound is brutal but also quite melodic at times, and it's pretty clear that these two know what the fuck they're doing. The results are strangely hypnotic, it's as if there is an ever present hum from the vibrations of the guitar strings as the drums carry things forward into the center of a volcano.
Obviously for fans of the aforementioned Karp (as well as Big Business), the Melvins, and maybe even the more thuggish elements of bands like Mastodon and Baroness. Get this now!
Two man heavy riff-machine Black Cobra return with another pummeling release on At A Loss. Picking up right where Bestial left off, Feather And Stone shreds from the start. Brutally punishing circular riffs, heavy as all hell doomy moments, throat ripping screams, and incredibly hard hitting and precise drums. The fact that this massive sound comes from two fellas is pretty damn amazing. The album has all kinds of peaks and valleys. Amidst the constant time signature shifting, and brain-burning riff heavitude, there are a couple of beautifully dark intros and outros thrown in, giving the album a very balanced feeling. But it's mostly just crushingly heavy and ripping. If you can imagine a heavier, much more misanthropic Karp, that's kind of what they remind us of. Feather And Stone is a must for anybody needing a little taste of thrashing triumphant, sometimes doomy and dark, sometimes fast and techy, but always heavy and punk as fuck ROCK music. It tastes good. This is also an enhanced disc, including some pretty righteous footage of the Cobra ripping at Roadburn! Proving these guys really are that HEAVY, even with just the power of two! For fans of Cavity, Karp, Floor, Torche, and things that kill shit!
This has got to be one of the best black metal album covers EVER. A close-up of two corpsepainted mouths, drooling thick, viscous blood. Nice. Blazing fast, old-school black metal. Almost all blast beats and shrieks (the vocals sounding quite a bit like Cradle
We were introduced to the Peak Oil imprint through the lugubrious drone album by the Slow Walkers - a (probably) one-off collaboration between Liz Harris (aka Grouper) and Lawrence English; but a lugubrious drone album is not what you will find here. Black Deer, aka William Burnett aka Willie Burns, delivers a hybrid of DFA-styled disco-punk, summery bedroom techno cuts, and analogic minimal wave. The lead track "It's Like The Way It Used To Be" locks acid squelching sequences and meandering rounded melodies onto a motorik kick-drum pulse, with plenty of kosmische / autobahn references. The best tracks on the album - "First Of September" and "New Break" in particular - are those that align with the nervous if infectious productions from James Murphy or even Arthur Russell, woven with jittery guitars wracked with clockwork delay, automaton synth patterns, and Peter Hook style disco basslines. Limited to 400 copies and housed in hand-silkscreened cover.
Finally, this rare 1978 French disco masterpiece sees the light of day in its original dark and sleazy form. A few years ago, the Rephlex label released a series of 12"s of tracks from this album claiming it was a rare discovery found in a French gas station from an obscure French library release under the name Junior Claristidge, a pseudonym for Bernard Fevre. Everyone originally thought this was a hoax, and was a modern group trying to create a fake retro disco record, but then Bernard Fevre, a French library composer from the late seventies came out of the woodwork and confirmed its origins. Shortly after, Fevre created a new project called Black Devil Disco Club, based on the successful response to the Black Devil rediscovery and used it to make new music based on old unused dance recordings from that period. Fevre is now getting a full on rediscovery with three of his most sought after library records from the seventies being reissued for the first time: Black Devil, Suspense and Cosmic 2043.
While the Black Devil Disco Club records were good, their steely sheen was a little too polished compared to the sonic dirtiness of the Black Devil originals, which sound like Giorgio Moroder and Arthur Russell in a darkly exotic reverie of drugged out fleshy vice. Strobes pulsing in a painted black room, poppers popping, hands groping, lots of congo driven disco beat and vocodered male and female vocals. Imagine Bruce Haack's Electric Lucifer in a hedonistic night of orgiastic dancing after the fall of man, and you get the idea. Enter if you dare!
Download card included!
Been just a little confused by this Lo Recordings release... and we're not the only ones. Ok, get this: a 1978 French disco single by the hitherto unknown Black Devil's Disco Club (perhaps, or was it titled Disco Club by an artist named Black Devil?) was reissued on 12" vinyl a couple years ago by the Rephlex label. 'Twas some pretty cool dance music for retro-minded folks, full of spacey electronics and bongo rhythms, the sort of thing that jaded DJs are always happy to dig up from the vinyl past. Now we get this album by the same artist... or is it? And is this new stuff, or old? Or a bit of both? (Most likely). Verrrrry mysterious. (Though we're sure that in certain circles all is obvious about this, not to us though.) Anyway, what really matters is, have we still got some pretty cool dance music for retro-minded folks? And the answer is yes. Super groooovy, what sound to us like sampled '70s Italo-disco synth beat stylings, full of analog sizzle. Goofily effected vox intrude amusingly as well, at times. It's a bit Giorgio Moroder, but more organic somehow. 6 tracks, 32 minutes, (maybe) 28 years in the making, and right on time, really.
The mystery of it all is heightened by the packaging -- an all black jewel case, with the credits ("written and produced by Bernard Fevre") and track titles printed only on the cardstock slipcover. Inside the jewelcase, in lieu of a cd booklet, you get a folded, 10" x 10" one-sided, black-and-white photo of Mssr. Fevre (presumably), taken back in '78? Dunno.
Hmm. We're pretty big fans of Bernard Fevre's earlier Black Devil Disco Club releases, but this new one is a bit of a departure. Rather than continue to mine/emulate his archive of '70s-recorded Italo-disco cosmic synth stuff, which was a motherlode of instrumental atmospheric grooviness, here he's recruited an impressive (and unlikely!) array of guest vocalists, including Nancy Sinatra, Jon Spencer, and Afrika Bambaataa, along with members of Yacht and The Horrors, and Fevre's compositions backing them up are suddenly in a much more current-sounding synth-pop dance music style. We can see people really digging this, of course, but not because of the things that previously attracted us to the Black Devil Disco Club. Give us his spacey "library music" any day. Well, some of this still evokes the likes of Morodoer and Kraftwerk for sure, but that's overshadowed by all the guest stars. Check out the sound samples is our advice.
Lo previously brought us the most excellent, very much of the retro moment Black Devil Disco Club disc entitled 28 After, which was (supposedly) an archival document of the late '70s Parisian answer to Italo-Disco and Giorgio Moroder. We say supposedly 'cause the whole BDDC thing is intentionally shrouded in mystery, and it's been postulated that the contents of that disc are probably partly old and partly new. It's conclusively the case, though, that the man behind BDDC, one Bernard Fevre, WAS indeed active making music in the '70s. And now under the BDDC name, Lo has re-released Fevre's 1975 "library music" album, The Strange World Of Bernard Fevre. Sort of, that is. Being BDDC, things aren't that straightforward. First off, note that this cd is titled The Strange NEW World of Bernard Fevre, and features obviously all-new cover art. Furthermore, some research reveals that 7 of the 14 tracks on here appeared on the authentic, original LP, but 7 didn't... likewise, an equal number of tracks from the 1975 record don't show up on this disc (we're disappointed not to get to hear the likes of "Hell Ride" ferinstance). But not THAT disappointed, since what we have here, whenever and wherever it's from, is pretty neat!!
Super groovy and super moody, these rhythmic instrumentals are laced with sinister synth, driven by tick-tock drum machines and thick bass lines. Eerie Goblin-y atmospheres meet the icy electro robotics of Kraftwerk. Or imagine John Carpenter gone disco. With plenty of entrancing, elegant melody to make this a good at home in the evening listen.
Regardless of whether all these tracks were composed/recorded at the same time (the ones not from the original Strange World Of Bernard Fevre could be outtakes from that LP, or other unreleased material from the era, OR they could have been produced on vintage analog equipment just yesterday, we don't know, and for that matter we're not really sure if everything has been remixed or rerecorded recently), they certainly all SOUND like they all belong together. Anyone into minimal wave, or Italo-disco, or that "So Young But So Cold" comp of French synthwerks circa '77-'82, that sort of thing, should find themselves getting all tingly over this. Furthermore, if the slinky tempos were sped up just a bit, and you did some choppy edits and/or dropped in some glitchery, you'd practically have skweee!
It seems that art world darlings Black Dice have abandoned their super spastic noise assaults in favor of a more subtle, spacious, psychedelic approach, a path not unlike the one the Boredoms followed on the way to making "Super ae" and "Vision Creation Newsun." What happened? It's like someone set those responsible for "Cold Hands" loose in the forest with some shrooms, a couple Amon Duul records and a mission to get in touch with their primal selves. However they got their inspiration, the results are a glorious realization of intensity achieved through built-up layers of evocative, tension filled sound rather than freak-punk pummelling. This is an affair of shimmery guitars, cascading oscillations, tinkling chimes, and even a new agey wind line, worrisome until it gets obliterated via sample manipulation. An element of tribalism pounds its way into Beaches & Canyons, both through hypnotic drumming and yelping "Ah oh ah oh oh ah ah oh YEW! YEW! YEW! YEW!" vocal outbursts. The whole thing teeters precariously on the edge of hippy-dippydom, but Black Dice manages to pull off the jams while avoiding wanton self indulgence. Expansive, unexpected and awesome.
Nothin' like starting off your morning with a big ol' cup of coffee and a big ol' earful (well, 37 minutes or so) of Black Dice. The cover art is, um, great...a pretty rainbow as the background, some nice fluffy clouds, and a lady's upturned bottom covered discreetly with little black cheerio things all pasted a bit left of center. Mmm, sonic AND visual collage.
"Broken Ear Record" has an almost consistent beat as its backbone that makes me think of mustached cartoon men working underground in a futuristic metropolis where things like dancing and pressing certain colored buttons are verboten but everyone does it anyway because it feels so damn good. This record is workin' in the kind of coal mine Devo would dig if they did things like dig coal mines. Things get a little Add N to (X)-y at times, not that that's a bad thing. As our lovely new staffer Kerry stated, track seven sounds a lot like a battle between a couple of toy dogs. And then someone whips out a jackhammer and things go a little nuts...but mind you not TOO nuts.
When we first put this on, I was pleasantly surprised. The first song starts off with intense, rumbling and droning feedback, offset with what sounds like a malfunctioning music box. Actually quite cool. But it only takes a minute or two for everything to devolve to the lowest possible level. Yelping, screeching, stupid and inept, lame art-punk crap. Actually, referring to this as
The Brooklyn art-rock outfit Black Dice has an affinity for farting squiggles of electronic noise that left to their own devices would be very ugly and not very listenable. But Black Dice's 'Cone Toaster' single -- like its precursor album Beaches and Canyons -- salvages those sounds by interlacing them into really simple, tranced out percussive grooves and recalls the hyper-real esctacy and whimsically plastic psychedelia of The Boredoms' Vision Creation Newsun. Coincidentally, Yamataka Eye of The Boredoms is rumored to have contributed to the 'Cone Toaster' track. And Eye did in fact remix the b-side 'Endless Happiness' which comes from the Beaches and Canyons album. Released on the uber-hip DFA Records, so you don't need us telling you that this is cool. You already know.
Following up their recent Miles Of Smiles ep, here's a full-length of organic, electro-acoustic glitch and wild rhythmic overload from this hard-to-pin-down, arty outfit. Always one step ahead of our expectations, I guess...whatever they are. This features eight sometimes melodic, mostly fucked-up tracks electronic and somehow seemingly "ethnic" experimentation, one of them recorded live on their tour with Animal Collective. True, some of these tracks just sound like one sound effect after another, but the best ones on here are somehow really songs, though full of tape warped textures, hen-coop hullabaloo, and noisy beats. Lots of sounds falling past yr ears on here!
Glitchy blippy trippy flipped out bombast from Brooklyn's own Black Dice! This is futuristic noise-rave music! An entirely beat driven sound, drawing on everything from Razor X-esque dance hall to the minimal sounds of the Chain Reaction label, but all filtered through the hypercolored sound pallet of the most forward thinking noise artists around. The music, while remaining noisy and abstract, is surprisingly hooky. Melodies are buried beneath the clanging of drum machines and dubbed out white noise textures. Heavily processed vocals float, from time to time, over a multimetric cacophony of layered rhythmic patterns, which results in something that is as infectious and groovy as it is disorienting and woozy. This music is how we imagine the club music of some super advanced race of space aliens might sound. Extraterrestrial crate bangers! If you dug on 2005's Broken Ear Record, or if you're just looking for something entirely refreshing and original in the world of "noise" music, this is definitely worth checking out.
Tigerbeat 6 brings you a new ep from hardcore to freaky ambient turncoats Black Dice. Featuring sounds processed and tweaked with oudated electronics, ungrounded electrical buzz, and showcasing a big ol' tribal drum circle (uh oh). After an extended intro of floating tones, the second track brings us some of the fucked up noise rock that was conspicuously absent from a recent show here in SF. What will become of Black Dice? Will the youthful fashionistas learn to love the new Black Dice, or will they turn their backs? This 3" is one teeny piece of the continuing saga.
Despite being on DFA, this sounds rather more like an Anomalous release. This two-track cd ep from Brooklyn's always-interesting, ever-exploratory, formerly-punk outfit Black Dice is a pleasant blend of electronic drones and samples and ethnic/krautrock flavoring. The thirteen minutes of the first, title track are heavily based on processed field recordings -- nighttime cricket noises, a purring feline, Thuja-ish stick crackling and other indistinct sources -- a mix that's then interrupted (or augmented) by what sounds like a some sort of blurrily recorded jamboree maybe from Africa or Southeast Asia. Following that, the fourteen minute track two, "Trip Dude Delay", dabbles in simple melody, effects and drifting vocals and sounds a bit more like a 'band' than the soundscape sampling of track one. Very mellow, very nice, even when they get louder and noisier halfway through (when their Boredoms Super Ae stylings are made evident).
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
So, can you really call a song "Pinball Wizard", if it's not actually "Pinball Wizard"??? We guess you can, if you're Black Dice. They don't give a damn. Or maybe it IS a version of "Pinball Wizard", but so fucked up Black Dice style as to be unrecognizable. Whatever it is, it's the opening track on this new platter from Brooklyn weirdos Black Dice, the entire nine tracks of which represent another damaged dose of what we've previously referred to as their usual "sampled and collagey, beat driven electro-noise" shenanigans. Piled with broken beats, looped noises, distorted vocal blurts, farting synths, etc., their lysergic grooves sound kinda like a really woozy drugged out Pop Will Eat Itself making an album for the Boredoms' Super Roots series or something. All kinds of chaotic craziness, but weirdly catchy though!
NYC art-punk noise terrorists return with two new tracks on San Diego's Three.One.G. Comes with a deluxe forty page booklet of collage art and photos by drummer Hisham.
Brooklyn's Black Dice are back in action with another serving of their signature sampled and collagey, beat driven electro-noise. Repo turns and pulses like colors in a kaleidoscope, the sounds of cosmic tin cans colliding while clumsy break beats thud and pound. And while Black Dice fans won't be too surprised by anything on Repo, probably the coolest thing about this release is the 20 page booklet that comes overflowing with outrageous collaged black and white artwork by the band! Can you dig it??
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
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Looking for more Black Dice action? Well, here's three remixes (DFA, Luomo, and ZZ Pot), an edit, and a video of the song "Smiling Off" from the band's most recent Broken Ear Record. It's mostly beat-beat-beat on this one. The ZZ Pot remix is the most interesting of the bunch, being the least club-ready (though it's still got some of us dancin') and throwing a little more noise candy into the pot.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
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What can be more jarringly psycohallucinotransic than the music of Black Dice? Why a book of fucked up collage, video game patterns, zig zagging lines and other artwork created and inspired by their warped rhythmic forays into karmic electronic levitating hipness. Fuck You Art School!!
The latest from local label Valley King, is the first release from Black Elk Medicine Band, the solo project of Isaiah Mitchell of recent aQ Record Of The Weekers Golden Void, as well as psych rock shredders Earthless, and in BEMB, at least on this single, Mitchell is joined by Phil Manley (Trans Am, Life Coach, The Fucking Champs, etc.) and John McBain of the mighty Monster Magnet (and Carlton Melton!). You'd never know it on the B side, which just happens to be the one we listened to first - a dark, brooding, seventies sounding psychedelic drift, swirling soft tangles of slow burn guitar shred smolder, draped over a thick, ominous sprawl of sinister synth buzz, sounding like Mitchell's homage to Funkadelic's "Maggot Brain", the same sort of dark psych brood, tense and emotional and moody.
But flip the record over, and Mitchell and crew let loose with a heady barrage of spaced out psych that wouldn't sound out of place on a Golden Void or Earthless record. A simple skeletal programed rhythm pulses away beneath clouds of heavily flanged riffage, and yep, some seriously soaring heart of the sun shredding, sounding almost like a snippet of a much longer jam, fading in, the action already underway, the band locked into some seriously tripped out psychedelic mesmer, Mitchell laying down another blast of tangled super emotive guitar god leads, over a tranced out motorik background, eventually fading out, as if the actual jam, the one we just got a single side glimpse of, continued well on into the forever.
LIMITED TO 500 NUMBERED COPIES!! In a swank sleeve featuring all new artwork from artist Alan Forbes, each one signed!
