Second vinyl only offering from this low end subsonic super group, made up of Greg Anderson (SUNNO))), Southern Lord head honcho), Oren Ambarchi, and legendary black metal vocalist Attila Csihar (Mayhem, Tormentor, Aborym)�
For this outing, Ambarchi and Anderson are credited with sub bass death throb, while Attila is responsible for undead voices. And that's pretty much what it sounds like, sub bass throbs with haunting undead vocals woven into the heaving roiling mass. There seem to be some guitars in there too, maybe some electronics, but it's hard to tell, it's all smeared into a single swirling blackened mass. When we first listened to it, we played it at 33 (which we're assuming now is NOT the right speed, so hard to tell sometimes), and we thought, wow, this is even slower and sludgier than ever, but once we figured out it was meant to be 45, the sound reverted back, closer to the sound of SUNNO))) or the older records of their forbears Earth. Slow motion riffage, glacial and thick, massive and blown out and super distorted, muffled and murky, a sluggish sprawl of caustic crumbling guitars, the vocals barely audible, a haunting raspy growl way down in the mix, often just sounding like another buzzing bassline, hum and fuzz, dense and intense, all melted down into a viscous black crawl. Occasionally, the random bits of riffage and low end rumble coalesce into truly gorgeous harmonies, lovely and chordal, like some blackened church organ, but for the most part, this is the sound of guitar tones allowed to ring out forever and beat against each other, the air filled with oscillating overtones and strange tonal colorations, all beneath a patina of thick black buzz.
Amazing cover art as well, a gross out gutted worm picture disc, with a transparent skull and bugs insert on one side, and another sick silkscreened artwork overlay on the thick plastic sleeve, all courtesy of Mr. Seldon Hunt.
Recorded live, in January of this year, in Holland. And of course, you had to know this part was coming:
LIMITED TO 3000 COPIES!! And if it's anything like the other Burial Chamber record, it will sell out FAST.
Not to be confused with the recently listed Grave Temple cd we reviewed, The Burial Chamber Trio is basically exactly the same as Grave Temple, just swap out one SUNNO))) for another. So it's still Oren Ambarchi and Attila Csihar, but this time it's Southern (Over)Lord Greg Anderson instead Of Stephen O'Malley, and where as the Grave Temple was a cd, this is VINYL ONLY. And while in some ways there are sonic similarities, the sound of the Burial Chamber Trio is much more aligned with the sounds of the mothership (aka SUNNO)))) than Grave Temple.
Two sidelong tracks, vocals, guitars, bass, and electronics, with Anderson trading in his axe for a bass guitar, Side A begins with swirling clouds of FX, electronics, weird processed vocals, before Ambarchi's guitars roll in, sounding not at all unlike SUNNO))), huge and buzzing, left to drone and rumble and pulse, a blackened mysterious slow motion riff, dripping and crumbling over the black abyss. Speaking of black, this wouldn't have sounded at all out of place on Black One, strangled vocals, the churning riffage, the black ambience, near the end of the side, everything erupts into a furious melee of processed guitarnoise, swooping electronics, damaged voices, everything hissing and whirring and rumbling and shrieking before fading out completely.
The B side is much more tranquil, almost no vocals, even more SUNNO)))-like, the same basic ingredients as the first side, but more spread out and blissed out, the guitar a slow motion wall of sound, cutting a huge swath through a sea of buzz and drone, an endlessly hypnotic ur-drone, that ends up sounding more spacey and psychedelic but still plenty heavy...
LIMITED TO 2000 COPIES. Vinyl only. Amazing black gloss on black matte artwork by Seldon Hunt.
Clay Ruby's long running Burial Hex project is a tough outfit to pin down, with a sound that's in constant flux, from oppressive necro electronics, to haunting cinematic strings, to crumbling industrial dronemusic, to ritual lo-fi ambience. Now, on In Psychic Defense, we get a whole 'nother side of that sound. The opener is a strange, bit of gothic balladry, a grim torch song, with skittery programmed beats, beneath spidery psych folk filigree, thick warmly, woozy basslines, and Ruby's dramatic croon, nestled amidst swirls of chordal organ thrum, dense rumbles... but soon, that sound dissipates, leaving just a sonic shadow / skeleton, minimal swells, tinkling Goblin like melodies, suspended in a sprawl of hushed shimmer, haunting and moody, this stretch of brooding ambience, peppered with bursts of caustic noise, whispered vox, more slippery, sinewy bass - and then a surprising, almost hour music coda, the grim whispers and haunting drones woven into a skittery funky beat, before devolving into a final burst of low end pulses. The second track is another sprawling epic, and is another sonic aboutface, rooted in some sort of martial industrial music, a muted, murky rhythm, sweeping synth swirls, and some creepy processed vokills, it's another gloomy ballad, but this one more tripped out and almost dubby, those swoonsome string-like shimmers faded and washed out, and like the first track, there's another unexpected detour into some straight up dance music, a looped groove, also pretty house, underpinned by some of the shadowy sonics from the first part of the song, but for the most part, weirdly groovy funk, before it too transforms into a bleak psych-drone outdo.
Those two tracks make up more than half of the record, with the relatively shorter tracks exploring still more unfamiliar territory, with a real dance music bent surfacing throughout, "Fantasie" sounds like Coil at their danciest, "Und Fuge" is all glimmering synths and percolating cosmic melodies, while "To Birth The Rotted Sun" returns to the gothic doom-ed balladry of the opener, with distorted percussion, and pounded piano, wreathed in strange electronic squiggle, and pocked with weird effects, but then instead of a croon, the vocals explode in a hysterical shriek, the rhythm bursting into chaos right alongside, a weird sort of black metal / industrial torch song / neo-folk hybrid, that's pretty strange, and really cool.
Finally, "(Or: War)" is a sprawl of power electronics, dense tangles of misfiring circuitry and analog sputter, all draped over moaning low end slo-mo melodies, and pitch shifted crooning, culminating in closer "The Tower", another weirdo industrial funk workout, low slung bass, a pulsing rhythm, squelchy low end, smears of gristly static, echoey clouds of chordal thrum, but all anchored by some seriously funky grooviness. There's definitely a high WTF factor here, but then that's pretty much the case with all the Burial Hex records. Cool, weird stuff for sure!
Clay Ruby is one busy guy. He runs the awesome Skulls Of Heaven label. He fronts free folk weirdos Davenport. He also does time in Jex Thoth (aka Totem), albeit under a different name, and he produces his own brand or ritual musical blackness as Burial Hex.
The last record from Burial Hex we listed was an lp that bore the legend, "OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS!" which in fact that record was, buzzy and blurry and grinding and grim, but the opening of this disc is anything but, ominous strings, very cinematic, moan and drift, melodies abstract and spare, stretch out and sprawl like a graveyard fog. Slowly, other sounds enter the mix, percussion, rumbling drones, strange beastly growls, eventually, the tranquility is shattered by what sounds like a descent into hell, anguished wails, squalls of strings, screams and shrieks, more growling and grunting, which soon give way to an avalanche of crumbling distorted noise, feedback, and amp buzz, whirs and grinding glitch, a serious wall of intense blown out fury, but the track finishes off like it began, haunting strings, ominous melodies, dark and dramatic.
The rest of the disc (4 tracks total, all 18 minutes or more) slips between super minimal crumbling drone, murky buzz, throbbing industrial whirs, medieval sounding dark ambience, simple muted percussion, chanted voices, processed guitar, creepy carnivalesque keyboards, buzzing raga-like drones, swampy faux field recordings, skittery electronics, insect like chirps and twitters, shortwave radio broadcasts, shimmering fuzz drenched drifts, all very scary and filmic, in fact much of this, especially the more musical bits, sound like they could have been pulled from some lost Argento movie, or some lost Italian horror classic. Which is indeed a very good thing.
Packaged in a cool origami style folded and silkscreened sleeve, with multiple printed inserts.
On first glance, one might assume this would be some seriously grim black metal. The cover is skeletal branches against a washed out sky. All of the text is in a distressed olde English font. On the insert lurks a strange cloaked skull figure hidden in the darkness. The songs have titles like "Nightstalking The Unsilent Boneyard", "The Storm Of Ancient Nightcrawler", "Feasting The Nightsoil Communion".
But lo and behold, this is anything but black metal. According to the legend inside, this is OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS! Which indeed it is.
The opening track does in fact sound like nightstalking an unsilent boneyard, foot steps, crunching gravel (bones underfoot?), electronic rumbles, harsh demonic whispers, streaks of fuzzed out high end, and corrosive rumbling drones underneath. Strange pulsing riffs seem to be smeared into indistinct blurs, all wrapped in spikey caustic buzz and lots of rumble and crackle.
Elsewhere, grinding electronics drift amidst dense industrial whirs, fragmented melodies bob on the surface like corpses, the background a roiling black sea of thrum and buzz, constantly swirling and changing shape. Seriously dark and demonic. A killer slab of black ambience. OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS indeed!
A tour only lp from long time faves Burial Hex, aka Clay Ruby who also ran the amazing Skulls Of Heaven label, and who here has joined up with the mysterious Kinit Her for a twisted collection of psychedelic ritualistic acid folk, but laced with bits of industrial crunch and electronic buzz, strange almost black metal vocals, and mysterious field recordings.
Haunting, and ominous, long streaks of feedback and buzzing electronics are blurred into extended drones, peppered with minimal martial percussion, steel string guitar buzz, bits of avant Appalachia, bits of twang, soft swirls of effects, and strange strident vocals, that are definitely reminiscent of Comus (!), a little demented and frenzied and intense. Murky crumbling soundscapes drift beneath clouds of frantic psychedelic leads, simple motorik drumming locked into simple hypnotic grooves, underpinned by flurries of bombinating guitars, then a second set of vocals, even more strange, howled and hellish, almost sampled sounding, struggling to be heard through the mix, only making them sound more hysterical.
The flip side offers up another side of this collaborative ritualistic folk, this time, it's just piano, picking out a mournful melody over a field recording of crickets, the piano occasionally erupting into manic dense bursts of notes, over the whole thing some super freaky, gurgled demonic vox, a strange juxtaposition for sure, made even strange by soaring strings, and mysterious bits of industrial crunch, of twisted electronic percussion, and the vocals, howled and shrieked and even more intense than before, all over that creeping minor key piano.
So disturbing and fantastically bizarre, haunting and in its own twisted way, quite lovely, a warped modern more industrial take on Comus style seventies freak folk, which totally manages to capture the same sort of witchy occultic vibe via these satanically sinister ritualistic sounds...
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!! We have less than 15!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We got less than 20 of these, so we won't go into too much detail, since we could have done with at least twice that many, but c'mon, funeral folk weirdos Silvester Anfang and creeped out black ambient ritualist Burial Hex together on a 7", how amazing is that?! Unfortunately for all but about 20 of you, it is plenty amazing! But, it's LIMITED TO 500 copies (each one hand numbered), and already sold out, so if you want one, better be quick.
The Silvester Anfang side is gorgeous and dark and tribal and trippy, with a definite Morricone vibe, high end guitar squiggles way off in the distance, simple drumming, twangy guitars up front, some seriously super dramatic crescendos, but all the way through super raw and lo-fi, with a wild tangled second half that almost sounds space rock!
The Burial Hex side is a primitive and fractured lo-fi noise ritual, deep synthy rumbles, super distorted vocals, like a more doomy blackened Whitehouse if that makes any sense, vocals run through a bank of Merzbow-ish effects, the music a surprisingly gorgeous and minimal sprawl of deep rib cage rattling tones and low low low low buzz. Cool and creepy.
A new installment of "oppressive necro electronics" from Burial Hex, aka Clay Ruby, who when not whipping up these abject clouds of filthy black ambience, spends his time rocking out psychedelically in Jex Thoth, getting filthy metal in Wormsblood, and creating all manner of folky weirdness in Davenport (besides running the kick ass Skulls Of Heaven label).
But Burial Hex is so far removed from Ruby's other combos, they barely warrant mentioning. Burial Hex is the sound of some ancient black ritual, some sick sonik sorcery, where, guitars wind around electronics, and are all smeared into thick heaving slabs of doomdronedirge. The first of two tracks here however sounds bit different that what we're used to, introducing vocals, a howled feral wail, that ends up making this sound like some post industrial blackened Oxbow, minimal guitar strum, bursts of static, fragments of electronic skitter, creepy and atmospheric but super ethereal and hauntingly tense.
The second track returns to more familiar territory, a long sprawling slow motion doomscape, downtuned guitars draped over fractured electronics, bits of shuffling minimal percussion, warm whirring church organs, samples and found sounds, all very mysterious, subtly folky, damaged and abstract, and very very cinematic.
Never heard of Zola Jesus before, but they're a good match for Burial Hex, countering with their own sort of blackened soundscapery. A softly whirling cloud of glitched out electronics, disembodied vocals, almost choral sounding, swirling swooping effects, shards of new wave-y synth, eventually transforming into a nightmarish industrial creep, doused in more effects, all wrapped in thick billowy sheets of downtuned rumble, slipping from spaced out otherworldliness to grim, blackened, doom drenched dronemusick.
Pressed on super thick vinyl and housed in gorgeous matte sleeves, all the text printed in clear reflective ink.
While we wait for the impending full length from local droned out cinematic psychedelic heavies Burial Tree, we've got this two song 'cassingle' teaser to hold us over, and to give us a taste of what's coming. This nice priced tape features one song from the upcoming album, and a live in the studio version of a song from the first album. The new track is a beast, an effects drenched psychedelic space rock blow out, heavy and blissed out, an extended trance-y psych jam that should have fans of the current crop of space-psych warriors wondering why they hadn't heard Burial Tree before. The reworked older track is a more brooding and laid back affair, lo-fi and blissed out, a twang flecked post rock that builds to a churning metallic dirge, before getting all spaced out and slipping tight back into that post rock lope and eventually finishing off with some abstract ambient drift. Can't wait for the new record!
We've said it before, we love when our friends make amazing music. The sort of music that transcends the bonds of friendship, that requires none of the obligation that usually accompanies 'friend rock', the sort of music that had you just discovered it, unaware of its provenance, you wouldn't think twice about proclaiming its virtues, blasting it on your iPod nonstop, or if you're us, raving about it on the New Arrivals list.
Burial Tree is the realization of several years of intense work, and is the project of aQ pal Monte and his wife Lauren, along with a few other contributors, and is a mysterious, drone rock epic, a blissed out and darkly brooding record of haunting heaviness and abstract moodiness. A collection of subtly crafted cinematic soundscapes, equal parts Barn Owl psychedelic drift, Neurosis riff heavy crush, Three Mile Pilot post rock lope, and various stops in between.
The record begins with a haunting solo cello rendition of Hank Williams' "Ramblin' Man', transformed into an achingly mournful lament, the perfect lead in to "Secret Arts", a sprawling stretch of minimal black ambience, a lush, layered expanse of layered low end, and softly pulsing synth swells, laced with bits of melody, and warn swirls of sonic sunlight, a slow shifting scene setter for the sounds to come. "The Mysterious Stranger" is a dark twang flecked bit of Earth-y post rock, the guitars spidery and minor key, the drums busy and intricate, the strings soaring and swirling, all over a bed of subtle synth shimmer, eventually big riffs swoop in, and things get a bit metallic, with some killer stop/start dynamics, rife with synth squiggles and spaced out FX. A driving, hypnotic, subtly proggy, spaced out dirge rock, that shifts from dense distorted crunch to minimal lope and back again. And it's during those loping minimal bits that the sound reminds us of vintage Three Mile Pilot, the thick bass suspended over deep swirling space, paranoid and hauntingly ominous.
"The Bringer Of Light" mirrors the melodies from the song before it, making it feel like a sort of second movement, it's reverby contemplative drift sounding like some nineties slowcore combo via desert rockers Scenic, very evocative, barren landscapes, wide open skies, shadows moving slowly across the ground, here too, the strings do the heavy melodic lifting, while the drums and guitar weave a skeletal framework, sounding like something that wouldn't have been out of place on Thrill Jockey back in the day. The track builds to a swirling psychedelic climax, all pounding drums and swirling synths, before fading into another bit of smoldering dronemusic, a spacey effects heavy stretch of whirring Moogs and looped FX, blurred into gauzy bits of fragmented melody, and thick, softly undulating layers of washed out blackness.
"Conjuring Demons" is another post rocker that takes the spare bass heavy, spidery melodies of 3MP and weds them to some more arid spacious desert rock, another haunting excursion into abstract instrumental meander, the stings here adding color and texture, the main guitar riff memorable enough to stay lodged in your head, the drums eventually dropping off, leaving just the strings over a barely there bit of deep rumbling shimmer. The record finally winds down with the gorgeous title track, the cello played so lyrically, the melodies melancholy and mournful, wrapped around muted chiming melodies, and a strange distant insectoid buzz, a dark, emotional threnody, the sound of the sun disappearing beneath the horizon, the moon vanishing behind the clouds, the fire dying to embers in the hearth, the stars fading into the blackness of space. So nice.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. And each one with a printed cover, and a screen printed insert, printed by a real live WIZARD!
Rituals is the second full-length from these aQ pals, local atmospheric psychedelic heavies Burial Tree, whose last album, Outer Dark, was a big hit around here, and thankfully, Rituals takes up right where Outer Dark left off, in fact if anything, it's a more fully realized disc, a killer concoction equal parts blackened atmospheric ambience, Neurosis like metallic heft, and psychedelic space rock heaviness! It opens with a sprawling expanse of sinister drones, and string laden low end smolder, building to an almost Nitsch like cacophony, shot through with subtle FX, the perfect lead in to "Black Magick Trance", which might be our favorite BT track yet, a driving thunderous psych jam, that's mathy, and proggy and seriously spaced out, and has the group more aligned with outfits like White Hills or the Heads, the same sort of endless shoegazing heart-of-the-sun Hawkwind style zoner jams, the band locked tight into a serious groove, over which the guitars writhe wildly, the song switching gears constantly, a churning math metal workout one second, a killer super dynamic, mathy stuttery start/stop, that leads into a dirgey breakdown, the whole thing laced with strings, and all sorts of swirling effects, the perfect final jam / closing number (which it was when BT played their first ever show recently).
The other three tracks here, while not nearly as bombastic, still offer up everything we've come to dig about these guys, a loping twang flecked Morricone-ish post rock, rife with swoonsome strings, and finished off with a super rocking near metallic outro, a warm washed out atmospheric organ driven dirge that blossoms into a classic almost doom metal heaviness, wreathed in shredding guitars and driven by some serious drum pound and some almost ELO like cello chug, and finally, a gorgeous, malevolent blackdrone combo, cavernous and caustic, a slow shift from soft shimmer to grim buzz, from drifting mesmer to grinding abject blackness. Awesome.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered. Nice packaging too with multiple color cardstock inserts.
Buried At Sea's Migration cd from 2004 was one of Aquarius' steadiest, dooooooooooomiest best-sellers up until it went totally, sadly out of print. Seriously, we sold a ton of those. And deservedly so, as this Chicago band's debut really did compare favorably with the likes of both Khanate and Pelican, a sludge/postrock marriage made in the lowest reaches of Hell. Migration was followed by a one-sided collectable 12" vinyl ep... and that was that. We thought this band was dead and buried themselves. And maybe they are, but -hallelujah!- have visited upon us this new cd release on Neurot. Perhaps this is a posthumous release of lost recordings, it's called "Ghost" after all. We don't know. What we do know is that it's one megalithic track, just under 30 minutes of music, about as slow and heavy and dreary as anything we'd heard from them... or anyone else! A trance-inducing funereal trudge through realms of spaced-out swooshing psychedelic effects. Early on, "Ghost" establishes a grinding repetitive throb, not so much head banging as head nodding, and wrist slitting. This depressive doomdrone heaviness gives way eventually (at around the 12 minute mark) to a quiet passage of tolling chimes, and then cathartic vocals groan forth over more metallic, energized riffage as "Ghost" relentlessly steamrollers onwards... further into a phantom void of disturbing electronics and shuddering low-end despair. Obviously, recommended to all into Buried At Sea, as well as the likes of Corrupted, Khanate, Orthodox, Ufomammut, SUNNO))), etc.
Here's a heavy AQ fave, finally repressed after more than a few months MIA, and back in stock! From our New Arrivals list #184 last year:
Buried At Sea are a bulldozer, shovelling clods of earth down your earcanal. Clods of toxic corrosive landfill, to be precise. And if you love heaviness and doom like we do, you'll understand that we mean that's a good thing, and you'll definitely want to pick up this, the first release from a quartet of Chicago doom-mongers who possibly named their band after the Saint Vitus song "Burial At Sea" (and are not to be confused with fellow doomsters Graves At Sea!). Slow, sludgy sickness for doom-heads. Crushing. Feedback. Disturbed vocals (or indeciperable samples?) buried in the mix. And once in a while, the Buried At Sea guys strip the mastodon they're riding down to a skeleton of bones and bask in the beauty of its terrible form (i.e. quiet parts, occasional interludes of even doomier loneliness and despair). Three untitled songs, 39 minutes! Thus it's closer to a full-length than an ep, although ep priced. The nastiness of Khanate meets the post-rockiness of Pelican, with the heaviness of both. The hole they're digging has also previously been excavated by the likes of Electric Wizard, Eyehategod, Warhorse, the aforementioned Saint Vitus, and all the other bands who operate heavy machinery under the influence of drugs and alcohol in hopes of unearthing the long-buried lich-corpse whose Satanic shadow Black Sabbath was but the first to glimpse...sorry...getting a little carried away there! But with their relentless grinding riffage and use of space and dynamics Buried At Sea are worthy newcomers whose Migration is an excellent debut.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
SUPER LIMITED single sided 12" of massive, hyperviolent, downtuned stoner doom sludge. Corrosive and sinister, slow and unbelievably brutal. We raved about the cd a few lists back, and this 12" does not disappoint. Cover art and etching on the non-playable side by Stephen O'Malley (Sunn 0))), Khanate, etc.). One original, and a blistering cover of Eyehategod's "White Nigger" with Brutal Truth's Kevin Sharp guesting on vocals.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Allan's D&D sensibilities were most pleased with the name and title of this new Jewelled Antler cd-r! Tunnels To Other Chambers is the debut of a new project from the JA camp, featuring the duo of Kerry McLaughlin (Franciscan Hobbies) and the ubiquitous Glenn Donaldson (FH, Thuja, Skygreen Leopards, The Ivytree, Teenage Panzerkorps, etc.). Guesting on a few tracks you'll also find Rob Reger (Thuja) and Christine Boepple (Skygreen Leopards Skyband). These guys do indeed have a knack for titles to match their evocative folk-psych-improv music. No review is really needed if we cite such track names as "Gallery Of Ancient Birds", "Ghosts In The Tunnel", "Moss Banjo" or "Vacation Route For Emperors". I mean, sounds good already, right? And it does for sure sound good if you're attuned to the sort of spacious, abstract sound-delving these folks do so well. It's wonderfully fragile, sleepy, and melodic. Droning harmonium, bowed strings...electronic detritus...plucked acoustic guitar...simple, ritual percussion...tinkling bells...and occasional frail whispery vocals. It's like listening in to some mellow krautrock being played on an Applachian back porch, or to monkish ceremonies from the lost Plateau of Leng, or perhaps a somnolent subterranean hobbit-hole jamboree. In other words, so nice!! Definitely get this is you like Jewelled Anter stuff like The Birdtree and Hala Strana. Also we could reference Espers, Amon Duul, Tower Recordings, Harvester, Algarnas Tradgrad, Siloah...
It's a little strange that there are only two collaborative albums from Dan Burke and Thomas Dimuzio, despite their long-standing working relationship which dates back well over a decade. On his numerous travels to California touring as Illusion Of Safety, Dan Burke has often found himself in the Bay Area to perform outside the Illusion Of Safety guise. Instead, Burke's dystopian electro-acoustic techniques have joined forces with the engineering prowess of Thomas Dimuzio (who is responsible for mastering many an IOS record); and during those performances, they've proven to be quite an amazing duo, avoiding many of the follies of on-again / off-again projects or open-up-the-laptop-and-go live collaborations. Dimuzio has an excellent ear and he manages to keep Burke from diving off into the cybernetic rhythms which can make some of the lesser Illusion Of Safety records so dodgy. At the same time, Burke's perpetual audio nihilism provides a solid framework for Dimuzio to add his talents.
Upcoming Events was in fact edited and reconstituted from three of their Bay Area performances from 2004. These recordings consist of electronically mangled drones, mechanoid field recordings agitated through digital means, pure tone manipulation, and unsettled noise culled from tactile crunches, all of which build to discordant crescendos that have the psychological intensity of David Lynch's sound design, certainly rivalling the best work that either Illusion of Safety or Thomas have done on their own.
Steadily increasing drones become a hellish orchestral hum punctuated by metallic screeches which sound like a belt fan on a motor that's just ready to snap off its fly wheel. Elsewhere, unsettling electronics bleat against the tactile rattling of sand crunched against the head of a mic condenser whilst a subharmonic tone ominously rumbles in the distance. With the cover photograph of the armed barricade outside the 2004 Republican National Convention, the album takes on the aura of the soundtrack of a police state. Burke founded Illusion Of Safety in 1983, inspired by the industrial attitudes and aesthetics of Throbbing Gristle. While TG's prescient insights of culture as the death factory may seem commonplace to the media savvy, Burke and Dimuzio render their take on the conspiratorial and paranoiac with remarkable success. Highly recommended!
During the past 15 years, Chicago's experimental ensemble Illusion of Safety has revolved around the activitities of Dan Burke and a rotating core of like-minded avant-garde musicians including Jim O'Rourke, Thymme Jones, Kurt Griesch, and dozens more. Yet during a tour across Europe collaborating with Kevin Drumm (who is effectively the doppelganger of O'Rourke's non-pop aesthetic), Burke and Drumm have chosen not to invoke the IOS moniker. This is strange only in the fact that the Burke / Drumm contribution to the Mort Aux Vaches series (which have all been commissioned for VPRO radio in the Netherlands) is not far removed from some of the Illusion of Safety albums (in particular the early '90s album "Probe"). The Burke / Drumm "Mort Aux Vaches" is a very well constructed electro-acoustic improvisation that opens with tiny microscopic events and upper register frequencies. These erratic squiggles steadily flesh themselves out into ominous drones, bristling with toxic white noise. Nicely done.
This is something we first encountered, and reviewed, back in 2001, when it was released as a (now out of print) spraypainted cd, credited simply to "Joshua", released by the label Feather One's Nest. Now so many years and years later, it has been reissued on vinyl, in an limited edition of 500. Yep, they don't have to go all the way back to the '70s to find obscure psych-folk wonders to reissue on wax!! Here's what we said about it the first time 'round:
Somewhere between the stumbling free-folk of the No Neck Blues Band, the dark strummed dreaminess of the Tower Recordings, the lush guitarscapes of Scott Tuma, and the sparse twang of Red Red Meat & Califone, falls Joshua Burkett. Laid back and dreamy and super relaxed (the liner notes say it was recorded when he wasn't swimming, or sleeping, or walking his dog), Joshua plays simple, repetitive guitar figures that loop and drone, seeming to go on forever (and you find yourself often wishing they would), with subtle horns and partially obscured melodies. Fuzzy and hazy and shimmering soundscapes of finger picked guitar and mumbled vocals, usually buried deep in the mix. The sound is druggy and hypnotic, tranced out and serene, slowly weaving between gorgeously simple instrumental parts, dark dissonance and purposeful tunelessness (a la Jandek). Features guests including Ben "Six Organs Of Admittance" Chasny, PG Six and somebody else from the Tower Recordings!
Over the years we've fallen crazy in love with lots of compilations highlighting the power and energy and passion of Bollywood music. Collections like Indiavision, Sitar Beat, Bombay Connection, etc all share one common thread: R.D. Burman. Look closely at the credits on the songs on all the great Bollywood compilations and Burman's name is there almost every time. It should come as no surprise really, because if you've watched many Bollywood films made anytime from the early '60s to the mid '90s chances are it was Burman's music you were being swept away by, as his soundtrack work appeared in more then 300 films! His equally prolific wife Asha Bhosle adding her dazzling voice to many of his songs as well as her sister Lata Mangeshkar on some tracks as well. We're so happy there is finally a domestic collection of Burman's amazing music. Instead of being teased with single songs here and there on various compilations, now we have two whole discs worth of his forward thinking yet totally romantic and enchanting sounds. While Burman passed away over a decade ago he finally seems to be getting the respect in this country that he so rightfully deserves. One of the most gifted and prolific musicians and producers of the last half century for sure!
Smashed drum kits, blown bass amps, band and audience, drums and guitars, mic cords and stands, tables and chairs, all in a bloody, sweaty, writhing pit in the middle of the club. The return of the four headed hydra, Burmese, San Francisco's grind/noise/sludge behemoth. Cutting a swath of mayhemic brutality and entropic dissonance through the stale SF scene, Burmese make their table-tossing, audience-baiting, tantrum-throwing peers look like charm school graduates. Punk rock Gallants to Burmese's skull crushing, soul poisoning, ear shredding Goofus.
Now with an extra drummer and a renewed, dangerously unhealthy obsession with Whitehouse, Burmese have slowed things down a bit. Gone are the hyperspeed blast beats and in their place are midtempo dirges, stumbling drunkenly through nihilistic, grinding sludge, spewing bile and ultraviolence. Pounding militaristic beats demarcate vast expanses of throbbing feedback, guttural growls, tarpit washes of bowel loosening low-end and 16 rpm grindcore. Things do speed up occasionally into blurry bursts of static and skree, but even then, they eventually devolve back into some sort of primordial and glacial caveman stomp, all murky thud and swampy roar, thick and suffocating and massively heavy. This is some seriously scary shit. Grinding and pounding. Punishing and pummelling. Relentless and brutal.
MPEG Stream: "Ladykiller" [/audio/burmeseladykiller.m3u]
Finally! A new Burmese record. We've said it before, but it definitely bears repeating. Burmese might just be the best band in San Francisco, and one that not nearly enough folks have heard, or heck even heard OF. And Colony Collapse Disorder might just be their heaviest, tightest, grindiest, most expansive, and weirdly enough catchiest record yet. It's also the first to feature the new lineup, which still includes the two Mikes on bass and vocals, and one of the original Marks on drums, but now adds Weasel Walter and a guy called Tissue to the mix, and HOLEE SHIT. This is pummeling heaviness, grinding chaos, dense crushing metallic brutality, free form noise rock chaos. Hard to know what to call it really, all we know is it rules.
The sound seems to be less Whitehouse and more Crossed Out these days. The long stretches of high end drone and shrieking feedback have now seemingly been all tangled up with blasts of wild octopoidal (literally this time, not literally as in octopus, but literally as in 8 limbed!) drum damage, super distorted bass riffage, layer after layer of grit and grime and crust and filth and buzz, definitely harkening back to their first two tUMULt records, but just WAY, MORE.
Epic abstract sludge grind, blown out blasts of lightning fast crush, lurching stop start arrangements, insane throat shredding vocals that go from shriek to growl to gurgle even stopping briefly at weird croon. Burmese are just the thing for folks into stuff like Discordance Axis, Drop Dead, Melt Banana, the Locust and that sort of sound, who are up for something way more harsh and heavy and fucked up frightening. Baffling and brilliant and noisy and heavy as fuck. WAY recommended as always.
And as always, incredible packaging, released on Rock Is Hell, this is a beautiful full color picture disc, bees and flowers and honeycomb, housed in a spare printed thick sleeve, with a small envelope containing two very mysterious and obtuse inserts. And of course LIMITED TO ONLY 300 COPIES!!!!
We're not sure how these guys (and gal) do it, but somehow, SF's own sludge/dirge/grind/noise mavens Burmese, make record after record, everyone a mind blowing slab of ultra heaviness and absolute head caving pummel, on all sorts of cool labels, tUMULt, Rock Is Hell, Enterruption, Planaria, Load, Not Not Fun, Heart & Crossbone, New Scream Industry, Crucial Blast and now UgExplode, yet they somehow remain for the most part totally under the radar. They've definitely had some bad luck, but this is crazy. If you've ever seen Burmese play, in any of their permutations, they utterly destroy. Their worst shows are better than most band's best shows. In fact, their worst shows might just be their best shows. Two basses, manned by two Mikes, each with a stack of amps piled to the ceiling, two drummers too, at least on this record, spewing out wild octopoidal tangles of beats and rhythms, no guitar, they sure as fuck don't need one of those, and then to top it off Tissue, their diminutive female lead vocalist, who dresses in skirts and sweaters, but then turns into a beast on the mic, with some impossibly throat shredding vokills, the band so impossibly tight, especially considering how insane their songs are slipping from ultra intricate mathy grindprog, to spaced out nearly abstract free noise whatthefuck.
We say this about every record, but this just might be their best yet. And c'mon, that's how it should be with all bands, every record should be better than the last, and considering how goddamn good their first record was about 10 records back, well then guess how good Lun Yurn is. Yep. Exactly.
They're pretty hard to describe actually. Heavy, for sure. Metal, sort of. Punk, absolutely. Noisy. Grindy. But also mathy, proggy, droney, noisy, chaotic. Their songs generally flail from blasting D-beat pound, to doomy lurching plod, to grinding noise drenched blast, to weird super dynamic stop/start breakdown, and back again, the two basses unleashing thick gouts of power violence style riffery, the multiple drummers (one of which is Weasel Walter on this record) anchoring the impossibly chaotic crush, somehow all of these disparate elements, and all of this intense caustic sound, is deftly assembled into the sort of grinding metallic noisepunk jams that actually stick in your head. It's true. Not sure, how, or why, but we never get tired of this band or these songs, or seeing them lay waste live. It'd be pointless to go song by song, listen to the sound samples, if you're not totally bowing before the altar of Burmese, well then there just might be something wrong with you.
Stick around to the very end cuz there's an extra track, a whopping 45 minute jam, that one track 50 percent longer than the whole rest of the record, and it's an impossibly relentless, insanely chaotic, non stop frantic, frenzied, frenetic, blown out grindpsych blowout. Fuck.
From their first release, a chaotic, club destoying blast of downtuned pummel, Burmese have slowly been gravitating, at least sonically, toward what can only be described as a state of Whitehouse. Shedding musical elements one at a time until they were on the verge of becoming pure violent energy. Each song an endless stretch of brutal sound, a barbed bed of uneasy ambience for the ultra distorted ranting and raving vocals. We all though it couldn't get any meaner, any creepier or any heavier. We were so wrong. Burmese's Men is the musical equivalent of the heart stopping pants shitting terror you experience when faced with a spittle spraying, wildly snarling pitbull, hackles raised and teeth bared lunging at you from behind a chainlink fence, you realize that the fence ends a few yards away and there is no gate. This band is fucking scary. On Men, the dual bass, dual drummer lineup manages to compartmentalize, and their Whitehouse obsession becomes just one element in what is a totally devastating doom sludge monstrosity. Shrieked black metal vocals over pounding super distorted downtuned riffs and crushing double drummer pummel. Myabe one of the best band the Bay Area has to offer these days. Certainly the scariest.
Originally released on tUMULt way back in 2000, this primal slab of dual bassed downtuned sonic mayhem, may still rank as one of the heaviest, most vitriolic chunks of sound this city ever produced. A prime slab of chaotic grind, laced with Whitehouse like noise, and bursts of metallic fury, not to mention a black hole entropy that found most songs falling apart into long stretches of broken amp feedback or crushed drum kit clatter.
So this record is finally available on vinyl, BUT, these are not the same recordings. The same songs yes, but recorded in their practice space just before the album proper was recorded, so while it's still heavy and furious and freaked out, it's also even more raw and blown out and most definitely damaged. Also included is a killer cover of Black Flag's "I've Heard It Before', even fiercer and more fucked up than the original (we sacrilegiously proclaim!) originally released on the band's now long out of print Treaties Of Greed And Filth 7".
As with all things Enterruption, the packaging is gorgeous and over the top. The sleeve is silkscreened, with all of the visual elements from the cd packaging represented (the dead elephant, the leafless etc.) The inside of the sleeve is printed with various live band shots, the vinyl is THICK and pressed on red wax, housed in a thick inner sleeve, printed with song titles and liner notes, also included are various show flyers from back in the day, reproduced on nice thick heavy cardstock. LIMITED TO ONLY 500 COPIES!!! Here's our (slightly altered) review of the cd when it first came out in 2000. And while these are different recordings, this description is still pretty apt, just add your own "harsher"s and "noisier"s and "more blown out"s here and there and it'll be perfect.
If you lived in San Francisco, circa 2000 you may have seen these local ne'er do wells playing live (this incarnation at least), with set times ranging from 30 seconds to 15 minutes, often covered in blood, writhing on the floor in a heap of destroyed instruments, charging wildly through the crowd, smashing tables and chairs (and playing with other club destroyers the Black Dice and Arab on Radar). So you'd be forgiven for expecting a messy sloppy record that is nothing without the live show. But boy, would you be wrong. Burmese's debut is a dense, ultra heavy, super low end (they have 2 basses and no guitar after all) crushing and pummeling onslaught.
The opening track is an intense free noise explosion of rumbles, feedback, and spastic drumming. The next 20 tracks take the grind of Drop Dead, drop it a few octaves, and add some seriously fucked arrangements. The last track is an epic drone ala EARTH: waves of subsonics weave in and out of malfunctioning electronics until the whole thing dissolves into a wash of turntables and instrument hum. Somewhere between DROP DEAD and EARTH circa Earth 2, this is some of the craziest, heaviest, noisiest low end grind/sludge we've heard in forever.
Again, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! So get it while you can...
It had to happen. Local sludge/grind combo Burmese, with a maximum-pummel line up of 2 bassists and 2 drummers, and two amazingly brutal records on our very own Andee's tUMULt label, and who spend most of their time channelling the spirit of '80s UK noise-shock pioneers Whitehouse anyway, decided to indulge their peculiar obsession, by recording an entire record of Whitehouse songs, run through the Burmese ringer. The result? An ear shredding, throat slitting, hateful, misanthropic skree, equal parts Merzbow, Drop Dead, Whitehouse and white noise, garbled ultra-distorted inhuman vocals, spewing hate and bile, over a musical bed of shrieking feedback, buzzing instruments, and very little actual 'playing', like a Twilight Zone episode where the musical instruments rebel against their masters by making the most un-musical sounds they can muster. Truly brutal, difficult, warped and wondrous.
We're more and more convinced that Burmese are San Francisco's greatest band. So fucking heavy, and so intensely aggressive, so totally unlike any other bands in the scene. Live they destroy, and somehow on record, their vitreous violence comes through loud and clear. For those new to Burmese, this is grinding low end ultra pummel, sludge and speed mixed into an impossible sonic stew, a little like Whitehouse crossed with Drop Dead, which makes no sense, but which is why Burmese are so fucking awesome. This set of songs was recorded live on WFMU and is so blown out. the recording so hot, that it's essentially just impenetrable walls of bass guitar growl, huge pounding sonic boom drums and inhuman shrieks. Scary stuff.
Teamed up with Burmese are 16 Bitch Pile Up, who traffic in abstract free noise, noxious clouds of ambient murk, with distant feral vocals and percussion that sounds like someone moving filing cabinets. Harsh and creepy, but what would you expect when one of the band members is credited with playing a bag of glass.
Part of Not Not Fun's Bored Fortress series of limited 7"s, packaged in a cool red and metallic gold silkscreened cover complete with little stick on pink leaves!
We'd be hard pressed to think of ANY band that could hold their own on a split record with our very own local noiseniks Burmese. But if anyone can, it's Israeli noise combo Cadaver Eyes.
But first off, holy shit are we psyched to have new music from Burmese. These guys are seriously sloooooow workers. Other than a handful of shows, we've heard nary a peep from these guys, there was the reissue of the tUMULt release on vinyl, but it's literally been years we've been waiting for a new record. Multiple lineup changes, disastrous tours, scrapped recordings, the sort of luck that has plagued these guys forever. But finally, they've beat the curse, and gotten us 11 new blasts of brutal, speaker shredding ultraviolence. Some confusion mix of Whitehouse style abstract noise, pummeling grind, damaged metal, freaked out power violence. They may be down to one drummer, but they still have two bass players, and now THREE vocalists.
They sound as good as ever, still furious and freaked out, sometimes offering up sprawling electronic dronescapes, sometimes, frantic flurries of lightning fast grind, sometimes convoluted lurching metallic crunch, and often all of the above at the same time. Hypnotic and heavy and seriously fucked up. Just another reminder, since they're loath to do it themselves outside of their sporadic releases, that these guys are quite possibly the best band in SF.
But then there's Cadaver Eyes, recorded live on WFMU, using just drums, vocals and no-input mixing board. And listening to this, it seems impossible that there's not two guitarists and multiple drummers and synths and who knows what else. The sound is dense and freaked out. Spastic spurts of strangled grind, long stretches of speaker shredding electronic buzz and skree, long drawn out abstract dronescapes of howling vox and pounding drum plods spaced WAY out, culminating in the nearly eight minute closer, beginning with the strangely titled "Ba Yom Yom" and finishing off with an absolutely unrecognizable cover of "Sweet Home Alabama", a convoluted blow out of maniacally howling vocals, sputtering percussive crunch, LOTS of feedback, and thick walls of rumbling crumbling distortion.
Awesome. And about as UN-easy listening as we can imagine.
Never heard Fistula before, but they definitely prove themselves, at least on this here split, to be one of the few bands that can stand up to the ferocity and absolute fucking musical anvil to the skull that is Burmese. After two releases on our own Andee's tUMULt label, Burmese hook up with fellow noisemakers Fistula for an absolute sonic orgy of untold proportions of AQ pal Adam's Crucial Blast label. The ten Burmese tracks show them moving even further away from conventional grind / sludge into a world all their own, Whitehouse collides with Drop Dead, Throbbing Gristle with Masonna on lead vocals and Corrupted as back up band. This is pure fucking noise. Moments of grinding fury do peek through, as do little bursts of rhythmic mayhem and occasional electronic overload, but overall this is just two drummers and two bassists stuffing your head in a blender with a speaker at the bottom. Fistula respond with four slightly longer tracks of metallic crush. The first an abstract dirge with the lead vocals replaced by a hacking cough. Like an underground sludge "Sweet Leaf". But the other three tracks prove Fistula to be masters of the BIG RIFF. Supercharged drone / dirge metal, huge and galloping, pummelling and fucking MASSIVE.
It's been a little while since we've heard from Burmese, SF's favorite noise/grind sons. And this new split is actually a blast from the not so distant past, recorded back in 2006, when they were still a three piece, 2 basses and drums, and while as a group, their sound is tough to pin down, sometimes they're thick and dense, sometimes brittle and high end, sometimes they sound like the bastard sons of Drop Dead, other times like the mutant offspring of Whitehouse, but here, they sound like the glorious Burmese of old, a furious off kilter, bass heavy spazzed out grinding three headed speaker shredding club destroying behemoth.
This is chaotic bass heavy grind, with the basses so distorted they often sound like metal guitars, the vocals (all three 'sing') slip from monstrous low end growl to wild feral shriek to punk rock yowl. There's feedback squealing all over the place, and there's even some demented sounding, ultra blown out bass "leads" draped over the top. And holy shit, the drumming, as always, relentless and mathy and complex and fucked up and flailing wildly but still somehow so goddamn tight. There's even a long stretch in the middle of doomy rhythmic minimalism that sounds almost like they're channeling This Heat or Aluk Todolo or both.
We've definitely said it before, but it bears repeating, these guys just might well be the best band in SF.
The flipside features two looooong tracks from new-to-us outfit Potop, who as far as we can tell are Russian (all of their liner notes are in Russian), and counter the short sharp all bass attack of Burmese with their sludge-y slowcore doom, big loud chords ringing out and allowed to slowly decay, long stretches of feedback, throat shredding howls, super spare skeletal drum pound, minor key and creepy, but surprisingly lush and full. Where a lot of bands emulate Sunn 0))) and offer up sludgey amorphous murkscapes, Potop definitely let the chords sing, and let the sunshine in, even if it's quickly swallowed up by shadow. The band do launch into a double time dirge, which if course is still slooooow, piledriving drums beneath guitars all tangled up in sheets of high end squeals. The second track follow suit, another midtempo grinder, with strange strangled vox a la Khanate, and crumbling super distorted guitars and more kick ass and totally pummeling drum crush.
Killer stuff from both outfits. Nice packaging too, thick cardstock sleeves, printed on both sides and held shut with a Japanese style obi, each one hand numbered, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. And be warned, the lps had a rough trip overseas, so none of the sleeves are absolutely perfect, so if you're a crazy anal collector in it for the condition more than the sounds within, you are hereby warned.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Fast and furious, stop and start, ultra brutal metal/grind from Virginia. Produced by Steve Austin (from Today is the Day). Beautiful cover art. Punk price too, for a full-length cd.
Three new 12"s in Table Of The Elements' ongoing series of limited single sided lps, each with 'Guitar' as the theme, ostensibly exploring the sonic possibilities of the instrument, one from long time aQ fave Fennez, another from San Augustin's David Daniell (both reviewed elsewhere on this list), and this one by a fella named Andrew Burnes, who until a few minutes ago, remained a total mystery to us. But apparently, he too is a member of San Augustin alongside Daniell, as well as playing in Haunted House with Loren Mazzacane Connors and performing with Thurston Moore and Ken Vandermark among others.
Here, Burnes, credited with just lap steel guitar, totally reinvents the instrument, subverting any idea of Appalachia or traditional steel string guitar music, instead creating a warm sidelong soundscape of muted buzz and slowly shimmering soft focus drift. The main component here is most definitely the drone, a whirring buzzy, shimmering metallic whir, that is by no means static, instead shifting colors and subtly changing shape, almost like holding your ear against an excited string as its overtones take on a life of their own. But in and around the buzz, little flecks of melody surface, almost like sparks being produced by the constant incessant vibrating steel, but these sparks are soft and sweet, like the surviving fragments of what was once some sort of Appalachia, drifting to the surface, and fluttering to the ground through Burnes' ever expanding cloud of warm metallic shimmer.
Super subtle and minimal and gorgeous. Drone music fanatics will definitely need to keep an eye on Burnes, and folks who like their country disembodied and blurred into warm fuzzy blissy drones, well then Telescope seems like it was custom created just for you!
Pressed on super thick, swirled milky green black and white vinyl. One sided, the other side with a beautiful etching courtesy of the mighty Savage Pencil, housed in a thick PVC sleeve, and again like most good things in life, or so it seems, VERY VERY LIMITED!
Burning (previously known as Prostate) is Minnesota-based industrial band that stopped by aQuarius on their recent US tour with Echo Beds (whose tape we also carry!). This cassette is a special tour edition of their full-length lp of the same name. The immediate and obvious contemporary reference point here is Youth Code - current and ex-punks diving head first into filthy, militant industrial that owes its existence to the mid-'80s output of Ministry, Skinny Puppy, Front 242, Nitzer Ebb, and the like. Burning fit nicely in the current revival of those harsh industrial aggressors, but also bring their own flair to the sound. On "Lepsis," for example, you get a Strotter Inst.-esque experiment in repetitive clanking, a reprieve from the aggression but not from the intensity.
Burning is hardly forging any new ground here, but a knowing nod to the greats of early industrial make this worth a listen. Cassette only, but it contains a couple of reworked tracks from the lp that are exclusive to this tape!
4th album from these longtime, uh, 'neo-grunge' faves of ours. Though, we'll admit that this far along, we're wondering if it's diminishing returns time for the Burning Brides. Don't get us wrong, on the strength of Anhedonia, we still don't understand why this band isn't totally huge. Next to Dax Riggs (Acid Bath, Agents Of Oblivion, Deadboy and the Elephantmen), BB mainman, guitarist/vocalist Dimitri Coats is our favorite rockstar who isn't actually exactly a real, cover of the Rolling Stone rockstar... yet. In a perfect world, though, like maybe if he'd been born a few years earlier, and grown up in Seattle...
But, in actual reality, just how many albums are Coats & Co. gonna have to make before they get on the cover of Rolling Stone, y'know? They'd better pace themselves, and that's maybe what it sounds like they're doing here, putting out just another BB album. Which is pretty cool, mind you. Though they're more Foo Fightery these days, and less Bleach-era Nirvanalike.
The metallic leanings of their previous effort, Hang Love, have been dialed back a bit here, and likewise they're slick enough now we can't be calling this all that garagey. But BB are still kicking out the heavy hooky jams with soaring ready for radio melodies and fuzzy guitars, and it's the closest thing to good grunge you're gonna find this side of 1995. Fans should check it out, it's a dose of what you like. But, if you haven't heard BB before, we'd say start with Fall Of The Plastic Empire, their much rawer, more psychedelic debut.
Gritty and unkempt garage/sludge from Philadelphia. Noisey and sloppy and super great. Sounding quite a bit like the Stooges or the MC5 (and not the way the Hellacopters turn Stooges/MC5 worship into catchy cock rock) all drunken swagger and snotty attitude.
Our favorite modern-day GRUNGE band returns! On big label V2 no more, however... are they still touring arenas? Apparently the Audioslave crowd didn't pick up on 'em like they should have. But we still really dig the Burning Brides, who remain, soundwise, tough and catchy, more metal than ever in parts this time 'round (we hear some Sabbath, no surprise, but also a hint of Slayer??). But basically, most simply put, this is grunge like you used to love it (and c'mon, you still do): flannel wearing, garagey, heavy, hooky, and of course dwelling on dark thoughts from drizzly days. They're not from Seattle though, these guys & gal are from Philly and now based in Los Angeles. And they seem more partial to black leather than flannel. But the sound is grunge for sure.
The Burning Brides are back! Their last album was an Aquarius Record Of The Week, so we had high expectations for this one. And Leave No Ashes seemingly delivers, more of the same anyway (which, c'mon, is basically what we wanted). A little bigger, a little slicker -- they've been out touring arenas with Audioslave y'now -- but still the same heavy, poppy, psychedelic, underdog garage-mongers from Philly we love. But if they're on MTV now we're not surprised. Their sonic similarities to Nirvana -- grungy hooks and a Kurt-like vocal -- remain, but you'll certainly also hear some Monster Magnet, some blues, even some Alice Cooper. Big riffs, and sinister. As with their debut, metallisms shine through their pop, and that's when they're at their best in our estimation. Also, the more we listen, the more we like, and being a grower is a great asset for pop album. And please note: lead-off track and first single "Heart Full Of Black" is *not* the strongest cut on the album! Not that it's bad, it's just not our pick for a single... In competition with the likes of the Vines and the Strokes, we back the Brides!
Enjoying this so much right now, it's hard to actually write about it, I just want to sit and listen... but here's what I've managed to come up with so far:
Oh yeah! We've been looking forward to this second album from Sweden's Burning Saviours for months, it was supposed to come out earlier this year but got delayed until now. Basically, we can make this simple if a) you've heard the first Burning Saviours and liked it and/or b) you're a fan of that -other- Swedish band that channels Pentagram, Black Sabbath and all that good obscure early '70s proto-metal heavy prog psych stuff, namely Witchcraft. If those conditions apply, then get Hundus, 'cause this new Burning Saviours disc is just as good as their amazing debut, sounding (due to shared influences, and perhaps something in the water over there in Sweden) EXACTLY like Witchcraft's equally fine retro-proto-metal. But again, we don't see them as being blatantly unoriginal vis-a-vis Witchcraft or anything, it's just that both bands are so good at capturing the authentic vibe of their heroes, making music well worthy of the upper echelon of Vertigo swirl label heavies.
Those not already tuned in and turned on to Witchcraft / Burning Saviours / the current retro-heavy-psych scene, well, you're gonna think this sounds like Black Sabbath. And maybe a bit Led Zep too, especially some of the vocal phrasing on the epic "Lilly Marion". And some of the riffing and soloing reminds us of very early Judas Priest, in their pre-leather, psychedelic Rocka Rolla phase. So, obviously, lots of appeal here to classic rock lovers! One thing that really makes Burning Saviours sound so great is the "openness" of their sound, spacious and clean, every part hitting our ears just right... the more quiet n' pretty moments making us think of -another- current band of retro-obsessed Swedes who are favorites 'round here, Elope. Even the heavier riffing is still sorta laid back, loping.
Witchcraft definitely already have a cult following (and are gonna be touring the States soon, hitting SF in October with Danava, yeah!), and these guys deserve the same... but their name just isn't as good as "Witchcraft" is it? Burning Saviours are named after a Pentagram song, but maybe we'd have chosen a different one... coulda been called, uh, The 20 Buck Spins? No, that's no good either. Well anyway, another essential hippy-doom album that really seems like it must have been recorded in 1971 and recently unearthed!
Long hair, bellbottoms, loud guitars, Swedish accents... and they spell fire "phyre". It's the new Burning Saviours. What more do you need to know?
Ok, here's the quick recap. First there was Witchcraft, the Swedish band that magically conjured an authentic sounding seventies stoner/doom/psych thing a la Pentagram, Black Sabbath, and a host of other early '70s bands more obscure (many of them wielding both flutes and Mellotrons along with the heavy, proto-metal riffs). Then we discovered *another* seemingly timelost Swedish band, Burning Saviours, who were almost more Witchcraft than Witchcraft. Not a case of one band ripping off the other, more a case of both bands liking Pentagram, Sabbath, and the self-same host of obscure '70s proggy proto-metal acts... and being equally talented at bringing their influences to life. They both debuted with self-titled albums. Then Witchcraft released Firewood, and Burning Saviours released Hundus. It was kind of like having four Witchcraft (or Burning Saviours) albums instead of two! Fans debated which band was "better" but why bother, we love 'em both.
Earlier this year Witchcraft released their third album, the much-lauded The Alchemist. A definite step forward for them, if not a break with the past. And now Burning Saviours have come out with their third album, Nymphs & Weavers. For them too, something a bit different. Maybe a lot different, 'cause they have had to make some lineup changes. Their original vocalist/guitarist decided to leave the band to pursue his academic studies, so they replaced him with a new singer -and- a new guitar player.
The new Burning Saviours is still a heavy-riffed '70s-styled retro-proto-metal affair, never fear. But they have diverged from the "Witchcraft" sound of their previous albums to some degree, perhaps in large part due to the different voice and style of their new singer. Unlike his predecessor, he sounds nothing like Bobby Liebling of Pentagram (remember, Burning Saviours is named after a Pentagram song). He definitely brings in with him more of a traditional Swedish folk influence (he plays flute too). They had that before, of course, the folkiness, but it's more pronounced now, more like a metal Dungen or something. His sometimes solem, soaring vocals remind us a bit of the the singer on New Dark Age, the pagan masterpiece by UK epic doomsters Solstice. Apart from the singer, who Burning Saviours fans will either get used to or not (we're certainly warming to him but do miss the old guy), the this album already seems as comfortably classic as something actually from 1971 or so, full of the usual righteous heavy rock riffage, stick-in-your-head melodies, Heepish organ jamming, electric folk-prog jiggery, and, like Witchcraft too when they ham it up on stage, a bit of whimsy -- it features the heaviest song ever to boast a title like "Dreaming Of Pastries"!
After releasing a limited edition 7" vinyl single by Swedish retro-psych-metal sensations Witchcraft (last year's long gone "If Crimson Was Your Colour") it makes sense that UK stoner doom label Rise Above should follow that up with a 7" from Witchcraft's lesser known doppelgangers Burning Saviours, who also hail from Sweden and are equally influenced by Sabbath, Pentagram, and sundry obscure heavy psych-folk-prog acts from the early '70s.
There's two new non-album tracks here, "The Giant" and "The Clown", both of 'em loping, leaden doom groovers with tons of vintage feel.
Not sure if this means that Burning Saviours will now join Witchcraft on Rise Above's roster for their next full-length, but in any case we're eager to hear more from these guys, as over two albums and this single they've managed to match Witchcraft's magic track-for-track.
We don't know how they do it. Black magic presumably. If you thought that Sweden's Witchcraft were eerily able to conjure the spirit of early '70s proto-metal doom rock a la Black Sabbath and Pentagram (which they are) and you want MORE (of course you do), well, you're in luck. We've discovered that Witchcraft have some friends, another Swedish band called Burning Saviours who ALSO possess this arcane ability, incredibly enough! You've gotta hear 'em. Burning Saviours are pretty much dead ringers for Witchcraft, which means that they are equally inspired by Pentagram (heck, they're named after a Pentagram song, "Burning Saviour"), Sabbath, Witchfinder General and all sorts of decades-past, metal-prog-psych heaviness. Their songs have got all the bellbottomed basslines, laidback soloing, gentle folky melodies, Ozzy-sincere vocals, and doomful riffs needed to make for an authentic-sounding escape to that mystic, misty, downer domain that we (and bands like Burning Saviours and Witchcraft) like to imagine the '70s to be...long-haired lads worshipping pagan gods with guitars and amplifiers and flutes -- yes, flutes, much to Andee's approval (Andee's been taking flute lessons for a few months now, in a bit do become even MORE prog, and he knows how to play four whole notes already!). Burning Saviours wield flute with aplomb on two tracks, "Spread Your Wings" and "Trees And Stones", which will doubtless garner 'em comparisions to Jethro Tull, although we doubt they go in for the one-legged flute pose, and besides there were lots of other '70s heavy psych/prog acts that utilized the flute -- Murphy Blend, Gravy Train, Clear Blue Sky, Mammut, Los Dug Dugs, Out Of Focus, McChurch Soundroom, Nosferatu, Alrune Rod, Culpeper's Orchard and plenty more obscure acts who were probably more inspirational to Burning Saviours, not that we're knocking Tull. And let's not forget that Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath was known to set aside his guitar and pick up the flute upon occasion -- once, famously, in concert when we was so stoned that he spent, like, two minutes with his eyes closed, holding the flute nowhere near his lips, while blowing directly into the microphone as bandmates Ozzy, Bill and Geezer looked on and tried to restrain their mirth. Or so the story goes. ANYWAY, our point is sort of that if any of those bands mean anything to you, and/or you also dig Black Sabbath, then this should be right up your alley! We only wish this album was longer than the relatively lean 34 minutes that it is. But if you've been lovin' Witchcraft's recent Firewood, you'll be happy to have this -- indeed, it might even be BETTER than Witchcraft. We're not sure yet. And that by itself is about as high a recommendation as we can give!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Second album from Winston "Burning Spear" Rodney. Recorded in 1974 at Studio 1 and produced, of course, by Coxsone Dodd.
Winston Rodney, Burning Spear, has had the enduring reputation of being a perfectionist, an uncompromising artist who carefully controls his creative output, even having gone so far as to sing his own backup vocals on his recordings for Studio 1. Recorded
