We pretty much have a standing order for anything that PlusTapes releases. Much like Mississippi, PlusTapes has become the sort of label folks collect, which as we've mentioned before is pretty remarkable for a label so young. But so far, almost every release we've gotten from PlusTapes has flown out of here. And like Mississippi, they've also decided to dabble in more contemporary sounds, along with their ambitious reissue campaigns. Supporting their local scene, while paying homage to the past. Such is the case with these two latest releases, both limited to 100 copies, and we got less than 20 of each.
We immediately recognized the name Chris Connelly, and you probably should too - Revolting Cocks, Ministry, remember? But we figured it couldn't be the same Chris Connelly, it just didn't make any sense, but the more we thought about it, PlusTapes is in Chicago, Chicago is where Connelly lives, well it did sort of make sense which is good cuz it is in fact the very same Chris Connelly, but this is a whole different sound altogether.
Connelly recently released a full length album called The Episodes, that was a mysterious and haunting solo effort, owing much to folks like Leonard Cohen and Scott Walker, and other dark bards, very intimate and personal and dramatic, a few of the tracks were even recorded live in a Wisconsin forest. So this tape acts as sort of an addendum to that release, but even if like us you were unfamiliar with The Episodes, this is till a pretty intense and satisfying listen. Three unreleased versions, also recorded in the woods, aggressively strummed acoustic guitars, Connelly's plaintive croon, in the background you can hear birds chirping, other folks talking, very evocative, the lyrics personal and abstract, the voice weary and weathered, sometimes almost cracking, not at all what we expected from Connelly, but then all we had to go on was his industrial past.
Also included are two live tracks, with more lush instrumentation, even vibes, and the result is even more Scott Walker-y with a hint of Morrissey, the songs definitely sound more fleshed out, but beyond the songs themselves the various players get sort of trance-y and the songs get a bit abstract, droney, hypnotic, with the players sort of going off. Features some younger Chicago indie folks as back up, and the result is something that's not hard to picture on Thrill Jockey.
We weren't sure what to expect, but ended up digging this a lot, and will now probably have to track down a copy of The Episodes too.
LIMITED TOO 100 COPIES. We have less than 20, packaged with a black and white fold out cover, each one hand stamped and hand numbered.
Another new tape from UK tape label The Tapeworm, this one the latest from Chris Connelly, who most folks likely remember as a member of Ministry, Revolting Cocks and others, but whose post industrial trajectory as found him recast as more of a brooding singer songwriter and sonic experimentalist. Our first glimpse of Connelly's more songsmitherly alter ego came in the form of a tape on the PlusTapes label back in 2009, a gorgeous songsuite of skeletal song sketches, recorded in the woods, just guitar and vocals, over a bed of insects and abstract ambient night sounds, his voice a warm, weary and weathered croon.
This latest effort finds Connelly in experimental mode, finally releasing a piece he's been working on for 22 years (!!). Just piano and vocals, but don't be expecting some maudlin man-at-a-piano action, no this is something altogether more warped and wonderful. The piano parts were recorded with the tapes running super fast, and then flipped backwards. Connelly, then sang over the backwards piano, at which point the tapes were slowed back down, resulting in a dark and demonic, woozy and warped landscape of churning murky chordal thrum, and vocals that are low and bellowed, and seriously creepy. The music is lush and layered and dense and dark, sans the vocals, it would be a gorgeous bit of churning ambience, but the vocals transform it into something more ritualistic and malevolent.
On the flipside, it's the same music played backwards, so the piano sounds 'correct', albeit still slowed down, but this time the vocals are backwards, and somehow, it sounds ever MORE insane, the piano a pounding ominous landscape of oozing blackened chords, the vocals a chorus of gurgling monstrous speaking in tongues.
Fucking amazing!!
Loren Connors has always had a special way with a guitar. An impossibly intimate rapport, the result of which is gorgeously dreamy and unlike almost any guitar music we've ever heard. Dark clouds of chordal shimmer, simple spidery melodies, experimental for sure, but not at the cost of intimacy or emotion. Connors explores some dark inner world of sadness and sorrow, melancholy and regret, his guitar practically singing, but not howling or wailing, instead crooning in slow low tones, his music like a collection of lost spirituals, unearthed, dusted off, and unfurled, allowed to hover and drift like motes of dust in the late afternoon sun. Wrapped in the soft whirring lo-fi production, and the moonlit murk of whatever space the sounds are being captured in.
This collection gathers up most of Connors' modern airs, shortform pieces inspired by classic Irish airs of the past (Irish traditionals like "Danny Boy" for instance), culled from 10 albums (8 of which are out or print).
But don't be expecting any sort of classic sounding Irish music, or recognizable traditionals, it's the spirit of the air that is more on display here, each track a gorgeous miniature. Epic, yet somehow broken down to its very melodic essence. A few tracks feature vocals, courtesy of longtime Connors collaborator Suzanne Langille, her voice deep and throaty, the perfect match for Connors' languorous melodies, but most of these tracks are instrumental, the guitar woven into spare, evocative soundscapes, where the space is just as important as the notes, the melodies drawn way out into glistening spiderwebs of sound, soft and shimmery and somnambulant, the sound of moonlight shadows, and warm breezes at dusk, the soft lapping of water on the shore of a fog shrouded lake, the whispered rustle of autumn leaves, each note a warm glowing orb, twinkling in a fuzzy expanse of muted ambience and breathless anticipation. So so so lovely.
There are musicians who are incredibly technical and ultra proficient on their chosen instrument. Then there are others who don't have that kind of technical talent but who more than make up for it with a never ending reserve of raw emotion and deep personal expression. But rare is the performer who has both. Loren (sometimes Mazzacane) Connors is one of that rare breed. This 3-disc collection gathering bits and pieces from almost 30 years of recordings is an amazing testament to the ghostly, captivating sounds Connors has conjured up with his guitar. Unlike most guitar players Connors knows how to coax an impossibly wide range of sounds from an instrument that is usually approached from a much more singular point of view. Whether it's lurking feedback, washing in and out of his smoke filled strumming, or his more direct stripped down and totally pretty pick and strum, Connors is always challenging himself, never resting or relying on one specific sound or style. If somehow Connors is missing from your cd/record collection, and if you found yourself entranced by Earth's last outing Hex..., and perhaps you love the sounds of Tom Carter, the instrumental outings of Tom Verlaine, then for sure NEED to get some Loren Connors running through your veins and filling up your ears. Because of his prolific nature (Wow, has he ever released a ton of records and collaborated with a who's-who of underground luminaries!) this is one of those instance where a retrospective makes a lot of sense and is perfect for those of you who never knew exactly which records to start with. Now you have your answer. This one. One moment sounding like crazy psychedelic Japanese guitar jams, the next creating goose bumps with his chilling and subtle delivery, the next creating a creepy web of sound with distant off key vocals that rival Jandek in their mysterious and riveting nature, and the next laying down the ghostly sounds for a soundtrack to a film we wish would exist. Such a great journey, wandering through this moonlit collection of songs.
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Loren (Mazzacane) Connors' newest album is solo guitar work again from this virtuosic player. The entire record is super slow and dreamlike, and the *gorgeous* guitar tone is eerily reminding me of the first track on Miles Davis' seventies jazz-fusion classic
Second in the Table Of The Elements' label series of limited, one sided clear vinyl 12"s, this time from ultra prolific guitarist Loren (formerly Mazzacane) Connors. Sublime and mesmerising, Connors' guitar is a dark cloud of distant chiming chords, shimmering reverb, and warm rich sonic swirl. Minimal but somehow completely epic, a dark cinematic dream/drone-scape. So good. Striking woodcut image silkscreened in silver ink on the clear vinyl in a clear sleeve. VERY LIMITED. So don't dawdle.
Two of the most prolific, creative guitar players around, who've both built followings in the realm of the indie/avantgarde, team up at last. Such a collaboration certainly makes sense, and the results are quite what you'd expect: a real pretty, kinda melancholic, all-instrumental minimalist duet, sleepy and meandering. Loren "formery Mazzacane" Connors has a very personal style of haunting electric guitar that he of course explores here, while David Grubbs (of Gastr del Sol and much else besides) contributes his talents on both guitar and piano. Any individual, isolated moment on this disc might seem just a little too sparse and simple, but as it unfolds it rewards the listener's patience. By the time the disc has run its 34 minute course, and you can perceive the whole of Arborvitae in your mind's ear, you'll be nicely blissed out and appreciative of the aesthetic that Grubbs and Connors share here.
Every year on Record Store Day, there's inevitably a record from psychedelic space rockers Bardo Pond, and every year, it's SO limited, we barely get any, and thus there are a lot of disappointed BP fans. This year was more of the same, the number of Bardo Pond records once again fell woefully short of the demand (it didn't help that of the 30 we ordered, we got ONE). But this year at least, Bardo headz can console themselves with this sweet set of jams, a split that features on one side, Vapour Theories, aka the Gibbons brothers, they of the aforementioned 'Pond, and on the flipside, iconic guitarists Loren (sometimes 'Maazacane') Connors.
The Vapour Theories side, is a gorgeously druggy sprawl of smoldering psych, a bed of crystalline acoustic guitars, bristles quietly beneath thick, softly undulating sheets of blissful buzz, laced with blistering arcs of psych guitar swirl, and keening, aching, melodies, the whole thing gorgeously laid back, and washed out, a woozily wasted psychedelic dream jam that should most definitely hit the spot for fans of the Bardo Pond mothership.
The Loren Connors side manages to be both noisier, and more abstract, the sound much more raw and lo-fi, softly billowing clouds of static give way, to tangled little tendrils, buzzing melodies drifting through fields of hum and thrum, lots of space, a much darker, introspective psych, everything murky, and blurry, smeared chordal washes blossom into strange soft noise flurries, and just as quickly fade back into tranquil swirls and shimmers, and often into near silence, Connors' delicate guitarscapes hushed and haunting and ethereal, in fact much of the side requires headphones, or an extremely quiet listening environment, to truly apprecciate Connors' sweetly sublime, guitar psych ultraminimalism.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!! Pressed on random colored vinyl.
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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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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Absolutely gorgeous guitar instrumentals from a true American genius, Loren Mazzacane Connors, who has been recording since the early 1970s. While other records of his have featured impassioned howls, this French import album's pure emotion is rendered oh so quietly in 26 short jewel-like pieces, a song suite that, as the liner notes tell, chronicle the artist's slow realization of his inability to capture the essence of another person through his music. (The cycle of songs begins with day and ends at a hopeful dawn, so perhaps all is not lost.) This is utterly deep introspection told in aching, weeping guitar lines, melodic and simple, without any sort of effects or distortion. For those of you coming at this from a "rock" angle, imagine the incredibly emotive guitarwork of Mick Turner (Dirty Three) stripped down to its bare essence. Yeah, it's that good. So highly recommended!
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17 tracks by cult "Venusian blues" guitarist L.M. Connors, of unaccompanied acoustic improv recorded for Daggett Records back circa '79-'80, and long out of print. Much of that material was collected for last year's limited-edition 4 cd boxset which is also now totally out of print! So, to appease fans who missed that (or the curious who weren't sure if they needed 4 cds) here's a "best-of-the-box" collection selected by Connors himself. Remastered by Jim O'Rourke.
We're happy to be graced with another lovely Loren Mazzacane Connors release. His trademark style of "Venusian blues" guitar is in fine form here, with the haunting, lonely, late-night beauty of his playing really delving into the darkness over this 37 minute
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An impressive line-up accompanies this 'duet' between Alan Licht and Loren Mazzacane Connors with production by Jim O'Rourke and contributions from Darin Gray (ex-Dazzling Killmen), Rob Mazurak (Isotope 217), Ken Vandermark, amongst others. Slow lugubrious guitar solos with minimal jazz structures.
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An interesting idea for sure. One afternoon in October, 1969, Tony Conrad found himself in a fifth floor loft in Manhattan a couple blocks from Bryant Park, which was hosting a rally protesting the Vietnam War. The TV in his loft was blaring coverage of the protest, while the echoes from the speeches bounced through the city streets and into Conrad's apartment. Not surprisingly, he was recording the co-mingling between the mediated sounds of that protest through the TV and the diffused amplification of the live event, appearing with a subtle time-lag. Given the rather tumultuous political context of 2005 with an increasingly unpopular war abroad and an administration bungling almost every task at hand, the parallels to the context of 1969 protest should be self-evident by now.
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This is a 4-cd box set with 96-page booklet and enhanced cd-rom featuring interviews, performance footage, and video scores. Includes the amazing, previously lp-only Four Violins recording from 1964 (whereas the other discs are recent compostions/recordings, featuring Jim O'Rourke on electric violin amongst other players).
(from the liner notes:)
"'History is like music - completely in the present.' In 1962 Tony Conrad's amplified strings introduced the sustained drone of just-intonation into what became known as 'minimal' music. Utilizing long durations and precise pitch, he and his collaborators forged an aggressively mesmerizing 'Dream Music' - denying the activity of composition, elaborating shared ideas of performance, and articulating the Big Bang of 'minimialism.' However, the many rehearsal and performance recordings from this period were repressed, and remain inaccessibly buried to this day.
In 1987 Conrad set out on a ten-year return expedition to the site of these entombed fragments; from them he reconstructed and regenerated the epic EARLY MINIMALISM. Reaching back through time, Tony Conrad weaves a mobile narrative over and under minimalism: making music out of history, and history out of music."
It's 1969 and Tony Conrad finds himself fascinated and obsessed with the sounds of sine wave oscillators. One of the godfathers of minimalism nearside LaMonte Young, Conrad was always on the more harsh side of things then other Minimalist disciples like Terry Riley and Steve Reich. Fantastic Glissando is a series of electronic compositions that Conrad created with sine wave oscillators that he then processed through a pump counter with head gap delay. The result is an aggressive textured drone that sounds like something traveling near the speed of light. This cd reissue includes a bonus 10-minute track that was not included in the LP version. The first time we heard this in the store, it was pouring outside and by the time it ended the sun was shining...San Francisco natural occurence? Or the work of Conrad's intense hand in the sky? We're still not sure.
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We've never been shy in revealing our unabashed love of the drone. Not many lists go by that we aren't singing the praise of some new dark drone or any of many drone-masters like William Basinski, Philip Jeck, Andrew Chalk, etc. Andee's love of the drone even led him to release a cd compiling selections from the amazing Drone Records 7" series on cd for the first time. So of course we're in full on awe when we get to hear the pioneers of all of that dronemusic and observe the veritable birth of the drone in modern minimalism. While it's still pretty impossible to get a hold of any LaMonte Young recordings, thankfully Tony Conrad has allowed and facilitated recent unearthings of his early drone masterpieces. Joan of Arc is the score he created in 1968 for Piero Heliczer's film of the same name. While Conrad is usually associated with his intense epic drones sourced from his violin this recording found him engaged with the pump organ in a way we've never heard before. Creating a dense and murky sonic underworld that sucks you under, burying you in its rumbling waves and wrapping you tight in a thick dense cloud of drones. Avant film aficionado's may be confused by the cover art which is actually a still of Tony Conrad in Ira Cohen's legendary film of the same year, The Invasion of Thunderbolt Pagoda (reviewed elsewhere on this list).
Never before released, this is one of Conrad's favorite recordings and is fast becoming one of ours.
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Certainly an odd pairing for a split release, with '60s minimalist Tony Conrad on one side, and the surrealist Edward Ka-Spel on the other. This is a release that will certainly not win over any fans from the grumpy minimalist school into liking Ka-Spel or his outfit the Legendary Pink Dots... but will certainly make LPD collectors very happy. Ka-Spel percolates a variety of somewhat silly synthetic sounds that could have been informed by Terry Riley's "In C" but conform more to Ka-Spel's fragmented lullaby approach, with all of the pseudo-goth references one would expect from a Ka-Spel / LPD release. On the flip, playing with Alexandria Gelencser on cello, Conrad sets down layers of extended intonations of abrasive violin drones. Numbered and limited to 500 copies.
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Excellent reissue! Out of print since its release in 1972 when it went almost completely unnoticed, this album is finally available in special 30th anniversary boxed double disc format! A shorter version of it was available briefly in 1993 but this features a whole other disc of extra material.
It wasn't until after playing and performing for over ten years that the now-legendary experimental violinist Tony Conrad finally put his music down on wax. This was after his tenure as an integral member of the Theater of Eternal Music's Dream Syndicate with Lamonte Young, Marian Zazeela, John Cale, and Angus MacLise (NB: the latter two being founding members of the Velvet Underground, which got its band name from a paperback Conrad found lying in the street.) The Dream Syndicate's raison d'etre was exploring the sonic depth, meaning and sound of the almighty DRONE. A chance meeting with producer Uwe Nettelbeck resulted in an intense three-day recording session at Faust's secluded farm slash studio and it was here that Conrad finally got to breathe life into his own take on the drone. The Faust fellows supply a warm, insistent drum beat and a just as unstoppable bass throb. Both the bass *and the drum* are 'tuned' to specific notes over which Conrad lays his droning violin. And that's it. For half an hour. So great! Not boring at all -- your ears quickly become attuned to the waverings, harmonies, and other minute changes amongst the three elements. Fans of Neu, Can, Kraftwerk, and of course Faust NEED this. As does anyone into hypnotic droning rock ala AQ faves Circle, Highly recommended, definitely seminal album by one of the pioneers of drone.
Recorded live at Queen Elizabeth Hall in London in '95 this was the reunion of one of minimalist's great torch holders Tony Conrad along with one of experimental rocks greatest bands Faust. When they originally teamed up at a German filmmakers request, they made Outside The Dream Syndicate over three days together in 1971. A landmark record that took Conrad's affinity for building drones mixed with a rhythm section that added intense pulsations and textures to the sounds. While apparently Faust didn't really remember the recording sessions (what were they on?) they met up only two more times since the original recording to perform the piece live. This show was the third and last time they performed together and at this show they were also joined by the helping hands of Jim O'Rourke (is there a band he hasn't played with?). And wow! What an amazing show to have been at. With his La Monte Young cap on tightly, Conrad masterfully created a piece that no matter when it was produced evokes such a strong physical reaction. This is raw, building, blistering, pounding, droning brilliance! The way momentum keeps building works its way into your body and about half way into the piece you can't stop from getting completely wrapped up in it. The droning violin, the dirty percussion, the gut wrenching passion underneath and above it all! It's amazing how in these sounds you can hear so much of a handful of contemporary AQ favorites: Godspeed You Black Emperor's explosive drama, The Dirty Three at their most wild and rocking, Swans/Angels Of Light's blistering poignancy, but it all ends up seeming sorta like little league in comparison to the blood and guts that oozes out of this performance. As always Table Of The Elements appropriately package the cd with the care it deserves including some nice short conversations with Conrad and two great stickers of Conrad's face. Absolutely recommended!
The legendary Tony Conrad teams up with some noisy young bucks for an hour of full on, high heaven, upper stratosphere, black cloud, acid rain melting everything in sight into silvery puddles, full bore skree. Recorded live in Buffalo in April 2005, there is nothing subtle about this 60 minute blast. The core is Conrad's near static lazer cannon blast of white hot, high end, which gets gloriously torn to shreds and allowed to crumble into crackling pieces, dropping huge flaming shards of shrieking grind and throbbing crunch on a defenseless audience. There are moments of near ambience too, nothing but spaced out fuzz, and little bits of clatter and scrape, but before too long, another salvo is launched and everything peels away in thick strips of charred flesh, revealing a glowing super nova of sound inside. This is another one of those records, that given a casual listen, is pretty rough, a bit of serious ear torching noise. But strap yourself in, and make it through the first brutal blast, and you'll feel your ears blossoming like flowers in the Springtime, opening up and letting all sorts of sonic subtleties in. Then it's a near transcendental, blissed out ur-drone, albeit, one that is heavily spiked with fiery fragments of ultra distorted shimmer and shriek, and thick slabs of skull rattling rumble. The musical equivalent of listening to a star implode, or better yet an entire galaxy collapsing. Intense!
A remix album, but not OF Console, rather, BY Console (the German electronicist responsible for the fab "Rocket In The Pocket" cd issued by Payola, and later, Matador). This collects remixes originally found on other other artists' albums, comps, and so forth, of stuff by Tied & Tickled Trio, Barbara Morgenstern, Isan, Console himself, and more.
Jim: I really hope that Console gets some contacts in Hollywood, as they would certainly make a lot of money scoring soundtracks for 'hip' romantic comedies staring Nick Nolte and Reese Witherspoon. Happy go lucky electronica that blatantly, delightfully rips off New Order on one track (an unusual referent that took me a while to peg... at first I thought Bola's first 12" on Skam, then early Aphex Twin, and then the 80's electro greats popped into my head...) for a pleasant if a little too accessible album.
Andee: Jim is very mysterious. For me, this is just a really cool electronic record with nods to Aphex Twin and Autechre. But it also has a definite post rock feel, having been spawned from the same scene that gave us Village of Savoonga, the Notwist, To Rococo Rot, etc...But I do like Reese Witherspoon.
Jim: Reese went to my sister's high school, so there.
What's more powerful than a Leonard Cohen song? How about if it was sung by a 30 member acapella male choir? This awesomely-named group, Conspiracy of Beards, have been performing around the Bay Area for the last five years, wowing audiences with their exclusive repertoire of Leonard Cohen songs. The reverent intensity and tender drama that fills much of Cohen's songwriting is strangely fitting for choral interpretation. This is their debut release, an ep of five classic songs that nearly carries the same punch as their live shows. Though it's really hard to beat the experience of seeing this group live, where the feelings of spiritual uplift and vague impending doom are oddly tied together.
Oh Canada! On their latest full-length (their first since leaving Sub Pop for Arts & Crafts), Toronto's Constantines present a further refinement to the sound they've been developing over the past four records. Kensington Heights manages to balance a brooding sort of intensity with an unwavering sense of optimism and translate the two into a solid, anthemic record filled with songs of rebellion, growing older, disappointment, and hope.
While the tempos might be slowed a bit from their previous outings, there's no shortage of growl - right out of the gate, the first two tracks ("Hard Feelings" and "Million Star Hotel") are thoroughly sweat-drenched, and mid-tracklist pick-me-up, "Brother Run Them Down" shows that the band is still more than capable of writing a solid scorcher.
That said, there are a number of slow burners on the album ("Time Can Be Overcome" is a standout) that reveal a Constantines who are weary but not jaded. Where the album strikes some of its highest notes, however, are those moments in songs like "Trans Canada" and "I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song," where the band displays a particularly deft ability to be at once both delicate and pummeling.
What the Constantines provide, moreso than anything else, is a reminder that bands *can* be successful, current and relevant without a swarm of blog-fueled hype, or a post-modern mashed-up genre descriptor attached to them. This is an irony-free rock band making an irony-free rock album that manages to connect itself to a firmly entrenched tradition of earnest, blue collar arena-ready anthems (think Springsteen, Thin Lizzy, and Tom Petty, with touches of Fugazi, Wilco and Archers of Loaf). This is by no means a perfect record, but it's one that feels raw and real in its mix of bravado and yearning. Highly recommended for all of you who wear your bruised hearts on the sleeves of your tattered jean jackets.
Despite the recent flurry of bright sunny pop that's come a-flowing down from up north, punk rock's not dead in Canada. No way, the old stomping grounds of hardcore legends such as D.O.A., Dayglo Abortions and SNFU still spews forth a few fist raisers. While the latest Constantines album is not nearly as fully raging as their debut was, nor can we call it anywhere near as politically charged as their hardcore grandfathers', the band still infuses an ample amount of grit and furious energy into their tunes. Their gravelly, hoarse-piped vocals once again recall in turn those of The Clash, Fugazi, Paul Westerberg and Rancid... and actually also brings to mind fellow Canadian, veteran rocker Tom Cochrane, but musically they've at once tightened things up, flexed some muscle and stretched out their range, injecting some unexpected dimensions into Tournaments Of Hearts -- such as a few slower, more sensitive guy tempos, a bit of country twang and a little emo folksy boyishness.
Canada's young answer to Fugazi (with some Girls Against Boys and Paul Westerberg thrown in for good measure), The Constantines have been raising a racket up north for over five years already, but this their 1999 self-titled debut has only been available in Canada. Despite the limited access to their releases, the band has amassed quite a loyal following on both sides of the border, becoming total college radio darlings. Now SubPop have kindly stepped in to fuel their engines, reissuing this introductory full length, and its an impressive one, solid from start to finish. Particular high points are the fiery fourth song "Young Offenders" with its smattering of Rod Stewart's lyrics "young hearts be free tonite" (believe me, it's better than that sounds!), the unexpected slow 'n' sensitive number "Saint You", and the following tense, brooding instrumental "The McKnight Life". These three stand out 'cause not only are they great songs, but they're also a welcome divergence from the rest of the album's almost unwavering hardcore fury.
Philip Best (Whitehouse, Ramleh, Skullflower) along with legendary noisemaker/producer Russell Haswell and the previously unknown to us Sarah Froelich, an American artist deliver this modern slab of abject, power electronics synth-noise. We originally figured this for an archival reissue, some lost gem from the Shock Records / Broken Flag axis, but it is in fact a brand new record, although sonically, it's not that far removed from CE's early releases, still obviously beholden to that whole Shock / Broken Flag sound/scene. The whole program is only about 20 minutes long, a double lp mastered specifically for vinyl, and to spin at 45rpm, the cd separately mastered for digital, but that's more than enough, CE's nihilistic onslaught directly descended from Bet's tenure in Whitehouse, feral and frenzied, caustic and confrontational. The music itself almost lovely at times, minimal synthscapes, blurts of gristly squelch, spread out into weirdly dynamic pulses, not so lovely at others, lurching from undulating walls of grumblingly distorted synth, to minimal cold wave electronica, to full on grinding, speaker shredding synthnoise. All of which is essentially just a backdrop for Best's venomous vocalizations, some seriously vitriolic spoken word, that again, fans of Whitehouse will definitely dig, on the more minimal tracks, Best's vocals are WAY up in the mix, and are harrowing and sort of terrifying, but as the record progresses, those vocals are subsumed into the chaotic, feedback drenched electronic squalls, and while we might not say it becomes more 'listenable', it does transform into something more musical, Best's voice, just another part of CE's harsh, electronic industrial puzzle.
Pressed on heavy 180 gram black vinyl. Housed in a glossy gatefold sleeve. First 500 copies include a cd version of the record, differently mastered than the vinyl.
There's a constant monologue uttered on Repetition Reinforcement from Phillip Best, he of the sick mind and the filthy mouth. Even when he steps away from the microphone, you get the sense that he's just whispering epithets and muttering profanities as the default means of existence. So much rage and disapproval he has of the world; and yes, the word 'cunt' gets tossed around as something of a punctuation mark to his rants. Best is, of course, the longstanding pilot of the British power electronics outfit Consumer Electronics as well as one of the longest standing members of Whitehouse alongside fellow malcontent William Bennett. Consumer Electronics is now a fully fledged trio, Best joined by the noted noise agitator Russell Haswell and Sarah Froelich, whose own recited narration pairs with that of Best on one of the two lengthy tracks on this long EP in a duel of churlish misanthropy. The electronic accompaniment is brutishly minimal, with a whumping techno pulse stripped of all groove and movement acting as a gridded architecture for atonal tweaking, teeth-clinching electronic tension, and ghastly noise wash. It's still Best who commands Consumer Electronics with his vitriol, which seems to be a bottomless well of rage and contempt.
Formed in early 1977, The Consumers were Phoenix Arizona's answer to the Germs. Punk fucking rock. After recording their debut album (20 minutes of adrenaline fueled, hateful, spazzy and totally catchy punk) shortly after their inception, the Consumers
This legendary / infamous slab of punk rock, finally reissued on vinyl!!
Formed in early 1977, The Consumers were Phoenix Arizona's answer to the Germs. Punk fucking rock. After recording their debut album (20 minutes of adrenaline fueled, hateful, spazzy and totally catchy punk) shortly after their inception, the Consumers relocated to LA where they continued to terrorize, destroy and get banned from playing almost anywhere! Furious and angry and kick ass and better than almost any punk rock since ('cept maybe the Electric Eels, who they definitely have a thing or two in common with, sonically and otherwise). Two of the Consumers went on to play in 45 Grave, Human Hands and Dream Syndicate, while the other two Consumers went on to...die! Only two Consumers are still alive!! Punk as fuck.
Hiroshi Hashimoto has been active as Contagious Orgasm since 1986, haunting his native Japan with a Gothic application of disjointed samples, anachronistic collages, and early-Coil industrialisms.
"The Flow of Sound Without Parameter" is supposedly treatments of field recordings from a small town in Germany, but have been joined by so many horror film samples and shards of electro-shock rhythms, that the sound is more like a bombastic fusion of Pan Sonic and Foetus than an Eric La Casa album of delicately processed environmental sounds.
It all comes around doesn't it? Through his Spectrum Spools imprint (which is manufactured by Editions Mego), John Elliott has presented work that digs into the underground of synth wrangles and electronic cosmologists with some true gems amidst his selection. A lot of these artists had been going back to older templates of experimental electronica and recrafting those sounds through new contexts and maybe a little bit of laptop trickery as well. Bee Mask certainly looks to the sharpened frequencies of Parmegiani and Schnitzler, and Temporal Maurader is a downright fictionalization of a 'lost' album of psychedelic electronica circa 1974. Container's revisionist history is in parallel with Zomby's question "Where Were You In 92?" Where Zomby would look to British hardcore techno the aesthetic for that year zero; Container pegged Detroit techno as object to reconstruct. Container is the work of Nashville's Ren Schofield, who leaps into the darkened acid techno of Richie Hawtin circa 1992 when he was recording as F.U.S.E. The insistent techno grooves march from drum sequencers that have a hand-crafted Dan Deacon type of sound. What ever he's using, it's not a 909; and the washes of toxic bubbling electronics that take their cues from 808 work-outs also have a kit-built irregularity to them. As most techno can give the impression of being so easy with so many digital sequencers that you can run from a smart phone, it's nice to hear something this angular and groovy.
Continental's music evokes precisely that state right between sleeping and waking. As gentle as can be, this is the SF quartet's follow-up to their well-received 2001 self-titled cd. In that time they seem to have shed some of their more post-rock and jazz leanings in favorite of straightforward blissfulness. Nine songs that slowly drift and envelope like an early morning mist. For fans of the ultra soothing Landing and Windy & Carl.
Continental are keepin' the post-rock alive with their new 7-song cd. A few customers even asked if this was an old Tortoise release, and it's easy to draw that comparison to Chicago's granddaddies of the genre. A solid follow-up to 2003's Four-Letter Words.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Local instrumental quartet creating dreamy, sometimes jazz-tinged, sometimes post-rock-ish washes of loveliness embellished with strings, horns and lap steel. Lots of moody swells and lulls.
Continuous Mode is the name of the real-time software that Andy Mellwig first developed when he started collaborating with Thomas Koner in the quintessential Chain Reaction post-techno / heroin-house outfit Porter Ricks. For this solo project, Mellwig has
The sound of whistling winds greet us as Continuous Peasant's debut cd gets rolling. You can almost envision this SF sextet strolling into a ghost town, mainman Chris Stroffolino sitting himself down at the piano of an ol' dusty tavern, downin' an ample shot of bourbon or two and bashin' out a tune. From there the sound melts into more emotive, country-tinged college rock territory (think: a cross between Pavement and the Lemonheads). In turns rousing, wry and melancholic, Continuous Peasant shine brightest when the keyboards are pushed to centerstage. Note: the track listing shows eleven songs -- and we hate to blow the surprise -- but you really should know to keep that cd player going 'cause there's a hidden twelveth song that's one of the album's highlights. But y'know, don't just take our word on this album's goodness, AQ customer Steve Carll took quite a shine to it also and had this to say:
First off, I love this band's name, evoking both the "continuous present" narrative strategy and the "still fuckin' peasants" line from John Lennon's "Working Class Hero". Appropriate enough, as singer/keyboardist/songwriter Chris Stroffolino's perhaps better known in indie poetry circles (several books published, etc) than he is in indie rock circles (played keyboards for the Silver Jews).
The band's sound? How's this grab you -- Richard Hell singing Leonard Cohen/Beck collaborations with Nick Cave on piano? OK, it's not exactly like that, but it'll do as a provisional mental picture. As the album opens, the guitar and piano jam with the rain; then the piano takes over with a rhythm that takes some time to lock into your mind, but once it does, you realize it was there all along. There's some pleasant lopey, mopey country rock (the record's named after a Stones album from '72, after all) with occasional harmonies by guest Vanessa Beggs to sweeten Stroffolino's often acidic lyrics. There's also some faster stuff where the guitar is more prominent, whipping old-school New York punk rock songs into a froth.
A band with a poet singing lead is in danger of sinking under the weight of the lyrics, but Continuous Peasant manages to hold its own. The arrangements are simple, but with lots of nice subtle touches. The lyrics employ a lot of repetition, the melodies are barely perceptible, and there's hardly a chorus to be found. Somehow, everything hangs together remarkably well. The rawness of the recording generally gives it a directness that's engaging, marred by an occasional rushed vocal.
Thematically the album refers back not only to Exile on Main Street, but also, in its frequent allusions to sexual politics, to Liz Phair's 1993 release Exile in Guyville. Where Phair laments a culture of male insensitivity that wants to fuck and run, Stroffolino looks around ten years later and sees a culture where it seems as if that cycle has encompassed everyone, discouraging us all from opening up and showing vulnerability: "Always the same if you're not really naked" is the new lament.
There's more to say about the lyrics, which grow on you after a few listens through the album, but I may already have said too much for some: this is music as much as it is poetry. The big question, then, could be: will the next album from Continuous Peasant be its Whip-Smart, or its Goat's Head Soup? It seems reasonable to look for a different return altogether from this year's Exile.
This is Mr. Chris Stroffolino and co.'s follow-up to their warmly received debut album Exile In Babyville from a couple of years ago. Once again Stroffolino's expressive saloon-style piano playing is a key ingredient to C.P.'s potency. It shines forth from the backdrop which is solid rootsy rock with some Pavement-y indie boy slouchiness. Comparisons to Silver Jews (with whom Stroffolino has played keyboards) are still very apropos. That said, Ms Mia Lipman's backing vocals certainly offer a nice contrast to his world weary 'n' whisky'd delivery. Prior to entering the musical realm, Stroffolino put his thoughts to paper rather than music, writing numerous books of poetry and prose. His literary past definitely surfaces in his evocative lyrics which take primarily an intimate, observational, first person perspective. They're granted ample space to unwind and sink in, given the songs' mostly slow to mid tempos. That said, occasionally the band kicks up a cloud of dirt for more rollicking numbers such as "You Don't Believe In Nuthin'".
Finally, after listing Continuum Volume TWO, way back in August of 2007, we've managed to get our hands on some copies of the elusive Volume 1 (newly repressed by Soleilmoon). The various volumes constitute the ongoing collaboration between Dirk Serries, of Fear Falls Burning, and Steven Wilson, of Bass Communion. A perfect low end dronescape match for sure, but whereas the second volume explored sounds at the heavier end of the spectrum, skirting the sound world of folks like SUNNO))), the music here is much more ethereal and ephemeral. Glistening and glimmering more than creeping and crawling. Still suitably dark and mysterious and in some places a bit heavy, but much more aligned with the sort of ambient cd-r folks we tend to dig, who craft long slow moving expanses of hushed whir and swirling blurred drift.�
Three loooooong tracks. The first features extended tones, soft shimmery high end streaks, wreathed in what sound like chimes, the tinkle of guitar strings plucked above the neck, a �sparkling constellation of starry sparkle, spread out into a gauzy layer over lonely piano plinks, and a deep, fuzzy soft focus thrum. The second is a bit more gritty. A swirling cloud of hiss and hum surrounds the dreamy melodic drift beneath. The sounds building to an almost industrial din (but even then still soft and fuzzy) before slipping back into a murky, whispered outro. The final track, another 20 minute epic, is the darkest of the bunch, a dark fog of crumbling rumble slithers above a landscape of hushed murmur, and buried melodies, a murky burbling sonic cauldron, lit by a black sun and cloaked in shadow, eventually blossoming into something else entirely, a soaring melody, wreathed in a cloud of glitch and buzz, hauntingly majestic, a sun dappled coda to an otherwise fairly dark sonic journey, but wait, the sun is soon snuffed out, the darkness returns, as the record closes with several minutes of abject industrial buzz, a creeping shadowy black drone winding it's way slowly into the blackened depths.�
Gorgeous packaging, much like the second volume. Housed in an oversized full color dvd style digipak, with 4 full color post card inserts.�
