Cultural Amnesia would have certainly disappeared entirely, but one of the band's earliest supporters was an 18 year old kid named Geoff Rushton, who later changed his name to John Balance when he formed Coil in 1983 (the same year that Cultural Amnesia ceased activities). Cultural Amnesia managed three cassettes, some compilation tracks, and a half-finished album during that time period, with one of those cassettes being released through Rushton's Hearsay And Heresy label. In all likelihood, Coil completists had come across these cassettes and brought them to light over two decades later. Vinyl On Demand was responsible for one of the anthologies of Cultural Amnesia material, but the better collection was Enormous Savages first released on vinyl by Anna Logue in 2006. This cd version through Klanggalerie flushes out the comp with five tracks recorded in recent years, now that they've gotten back together.
Had it not been for their early demise, this was a band that could have followed in the footsteps of Throbbing Gristle, Clock DVA, Dome, and Cabaret Voltaire circa 1981, as a blank austerity followed through the eccentric darkness grafted onto post-punk songs bristling with inventive if cheap electronics. Choppy sparkplug guitars influenced by Keith Levene's work on PiL's Metal Box punctuate the synthetic melodies, drum machinations, and motorik electronics. Lyrically, these are abject tales of blood, scars, alienation, and British misery, with some of the lyrics penned by Rushton himself. Those painfully eloquent songs are prescient of what Rushton was to bring to Coil's early work on Scatology, but they serve Cultural Amnesia very well on their own. The band had reformed in 2000, and offered 5 new tracks, which actually seem to pick up right where they left off, moving more towards the Pop Group's muscular grooves and fidgety funk, with the same Spartan tape recording which dominated their early work. A very welcome document from Britain's cassette culture.
We would have to be forgiven for missing out on The Cultural Decay from a couple years back. After all, there are eighty-gazillion lost and recently rediscovered post-punk, minimal-wave, and art-rock obscurities from all around the world; but this short-lived Belgian post-punk group from the early 80s is something special and fortunately, Sacred Bones did take notice and should be commended for finally making this available.
From 1980 to 1982, The Cultural Decay only played a handful of gigs, all in Belgium; and they released two singles, one of which was produced by the Revolting Cocks founder Luc Van Acker. From the onset, it's pretty clear that Joy Division was the favorite band of The Cultural Decay, as the guitar and bass interplay of jagged rhythmic guitar chops coupled with loping low-end bass melodies mirrors that of Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook. To be fair, this Belgian band did not have Ian Curtis as a front-man; and they relied more on a snarled monotone delivery similar to those found in the Buzzcocks and Crisis. For those who know fellow Belgian post-punkers Siglo XX, the sound of The Cultural Decay will be very familiar and arguably better! The songs are all darkly tinged post-punk tunes clouded by a dour atmosphere that the band urgently pushes against. Given that this collection features the two studio produced singles and a bunch of 4-track demos, the production quality is a bit uneven; but hey, that's DIY for you! It certainly doesn't detract from the songs themselves, which just get a little rough around the edges.
FYI, The Cultural Decay ran a small label themselves, and were the the original home of that incredible AA single that we reviewed not that long ago. Recommended, for sure!
PS: The cd (not here yet, unfortunately) features FIVE extra tracks not on the lp!
Third in this series, where two Season of Mist bands (in this case Cultus Sanguine from Italy and French black metallers Seth) contribute a couple new sonsgs, cover a song by the other band, and both do a cover version of some other band's song. In this case, a Depeche Mode track!
Latest blast of abstract sounds from the murky and mysterious musical world of Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, this one from UK dronelord Culver, who tries his hand, according to the blurb on the website, at some atmospheric ambient 'metal', there's even an Abruptum namedrop which obviously sets the bar pretty dang high. It is true, Abruptum, among others, has definitely proven that mood and atmosphere can be just as heavy and grim as riffs and shrieks, although we're not so sure this is -quite- as evil as that Abruptum reference would have led us to believe. That said, this may not be -evil- but it's still incredibly dark and ominous and droney. And that's definitely enough for us. The first track is all acoustic guitar, plucking out a funereal threnody, a creeping mournful melody, droney and dirgey in an atmospherically acoustic way, over the course of 14 minutes the notes buzz a little more and the melody blurs slightly into an even more fuzzy and haunting acoustic dirge. Not heavy perhaps, but really fucking awesome. And subtly scary in its own way. The second track is a keening shimmering buzz, a nine minute exercise in building tension, sounding like some sort of minimalist horror movie music, tense and gorgeously static, while under the surface lurk subtle sonic shits and distant droning rumble. The final track is a 20+ minute whir, warm and thick and layered, like a super super lo-fi SUNNO)), a churning metallic riff, slowed waaaaaaay down and sort of blurred into a swirling sea of black buzz. Super hypnotic and mesmerizingly seasick, a slow neverending ebb and flow of crumbling fuzz drenched drone. The kind of song/sound you wish would play forever. The ultimate minimalist dronemetal trance jam!
SUPER LIMITED! WE GOT ABOUT 30 COPIES, WHEN THOSE ARE GONE THAT'S IT. ALREADY SOLD OUT AT THE LABEL!
First proper cd release from either of these bands. Culver you may know by name, and years of limited cd-r and hard to find vinyl releases, but maybe you don't realize that Culver is in fact Lee Stokoe, who also plays in long time faves Marzuraan, as well as being a member of the most recent version of the mighty Skullflower! Holy shit, that is one serioius noise rock underground cred resume if we've ever seen one.
We listed a Culver cd-r years ago, on the now defunct Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label (we actually have 3 or 4 left, if you're interested, just ask!), but haven't really managed to get anything else in since, at least until now. For his half of the split, Stokoe offers up a 31 minute, crushing, ultra heavy, super dense DRONE, corrosive and crunchy, crumbling and bristling with energy, thick slabs of teutonic low end suspended in a field of sonic tar, it almost sounds like black metal riffs blurred into thick streaks of sound, a near static crush, that seems to heave as if at any minute the whole thing could just crumble to pieces. About halfway through the sharp edges beging to wear away, the sound growing smoother, cleaner, yet somehow ever more harrowing and ominous. The track finishing off with a long stretch of near black shimmer, all smeared and woven into ropy tendrils of rumble and hum.
Seppuku counter with something much heavier, and way more metallic, their first joint, begins with a squall of electronics, some looped industrial thrum, soon gives way to a thick cloud of swirling glitch and buzz and hum, eventually dissipating leaving some seriously glacial ultradoom, left to lumber and lurch and pound its way through nearly ten minutes of amp shredding ear drum destroying glacial crawl, monstrous vocals, caveman drums, and all sorts of strange effects and electronics swirling and whirling... So slooooow and so so heavy.
The second Seppuku jam is much more of a power electronics sort of thing, tons of crumbling distortion, heavily processed vocals, all of staitc guitar buzz, loads of feedback, the sound growing ever blacker and more frantic, a grim industrial noisescape that seems to occasionally explode into flurries of murky blown out grind, before splintering back into caustic free noise. Phew.
Some serious heaviness, and some equally serious noise. In some very saucy packaging. Very little in the way of liner notes, but page after page after page, of scantily clad and mostly bare breasted euro babes!
Super limited lp from Anla Courtis, of AQ faves Reynols, teamed up here with UK noisemaker Culver, for a disc of surprisingly serene shimmer, all rumblig shifting sonic swells and gently dulcet drones, drifitng and hazy and gorgeously indistinct. Four tracks, almost an hour of sweet sweet bliss out. This is a reissue of a very limited and long out of print self-released cassette!
We already knew Chris Cunningham was scary. Or was at the very least capable of conjuring up some scary images. C'mon, had you EVER seen a video as absolutely frightening as Aphex Twin's "Come To Daddy"? We thought not. Well, it seems appropriate then that this new video finds Cunningham and Richard James together again, and rest assured that "Rubber Johhny" almost makes "Come To Daddy" seem like a Backstreet Boys video. This time instead of lots of demented children with James' face, James plays the deformed and wheelchair bound Rubber Johnny, who lurks in the darkness where he is kept alone and locked up, peeking from behind walls or hunched over in his wheelchair pushed into a dark corner. The whole thing is a rapid fire series of shots and quick cuts, shot entirely in night vision it seems like, and we only get brief glimpses of Johnny, but every one offers a little more and each glimpse is more horrifying than the last. Holy fuck! What is it with these guys? And how the hell do they do it? This is absolutely amazing. Someone has to get Cunningham to make a movie. We can hardly imagine how insane that would be. And also, if the "Rubber Johnny" video wasn't enough, the book it comes packaged in features image after image of some of the most disturbing and fucked up photoshop EVER. Lots of armpits and buttholes and foreheads and scrotums all chopped and seamlessly assembled into some of the freakiest sort-of-human- creatures you will ever see. Eeeuw.
You know you need this! All of Chris Cunningham's best videos, including the two he did for Aphex Twin, the completely demented and super un-sexy Windowlicker video, and the pants-shittingly terrifying video for "Come To Daddy". Also includes the gorgeous Bjork-as-sexy-robot video for "All Is Full Of Love", and videos for Autechre, Portishead, Madonna, Leftfield, and Squarepusher. Bonus footage includes a making of the Bjork "All Is Full Of Love" video, two video installations with music by Aphex Twin, commercials for Playstation, Nissan, and Levi's, a "bleeped" version of the "Windowlicker" video, and a huge book with photos, storyboards, drawings, record art and interviews.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Originally released overseas earlier this year by Australian label Homeless, this degenerate debut by Aussie noiserock scuzz-merchants Cuntz was reissued domestically by Permanent Records last month as a limited Record Store Day release, limited to just 300 copies - like the Homeless edition, vinyl-only, and already now out of print, of course. However, we still have a tiny handful of copies (like, 3 or 4) left over so we figured we'd list it; better act fast if you want one.
Thus we needn't say much about this, and heck if Permanent reissued it you know they had a good reason! Cuntz will definitely do for all your Down Under, downer rawk needs. These misanthropic Melbourne punks specialize in songs of dissipated existence, drinking and doing pills, the singer's gruff vocal gargle spitting out profanity-laced anti-wisdom, backed by plodding rhythms and broken shards of sludgy riffage played with a quite brittle, "shrieky" distorted guitar tone, complete with treble-damaged soloing. It's delightfully maddening and miserable. Imagine an Australian Pissed Jeans, maybe, or these guys' '80s/'90s predecessors Venom P. Stinger (going back further, the Sick Things) on a hard drug binge. Get it (quick) if you like your rock ugly and unhappy, but with a sardonic sense of humor.
Speaking of sardonic humor, we love how the record ends with a brief birthday song. Hilarious. "Wake up, it's your special day, you're the special little guy, it's your fucking birthday... Happy fucking birthday mate"!
Vinyl-only documentation of these Melbourne bad boyz assault on America last year, consisting of live recordings of many of the scuzzy, sardonic ugly rock "hits" off their two lps for Homeless and Permanent, recorded at WFMU, Gonerfest, Death By Audio and The Earl (in Atlanta, where the Chunklet crew must have seen 'em). We wish we'd witnessed one (or more!) of these shows ourselves, sadly we didn't, but blasting this LOUD while jumping around the room after downing a few tins of beer ought to give an idea. Noisy bad attitude Aussie punk as catchy as it is shambolic, that's what Cuntz dish out, live AND on record. Must have been a good time. Still can be if you grab one of the 450 copies pressed of this!
This impolitely named band is back from Down Under with another irreverent dose of negative-fun, punked out rock, throbbing with abrasive sonics and wallowing in their own bad attitude. In other words, a real cool time if you dig stuff like Flipper and Pissed Jeans.
Gruff vox sing about all sorts of sick yet quotidian subjects, backed by feedback laced, splintery guitarwork, with tracks like "Solid Mates Theme" almost delving into Brainbombs hypno-sludge territory. Dunno what life's really like in Melbourne, but these aren't jingles the Tourism Board would be happy with. We sure are, though, when in the mood for some humorously abject scuzz punk!
Gatefold sleeve, comes with a digital download.
Oh how we once were so smitten with Rivers Cuomo. There is no denying the pop brilliance of the first two Weezer records and even the first several tracks on their comeback (Green) album from several years back, but since then it's sadly been pretty downhill for the Weezer boys who have sort of sunk into 'modern rock' mediocrity. But we have to admit that recently we revisited some of the not so hot more recent Weezer records to find there are still a couple great tracks to be found amidst all that drivel. This is a collection of Rivers Cuomo's home recordings spanning from the early '90s to the present day. It's helped us remember why we fell so hard for Rivers in the first place. Earnest, humble and endearing pop songwriting captured in its most pure and simple state. We love the liner notes for each song with short little stories as Cuomo tells us how the song came to be. There are for sure a few misses (the Ice Cube cover is a serious offender!) and it's easy to imagine that folks who never dug Weezer might not like this, but if you ever had any sort of soft spot for Weezer you will find a few more treasures from the Rivers Cuomo vault to help you hold on to that faith for a little longer.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Subtitled quite aptly "Electro-Acoustic Mood Music", the sequel to Curd Duca's Elevator starts off with his odd ball electronica/psychedelia and veers off into digital explosions, non-metric pulses, and jazz cut ups... all executed with a casual precision that makes even the most experimental parts highly listenable. Fans of Stock Hausen & Walkman should take note!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
"Digitalanalog mood music". Possibly the most accessible Mille Plateaux artist, the mysterious Curd Duca make quite short, pastoral pieces suffused with melodies and lightness, a little bit bossa nova, a little bit lounge, a little bit noisy weirdness. Always interesting. Recommended.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
"Minimalist mood music" based on the music of Wagner.
This is what is supposed to be the last part in a trilogy linking the epic gloom of The Cure's "Pornography" and "Disintegration". The resident long time Cure fans find this a bit disappointing, while the Cure 'dabblers' think this is pretty darn good.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Disintegration is one of those albums, that pretty much all of us can distinctly remember when it first entered our lives and how much it impacted us then. Some of us were in college, some in high school, some in junior high, and it was one of those records that became such an integral part of our existence. It was yearning, and heartbreak, and sadness, and the most romantic kind of doom and gloom. It still stands as one of our favorite Cure albums, so we were super excited for it to get a deluxe expanded reissue, complete with two extra discs of music.
We probably don't need to talk much about the proper album itself as it's a classic, but the bonus stuff totally makes this worth buying again! The second disc is a collection of instrumental demos and rehearsal takes and the third disc is the 1989 live record Entreat Plus. But it's that second disc that really does it for us, the raw demos are just so damn good and beyond relevant to the current avalanche of lo-fi '80s-obsessed warped music makers. You could just imagine folks like John Maus, Blank Dogs, Gary War, etc. drooling with envy at the sound of those way stripped down untouched bedroom demos. And ultimately that's what they are, many of them recordings of just Robert Smith alone in his bedroom putting to tape the earliest incarnations of these classic songs.
Feels so nice to get to have a new moment with Disintegration, as it will always be one of those records that takes each of us to a special moment in our lives, when it was our soundtrack, one of many records that would play a huge part in determining out musical tastes, even to this day, and the demos are just further proof of what a lasting legacy and impact The Cure at their prime has had on us and so much of the music we love.
Seventeen Seconds from 1980. Faith from 1981. Pornography from 1982. These three Cure albums marked a steady descent from jet-black detachment into one of the most violently claustrophobic visions of all pop music. It was a trilogy of records that The Cure have always hoped to reproduce, and with the exception of their masterful Disintegration, this was a goal never attained. You may recall that several months back, Rhino Records reissued the first Cure album, Three Imaginary Boys, with plenty of demo material and live tracks from the same period to the acclaim of Cure fans around the world. Well, Rhino have done it again in reissuing this trilogy of goth-pop landmarks, again with bonus material of live cuts, studio outtakes, alternate versions, and rare cuts.
If for whatever reason you are waffling about which one of these reissues to get (which you shouldn't be!), the one to get is Faith. This is not because Faith is the best of the three records (that's too close to call), but because of Robert Smith wisely included the soundtrack to "Carnage Visors" as one of the rare tracks on this double CD set. "Carnage Visors" was an animated film produced by Ric Gallup as the opening act for the Faith tour back in 1981. 27 minutes long and entirely instrumental, it's a lugubious piece grounded by an elliptical, moody kaleidoscope of Simon Gallup's basslines, accentuated by a simple drum machine and chiming guitars from Robert Smith. If Rothko had extended their swansong "Roads Become Rivers" into a half an hour composition, it would be pretty close to the majesty of "Carnage Visors", which had first appeared as the b-side to the cassette version of Faith back in the '80s, and hasn't seen the light of day appart from unauthorized bootlegs. Lest you think that this is the only reason to get the double disc set, the original set of tracks of Faith is an exceptional manifestation of manic depression with the undeniably bubbly pop jangle of "Primary" set against the appropriately titled "The Drowning Man" and the equally somber "All Cats Are Grey."
Yeah, so what. Another Cure greatest hits record. Most everybody who cares either has all of their albums or has the -last- greatest hits album. But we were particularly interested in the bonus disc of greatest hits performed acoustically. High hopes were dashed a bit though, as the songs weren't -exactly- acoustic, rather full band, with acoustic guitars instead of electric.
Isn't it always about a girl? Unless boys are your thing, and then the rhetorical question would be 'isn't it always about a boy?' Well, for me (Jim) it was girls; and Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me was the soundtrack to many a teenage romance. In hindsight, these relationships were all doomed from the start; but at the time, youthful idealism and the magnetic bond between two social outcasts was more than enough reason to think that any of these love affairs would last forever. Of course, the original cassette of Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me that was played over and over and over again in balmy nights during Tennessee summers is long gone, replaced by an equally well worn piece of vinyl. While the claustrophobic oppression of Pornography and the wintery sparseness of Faith marked The Cure's prior dourness, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me was their breakout album as a kaleidoscope of emotional instability, just the perfect recipe for a couple of arty misfit teenagers. There are schmaltzy love ballads. There are tempestuous firestorms of churning guitar psychedelia. There are mope rock epics. And there are two bona fide Top 10 hits on the album.
Listening to the album now as I'm well into my 30s, I find myself occasionally embarrassed... not entirely because of what Robert Smith is crooning about, but because of the memories that the album conjures up from the past. I'll spare you the details of my teenage relationships (for both of our sakes), but as for remastered and repackaged reissue of Kiss Me, it holds up pretty well. To be completely honest, I probably don't need to hear "Why Can't I Be You?" and "Just Like Heaven" again; but The Cure has crafted plenty of mood-altering gems on this album darkly lysergic tracks such as "The Kiss" and "The Snakepit" interpersed with more goth-pop delirium as on "Hot Hot Hot" or "Catch." As on the previous Cure reissues, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me comes with a CD of bonus material. Unfortunately, there aren't too many great tracks to behold from the live material and demo versions... Really what the hell happened to all of the b-sides to the singles? That quibble aside, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me is now available again; and it's probably one of those albums that you already know whether you need it (again) or not.
Seventeen Seconds from 1980. Faith from 1981. Pornography from 1982. These three Cure albums marked a steady descent from jet-black detachment into one of the most violently claustrophobic visions of all pop music. It was a trilogy of records that The Cure have always hoped to reproduce, and with the exception of their masterful Disintegration, this was a goal never attained. You may recall that several months back, Rhino Records reissued the first Cure album, Three Imaginary Boys, with plenty of demo material and live tracks from the same period to the acclaim of Cure fans around the world. Well, Rhino have done it again in reissuing this trilogy of goth-pop landmarks, again with bonus material of live cuts, studio outtakes, alternate versions, and rare cuts.
Where Seventeen Seconds and Faith are clearly born of the same sensibility with grey, rainy production spaciously drizzled throughout archetypal mope rock tracks, Pornography is a considerably different beast. Smoldering with intensity and claustrophobic to a fault, Pornography is easily the darkest album that The Cure has ever produced. From the doomy opener "One Hundred Years" to the title track with cascading drum machine marches and relentless blasts of guitar noise, Robert Smith unleashes an anger in his self-loathing that doesn't manifest itself anywhere else in his signature gloomy romanticism.
Seventeen Seconds from 1980. Faith from 1981. Pornography from 1982. These three Cure albums marked a steady descent from jet-black detachment into one of the most violently claustrophobic visions of all pop music. It was a trilogy of records that The Cure have always hoped to reproduce, and with the exception of their masterful Disintegration, this was a goal never attained. You may recall that several months back, Rhino Records reissued the first Cure album, Three Imaginary Boys, with plenty of demo material and live tracks from the same period to the acclaim of Cure fans around the world. Well, Rhino have done it again in reissuing this trilogy of goth-pop landmarks, again with bonus material of live cuts, studio outtakes, alternate versions, and rare cuts.
Seventeen Seconds began the creative partnership between Robert Smith and bassist Simon Gallup which is essentially the foundation for all of the great work from The Cure. Where the previous bassist Michael Dempsey gave The Cure a spry, punchy sound that fit more in line with contemporaries like The Jam, Gallup's lumbering basslines presented themselves as a counterpoint to Smith's manic-depressive jangle. While much needs to be said for Smith's unmistakable whining voice, hurricane-shock hair, and smeared eyeliner in defining Goth rock, there is a clear reason why The Cure has been the salvation to millions of dour kids everywhere: Smith and Gallup came up with some damn great songs. "A Forest" has long been a favorite for anyone who at one time or another sported a little black lipstick, and one cannot overlook the minimalist pop bleakness of tracks like "Play For Today," "Three," and the title track. Of the rarities on Seventeen Seconds, the most intriguing tracks come from the side project Cult Hero, which produced more punky-pop tracks similar to those heard on Three Imaginary Boys. Along with this, you'll find plenty of live tracks and a couple of studio demo tracks.
I'm not going to lie to you. The Head On The Door was never my (Jim's) favorite Cure record. I'm sure it is for somebody; and that's not to say that The Head On The Door is a bad record. It's just that The Cure's legendary gloom, mope, and dourness was always far more appealing than the jiggly goth-pop of albums such as The Head On The Door and The Top. In looking at the band's history, The Head On The Door is the ultimate transitional record, following what could only be seen as a disaster dressed up as bubblegum pop (i.e. The Top). During the mid '80s, The Cure distanced themselves from the self-destructive behavior which spawned 1982's Pornography and drove Robert Smith to temporarily shelve the band while playing guitar in Siouxsie & The Banshees. Smith et al, decided to re-invent The Cure without the drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. The Head On The Door succeeds where The Top stumbled, but was pretty much just working up to the brilliantly skewered pop and bloodshot kaleidoscope of Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me, and eventually providing the foundation for the band to sell millions of records. Hence The Head On The Door adopted a slightly darkened, pogo-pop catchiness as heard on "In Between Days" and "A Night Like This" with hints of a former gloominess hidden well behind the amazingly silly tunes of "Close To Me" and "Six Different Ways."
As on all of these remastered reissues, Robert Smith has filled an extra disc with demos and live material; and what's nice about this disc is the selection of legitimately rare songs including the demos for a couple of b-sides and possibly four unreleased tracks.
Well, it's about fuckin' time (psst, you know it's a special occasion if it makes Cup swear)! The Cure's Three Imaginary Boys debut album has finally been reissued, just in time to cleanse our ears of the disappointment of their latest album. In comparison to their recent studio-concocted big 'raw' sound, T.I.B. needed no high-tech bells and whistles to effectively convey its gritty immediacy. Yes, it's occasionally clunky and often imperfect, but it's a great snapshot of the band back in its 1979 unpolished adolescence with their bare bones electric guitar, bass, drums and vocals (pre-synthesizer) set-up. In contrast to their playing chops, their songwriting chops were already pretty darn solid. Actually this is the very first time the album has been released in the U.S., and thus begins Rhino Records' resurrection of The Cure's long-yearned-for catalog of seminal albums. Hurrah! If this remastered and expanded edition is any indication, we're in for some pretty great rarities-type surprises. It comes with a big ol' booklet and a 'bonus' disc filled with twenty surprisingly punky demos, outtakes, live tracks and such from back in their formative years -- including a demo version of what is undisputably one of their best pop songs "Boys Don't Cry". Many of the recordings are really really lo-fi and murky, but Robert Smith and Co.'s magic shines through. Cure fans rejoice!
If it weren't for the unmistakable voice of Robert Smith singing, you'd never guess this was The Cure. These songs don't even sound like they came from Smith's songwriting pen. Not at all! They're completely devoid of The Cure's trademark achingly bittersweet sentiments, wonderfully quirky details, and infectious melodies. We probably should have known things were more than a little awry from the first couple of songs. Really, have you ever heard The Cure *this* angry? This is Robert Smith at his most bilious. He's almost yelling his lyrics. Perhaps it's the influence of Ross Robinson (nu-metal rock producer of Korn, Soulfly and Slipknot)? Heck, what else could it be? Perhaps we're just imagining things, but don't song titles such as "(I Don't Know What's Going) On" and "Lost" seem to suggest something very wrong? Odd too is the fact that this incredibly uncharacteristic album should happen to be self-titled. Sad and painful.
Yet another fantastical bit of mysterious audio alchemy from the always weird and wonderful UK tape label The Tapeworm, this one from Australian composer/sound artist Robert Curgenven, who, armed with pipe organs, industrial fans, old acetate 78's, resonating dubplates, stereo test lps, custom made oscillators, and a handful of turntables, crafts some gorgeously lush hyperminimalism that exists somewhere between the woozy turntablism of Philip Jeck, the gauzy washed out ambience of the Caretaker, and the fields of industrial hiss and crackle of Restgeraeusch. Slow shifting fields of static, underpinned by softly pulsing chordal thrum, soft swirls of blurred, bleary shimmer, morphing into wheezing clouds of droning organs, stately and haunting, hushed and atmospheric, definitely headphone listening, or at least LOUD speakers in a quiet room, but it's worth it, some seriously mesmeric deep listening lowercase loveliness.
One of our fave new Bay Area indie labels Dynamophone close out 2007 with a fresh batch of aural treats. They are four installments in their limited edition 3" cd-r ep Parcel series by the likes of Curium, Lullaby League, Science Teacher and Sleep Robot. Chances are if you've been paying attention to our recent aQ lists you're probably already as enchanted with this label's richly atmospheric hazily dreamy roster as we are, and will welcome these four into your music collection. This one features three new luminous listens by Curium.
Don't delay though! Each release comes in a diminutive square cardboard box festooned with a full color cover art sticker, and is limited to 100 each. We only have a couple handfuls. Once they're gone, they're gone!
Psst: in keeping with this particular release's theme, Aember comes with a Dynamophone book of matches!
The third release from SF's Curium comes in the form of a 3" cd-r encased in a slightly larger gift box. As with the rest of the Dynamophone Parcel series, this is a delight to open up and delve into.
Curium (aka Evan Sornstein aka the man behind the label) draws inspiration from literary works, this time it is C.S. Lewis' fantasy realm Bism which "lies below the Shallows of the Underland below Narnia. Gnomes grow living gems and salamanders swim in rivers of fire giving great words of wisdom" (quoted from the liner notes). While the three instrumentals may not necessarily conjure such fantastical visions in your mind, they will offer a soothing dreamy respite from the hecticness of your day. Diminutive as this 3" may seem, there's twenty minutes of loveliness for you sink into as it drifts slowly through limpid, wistful melodic lines.
Psst, seeking more new calming contemplative sounds on this label? Be sure to check out Abbasi Brothers (also reviewed this week) and Fjordne!
We've got a couple more fine releases from Dynamophone Records, the SF indie label we were raving about last list (also see: Balustrade Ensemble, Halou, Po, Pornopop, A Lily, Disinterested, and R/R Coseboom)!
Sonically it fits perfectly amid the gauzy soundscapey bliss of its labelmates, but Curium's Nowever stands apart from the rest in its defined concept revolving around the poems of e. e. cummings. Various voices recite cummings' words -- some spoken, some sung, some processed, some not. They're sifted through the stuttery glitch-tronic sands of Curium's shifting dreamscape. For fans of Oval, Boards Of Canada, B. Fleishmann and Dntel.
Sometimes a picture is in fact worth 1000 words, just check out the cover photo on this most recent Omni Recording Corporation reissue, featuring a tall lanky man, brown pants and a black long sleeved turtleneck, sitting on a guitar case on the side of the highway, his hair slicked back, a cowboy hat clutched in his hands, one eye covered by a black eye patch. The title? The Long And Lonesome Road. Of course it is. And a quick scan of the back cover finds the words "drug and alcohol addictions" pop out, as do many of the song titles: "Bury The Bottle With Me", "A Tombstone Every Mile", "Nobody Knows You When You're Down And Out", "Loser's Cocktail", "Goin' Down That Road Feeling Bad", well, by now, like us, you're pretty taken with this, the latest in a long line of unearthed country gems, and we've yet to even hear a note.
We weren't all that familiar with Dick Curless, although according to the liner notes, he had a whole mess of top 40 hits over the years, the note also inform us that the eyepatch is no affectation, and while it was gouged out in a bar fight or shot out by a jealous lover, it was the result of actual health problems. Anyway, the opening track is classic country, Curless's deep voice pretty stunning, the lyrics very very strange, barrelhouse piano, groovy background vocals, it's pretty good stuff, but the next track, "Wrinkled, Crinkled, Wadded Dollar Bill" is where we first get an earful of Curless' impossible and super dramatic low low baritone, sounding, at first blush at least, like Thurl Ravenscroft, the voice of Tony The Tiger and the singer of the Haunted Mansion song from Disneyland. And while he's a capable singer in multiple registers, it's that deeeeeeeep voice that makes this especially great. There are some track we knew, some classic trucker jams (the aforementioned "A Tombstone Every Mile" being an old fave), some honky tonk hits, a very Johnny Cash vibe a lot of the time, but beyond those few tracks, most of this was new to us, and like all Omni reissues, there's lots of amazing stuff to discover, and fans of any of the other Omni collections (Henson Cargill, Tommy Cash, Grandpa Jones, Stonewall Jackson, Dee Mullins, Hank Snow, Billy Edd Wheeler, Larry Jon Wilson), will probably dig this one too!
And like all Omni releases, there's a massive booklet with killer liner note and lots of photos.
This Las Vegas metalcore outfit returns with part 2 to their previous We May Be Through With The Past... cdep. So you can expect more of their heaviness and clever, oft lengthy song titles -- better'n The Locust, some of 'em. This disc's "Nuclear Waste? Bring That Shit. (We Want A State Full Of Radiated Super Heroes)" really can't be beat. And like the first ep, this is decorated with nifty but fake Chris Ware / Acme Novelty Library artwork ("We hope you never see this travesty of a mockery of a sham" is what they say to him in the liner notes).
After seeing Curlupanddie lurching across the stage, opening for Darkest Hour a while back, I'm a firm fan. And this disc is more evidence of their abilities. They merge Coalesce, Today Is The Day, and black metal while remaining open to a lot of other sorts of experimentation. The fourth of the four songs on here, "God Is In His Heaven, All Is Right With The World" is the kind of thing that will get your housemates coming in and asking, is that the same record you had on a second ago? as it does the metal / post rock hybrid thing that's all the rage with the kids these days while bringing in even weirder elements like sly breakbeat backing and melodic mellow indie-rockisms. Cool. Hopefully they'll never have to join the army (as per song #2: "If This Band Thing Doesn't Pan Out We're Joining The Army").
This six-song ep is the latest cd offering from Las Vegas metalcore act Curlupanddie. Screaming, crushing metalcore a la Converge, Coalesce and old Cave In. A buncha crazy kids who we can always count on for great, A Minor Forest-esque song titles (e.g. "I Don't Give A Shit If I'm In Outer Darkness, I'll Make Friends") and swank graphic design along with their superior metalcore. This disc sports fake Chris Ware artwork (though Chris Ware does gets thanked, so maybe he approved of the, uh, emulation?), which is a bit puzzling. Much like the drum machine weirdness on the disc's final track... Like we said, crazy kids.
MPEG Download: "I Hate Almost Every Person I Come In Contact With" [/audio/curlupanddieihate.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "I Hate Almost Every Person I Come In Contact With" [/audio/curlupanddieihate.m3u]
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Two pieces for solo percussionist--in this case, local madman William Winant.
"A Little Menstrual Night Music" is a remix of Current 93's "In Menstrual Night," a record that has long been thought of as the most oblique of Current 93's pre-folk recordings, dominated by liturgical choral loops and clunking rhythmic couplings of piano and drums. The original album was produced back in 1986, as an exploration of the question of where dreams go when they die; yet this remix, produced by Steven Stapleton and Colin Potter for Current 93's recent San Francisco performances, emphasize the dreaminess of the recordings, having filtered out most of the percussive aspects and allowing only a few vocal snippets from Ruby Wallis and Rose McDowell to emerge from the thick cloud of reverb that swallowed the original. And, the usually omnipresent voice of C93's David Tibet is surprisingly absent in this fantastic piece of sonic hypnogogia.
It's always a challenge to delve into the polyglot mythologies of David Tibet, as the visions in his lyrics reference a host of esoteric subjects: the gnostic Christian texts of the early 2nd Century, Thelemic citations from Aleister Crowley, snippets of Coptic, and plenty of Tibet's feverish dislocations of images delivered in stream of consciousness. The central protagonist here is Aleph, a character with a slippery persona, one that may be acting before God set the universe in order, one that may be acting as a dopplerganger to Adam, one that may be the murderous precursor of Cain, one that may spell out an alternate origin of Lucifer, or one that is unique to Current 93. To avid Current 93 fans, these mysteries and contradictions are commonplace; but the biggest shift for Current 93 is in the musical arrangements. Gone are the fairy-dusted madrigals for just piano, 12-string guitar, and violin. Tibet has now grasped onto a blistering, occasionally sprawling psychedelia centered upon heavy, proto-metal riffs. Amon Duul's Yeti, the psychedelic moments of Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, and certainly early Alice Cooper all factor into Current 93's arrangements. Given the '70s laden heaviness of this album, it's a little hard to believe that Al Cisneros (Om, Sleep) who had previously collaborated with Tibet isn't present. Instead, Tibet has brought on board Alex Neilson, Andrew WK, Keith Wood, Matt Sweeney, Rickey Lee Jones, James Blackshaw, porn-star Sasha Gray, and a host of others. Once again, Steven Stapleton is at the helm of the production with Andrew Liles adding his deft hand in the mix as well. Alex Neilson's presence on drums is of particular note, as his heavy-handed fills and lumbering gate does away with the taut precision which gave some Current 93 albums an anal retentive quality. Neilson in conjunction with the army of guitarists churning through these heavy, psychedelic riffs makes this album as good as it is.
Current 93 records require a considerable amount of effort in order to dig into the allegorical poetics of David Tibet. For 25 years now, Tibet has been exploring religious and philosophical esoterica, situating Biblical thought next to the theosophy of Crowley. But this dualism has been brushed under the rug over the past decade thanks to an interest in the gnostic texts originally penned in the ancient Coptic language. As to the background to Baalstorm - ostensibly the principle character of Current 93's 2010 album - we can't really say that we have any clue. Perhaps, a minor archon in a pantheon of deities lost for many generations? Yes, Tibet's visions continue to flow unabated across arrangements produced by a revolving cast of characters. The previous album, Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain, was a boiling cauldron of proto-metal riffs with numerous musical allusions to Blue Oyster Cult, Chrome, and Black Sabbath; and Baalstorm somewhat splits the difference between that album and the fairy-folk darkness of albums like Soft Black Stars. The compositions from the likes of James Blackshaw, Alex Neilson, John Contreras, Baby Dee, and Andrew Liles are delicate and occasionally twist into comparatively tense minstrals for cello, acoustic guitar, hand drums, and a spare amount of electronics.
Current 93's David Tibet is an apocalyptic poet in the truest definition, as his work hinges upon his obsessive desire to transcribe and translate the revelations, visions, nightmares, and dreams that have come to him over the past two decades. The apocalyptic genres of art have come to define the possibilities of how the world as we know it might come to an end (e.g. astrophysical disasters, nuclear war, zombies, fire-ants, etc.); however, in the earliest manifestations of apocalyptic art, it was simply the chronicling of revelations given from the heavens to man below. Throughout his numerous recordings in Current 93, Tibet has embodied the whole apocalyptic tradition, all the while strengthening his admittedly heretical belief in a Patripassianist Christ, who suffers beyond the crucifixion of Jesus throughout the aeons until his second coming (NB. this is but a brief synopsis of Tibet's complicated, Gnostic, and poetic theology).
Black Ships Ate The Sky has been in the works for almost four years, with Tibet's great friend and long-time collaborator Steven Stapleton proclaiming this to be a fantastic recording. Lo and behold, Black Ships Ate The Sky *is* a magnificent album, returning to the somber acid folk stylings haunted by the shadows and smoke last heard on the earlier masterpieces Thunder Perfect Mind and Earth Covers Earth. As on all of the Current 93 albums, Tibet surrounds himself with an impressive battery of musicians that reads like a who's who of alt-folk-avant-rock greats: Will Oldham, Ben Chasny, Antony (as in .. And The Johnsons), Shirley Collins, Cosey Fanni Tutti, William Basinski, Al Cisneros (from Om), and the aforementioned Steven Stapleton. Black Ships Ate The Sky is thematically based upon Tibet's vision aptly described in the title as it relates to a Christian hymn by Charles Wesley called "Idumae" which repeats itself seven times (eight if you count "Black Ships Were Sinking Into Idumae" sung by Cosey Fanni Tutti), as sung by Tibet's numerous guest vocalists. As strong as many of the versions of "Idumae" are, Tibet and his peculiar voice are central to Black Ships. He's impassioned throughout, occasionally possessed with an infernal rage as on the second version of the title track, and elsewhere adopting a gentle delicacy. The music swirls around simple guitar arrangements, laced with Chasny's acidic guitar leads and Stapleton's sidereal productions... and it's stunningly good together. Time will tell if this will be the greatest Current 93 record Tibet has produced (as many have already claimed); but it's clearly in the running.
Dance mixes of Current 93? Really? Yup, this is a dual disc CD/DVD combo with remixes of the Current 93 epic Black Ships Ate The Sky. JG Thirlwell (aka Foetus) offers up two industrial strength remixes, which are pretty much identical in terms of sound although one is a couple of minutes longer. The hammering drum machines and dense electronic overdrive recall the Al Jourgensen / Paul Barker productions of the Wax Trax! sound, with David Tibet ominously reciting the title of that aforementioned album. Matmos delivers a remix of that same track giving it a slippery funk that David Tibet's voice has never experienced before. The Matmos duo also rework Antony's contribution to that very same album. The DVD features two videos produced by Cam Archer.
Two songs from Current 93, and both are covers of Simon Finn songs, neither of which are as good as the epic acid folk originals but maybe still worth checking out for C93 fans!
The exact history behind this record is vague as no one from the recording sessions can remember when it was recorded more specifically than sometime between 1985 and 1986, placing "Dawn" nebulously as the fourth, fifth, or sixth album from Current 93. Yet, one thing remains very clear about this album, "Dawn" was the final Current 93 document that featured David Tibet's blood curdling sermons of nightmarish imagery, fronting the C93's gnarled collages of noise, tape loops, and studio effects. After this album, Current 93 pursued and refined the style that they are known for now: "menstrual minstrals and apocalyptic folk songs," where the history of UK folk was infused with pantheistic mythologies, that expanded beyond the apocalyptic prophecies of Current 93's early work. David Tibet has previously scoffed at "Dawn" because of the relative ease at which he, Steven Stapleton, and company produced this record, through the use of looping collages. While such a dismissal indicates Tibet's belief that Current 93 would be best as a UK folk vehicle, it doesn't acknowledge how powerful Current 93 had become in using this medium to convey Tibet's drug addled visions of the apocalypse. Almost all of the images of "Dawn" are recontextualizations of Catholic imagery or inverted bastardizations of Catholicism. Snippets of liturgical chants, medieval vocal chorales, and rounds of carillon bells phase in and out of loops from Aleister Crowley incantations, funeral dirges, and the ubiquitous voice of Tibet, whose snarling voice has been processed into wraith like slashes of malevolent noise. The opening track "Great Black Time" -- which appears in two slightly different versions on this CD reissue -- also features the odd intrusion of The Beach Boys' "California Dreaming" amidst crashing waves of church bells.
The recently reissued "Dawn" is certainly not as stong as Current 93's early masterpieces "Dogs Blood Rising" and "Nature Unveiled," yet it remains an solid document of post-industrial / nightmare culture from the early to mid '80s.
"In a foreign town, in a foreign land, reaping time has come." Thus spake David Tibet on the 2nd album from his heretically-minded project Current 93. Those words became commonplace within the Current 93 pantheon of poetic allusions toward Tibet's horrifying visions of the end of the world. While his tireless research and spiritual development has found Tibet nowadays with a self-constructed theology that includes elements of Christian doctrine, Coptic Gnosticism, Crowley's magick, Buddhist transcendentalism, and far more esoteric subjects, the apocalyptic visions for Tibet in 1985 were centered firmly between dual, conflicting personalities: Christ and Crowley. These two play out in the Current 93 drama built not upon the taut acoustic folk as found on Tibet's more well known constructions, but through a darkly hallucinatory collage of monastic chanting looped against thudding percussive blows that are less structural and more of a protracted stomp of corporeal punishment. Tibet has always relied upon musical accompaniments for his visionary work, and Dogs Blood Rising is no different as Steven Stapleton of Nurse With Wound deftly shapes the slashing feedback and growling utterances into a hellish orchestration for Tibet's bellowing not only for the Antichrist but also for the weeping Christ who suffers till the end of time in his own theological reasoning. As commonplace as Tibet's voice is on all of the Current 93 albums, he has recruited a number of guest vocalists, including Steve Ignorant of Crass and Diana Rogerson, serving to de-center the album further. The five disquieting collages of Dogs Blood Rising are totally the stuff of nightmares, long standing as one of the pinnacles of industrial culture. Now back in print on vinyl with reproductions of the original fliers from the first edition of the album, but probably not for long!
Run by the former Deerhoof bassist Rob Fisk, the Free Porcupine Society has specialized in packaging all of their releases in msyterious paper sleeves that he's hand decorated with random paint streaks splattered across silkscreened illustrations of clunky anthropomorphic figures. Musically, the label defines their releases as "no wave hermit folk" and "eco-terrorist hobbit rock," with releases by Tom Carter, Scorces, Xiu Xiu, Badgerlore, and others. So at least when it comes to the music, a reissue of the pagan-folk classic Earth Covers Earth by Current 93 is a logical one. But when it comes to the meticulously construsted imagery of Current 93, the craft-cornered artwork of the Free Porcupine Society is a slightly mismatched pairing. That said, Fisk has certainly adjusted the idosyncratic design style of the FPS in repackaging the original artwork -- with its homage to the Incredible String Band as the cover photo and a plethora of drawings from Current 93's David Tibet. And considering that this is the first time that Earth Covers Earth has been in print for many years, vinyl or otherwise; this is a very welcome reissue.
Originally released in 1988, Earth Covers Earth was the second album in which Tibet ventured down the path of "apocalyptic folk", after numerous records of frightening hallucinations and occultish chants. Languid and mournful, Earth Covers Earth taps into the eccentricities and shadows that haunt the traditions of British folk music, best typified in the work of Shirley Collins and the soundtrack to the Wicker Man. Tibet's own fascination with Christian Gnosticism (at the time, a fascination just in its infancy) and his ability to surround himself with very talented musicians provided an exceptional framework for this Earth Covers Earth, which ranks as one of the most well developed albums of Current 93's death-folk facade. Tony Wakeford (Sol Invictus) and Douglas P (Death In June) provided the melancholic acoustic guitar strum, while Rose MacDowell occasionally delivers her creepy sing-song vocals alongside the ubiqitous Tibet waxing poetic about the existential collapse around him. There are reasons why Current 93 has such an iconic status, and Earth Covers Earth is one of them.
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With their two recent collaborations with horror novelist Thomas Ligotti, Current 93 has made a few detours from their magickal folk music to get back to the style of apocalyptic collage which marked their first and best records. "Faust" is another return to those terror-filled dadaist sonic assemblages, and like those Ligotti-inspired recordings, it is based on a literary text. This interpretation of "Faust" was written by the decadent Count Eric Stenbock at the end of the 19th Century. In working with texts other than his own, Current 93's ringleader David Tibet tends to keep his voice and ego out of the process. Rather, Tibet & Stapleton have collaborated to build mostly instrumental creepy hypnotic drones. "Faust" is 35 minute piece composed of the constant chatter of voices muttering, chanting, and whispering with a lulling rhythmic plod of heavy chimes. It is as if one is eavesdropping on some Crowleian incantation. Evil stuff.
