We weren't all that into Fleet Foxes when we heard this record the first time. Not sure if it was us reacting to the usual way-too-much-hype that seems to surround so many debut releases these days. Or if the music just didn't move us. So we had sort of written them off as another 'whatever' band, decent enough to carry, but not special enough for us to worry about reviewing. But then we saw them perform live, and something changed. It was a revelation. It's difficult to pinpoint what it was exactly, but they sounded amazing, lush, timeless, sort of rocking, the vocals impossibly beautiful, harmonies to die for. It might have been hearing them LOUD, it could have been the fact that they were performing in a sun dappled glade, surrounded by tress and green grassy hills, probably a little of both. Whatever it was, it opened our ears, and the beauty of Fleet Foxes was revealed to us. A lush seventies Laurel Canyon sort of countryish pop folk. Crosby, Stills and Nash are the obvious reference, maybe the Eagles too. But also mix in some Beach Boys, some Big Star, the pop element is undeniable, the sound fuzzy and sun dappled, the percussion orchestral, the arrangements grand and epic, but somehow, it all sounds so intimate and personal. Sunshiney, melancholy, dreamy, intricate steel string guitars, shuffling drums, hand claps, all just a background for the lovely vocals, a high crystal clear croon, that easily slips into a falsetto, before swooping back down again, and the harmonies, oh the harmonies, absolutely divine. So much so we sometimes find ourselves just waiting for the parts where the band pulls back leaving just the vocals, perhaps an acoustic guitar, those are the moments that make this band so fantastic. Thus returning to the record, we have a whole different take. All of the above describes the sounds within, pretty perfectly, not sure why it took seeing them play live, but for whatever reason, we're glad we did. Otherwise we would have missed out on Fleet Foxes' lush loveliness. Just listen to "White WInter Hymnal" and if you're not sold, well then, figure out a way to get these guys to set up and play for you in some field or forest, it will be well worth it.
For those of you who really dug B. Fleischmann's Welcome Tourist (as we did!), here's a reissue of an earlier album of his (originally released in 1999 on Morr Music). What can we say? Mr. Fleischmann has a knack for crafting the sonic equivalent of the loveliest aquatic dreams. Such echoe-y, shimmery prettiness that's sweet without being sugar-coated. Plus unlike the more recent album on which they served as something of a distraction, this one does not have vocals! In the past we've compared Fleischmann's music to that of The Notwist, but Pop Loops For Breakfast is actually more akin to Notwist cousins Lali Puna albeit minus the female singing.
Unfortunately (?) B. Fleischmann's new album is not titled 'The Thumbsucking Coil' as one of us initially thought... and unfortunately (on a completely different but not unrelated topic) Mr. Fleischmann has chosen to sing more on it. Now if you're at all familiar with us here at AQ, you probably know that we've totally dug his past recordings (both Welcome Tourist and Pop Loops For Breakfast have always received a warm bear hug reception around these parts), and we haven't had an aversion to his drowsy speak-singing in the past. However each time we've put The Humbucking Coil on for a spin, it has definitely been his vocals and lyrics that have been bringing us dooown. Maybe your ears won't have a problem with 'em, but we'll just say that we're happy he doesn't sing on all of the tracks. We've been without a Fleischmann fix for too long already... we'll take what we can get! Fortunately the vocal-less tracks are of his gently lulling, blissful fare. Soft'n'soooothing.
Inevitably when we play this in the store, someone comes up and asks if we're listening to Boards Of Canada. The first track definitely demonstrates why: melancholy ambience with haunting distorted piano over lazily glitchy beats. This Boards Of Canada vibe permeates most of the record, but this is a lot weirder and much more varied. One track will have subtle electronics spare steel string guitar and lonesome lapsteels, sounding a little like an electronic Calexico. Then one track will have German spoken word over a super pretty blend of piano, slinky guitars and electronics. This is definitely something for fans of Boards of Canada as well as folks who dug that last Notwist record. The Notwist similarity surfaces about halfway through the first disc, with the introduction of singing! Bearing a striking resemblance to Malcolm 'Arab Strap' Middleton's new album as well as the Notwist obviously, and even Faust with those sing-songy, innocent vocals. A gorgeous rainy day record of organic electronica. The second disc is an epic 45 minute track that revisits many of the musical themes of disc one. A gorgeous chunk of bliss, fuzzy and hypnotic, distorted melodies over loping post rock grooves, burbling upright bass, gauzy atnospheric haze, and sweet sweet melodies.
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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Superior Viaduct does it again, bringing us much needed reissues of not only one but two classic LA underground records from 1981: The Flesh Eaters' amazing A Minute To Pray, A Second To Die, and The Gun Club's incredible debut, Fire of Love. We're gonna (gotta!) make 'em both Records Of The Week!
Death, drugs, sex, voodoo, evil blues, macabre horror and a sublimely detached southern gothic sensibility pervades the sound of these two bands who sat somewhere between the margins of the "death rock" and "cowpunk" or "gothabilly" genres in the LA punk scene of the late seventies and early eighties without fitting neatly into either.
Chris Desjardins, or Chris D., was the central force behind The Flesh Eaters as well as producer for The Gun Club, and other bands of the era such as Tex and The Horseheads (featuring his then girlfriend Texicala Jones) and his later band, The Divine Horsemen. Once a writer for the popular underground fanzine Slash, Chris D assembled The Flesh Eaters from many bands of the scene, such as The Blasters, Wall of Voodoo, Los Lobos, and X, and indeed no Flesh Eaters record had quite the same line-up. Their second release, A Minute to Pray, A Second to Die remains the band's most critically regarded effort and it's easy to see why. Featuring John Doe and DJ Bonebrake from X on bass and marimbas respectively, Dave Alvin and Bill Bateman from The Blasters on guitar and drums and Steve Berlin from Los Lobos on sax, the band's swampy but driving voodoo rhythms marked most notably by the unusual use of marimbas and saxophone and Chris D's horror-spun lyricism and guttural vocals put them in a similar scene as bands like 45 Grave and The Cramps, but with a fiercer edge and far less campy aesthetic. Instead, A Minute to Pray, A Second to Die is like a dark spaghetti western full of werewolf marauders, evil curses, night fevers, grave-digging and a rollicking hell-bent fury. Essential listening for fans of The Birthday Party, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, and any of the bands mentioned above.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This Punk band from the East Bay has been around for two years. Its members had been previously playing in other punk bands like the 3Tards Sledwreck, and The Dairy Queens, and have put out songs on a variety of compilations and split singles with such bands
Local boys who were on a split 7" with Phantom Limbs now have released this ep. The first song sadly reminded me of typical East Bay punk, the second song was a weird ballad about 'futbol' and the third song sounded just like Drive Like Jehu or Pitchfork (which isn't a bad thing). It went on like that. The record is all over the place but mostly soft punk (ya know, with a heart). It's a lot lighter than I would have thought knowing that they are cohorts of the notorious Phantom Limbs.
Oh man. This is a good one. A really good one. This is one of those records we've been waiting for, that takes the sound of SUNN0))) and Earth, that soon to be done to death slow motion guitar dirge doom, to a whole new level. It's still heavy and glacial, and dense and totally overwhelming, but there's just something about it, that sounds, maybe clean, spacious, open? The guitar tone and the compostion and the recording all mesh in some magical way to make the guitars float and drift. It's almost dreamy, while somehow still being dark and ominous. It's hard to explain, but this record just really hit the spot in a way few of the many doom-dirge-drone clones have managed lately. Packaged in a cool silscreened vellum sleeve!
So now the bad news: THIS IS SUPER LIMITED. IN FACT, WE HAVE THE LAST 10 COPIES! WHEN THOSE ARE GONE, WE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO GET MORE. But there is some good news: There will be a cd version, coming soon! So if you are not one of the lucky ten, fear not! And we'll definitely review the cd in much more detail as soon as they show up!
We love our doom. The slower, the doomer, the more o's the better. But it's easy to get burned out. Much like the wave of guitars-against-amps drone outfits who seemed to come out of the woodwork on the heels of the sudden popularity of Earth, SUNNO))) and other dronelords, lately it seems like everyone and their brother has a "doom band". Lots of non-metal bands suddenly seem to be sprouting doomier appendages, side projects, home recorded one offs, in part, because it's a sound that's easy to emulate. Tune your guitar really low, play really slow, and that's it. You're a doom band. But as with any other musical movement, it's not what you do, it's how you do it, and the simpler something seems, the harder it is to actually do it in a way that stands out, that separates it from the hundreds of other bands doing the same thing.
So in the world of ultra doom, or many o'd doom, or whatever, it's obvious which bands are doing something special, Boris, SUNNO))), Moss, Bunkur, and of course Finland's Fleshpress. And as much as we love all of those bands, we have a special affinity for Fleshpress, not just because they're Finnish (although there is that), but that they throw all doomic convention to the wind, and do whatever the fuck they want. Even if it's distinctly not doomy. Play fast. No problem. Blast beats, near grindcore, sure. Play soft and pretty, explore post rock, absolutely. Which is what makes them such a refreshing doom outfit. Or conversely, makes them not a doom band at all, rather a weird band that incorporates doom into their all-over-the-map sound.
Either way, Fleshpress rule, they're heavy, weird, slow (when they want to be), fast and furious (when they don't), they deftly craft mysterious soundscapes, they can also unleash huge torrents of soul crushing megadoom. And they do all of that and more on Pillars. Every record, gets a little weirder, a littler more expansive, a little less traditionally doom, and Pillars is no exception.
The first track is almost like Fleshpress's far out sound encapsulated into a single track. Beginning with minutes of spare guitar strum, lots and lots of space, ambient whir, the guitar letting loose distorted riffs, and letting them drift into the darkness. The bass comes in, and does nothing but offers a spidery framework for the seemingly abstract riffs, then the drums come in, a single crash, every few seconds, there is no real rhythm to speak of yet, finally the band lurches into a doomy plod, somewhere between Monarch slow motion sludge and Harvey Milk glacial groove, complete with weird woozy melody and strange slippery riffage, harsh vocals, drifting fields of feedback, briefly we're trudging through a wasteland populated by like minded mavens of doom. Khanate, Burning Witch, Moss� But soon, the doom recedes� leaving just soft billows of sound, when suddenly the band launch into some full on crusty metallic grooves, eventually finishing off with two minutes of grinding hyperspeed buzz. Pretty all over the place, but the parts are all so deftly arranged that it doesn't sound like a bunch of random bits thrown together, it sounds like small varied pieces of the far out whole. That track is quickly followed by 5 minutes of soft flutter and whir, a detuned guitar plucking out a stumbling rhythm, all around, bits of hiss and hum, the sound of rain and wind maybe, all washed out and soft focus.
Then it's the record's massive two song one two punch, two tracks, both about twenty minutes, back to back, the first, begins all grim black metal buzz, furious fuzzed out riffage and harsh hellish vocals, before slipping into a brief mathy groove and then shifting into a midtempo Burzumic black trudge, which of course partway through gives way to more massive and epic and wide open dooooooooom, plodding drums, crushing sludgy dynamics, and a fluttering guitar melody droning along underneath, eventually building to an epic minor key psychedelic crescendo. The second track, is more of a post rocky drift, with clean guitar and a shuffling rhythm, the vocals still howled and harsh, but the main riff, warm and fuzzy, and subtly propulsive, the tempo a bit warbly and seasick, very hypnotic and repetitive, eventually slowing down, but not into a crushing doom plod, but instead, a sprawling space rock sludge, the drums slow and insistent, the guitars building into squalls of psychedelic freakout, like the outro to a Hawkwind track, before the band launches into a super metallic mathy jam, the FX getting thicker and more dense, the band playing harder and faster, the last 5 minutes or so sounding more like the Heads or White Hills, a gorgeous outer space trip through throbbing bass lines, clouds of spacepsych guitar, and killer chaotic drumming.
The final two tracks both clock in at about nine minutes each, and again, demonstrate some totally other side of Fleshpress' doomworld. The first, is a loping post rock dirge, the guitars ringing out, the rhythm more like the Slintish blackness of Ved Buens Ende, a head nodding mathy groove peppered with vocal howls and an awesome epic buzz drenched coda. The final track is all drone, a murky subterranean trawl, all slow building sludgy swells, dense metallic shimmer, strange bits of industrial sonic detritus and some mysterious backwards percussion right at the end.
Seriously mind blowing. It almost does it a disservice to call Fleshpress a doom band anymore, although those are the folks who will be most inclined to love this. But fans of weird black metal and freaky outsider heaviness might also have found one of their records of the year.
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Is there no end to the doom and sludge in sight? We sure as hell hope not. We raved about the newest record from these Finnish sludge lords a while back and were super psyched to discover their first record Worm Dirges was getting reissued on cd. Unlike their newer one, III, which we described as clean and spacious and open (not words you'd expect to find in a review of a sludgy doom record) Worm Dirges is much less polished, much more primitive and primal, and not nearly as slow, but still plenty sludgy and heavy. Plenty of Eyehategod-isms for sure, but these two extended mostly instrumental jams don't sound metal as much as they sound sort of krautrocky, or post rocky or even post punky in a weird way. Very reminiscent of Dutch hypno metallers Gore, a simple riff repeated over and over and over and over. Completely and utterly hypnotic. Both tracks devolve into dreamy drones here and there before lurching back into sludge mode, but the interesting thing is that the main riffs in each track (two tracks, two riffs!) don't sound metal so much as they sort of sound like Black Flag. Seriously. Maybe Black Flag at 16rpm. You can -almost- imagine them sped up with Rollins ranting over the top. But c'mon, Black Flag at 16rpm?!?! If that doesn't sound like the best fucking thing ever to you, there's something seriously wrong.
Obviously this is essential for the drone doom dirge faithful, SUNNO))), Earth, Boris, Corrupted, etc. as well as fans of the new post rock/metal hybrids (Isis, Conifer, Tides, Baroness, Buried At Sea, Pelican) But other folks into stuff like Circle or Salvatore or the more extreme end of the post rock spectrum might really dig this too.
Packaged in a cool tri-fold printed cardstock sleeve.
Latest recording from SF avant death metal outfit Fleshwrought, who besides offering up some head spinning, ultra complex, outsider death metal madness, also has produced what might be the most over the top packaging we've ever seen.
First up, the sounds. Fleshwrought, aka Naveen Koperweis has managed what is essentially a full length, spread out over a 10" and a 7" (more on that in a moment), of furious, ultra complex, super intricate, fierce and furious and fucked up death metal. Twisted and proggy, the songs pack a million parts into a space most bands would reserve for 2 or 3, grinding, blasting, chugging, churning, the guitars thick and distorted, the vocals a guttural grunting growl, the drums, totally nuts and impossibly intense and mathy, the arrangements over the top, basically this is some next level death metal for sure, easily setting FW miles above the DM masses, plus, besides being heavy and proggy and intense, its also super weird, strange bits of grooviness, stretched out streaks of electronic drone, even some seriously out of place saxophone, all wound into super dense tangles of death metal madness that totally destroys.
And all appropriately housed in some of the most elaborate packaging EVER.
The cover is a single color screenprint, printed in ink infused with Koperweis' blood! The inside features a 4 color screen print by SF artist Amy Trachtenberg. The jacket is assembled from 2 pieces of cardstock, laser cut, then folded, glued, scored and bound with twine, all by hand, the sides were stamped by hand on each label, includes both a laser cut stencil, and a screen printed canvas patch, the whole thing folds up like an elaborate hand made book, the sleeve hand numbered AND letter pressed. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!! Holy shit! Incredible and insanely limited, and kick ass, both packaging and the sounds inside, so grab one before they're gone!
We've heard a lot of strange black metal related discs, but this is among the strangest...On this album, metal is only one (important but small) component of the whole, which also involves free jazz and trip hop...Released on the same label that brought us the infamous Benighted Leams, and you can see how this truly fucked-up "so bad it's weird and so weird it's bad and so weird and bad that it's kind of amazing" band would appeal to the same minds that thought the Leams were genius. Formerly a medieval 'forest-is-my-throne' epic black metal band a la Ulver (and we think still sharing some members with that Norwegian Ulver/Ved Buens Ende/Dodheimsgard axis), now these guys are wearing suits, carrying automatic weapons, and programming beats. But they've gone beyond the Mr. Bungle tendencies of say, an Arcturus (who seem "ordinary" in comparison!), and created something that even we at AQ can't quite understand, or judge. Every time we put this on, our reactions vary from being blown away at how bizarre and great it is to being appalled at the (same!) dismally bad and wrong moments. Great packaging, with the lyrics in the form of a miniature intelligence "dossier". Essential for those compelled to always increase the utter weirdness quotient of their cd collections, and very definitely for fans of Arcturus, Solefald, and recent Dodheimsgard.
Longtime readers of the aQ list should be familiar with Ben Fleury-Steiner even if they don't realize it. There's been three discs of freaked out avant drone drenched rhythmic psychedelia as Light Of Shipwreck, which is in fact, Ben Fleury-Steiner, tons of releases on the Gears Of Sand label, which BFS just so happens to run, but this is the first proper solo record under his own name, and it's gorgeous.
Unlike Light Of Shipwreck, which was typically a dizzying assemblage of repeated rhythms, layered and collaged samples, careening chaotic drum damage and dubbed out industrial weirdness, on Keep A Weather Eye Open, Fleury-Steiner traffics in something much more tranquil, a series of dark and dolorous dronescapes, some thick and textured, corrosive and chordal, others hushed and minimal smooth and crystalline, a sound that veers from dense cavernous black ambient rumbles to shimmering shoegazey drift, from Troum to Lovesliescrushing. "Tender Is The Opaque Morning" is delicate yet ominous, long streaks of distant high end sound underpin reverbed plinks, and moaning strings, a smoldering lightly blackened haze, while "Purple As The Dawn" is a wispy smear of hushed new age etherea, "Feedback Of Day" sounds like it was recorded in the hull of a rusty old ship, "Blue Sonar" is a blue sky full of sun dappled clouds, the sound of light dancing on leaves. The cool thing about all these songs is the distinction is not all that distinct. The pretty delicate numbers bleed right into the more haunting mysterious tracks, and both are infused with elements of the other. A sound not so much perfectly balanced between light and dark, but one that is both simultaneously, depending on the track, on the context, a hidden battle beneath the surface, the result, a strangely otherworldly collection of ever evolving, totally mesmerizing, and strangely mysterious dronemusic, dark enough to require active listening, but blissed out and tranquil enough to be the soundtrack to late nights and slow drifts into oblivion.
Freaky early '70s psych rock from Japan here folks, as you may know already on account of how we highlighted the reissue of this band's second album on our last list. This one, with a truly hard-to-beat title, was Flied [sic] Egg's debut, released originally in 1972, on Vertigo -- with Flied Egg one of the few, if not only, Japanese acts to appear on the roster of that legendary UK-based label known for proto-metal, jazz-prog and other "hairy funk" delights. This album dishes such delights all over the place, ranging from the Blue Cheer meets Uriah Heep heaviness of "Rolling Down The Broadway" to the weird choral interlude of "15 Seconds Of Schizophrenic Sabbath" to the classical prog flourishes of "Oke-Kus" (sounding like a warped version of ELP) to the sheer hippie psych-pop lunacy of the title track. And more! All in all, this is quite as crazy as its Dali-esque cover painting indicates. Definitely an essential for our Japanese '70s psych section, and anyone who loves them some acid rock guitar!
This Japanese psychrock reish, now available on vinyl!
Yes that's right, it's Flied not Fried Egg. Uh, 'cause they're Japanese. Think about it. Hey, it's their joke. Anyway, this one's for all you '70s heaviness lovin' proto-metal fans who may have missed it before. Good Bye was Flied Egg's second of two albums (both '72, and both on the famed Vertigo label, best known as the home of Black Sabbath). The first one, with the marvelous title of Dr. Siegel's Fried Egg Shooting Machine, is as you might guess is some pretty wild acid psych. Good Bye, however, is the heavier of the two, and we can simply say it's a no-brainer for Blue Cheer fans. Basically, this album is distinctly split between two sides, the first half recorded live, possibly at their farewell concert, we'd guess from the title. This in-concert portion is the heaviest, it's all bad ass fuzzed out blooze rawk swagger that makes us think Blue Cheer, Blue Cheer, Blue Cheer! (Also Grand Funk, Cactus, and Mountain.) Hear 'em rile up a cheering crowd with these party-pleasers: "Leave Me Woman", "Rolling Down The Broadway" (a stompin' composition that appears in a studio version on their debut), BB King's "Rock Me Baby", and the twelve-minute-plus "Five More Pennies", which includes a drum solo in addition to all the acid guitar excess. Following all that, the studio half of the album gets a bit more proggy and wigged out (ending with a multi-part piece entitled "521 Seconds Schizophrenic Symphony", wow!) while also containing a couple of mellower melodic numbers, namely the sad and gentle "Out To Sea" and finale "Goodbye My Friends". FYI, not a favorite of Julian "Japrocksampler" Cope, but WE like it. Members of Flied Egg also did time in some other hard rockin' underground Japanese psych acts whose reissues we've previously reviewed, including Strawberry Path, Brush!?, and Food Brain... if you dig those, or the likes of Flower Travellin' Band, Blues Creation, Speed Glue & Shinki, or Too Much, then Flied Egg is for you too.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Flies Inside The Sun is the out-rock / free-jazz trio comprised of New Zealand stalwarts Kim Pieters, Peter Stapleton, and Brian Crook. Collectively, they've worked in a number of projects that have varied from the angry-pop of Scorched Earth Policy to the Kranky label approved drone-rock of Dadamah to the angular improvisations of Rain. By and large, each of the bands carries over a signature lugubriousness which certainly migrates into the Flies Inside The Sun. Imagine Movietone or Crescent turning even further to the tropes of jazz, than you come close to the sounds of Flies Inside The Sun.
Frat-rockish '60s garage reish.
First thing you gotta do to truly enjoy Flight Of The Conchords, is to pretend you've never heard or seen Tenacious D, and if for some crazy reason you -haven't- seen Tenacious D, and we're talking about the HBO show not the movie, then for chrissakes go get it now. You will not see a funnier, more totally wacked show, or hear more amazing metal tinged acoustic rock songs EVER. So once you've seen, and enjoyed Tenacious D, and then immediately begun to pretend that you haven't, then it's okay to dig into Flight Of The Conchords, a similarly damaged acoustic comedy duo.
But FOTC are a lot more feel good than Tenacious D. The D had a serious sinister edge, with songs rooted in HEAVY METAL, swearing and screaming,� blood and chaos and mayhem, where as the Conchords are more friendly, more deadpan, like the TV show, a more sort of Napoleon Dynamite vibe, long pauses, non sequiturs, a sort of rumpled discomfort instead of the D's in your face full frontal comedic pummel. And while we love the D, there is definitely a place for the Conchords. And while they don't seem as inspired as the D, the show is pretty dang funny, and some of their songs are awesome, "Robots" being the most obvious, a tale of the distant future, the year 2000, complete with a kick ass 'binary solo', the band rapidly reciting ones and zeros over madly strummed guitars. "Business Time" is pretty funny too, sexy and silly, and more of that deadpan style.
The live tracks are the best, mostly cuz the duo have killer chemistry, and are able to riff endlessly on the stupidest and most minute things, but the upshot is it leaves you wanting to see a whole set of their stand up, or at least the show (which is peppered with homemade videos for all of their songs), but for now, until you get a chance to see them live, or finally get HBO, this little chunk of goofy toonage should hold you over nicely.
We were pretty skeptical when we first hear about Flight Of The Conchords. Who in their right mind would dare try follow in the footsteps of Tenacious D? And we're talking just the original six HBO episodes. Never has a shitty open mic, dual acoustic guitar band been so metal, so funny, and so fucking genius as Tenacious D.
So when we first checked out New Zealand's Flight Of The Conchords, our reaction was that these guys were just ripping off the D. But the more we watched, the more they demonstrated that they were definitely their own thing. The duo, Bret and Jemaine (NOT Jermiane) are super charming, and super hilarious in a weirdly deadpan way. If you haven't seen the show, definitely check it out. Their manager Murray steals the show, as does their only fan Mel, and their dirtbag only friend, the guy who runs the pawn shop. And the songs are pretty funny too, loosely tied into whatever happens to be going on in that episode, and occasionally the whole show is tied instead into the concept of the song, which results in much more tweaked and whatthefuck goings on.
So yeah, love the show, and love the music, which might pose the only problem. As with Tenacious D, we love the songs EXACTLY as they are on the show, the same instrumentation, the same arrangement, the same production, THOSE are the songs we want to hear. So it's frustrating to hear them re-recorded as they are here, the vibe is definitely more polished and less loose, but thankfully still can't take way from the charm of these songs.
Fans of the show might feel the same, taking a while to warm up to these alternate versions, but a lot of this stuff wasn't really focused on in the show, or maybe not in the show at all, and the ones that were, you've probably been dying to hear again. And for fans, all the hits are here: "The Most Beautiful Girl (In The Room)", "Business Time", the amazing rap track "Hiphopopotamus Vs. Rhymenocerous (Featuring Rhymenocerous And The Hiphopapoatumus)", the dancehall jam of "Boom", and of course the awesome 'binary solo' in "Robots". Not only are the lyrics funny, but the songs are catchy as hell. Not sure how this would play to someone who hadn't seen the show, but if you haven't, what the heck is wrong with you anyway? Buy it, or rent it, and you might as well buy this too, you're gonna want to hear these songs over and over, since after one viewing they stick in your head like crazy. And if you're not interested in the show, but dig clever goofy silly novelty folk, then this will definitely hit the spot.
The packaging is pretty excellent too, a six panel digipak with a cool pop up of Bret and Jemaine, behind which is the cd and a massive poster.
An album of pure pathos, Ohne Titel by the German multi-instrumentalist Enrico Wuttke (aka Flim whose previous albums have graced the fine electronica-pop label TomLab) is his response to the death of his 8 year old daughter. Both a lilting tribute of atmospheric, instrumental melancholy and a work-through-the-pain therapy session, Wuttke's album exposes all of his emotions through his sorrowful tunes of elegantly smeared compositions for piano, organ, his daughter's toy metallophones, and plenty of computer processing. While this album falls squarely in the empathic gloominess also found in the work of Sigur Ros, William Basinski, and those Alva Noto / Ryuichi Sakamoto collaborations, a few moments of sparkling exuberance march across the album as if Wuttke were racing through the memories of his daughter to find those that were most precious to him, but all the while captured by the weighty sadness of his loss. For all of the poignancy in the album, it is also achingly beautiful.
At long last, reissues of the four best works by San Francisco's own Flipper!
Founded in 1979, Flipper was an anomaly. Though featured in the 2006 documentary "American Hardcore," alongside bands like Minor Threat and Bad Brains, they seemed totally miscategorized. They were far easier understood in the context of SF artpunk, but their shitty production values, menacing lyrics and nihilistic attitude ingratiated them with the hardcore crowd.
Often credited with inspiring a thousand sludge rock bands, there's no doubt that their influence runs far and wide. From '80s contemporaries like No Trend and Drunks with Guns, to Rick Rubin's copycat band Hose, to bands with later, greater success like the Melvins and Nirvana, the impact of Flipper is formidable. In fact, the Melvins in particular owe so much to Flipper; having recorded SO MANY covers of their songs - and obviously influenced by Flipper's hollow, sparse, plodding drum style - they may be Flipper's number one fans. But unlike their disciples, Flipper's music remains far less polished, less categorizable and more enigmatic, in our humble opinion.
Their debut album, Generic, is classic - a crushing, pounding, drug-addled nightmare of existential angst and torment. Lyrically hateful - yet hopeful - Flipper seems like a band at war with the audience and themselves. Their music is an utter trainwreck - it's often out of time and out of tune. You get the feeling that the band could really give a damn about playing well or recording quality. It's cynical, blase and yet utterly hypnotizing. It's also occasionally hilarious. From the opener "Ever," with its caustic lyrics (complemented by hand clapping!) to the seriously dark and murky "(I Saw You) Shine," to its ultimate peak with the optimistic "Life" ("Life is the only thing worth living for"), it's a glorious, fucked up listening experience.
Ending with the 8 minute long epic "Sex Bomb" - a punk "Louie Louie" if there ever was one - Flipper managed to create an album that epitomizes alienation and discomfort. It's pure poetry.
Reissue contains additional photos and obligatory liner notes by Nirvana's Krist Novoselic, who joined the band a few years ago.
At long last, reissues of the four best works by San Francisco's own Flipper!
Founded in 1979, Flipper was an anomaly. Though featured in the 2006 documentary "American Hardcore," alongside bands like Minor Threat and Bad Brains, they seemed totally miscategorized. They were far easier understood in the context of SF artpunk, but their shitty production values, menacing lyrics and nihilistic attitude ingratiated them with the hardcore crowd.
Often credited with inspiring a thousand sludge rock bands, there's no doubt that their influence runs far and wide. From '80s contemporaries like No Trend and Drunks with Guns, to Rick Rubin's copycat band Hose, to bands with later, greater success like the Melvins and Nirvana, the impact of Flipper is formidable. In fact, the Melvins in particular owe so much to Flipper; having recorded SO MANY covers of their songs - and obviously influenced by Flipper's hollow, sparse, plodding drum style - they may be Flipper's number one fans. But unlike their disciples, Flipper's music remains far less polished, less categorizable and more enigmatic, in our humble opinion.
Flipper's second album finds them better recorded, although it almost doesn't sound right - like an ill-fitting suit. And no suit can make this band sound any less dirty - Gone Fishin' is still full of lurching, menacing bass lines and repetitive, drug-fried riffs. And occasional piano. And horns. And xylophone. It almost sounds like a UK post-punk band at times, until the vocals kick in and it degenerates into a sloppy, group sing-a-long. It's a mess.
Best songs include the triumphant opener "The Light, The Sound," the chilling "Sacrifice" (since covered by the Melvins, yes, on Lysol), and the disorienting "Talk is Cheap."
The cover reproduces a scaled-down version of the original LP art, which is an interactive cut-out model of their tour van and band members. You could cut this one out, but it's not recommended.
Reissue contains additional photos and highly entertaining liner notes by Buzz Osborne of the Melvins, who rightfully gives thanks.
RECORD STORE DAY 2015!!
Kewl! For Record Store Day 2015, the Superior Viaduct label has returned to their West Coast underground roots and reissued a quartet of crucial California punk/indie singles, early outings from The Dils, The X, Flipper, and The Residents! These would set you back a pretty penny if you tried to buy original copies nowadays.
Flipper, SF's infamous sludge punk originators, released "Love Canal" b/w "Ha Ha Ha", their debut recording, in 1981 on Subterranean. A 7" slab of throbbing dementia unlike anything else the punk scene had spewed out before then, and it's no surprise that the Melvins later covered "Love Canal" themselves about ten years later, Flipper obviously being a big influence on them. This is where it started.
Limited edition, colored (translucent red) vinyl, last copies, already sold out even at the label.
At long last, reissues of the four best works by San Francisco's own Flipper!
Founded in 1979, Flipper was an anomaly. Though featured in the 2006 documentary "American Hardcore," alongside bands like Minor Threat and Bad Brains, they seemed totally miscategorized. They were far easier understood in the context of SF artpunk, but their shitty production values, menacing lyrics and nihilistic attitude ingratiated them with the hardcore crowd.
Often credited with inspiring a thousand sludge rock bands, there's no doubt that their influence runs far and wide. From '80s contemporaries like No Trend and Drunks with Guns, to Rick Rubin's copycat band Hose, to bands with later, greater success like the Melvins and Nirvana, the impact of Flipper is formidable. In fact, the Melvins in particular owe so much to Flipper; having recorded SO MANY covers of their songs - and obviously influenced by Flipper's hollow, sparse, plodding drum style - they may be Flipper's number one fans. But unlike their disciples, Flipper's music remains far less polished, less categorizable and more enigmatic, in our humble opinion.
Live albums are often throw-aways, but this one is so NOT. On this masterful double CD compilation, Flipper demonstrates more than a casual flirtation with Public Image Ltd, at whom the band enacts revenge for allegedly stealing the "Generic" concept years prior. It's a sprawling, chaotic selection of some of Flipper's best songs, and many that don't appear on any other readily available release. Gloriously muddy, deranged swampfests of feedback, documenting the oft-touted rowdy live experience that their studio-recorded output may not have conveyed. This release definitely captures the best elements of Flipper - humor, depravity and a sloppy yet confident self-critique of what it means to be a band playing rock music.
Did we mention on-stage banter?
"Don't dance, I don't give a shit!"
"Is everybody on speed? I'm getting a contact high like a motherfucker!"
"Are you satisfied yet? Can we leave?"
The cover reproduces a scaled-down version of the original LP art, which was an interactive board game based on Flipper's touring life on the road. You could cut it out and construct it, but it's not really recommended.
Reissue contains additional photos and liner notes by writer Steven Blush, who still needs to explain why the movie made from his American Hardcore book chose Flipper as San Francisco's contribution to said 'American Hardcore', and not Crucifix, the Fuck Ups, Code of Honor, or even Fang.
At long last, reissues of the four best works by San Francisco's own Flipper!
Founded in 1979, Flipper was an anomaly. Though featured in the 2006 documentary "American Hardcore," alongside bands like Minor Threat and Bad Brains, they seemed totally miscategorized. They were far easier understood in the context of SF artpunk, but their shitty production values, menacing lyrics and nihilistic attitude ingratiated them with the hardcore crowd.
Often credited with inspiring a thousand sludge rock bands, there's no doubt that their influence runs far and wide. From '80s contemporaries like No Trend and Drunks with Guns, to Rick Rubin's copycat band Hose, to bands with later, greater success like the Melvins and Nirvana, the impact of Flipper is formidable. In fact, the Melvins in particular owe so much to Flipper; having recorded SO MANY covers of their songs - and obviously influenced by Flipper's hollow, sparse, plodding drum style - they may be Flipper's number one fans. But unlike their disciples, Flipper's music remains far less polished, less categorizable and more enigmatic, in our humble opinion.
Sex Bomb Baby! is a compilation of the band's singles, several of which were released before their seminal debut album Generic. Recorded in a trash can, their dirgey, feedbacky songs somehow transcend. Add cheap studio effects, the occasional arty sample or spoken monologue, and Flipper's trademark angst/sneer/fucked up genius definitely shows through. This album is a good companion to Generic but the uninitiated should start there first, not here. Aside from different versions of "Sex Bomb" and "Ever" from Generic, there's the insanely creepy "Ha Ha Ha," a live version of their most overtly political song "Sacrifice," and the bludgeoning "Earthworm." There are other nuggets here, but also quite a few jokey songs that were probably funnier to a teenaged-bong-smoking Flipper freek than the Flipper freek of today.
Reissue contains additional photos and decently entertaining liner notes by Henry Rollins, who was responsible for the last reissue of this oft-reissued disc.
Flittermice Of Eld are another band that, if were we not actually listening to it right now and holding the disc in our hands, we would be tempted to think that this was just made up -- one of those 'amazing' ideas you have that is just too nuts to actually bring to fruition. It's too perfect. One of those records, that were someone to ask, we would have to say epitomizes the perfect AQ record. Killer band name, amazingly bizarre concept, fucked up sound. Hard to believe it wasn't just some fever dream. But nope, here it is. Flittermice Of Eld, according to the band, "both a musical tribute to and critique of black metal." Sonically this is not at all black metal, but it is infused with the spirit of black metal. There are no riffs or vocals, no pounding drums, instead it's a strange concoction of noise and texture, drone and ambience, but with all the basic pitches for the guitar and bass parts generated from a few specific collections of notes from the Darkthrone song "As Flittermice as Satan's Spys" from their classic Transilvanian Hunger album. Whatthefuck? So basically we have this bizarre ambient dronoise record based on a handful of notes from a Darkthrone song?! Fuck yeah!
The first few minutes are a dense clattery improvised skree, clanging and grinding and super chaotic, but this gives way to a dark, slow shifting reverberant drone, that pulses and throbs beneath a smattering of high end twinkles and streaks of glistening feedback. The final 'movement' is a wild atonal no-wave tangle of angular guitar riffing and stumbling bass, an abstract progscape of buzz and twang, a sort of damaged shredfest, loosed from its metal moorings.
Darkthrone would be proud.
Packaged in a hand screened fold over card stock cover, with handwritten liner notes on the back cover. ULTRA LIMITED OBVIOUSLY!
ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE ALERT!!!! Wait maybe we should rephrase that. Totally blissed out and stoned to beautiful perfection ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE alert!!!
Floating Flower are a trio composed of AMT leader Kawabata Makoto on electric and acoustic guitars, Yuki on violin, electric sitar and textural vocals and Kaneko Tetsuya on tabla and electric guitar. This is spaced out acid folk at its most trance inducing. Yuki and Tetsuya are said to have been living and traveling around India for many years leading up to these recordings which were originally released as two discs on Acid Mothers Temple's label. We love how space soaked and sundrenched these songs sound. Always drifting, droning, and shimmering with feathers of tripped out voyages into endless days. It's so easy to get lost in the drugged out sonic clouds these folks conjure up. Kind of like the best slow hazy moments of Bardo Pond taken to another planet and planted in alien soil, allowing solar winds to carry beautiful flower petals into deep space, where they will drift weightless forever and ever, never coming down. So good.
After releasing 11 singles and 2 eps since 2009, Floating Points - aka the British electronic producer and neuroscientist (!) Sam Shepherd - finally put out his debut studio full length late last year on the Luaka Bop label. One of our favorite electronic releases from last year, we're just getting around to reviewing it now that it's been repressed. Shepherd employs a cosmic cerebral minimalism infusing tracks with the spiritual jazz flourishes reminiscent of Herbie Hancock and Alice Coltrane as well as a coolly remote rhythmic bounciness that feels like footworking in outer space. Cinematic and majestic yet carefully restrained, like a more cosmically focussed version of The Necks. Highly Recommended!
From the same label that brought us The Lamp Of The Universe, James Blackshaw, Robert Horton and Rameses III comes the equally amazing Unda from The Floating World, the work of a Canadian flautist named Amanda Votta, who uses her affected and electronically altered flute to conjure music drawn from some mysterious lost religious rite. An ethereal folk music of the ages. One can imagine wandering through the hillsides in some far off country, and being lured by the haunting melodies drifting like tendrils of smoke, only to find the ruins of a church, where the music can somehow still be heard. It's that heavy and emotional and timeless. Every melody is wreathed in lush reverb and diffuse sonic overtones, drifting and floating, barely there but at once heavy with the weight of a million souls, soaring effortlessly over a strange backdrop of barely audible rumbles and shimmers. Some of the tracks are a little bit droney giving those tracks the feel of some sort of raga, but the sound of the flute and the arrangements are too delicate and airy, and at the end of each phrase it feels like the wind carries it heavenward where it is lost in the clouds before the next phrase begins. Absolutely lovely.
Packaged in a hand glued digipak.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
For those of you who love the Pogues, and miss the Pogues and need more raucous drinking music for those wild nights out, salvation is at hand. Initially, the only reason we had any interest in this band was the fact that the vocalist fronted Fastway, one of Andee and Allan's favorite eighties metal bands and they have been playing the Warp tour for some strange reason. But damn if this band hasn't gotten really good at what they do. And what they do is ape the Pogues to a T. And as with a lot of things, you might think, bah...how unoriginal, but the bottom line is, this band sounds great. They just kind of sound like the Pogues. Rollicking and rocking big barroom fun with the occasional misty eyed ballad. So hoist your ales and jump in the pit.
Allan and Andee's interest in this band was based entirely on the fact that the lead vocalist of Flogging Molly was also, in his much younger days, once the frontman for eighties metallers Fastway, featuring guitarist Fast Eddie Clark from Motorhead. Wow. We love Fastway. Who could have predicted that one. Well, he is Irish after all. And one can only deny one's roots for so long. Basically, Flogging Molly are the heirs to the throne long held by the Pogues. Where Flogging Molly one-up their musical forebearers, is they take their rollicking Irish jigs and make them HEAVY. Yep heavy. This is Celtic rock for the Warp Tour set. Which is actually a good thing. Imagine a supercharged Pogues, who were actually pretty supercharged to begin with. You can definitely imagine a drunken night of stage diving and jumping wildly around to FM's wild Irish Pogue-ery!
