There are certain key words that persistently spring up whenever the Canadian indie band Frog Eyes is mentioned or heard -- distraught, angstful, melodramatic, cathartic, cryptic. With album number four Tears Of The Valedictorian from Casey Mercer and co., those words continue to fit like a glove.
To be frank, many folks around here have found Frog Eyes' music to be somewhat impenetrable and/or unapproachable, but there are also some others who'll encourage a second listen or more. Sure Mercer's vocal delivery can be an immediate turn-on or turn-off for most people, but once the initial shock settles down you just may discover Frog Eyes' other affecting facets softening the affected blow of the vocals. Over the course of his four albums, Mercer's compositions have grown increasingly lushly crafted and his incisive lyrics more poetic. Yet the Frog Eyes overall impression still effectively strike a nerve with its raw open-wound quality.
The Bloody Hand was the 2002 debut album from this amazing Canadian band, but having been released on a tiny Canadian indie label, it might've been missed by many of us south of the 49th parallel. Now we have no excuse because it's just been released domestically by our Bay Area pals Absolutely Kosher Records. Not only is it a bit cheaper than the import was, but it comes with SEVEN previously unreleased songs (psst, they're actually songs from Seagull Is On The Rise, the never-issued second album of Mercer and bandmate Michael Rak's former band The Blue Pine).
Much like the likeminded eccentric art rockers Xiu Xiu, this band from Victoria, BC does draw rather emphatic love and hate responses. For some the over the top melodramatic hystrionics of frontman Carey Mercer can be a bit wearing and off-putting, but for others it's just the cathartic ticket needed! Allan and Cup here give it the thumbs up, and say that 'specially if you liked any of their other albums, you need this.
For this Frog Eyes review please allow us to compare it to another Canadian's current release, Rufus Wainwright's Want Two. Both are certainly high on theatrics, however whereas the latter presents the artist as a refined, elegant prince-ly figure, from the first note The Folded Palm suggests Frog Eyes' lead vocalist Casey Mercer as more of a mad court jester. Untethered, twitchy and frantic, but melody and eloquence coexist with the madness. The seventh song "The Heart That Felt Its Light" actually made Cup imagine a cross between Interpol and U.S. Maple! All in all, it's more of the weird pop wonderousness from Carey and co. that we've grown to love, utilizing his unique vocal stylings to maximum effect. Like Captain Beefheart or Bjork, Carey's vocals are a love 'em or hate 'em proposition, and are a significant part of Frog Eyes appeal (or otherwise). We think he's brilliant, and recommend this and all other Frog Eyes albums to the adventurous indie-rock listener.
Hailing from the same city that popped out Hot Hot Heat, Frog Eyes bring forth an altogether different sound from their Victoria, BC brethren. Imagine a baroque hybrid of the Brit-inflected melodrama of Interpol or Pulp and the more dissonant, hand-wringing instabilities of Xiu Xiu. Very high on moody affectation with the focus squarely on the vocals. In addition to the deeply emotional croon and warble of those mentioned above, singer Carey Mercer may also draw comparisons to Tom Waits' hoarsely heart-baring delivery or the slightly smoother sandpaper swoon of Psychedelic Furs' Richard Butler. Lyrics and song titles are somewhat cryptic, obtuse and strangely poetic. The backdrop: electric guitar string churns and howls, shimmery cymbal washes, all anchored by some velvety piano melodies. FYI: More evidence of the Vancouver/Victoria music scene being quite a mighty tight knit family? Neko Case's Corn Sister co-hort Carolyn Mark lent her lovely voice to three songs (check out the luminous fifth song "A Latex Ice Age"), and Ms Mark's bandmate Tolan McNeil engineered the proceedings. Recommended.
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Another much anticipated Homstead re-issue from 1989, this is one of Andee's favorite albums of all time (unfortunately, sez Allan). So un-PC it's unbelievable. Source of the 'that was a good drum break' sample from Beck's song. A band who's high profile stems from their ridiculously high profile tours with the Smashing Pumpkins and Pearl Jam, their bizarre antics (performing in blackface on Lollapalooza!) and their questionable politics (couched in supposed insanity/innocence) clouds the fact that they make some of the most wholly original and catchy, lush lo-fi pop. Ever. Almost entirely improvised in the studio, the Frogs create mini(mal) epics of love; locker room romance, auto accident lust, incest, pedophilia, man on man, woman on woman, man on 3 month old baby boy. Are the Frogs (two brothers, by the way) gay? Are they having sex with each other? Are they homophobic? Are they mentally ill? Are they pop music geniuses? Are they just annoying and dumb (a co-worker's assessment)? Does it really matter? Probably.
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This is a tough one to describe. If you hate the Frogs already, stop right here, this record will not change your mind. In fact, it might even stoke the fires of your Frogs-hatred. But, musically, this is easily the best Frogs record. And I imagine some of you are scoffing, 'no mean feat, huh?' But their second, and best record, "It's Only Right and Natural", was a brilliant and catchy, completely improvised in the studio, folk pop masterpiece. Not only that, their queer obsessed, absurdist lyrics, had everyone asking, "Are they gay?" and/or, "Are they homophobic?", and especially, "Are they insane?" You either loved them and thought their peurile and juvenile humor was drop dead funny, or you hated them and were probably offended. Well.....
This is the legendary "Racially Yours" record, a record so steeped in controversy, that it is only now being released after 10 years. Although like past Frogs efforts, I'm not so sure the controversy is entirely justified. Musically, this record is amazingly lush and complex (for being recorded on a 4-track), bizarre arrangements, swirling organs, rollicking guitars, keening vocals and melodies that stick in your head like glue. But it's the lyrics...
This is the Frogs' labor of love, a record they worked on for years, a skewed but bizarrely passionate look at slavery and race relations in the United States. While "It's Only Right and Natural" their 'gay' record, was kind of silly and irreverent (which is what convinced people they were homophobes), "Racially Yours" is definitely an indictment of racism, with the Frogs frontman, singing from different perspectives: a slave, a slave trader, a paranoid racist, and so on. And the lyrics, paired with the amazing music, often results in some really intense moments. Now, I'm sure people will cry foul, since the Frogs' irreverence and lyrical absurdity are still present (and that is of course, unwelcome in any discussion of subjects this volatile). So if you like the Frogs, you will love this record, if you don't like the Frogs, and this all sounds like a recipe for pissing you off, you should definitely pass.
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Uhh, meet the kinder, gentler Frogs. Someone must've washed their mouths out with industrial strength soap. I spent my first listen waiting for the pottymouth to start, but it never did (except for maybe a very brief moment or two, I mean, there's a great
Classic Heldon guitar sound, rife with Frippisms, joined with Frohmader's heavy synthetic processing and electro rhythms. Almost like a drum n' bass "No Pussyfooting"?
You would think a move to emo label Vagrant would temper the metal in FATA's metalcore, and it actually has, quite a bit. But fear not, the serpentine dual guitar harmonies, the downtuned half time chugging, the blazing double kick drums and the ultra-complex stop/start dynamics are still present and accounted for, but the production is WAY less metal, and the emo/clean singing parts are even MORE emo and happen WAY MORE often, which, if you know anything about the emo tolerance around here, is not necessarily a bad thing. And let's face it, FATA were pretty wussy/emo to begin with, which is part of the reson we dug them so much. The ultimate hybrid of brutal death metal and sweet whine-y boy pop. Well, they still embody that hybrid, but the scales are definitely leaning dramatically in the UNheavy direction. In fact this is less a metalcore record with melodic bits, and more an actual pop record but with metal bits. Like the Get Up Kids mixed with Coalesce or Sunny Day Real Estate with Slayer choruses. There's even one track that features drum machine, acoustic guitar and full on female vocals. Wow. But all that said, this is a pretty cool, pretty weird emo-pop record, where the 'loud' parts are actually full on METAL. And if you're anything like me that sounds pretty damn good.
There's been lots of talk about heartbreak around these parts, and the best break up records, and that sort of thing. Windy thinks the new Built To Spill record is the perfect break up record, all bittersweet and caustic, but light and hopeful at the same time.
Sweet tooth alert! Here's the most recent album from the more than appropriately named From Bubblegum To Sky (aka Texan one man band Mario Hernandez formerly of Ciao Bella). Yes, bubblegum pop for everyone! Incredibly sunshiny, Saturday morning cartoon-y tunes with lots of du-wop-du-wops sung in high kiddie vocals a la Apples In Stereo. Okay, maybe this isn't for everyone but it sure is for fans of all things cute and perky.
From Quagmire performs their avant-folk improvisations with the same restraint and quietness as Tower Recordings, yet produce their recordings with a great deal more clarity. From Quagmire is a trio from Virginia, featuring members of the damaged rock ensemble Rake. Their songs are loosely based around the Jandekian plucks of a nylon-strung acoustic guitar and the hushed vocals
Dubby post-rock from Chicago, for folks who love the likes of Him and Tortoise. Packaged in a very lovely black red and silver swing-out cardboard wallet-type apparatus.
Not as celebrated as some Chicago post-rock bands, but better than most, that's Frontier and this is their latest, a remix album of sorts in which studio fragments/samples (found as bonus locked grooves on the vinyl version!) were given to a bunch of folks who've created a disc of motorik loops and synth bursts...at times recalling the work of Spacemen 3, at others Jim O'Rourke. One of the best tracks starts with a delightfully distorted Bill Clinton speech, before giving way to beats and drone.
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We thought this was supposed to be dubby Chicago post-rock but it actually sounds like a nature recording, lots of drones and nighttime sounds. Beautiful and unsettling.
Two long out of print albums filthy furious black buzz, now available again, on a single cd.
Dirty, necrotic black metal outta Birmingham, England from the man behind exalted British black metal band Anaal Nathrakh! Guitar, bass, drums, backing vocals, and the recording were all handled by multi-talented metal fiend Mick "Irrumator" Kenny, who in addition to being the mastermind responsible for Anaal Nathrakh, also does time in�Mistress, and runs Necrodeath Recording Studio. Sounds like one of them one-man bands so prevalent in black metal, eh? Not so fast. Actually, Frost is a trio, rounded out by The Fog (lead vocals and "foggifications") and The Shid (vocals and "necrochoir"). Dunno how they do things live, or if they do...anyway, if you like the doomy distorted screaming power of old school Scandinavian black metal, that's what Mick and crew traffic in, and what Cursed again is packed with. Mayhem and Darkthrone all the way. As "necro" as Mick's main band Anaal Nathrakh is, this goes further with that ancient feeling. Less blasting, more 'banging. These guys know that a black metal called Frost had better be good -- good n' frosty -- and they don't fail!
Talking To God is Frost's remarkably catchy, almost melodic 2nd album. Still super-necro, totally fierce and heavy, yet not without a covert pop component. Or at least, it gets as pop as any album with song titles like "Filthy Black Shit" can be. Crushing doom-stortion, trebly guitar leads, brutal drumming, weird textures and vocal parts, all surging along to some grand and magnificent end with that rare "I'm gonna listen to that again now that it's over" x-factor. Impressive.
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A remarkably catchy, almost melodic 2nd album from this Anaal Nathrakh side project! Frost's brand of black metal is super-necro, totally fierce and heavy yet not without a covert pop component. Or at least, it gets as pop as any album with song titles like "Filthy Black Shit" can be. Crushing doom-stortion, trebly guitar leads, brutal drumming, weird textures and vocal parts, all surging along to some grand and magnificent end with that rare "I'm gonna listen to that again now that it's over" x-factor. Impressive.
Yes, this is indeed the same black metal Frost that's the side project of Irrumator (aka Mick) from UK noisemongers Anaal Nathrakh and Mistress. Southern Lord, assuredly fans of Frost's excellent albums Cursed Again and Talking To God, have slapped four new Frost songs onto a lil' 3" cd (which comes packaged in an all-black, regular 5" cd jewel case). Oh happy, necro day!
This wee disc contains the filthy, savage sounds of buzzing guitars, a drum kit being beaten to death, and plenty of fully amped and atmospheric fingers-slammed-in-thee-piano-lid-keyboards (with resultant blood-curdling vocal screams!). Irrumator and Co. do not hold back -- they've only got 17 minutes but they make 'em about as black metal a 17 minutes as ever have been!
Ben Frost records are scary. And beautiful. They're the stuff of dreams. And nightmares. They're like soundtracks for films that can never be made, the music conjuring up images that can only exist in the imagination. It's musical magic, or sonic alchemy, whatever it is, it's something few have mastered, and even those that have, barely approach the mysterious mastery of Ben Frost, whose previous record, By The Throat, remains one of the most terrifying documents of electronic sound art we have ever heard, weaving the sounds of snarling wolves into thick swells of corrosive bass buzz, and brilliantly bleak, yet impossibly lush sound design, and balancing that sonic grimness, with glimmers of hushed beauty, in a way that makes the sound both mellifluous and malevolent in equal measure.
Aurora is another stunning sonic missive, and one that immediately conjures up yet another lost world, one that lurks in our collective imagination, but that has begun to bleed through, into our every day world. The shadows seem deeper and darker. The grey skies shout through with streaks of blood red, the nights interminable, the days, scorched expanses of endless time. All of this represented by strange sprawls of layered electronic drones, of gristled pulsations, of strange staticky rhythms, and mysterious buried melodies, the sounds this time around brittle and jagged, the loveliness sharp edged and flecked with rust and dried blood, the rhythms that surface are hauntological, reminding us of the dubbed out avant mesmer of groups like Demdike Stare, but here those rhythms seem to gradually splinter and fray, wreathed in thick swirls of soft noise, sculpted into weeping melodies, and darkly decaying textures, all hiding some glowing inner warmth, suffusing these sounds with an organic quality, that transforms a series of sounds into something alive, a crackling energy that is barely contained on the record, one can almost imagine the sound as colored sparks leaping from the speakers, bursting from the headphones, a cascade of brilliant sonic flares, raining down from above.
Lurching robotic percussion is shaped into strange skeletal shapes, lumbering behemoths trading through fields of groaning, creaking chordal thrum, pelted with prismatic streaks of sound, a beastly groove, that builds to a thick swath of soaring epic psychedelic electronic majesty, like a meaner, moodier, more metal M83, a brilliant blacknoise blur, that blots out the stars, painting the sky in shade and shadow, eventually morphing into burnished stretches of grey ambience, laced with dubby skitter, all of which blossom further into a flurry of blissed out electro flares, which fade into crackling seas of gristle and hum, undulating imperceptibly beneath hazy layers of grumblingly distorted shimmer and grinding sheets of druggy thrum. A heaving landscape of tense cinematic atmosphere, smeared fields of tangled melody, wildly colliding synth streaks, and jumbled beats and rhythms, all wound up into a tightly coiled swirl, flurry of frenzied electrons, gradually crumbling into the ether, leaving just a barely there cloud of sonic static discharge, until finally, nothing. And emptiness.
Simply stunning.
We first discovered Ben Frost on, of all places, a dubstep comp. It definitely worked, this long brooding chunk of creeped out electronic dronemusic plopped down right between to stuttery stripped down dubbed out jams. It quickly became our favorite track on that disc, and got us to hunt down his full length, Theory Of Machines, which was just as good as that track. A strange assemblage of mysterious psych jams and minimal techno, drones and glitchy electronica, but all shot through with a mysterious darkness, that seemed to infuse every track with a bit of malevolence.
But if that record was dark and mysterious, then his new one, By The Throat, is downright terrifying. Who knew electronic music could be this harrowing, this epic and intense?! Mixing organic instruments, field recordings (lots of wolf howls and growls) and fucked up glitched out electronics, Frost has conjured up an incredible cinematic electronic dronemusic masterpiece. Sounds like hyperbole, but it's not. This record is amazing, playing out like a soundtrack to some lost-in-the-woods Italian horror film, pianos and strings, dense swells of static, the aforementioned wolves, all wound into tense soundscaped vignettes, each one rife with tension, and emotion, and a sprawling darkness.
The opening track is worth the price of admission alone, a series of slow building sonic swells, each a wall of crumbling distorted hiss, throbbing over a minimal stretch of subtle glitch and muted melody, the tones are jagged and sharp, the melodies are fragmented and minor key, bits of acoustic guitar drift over the squalls, ghostlike, while beneath, thick ominous low end rumbles and whirs. It's like a more electronic, more minimal, and much darker Godspeed.
That track segues right into "The Carpathians", where the wolves make their first appearance, howling over Bernard Hermann like strings, their growls providing seriously scary low end, the baying matched by the mournful melodies, it's easy to imagine being lost in the snow, miles away from civilization, wandering through the dark, the night filled with the howling of wolves.
The whole record really does play out like a soundtrack, each track evoking a certain mood, "O God Protect Me" is all clipped abstract rhythms and muted crystalline melody, soft glitches and distant beeps, pretty and melancholy and subtly ominous, while "Hibakusja", which starts out with a simple guitar melody and what sounds like the moan of horns, becomes the scariest track on the record, the wolves growling processed into fucked up glitched low end stutters, that original opening guitar remains, but beneath those fucked up grinding glitchy growls, totally intense, before becoming more and more staticky and abstract.
If there's not a movie, someone needs to make it NOW. The rest of the record evokes still more strange territory, skipped Jeck-like loopscapes, all glitchy and tense, the skipping records offering up snippets that on their own would be fairly haunting and mysterious, but recontextualized become something even more, thick swells of buzzing cellos and harmonized voices transformed into massive crumbling walls of sound, various melodies and elements resurfacing throughout, especially a main theme that seems to define the record, and sounds like a simple melody, but here is infused with the terror and fear of the surrounding sounds, long stretches of layered high end shimmer, more glitched out electronic minimalism, again, all rife with tension, with a cinematic weight, that makes this record sound like so much more than just a collection of songs and sounds.
Gorgeous cover art too, all reflective inks on a matte background, all images of snow and wolves and empty landscapes, the spare frostbitten white wasteland, where the seemingly imaginary events described by the sounds on By The Throat could have taken place. Intense and amazing.
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Ben Frost was a total unknown to us until just a few months ago, when we heard his track on the recent Mary Anne Hobbs Evangeline mix cd, which was soooooo good, a huge surprise, a totally left field electronic drone jam stuck in the middle of a dubstep mix. Some of us were definitely thinking jam of the year, even though the record it was taken from had come out the year before, but holy crap, it totally stole the show, and we knew we had to hear more. So we tracked down the full length, but then, to be honest, became a little nervous before digging in, worried that we might discover that THAT track, the one we were already obsessed with and already had, might be the only good one on the record. Thankfully nothing could be further from the truth. And in fact, a few of the other tracks are now vying to knock that one out of the top spot.�
Theory Of Machines is a tough one to describe. It's electronic, but rife with strange glitches, with deep buzzing drones, blown out psych jams, mysterious murky minimal techno, all somehow woven into something totally cohesive, ultra dark and ominous, and so fucking kick ass. The record begins with the title track, the one from the Hobbs mix, but for those of you who might have missed that one, here's how we described it:
An extended slab of slow burning blurred dronemusic, that over the course of its 9 minutes builds from soft shimmer to dense crumbling Tim Hecker style smeared gauzy beauty, to thick caustic blown out soft noise, to an super distorted almost-trip-hop. The sound is immense and epic, and so gorgeous, wreathed in crackle and underpinned by buzzing downtuned lowend, streaked with soaring synths, the track's climax, all skittery beats beneath clouds of hiss and whir and crackle and fuzz is totally intense and gorgeous.�
Indeed! If lots of folks didn't already own the Hobbs mix, we would be declaring this worth owning for that track alone. But the follow up, "Stomp" is just as good. A shimmery minimal glitchscape, tons of space, swells of hissy buzz, and off kilter fractured beats, drifting in and then out, leaving long expanses of whispery hush, a blown out electric guitar, super processed, is smothered and muted into a stuttered decayed riff, struggling to let loose, the drums begin to pound, the guitar grinds out a noisy crunch, before retreating again, leaving just that soft almost techno skitter finally culminating in a super fuzz drenched industrial pound, a looped rhythm beneath that same damaged riff filtered through all sorts of static and short wave interference. It's so intense and weirdly ominous and sort of exhausting to listen to. So cinematic and fraught with tension. When the song ends you almost feel like you just crawled up from the sewers after being chased over rooftops, having the shit kicked out of you, leaping from a helicopter, saving the damsel in distress, and discovering that the city before you lay in ruins. So evocative and dramatic.�
The next track, while still dark and haunting, is a bit of a respite, a moody trawl through a glitched out low end drift, peppered with a mysterious sonar like single note high end pulse, a subtle shuffling beat hovering just below the surface, the hiss and static swirling and crunching while a distant melody floats in an expanse of soft shimmer. A quick two minute arrangement of big beats, grinding electric guitar, whirling ambient buzz offers up the record's most 'rock' moment before slipping into the final jam, which is not so much a jam as it is an extended drift, deep resonant tones, ring out, decaying ever so slowly, the various sonic ripples blending into one another, creating soft, shimmery minor key melodies, underpinned by deep pulsing bass, that you almost feel more than you hear, very tranquil and serene, eventually jazzy drums come in, melodies coalesce into something much more tight and arranged, becoming a sort of dreamy jazzy slowcore, softly dramatic, with what sounds like swoonsome strings and warm organ warble, a surprisingly dreamy and sun dappled finish to a record that is otherwise pretty caustic and dark. Which is precisely why it's so good. Totally unpredictable, a jarring mash up of rock elements all fucked up and processed, glitched out electronics, of dark brooding drone and cinematic ambience, all woven into a creepy, menacing, beautiful batch of sound.
Listenin' to Edith Frost's latest full length It's A Game sorta makes you wish she was your older sister, and a totally right-on one at that! Y'know, one you'd truly look up to with lots of stories to tell and frocks to share. Kind, patient, wise and warm... she and Olympia, WA's indie pop gal Lois seem like kindred spirits. Frost's voice is a comfort to hear, and her slightly folksy pop songs so uncomplicated and soothing. She just keeps getting better and better!
Lovely single from AQ-fave Miss Frost. Beautiful and heartfelt, maybe like a less-neurotic Cat Power. Backed up by most of the Coctails (R.I.P.)!
Second and most ambitious full-length from this talented singer/songwriter.
On this her third full length, Edith Frost's wonderful songwriting is in full bloom. Lush instrumentation provides the back drop to her sleepily melancholic melodies. Soft shades of country. Strangely her vocals edge a bit towards those of Liz Phair, but that
Before Olivia Tremor Control, there was the Frosted Ambassador, making experimental, stumbling psyche-folk.
A few months ago, we reviewed I am Providence, Frostmoon Eclipse's entry in God Is Myth's series of 3"cd-r tributes to H.P. Lovecraft (we have a very few copies left!) but way before that ep, this Italian horde's most recent full length dropped, and we're only finally getting to it now.
Another Face Of Hell, their fourth full length in 13 years, finds the band continuing their gradual development into something much more than a buzzing black metal band, incorporating long acoustic guitar passages, more midtempos, LOTS of melody, in fact, a lot of the time they sound more like a dark rock band with blackened tendencies, than an all out black metal group. Some tracks are gloomy and gothy and depressive, loping tempos and grunted vocals, wrapped around haunting minor key melodies, others are all acoustic guitar and drums, some, the vocals a wraith like rasp, the sound almost more like the Swans or some other doom dirge outfit, but then, the band will explode with a full on furious old school black metal attack, all insectoid riffing and blinding blast beats.
Frostmoon Eclipse is probably losing favor with the grim hordes, as their sound progresses, and that's definitely the right word, as the sound is getting more and more progressive, but who cares, as a band, they sound better than ever. They're still blackened and buzzy, but the songs are killer, and catchy, the guitar parts, the riffs, the melodies, all manage to be super catchy without losing any of their power. The closest comparison we can come up with, and we've mentioned this before, is Opeth. The balance between melody and heaviness, between electric and acoustic. But of course, Frostmoon have their own distinct take on that mix, less complex and prog, yet much more black, and at the same time much more ROCK. Frostmoon once again offer up a killer mix of brutal black intensity, folky flutter, brooding dark doom, and classic heavy rock. Excellent!
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Another amazing release from Greek black metal label ISO666. Frostmoon Eclipse play bleak, blazing fast, epic black metal ala Mayhem and Emperor, but before you can yawn and emit that same-old-thing sigh, FE break it down into some serious indie rock
Yet another entry in God Is Myth's ongoing series of 3"cd-r homages to horror author H.P. Lovecraft, who is obviously one of the main sources for metal band names, song titles and lyrical themes. Get rid of Lovecraft and Tolkien and suddenly metal bands would have names like Sunshine and Tigerlilly and would sing songs about picnics and rowboats. But fear not, until some mischievous soul with a time machine gets some crazy ideas, all is well in metal.
Past installments have come from a pretty disparate selection of black metal and black ambient outfits: Caina, Harvist, LVTHN, Sapthuran, Smohalla, and now Frostmoon Eclipse.
Although we've only ever listed one Frostmoon record, we've long been big fans, their blend of classic Norwegian style black metal, a la Mayhem, Emperor with dark moody rock, a brooding gothic groove, the result is a strangely catchy, but still fiercely heavy blackened metallic rock. With long stretches of acoustic guitar, simple drumming and almost flamenco style melodies, they definitely remind us of Opeth as well. But FE manage to take their influences and distill something distinctly their own. The strange thing is, we almost prefer the band when they are all acoustic, which much of this ep ends up being, evoking all sorts of melancholic emotions, with just steel strings and a hushed whispered vocal. That said, these guys can crush, and the blasts of heaviness are indeed intense and blackened, blending perfectly with the folky flutter and dark ambient drift surrounding it.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES. Already sold out and out of print. We got nearly a quarter of those, but like past installments these will no doubt disappear quick. Packaged in a normal slimline cd case, with black and white covers and a sepia printed cardstock insert with a photo and a brief biography of Lovecraft.
When we first heard about Frozen Cloak, the way they were described to us, was: some of the guys from Reeks And The Wrecks doing black metal! WOAH! We knew we had to hear that. Well, we finally did, and guess what? That description was pretty much entirely NOT accurate, but the good news was, that the actual sound ended up being way more weird and warped and super cool.
Frozen Cloak are definitely buzzy, and dark, and heavy, but in some ways the sound's not all that removed from the weird and wonderful world of the Reeks. The guitars (two of em) are WAY blown out, thick and crunchy and dripping with buzz, the opening track takes that guitar and some cool chaotic drumming and locks it into a sort of loop, repetitive and circular and hypnotic and a bit like a heavier, buzzier Lungfish, a single glorious groovy riff, pounded out, over and over and over, a little bit doomy, definitely stonery, but lurching and groovy and metallic. The song after that is way more out there and abstract, the guitar reverbed and heavily effected, distortion so thick it's crumbling out of the speakers, murky, lo-fi, on the verge of collapsing into a total black hole, a sort of blackened folk flecked downtuned free drone freakout, but shot through with warbly melodies and buried rhythms, the record sort of balances between those two extremes, fuzzy, buzzy, repetitive metallic hypnorock groove, and woozy warped abstract chaotic free for all, the best moments of course being when the two collide.
There are horns too, that add a whole 'nother element, a completely different kind of buzz and drone, all tangled up with the already blurred buzz and stutter of the guitars and drums, the sound is really tough to describe, wish we could make sound samples, but you can check out their MySpace. Regardless, this is most definitely some gloriously off kilter outsider abstract heaviness, groovy and a little bit metal, super hypnotic and so fucking good. And anyone who loved the Reeks And The Wrecks will probably end up digging this bigtime too.
Pressed on milky clear vinyl, shot through here and there with little tendrils of color, housed in a thick full color jacked, with super cool images and very little actual info. WAY RECOMMENDED!
We've been trying to track down records by this Canadian black metal horde for ages, but with no luck, when suddenly we got an email from a label that just happened to be run by the Frozen Shadows guy. And not only was the label amazing, focusing on grim frosty black metal from Quebec (see Sombres Forets reviewed elsewhere on this list), they also had copies of this, the most recent Frozen Shadows full length, which also comes with their first demo as a bonus disc!
So what is it exactly, that had us so keen to track down music from this band? Hard to put into words, but seconds into the first track you'll see exactly why. A furious frosty blast of blackness, the Canadian Blizzard Beasts for sure, a perfect blend of classic Norwegian black metal and a more sort of raw buzz. Drums way up in the mix, so blast beats are thick clouds of noxious rhythm, the guitars thick and icy, the vocals a demonic rasp, but FS have their own angle, some cool midtempo bits, with thick swirls of keyboard and haunting clean guitars, stretches of dirgey pummel, but for the most part, Frozen Shadows blaze furiously through fields of grim buzz and icy blur.
And as weird as it may seem, the bonus disc might be even better. Recorded way back in 1996 and it sounds like it. Just as grim and frosty as the new disc, but even more fast and furious, the relentless buzz and freakishly fast blasts, haunting chantlike vocals, a buzzy lo-fi production that manages to still be thick and heavy, everything just a little bit more raw and Nordic sounding. In fact, on first listen you'd be hard pressed to not think this was some classic slab of Norwegian blackness.
Two amazing blizzardy blasts that should most definitely satisfy your grim frost fix.
Members of the fairly interchangeable bands Califone, Red Red Meat, and Loftus along with a person or persons from Boxhead Ensemble. Described as "Gram Parsons meets Pavement" and I'd certainly agree with that. Light, unassuming indie twang.
Former members of AQ faves Califone and Orso prove the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree with their debut album Mouthfuls. Not nearly as experimental as either of their previous outfits, the Fruit Bats play a catchy, jangly, sweet and melancholy, rootsy sort of indie folk. Great harmonies and plenty of hooks. Sweet and easy and good for you ears. Fans of Calexico, Califone, the Shins, Modest Mouse and the like will dig this like crazy.
MPEG Download: "Rainbow Sign" [/audio/fruitbatsrainbow.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Rainbow Sign" [/audio/fruitbatsrainbow.m3u]
While the last two Fruit Bats records were fairly pleasant slabs of folk flecked indie rock jangle, Spelled In Bones shows the band taking HUGE strides towards a bigger sound and better songs and a much more expansive sonic world. Described in almost every review as "the Shins meet Califone", The Fruit Bats have now managed to become more than that, definitely their own band, although the sonic referents to those two outfits certainly can't be ignored. Vocalist Eric Johnson's voice is eerily similar to the Shins' James Mercer, but where Mercer's vocals tend toward the ebullient and poptastically bombastic, the music following suit, Johnson tends toward the more melancholy occasionally slipping into a perfectly lovely falsetto, all over delicate piano and strummed minor key guitar, the jangle muted and subtle, with lap steel filigree giving the proceedings a lush, countrified feel. Spelled In Bones is modern yet completely classic sounding Pop with a capital P, draped with bits of country here and there, little bits of bedroom folk too, but all contributing to the record's perfect popiness. Songs so lilting and hooky you won't be able to get them out of your head. The sound of the Beatles is everywhere on this record for sure, but so is the sound of the Posies, the Wings, Iron And Wine, Broken Social Scene, Red Red Meat, Death Cab For Cutie, and yeah, even the Shins and Modest Mouse. So so good.
These guys are tough to pin down, in the past they've been described as "Gram Parsons meets Pavement" or "The Shins meets Califone", both applicable to the albums they were describing, we were of course first interested in these guys because of their pedigree, featuring as they do members of long time faves like Califone, Red Red Meat and Loftus, and their sound tended to feel like an extension of all those bands that came before.
As they've progressed, they've gotten more and more lush and sprawling, their sound still identifiable by the above shorthand comparisons, but more and more distinctly the Fruit Bats. The vocals are clear and crystalline, reminding us of Death Cab and the Shins, the music though remains rooted in country, plenty of jangle, little curlicues of twang, smooth slippery slide, but also infused with plenty of vintage pop as well, the sound a strange hybrid of old time bluegrass, modern downer country, classic FM radio pop (we're hearing Supertramp a bit on the title track!) and hushed minimal folk. Some songs are delicate and quiet and heartfelt, others are playful and rambunctious, frontman Eric Johnson has such a stunning voice, haunting and intense, delicate but still powerful, and the songwriting is classic sounding, plenty of nods to the Wings, Emmit Rhodes, Nick Drake, the Beatles (of course), the Jayhawks... Fantastic classic sounding ultra lush countrified pop! The Ruminant Band, just like with Spelled In Bones, the last FB record, has us once again trying to figure out why these guys aren't WAY more popular than they are!
Latest chunk of quirky twang flecked pop from this band whose lineage includes loads of long time aQ faves including the late great Red Red Meat. And while that lineage does show itself in Fruit Bats' country folk leanings, they really are much more of a pop band, and seem to be getting poppier with every release, the sort of pop though that few bands seem to make anymore, heartfelt classic old time pop, lush arrangements, subtle orchestrations, swirling strings, soaring vocals, gorgeous harmonies, tinkling chimes, buzzing steel string guitars, swirling synths, and frontman Eric Johnson has one of THOSE voices, delicate, but strangely powerful, high and keening, often compared to Gram Parsons, which is perfect for the constantly shifting, ever lush popscapes that make up the bulk of this record. Fans of popgroops like the Shins and Death Cab, will find much to love here, but we like to think Johnson and Co. are just a tad too far out for the masses, which is really the only thing that explains their lack of mainstream popularity, cuz to these ears, while the sound and songs here do bear the hallmarks of many, more popular and commercially successful groups, the devil is in the details, and the details here are what make this way more subtly twisted that your average pop record. Yet another incredible album, by a group who seems to be incapable of making a bad one...
Super swank diecut packaging, the front cover with a big pyramid shaped cutout revealing the artwork from the inner sleeve, while on the back cover there's a much smaller triangular cutout, revealing another little glimpse of the artwork inside.
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.
