A blast out of London cassette culture circa 1985, Leven Signs was the duo of Maggi Turner on vocals and Peter Karkut on synths, tape and drum machines in a brilliant hodgepodge of avant-pop experimentalism. Atypical of the cold minimal synth wave sounds we've been hearing lately from the period, Leven Signs had a more exotic attitude, blending ethereal vocals with ambient ethnic flourishes, medieval rhythms and a flair for making synth sounds that emulate acoustic instruments like organs, percussion and flutes sounding like a remarkable hybrid of Young Marble Giants and Gang Gang Dance. Definitely one of those rare "incredulous" records where we ask ourselves, why haven't we heard of this before? Remastered for its very first vinyl issue, this was originally put out on Robert Cox's Unlikely label and then reissued on Cordelia the same year with a different track order and with some new tracks and some omitted tracks that were on the first version. This Digitalis vinyl release follows the Cordelia version, for anyone keeping track. Amazing!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
These warnings are beginning to sound like mantras: THIS IS VERY LIMITED. THIS WILL MOST LIKELY ALREADY BE OUT OF PRINT BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS. WE GOT THE LAST 50 COPIES AND WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET MORE!! LIMITED LIMITED LIMITED!!! But like all good mantras, it pays to heed the sage advice contained within, and in this case the advice would be pick one of these up quick like before they're gone for good. A Silhouette In Splinters is the long in the works "ambient" record from Leviathan, released on Canadian label Profound Lore, lp only, pressed on thick red vinyl and as you may have surmised EXTREMELY LIMITED. Part of what makes Leviathan records so powerful and mesmerizing is Wrest's mastery of mood and ambience, so here he gets to explore an entire album of bleak and depressive atmospheres. But this is not pure ambient music, its ambience is only obvious when compared to the dense complex sound world of other Leviathan releases. This is not static ambience, not in the least, these are actual songs, not just creepy swooshings and simple drones. Silhouette is like an entire record made up of the best black metal intros ever, but here, each one is fleshed out into actual musical narratives. Skeletal guitar figures, drift and shimmer darkly over ominous swells of mournful minor key lament. What little percussion there is, hovers ghostlike beneath a wash of blackened swirl. The entire record is wrapped in a foggy cloak of starlit skies and murky underground passages. A haunting soundtrack to misery and horror, death and dying.
First off, this is indeed a CASSETTE. Second of all this is EXTREMELY LIMITED. Extremely. Originally intended to be released along with the most recent issue of Oaken Throne Magazine, due to some unforseen manufacturing delays, Demos - 2000 is now available all on its own. And for a tiny piece of plastic this tape packs a mighty blackened wallop. Culled from the same material as Leviathan's debut 2cd Verrater (now out of print), these early demos are just as dark and bleak and weird and amazing as his subsequent releases. Maybe a little murkier, a little more buzzy and lo-fi, but hell, this is a BLACK METAL TAPE after all!!! Limited to 500 copies, of which we got the last handful. There is a forthcoming cd of demos on Moribund, but these tracks are -exclusive- to this cassette, unless of course you're one of the lucky few with a secret stash of early Leviathan tapes and cd-r's. But since you're probably not, odds are YOU NEED THIS!! AS with all things Leviathan, absolutely essential black metal listening!
Now available on vinyl for a super limited time. Only 500 copies made so act fast (and be aware that the vinyl contains 2 less tracks than the cd)!
Everyone wants a glimpse into the blackened Leviathan vaults, containing the legendary 20 or so cd-r's and cassettes recorded and released during the years 2000-2002, early demos that played more like full-on proper albums, hell they WERE full-on albums, highlights of which were released as the two disc Verrater (soon to be repressed!) on tUMULt a few years back. But Wrest from Leviathan has made it clear that those were then, and averaging a new release every few months, including full lengths and splits, is now. Well, that is, except for this. Probably your only chance, outside Verrater, to hear where it all began. Howl Mockery At The Cross is an essential shard of the mysterious obscured blackened history of Leviathan, and while sonically a bit rougher than the more recent records, it's still a dark and twisting, buzzing and howling serpentine trip through the black, bleak and brutal sonic world of Wrest and Leviathan. Some of these tracks were actually first choices to be included on Verrater, but at the time Wrest had planned on re-recording them. But with each new record, and after a few aborted attempts, the idea of going back to old songs seemed less and less appealing. So this is now the only place to hear those amazing tracks. Lots of that blackened buzz we love so much, but as with all Leviathan records, there are plenty of distinctly un-BM parts all over the place: dense mathrockisms, blissed out droning breakdowns, sludgy doom, bizarre times signatures, impossibly complex drumming, mournful minor key melodies, that immediately recognizable heavily affected demonic howl, all twisted into a gorgeously dark and demented, moody and murky blackened squall. Even includes a Death In June cover, properly drenched in buzz and blackness, so much so that it sounds like it could have been penned by Wrest himself. Striking metallic silver cover with the Leviathan upside down cross and dripping moon logo.
We talk about 'long awaited' releases all the time, records we hear about well before their actual release date, forcing us to wait and wait and wait, but few records have been as eagerly anticipated, or generated so many emails from customers as this, the latest from SF black metal behemoth Leviathan. Especially considering the rumors circulating that this may indeed be the final recording from Wrest and his one man band, Leviathan. If it is indeed a swansong, it's hard to imagine a more fitting or more powerful farewell-and-fuck-off.
Even being a huge fan and voracious devourer of black metal, we would be hard pressed to tell lots of BM bands apart. It's the nature of the beast in some ways. But the second we threw this on, even if we hadn't known what was playing, there's no mistaking the sound of Leviathan, the guitar tone, those demonic croaked vocals, the dizzying lush black buzzscapes, the convoluted song structures, the weird mathy rhythms and the incredible riffs.
Massive Conspiracy is not a huge departure from the sound of Tentacles Of Whorror, if anything, it just takes all the elements of that record and pushes them just that much further out. The sound is a bit more dense, more epic, the drumming is amazing (especially after the switch from electronic drums to real drums) the compositions more sprawling and expansive in scope. Which is saying a lot since past Leviathan records were pretty dang epic and sprawling already.
The sheer hatred of the titles is certainly expressed in the music as well, this is some scathing, hateful furious sound.
The record begins with some strange static, hissing drone-like buzz, ominous ambience beneath it, a haunting melody, then Wrest's howl and the record explodes in a flurry of rapid fire riffing and relentless blasting, but only briefly, the song immediately switches gear into a lurching lope, then right back into the blast. The song is peppered with super dense squalls of high end buzz, streaks of ultradistorted skree, while beneath all sorts of murky melodies lurk, almost like some old 78 was left playing in the background, giving the track an incredible creepy vibe, the last half of the song wraps itself around a slithery downtuned staccato riff, a gorgeously grim dirge that pounds its way to a burst of black chaos at the finish.
The second track is all whirring synths, loping drums, and Wrest's gurgling growl, a weird skeletal ambient dirge that is soon swallowed up by keening high end guitars, crunching downtuned churn, and some super freaky almost operatic vocals, the middle of the song is all full speed freaked out intensity, before again, the song locks into a super riffy groove, much like the opener, before finishing off in another black blaze.
The rest of the record follows suit, weaving super elaborate soundscapes of black metal buzz, and moody mathy meandering, dense black ambience, and swirling low end drones, the tracks rife with parts and bridges and confusional changes, all masterfully wound up into dense convoluted blackened, that while on their own are strange enough, are also peppered will all manner of sonic weirdness, be it slippery peals of woozy, dizzying melody, garbled vocal fragments, soaring harmony guitar melodies, super obtuse dynamics,
All culminating in the final two tracks. "Vulgar Asceticism" is definitely the most fucked, and maybe most amazing song Wrest has ever recorded. Even the opening, with its muted riffing and murky bass throb, staccato riff, and weird Greg Ginn-ish scrape and grind, before the song takes off. And the main riff is super warbly, almost sounding like he's playing with a slide, the notes wavering and detuning, only to be yanked back in line, and then bent way out of tune again, the result a blurry seasick lurch, exacerbated by the dynamics, the riffs often slipping into strange start stop stutters, until the song reaches it's middle stretch, the bass and drums locked into a relentless midtempo blast, while layers of guitars, and various riffs slip and slide, waver and warble, a super dizzy expanse of funhouse mirror blackness that is as fucked up and far out as it is amazing and masterful.
The closer, "Noisome Ash Crown" is an appropriately somber end to Massive Conspiracy, maybe even Leviathan itself. The whole first half a funereal crawl, a bleak grim landscape of whirring thick black ambience, and strange squalls of processed vocals, squiggles of distorted guitar, the drums a solid framework for the drifting abyss above. A strange washed out, gauzy black ambient bridge, gives way to a crushing almost industrial dirge, the melodies majestic and sorrowful, the vocals harrowing and harsh, the drums furiously flailing before transforming into muted little tangles, the rest of the song following suit, a dark minor key outro that gives way to the same black static that started the record.
The first limited pressing comes in a red digipak, featuring some seriously twisted original artwork from Wrest on the cover. Inside lurks a 12 page full color booklet, with more freaky drawings, lyrics and no liner notes.
NB. this officially comes out on Tuesday (3/25) so we can't sell any in the store 'til then, but of course mailorder folks can go ahead and order it now, to get in the mailorder queue...
Back in 2011 when we reviewed Leviathan's last full length, True Traitor, True Whore, we called it one of the meanest, darkest, heaviest Leviathan albums yet. We don't want to get lazy with our reviews but we'll just go ahead and repeat that line for Scar Sighted: THIS is one of the meanest, darkest, heaviest Leviathan records yet. Anyone who reads our lists or follows extreme metal in any way is surely familiar with most of the Jef Whitehead discography, right? Tons of demos, EPs, and splits, a few full lengths, some controversy, but always dedicated to making some of the most heavy, crushing, bleak, twisted black metal in the U.S. and perhaps the world. Scar Sighted is a absolutely massive record - both in sound and atmosphere. When it's not crushing you with absolute freight-train force from the riffs, its somber, bleak atmosphere takes over, reminding us of our favorite Whitehead side project, Lurker of Chalice. The first track, "The Smoke of Their Torment", is maybe the most death metal sounding Leviathan track ever recorded. Pitch-shifted growls over chunky, chuggy riffs, but still an atmosphere and twisted approach that makes it so uniquely Leviathan. Like Deathspell Omega covering Incantation (or the other way around?). From there, the album, somehow, only gets better, twisting and turning through labyrinthian riffs, rain-soaked doom trudges, and industrial wastelands. The climax of the album is surely the title track; nearly seven minutes of slow, wall of sound madness before the blast beats come back and the song falls apart into a somber outro. Seriously, going through these tracks one-by-one won't even do it justice!
Comes in a beautiful oversized cardboard cd box with tons of Whitehead's twisted artwork, as if you needed another reason to buy this. Whether you buy one metal album or hundred this year, this one is not to be missed. No-shit contender for black metal album of the year.
Now on limited edition import double vinyl (blood red vinyl too!) -- with a vinyl-only BONUS TRACK! What we said when the cd version came out:
Summer may just have begun here in San Francisco, but with the release of this new album from local one-man black metal act Leviathan, it sure seems like winter time (plus you all know what Mark Twain said about summer in San Francisco anyway). Brrr. The frosty riffs and blood freezing atmospheres are warmed only by the blasting drums... But you know what, Leviathan hardly needs our attempts at cliched black metal hyperbole to stand proud amid the clutter of corpse-painted pretenders. Leave aside all that and listen: this is keenly crafted, weirdly artful, utterly uncompromising metal. From mathy mayhem to slow, doomy dirge, Leviathan displays unfettered creativity, immense musical skill, and intense emotional involvement in his art (those being dark emotions, if you have to ask). In the evolution of Leviathan, this brings in a torrent of old-school riffage (i.e. Celtic Frost and Slayer) and wired-for-Destruction song constructs while also slowing down more than even before to bathe in ambient weirdness and melody. Vocally, Leviathan's exhalations are like exhumations, the bringing forth of seemingly wordless death (though in fact, Leviathan has lyrics and they're so interestingly twisted). More proof, if any was needed, why Leviathan is in absolute fact one of not only our favorite black metal acts (enough so that Andee released the debut Verratter on his tUMULt label) but also considered so by many others across the globe. And is that some amazing Comus-ish cover art or what? Its stark, disturbed violence and eccentricity perfectly captures this album's whorror.
Summer may just have begun here in San Francisco, but with the release of this new album from local one-man black metal act Leviathan, it sure seems like winter time (plus you all know what Mark Twain said about summer in San Francisco anyway). Brrr. The frosty riffs and blood freezing atmospheres are warmed only by the blasting drums... But you know what, Leviathan hardly needs our attempts at cliched black metal hyperbole to stand proud amid the clutter of corpse-painted pretenders. Leave aside all that and listen: this is keenly crafted, weirdly artful, utterly uncompromising metal. From mathy mayhem to slow, doomy dirge, Leviathan displays unfettered creativity, immense musical skill, and intense emotional involvement in his art (those being dark emotions, if you have to ask). In the evolution of Leviathan, this brings in a torrent of old-school riffage (i.e. Celtic Frost and Slayer) and wired-for-Destruction song constructs while also slowing down more than even before to bathe in ambient weirdness and melody. Vocally, Leviathan's exhalations are like exhumations, the bringing forth of seemingly wordless death (though in fact, Leviathan has lyrics and they're so interestingly twisted). More proof, if any was needed, why Leviathan is in absolute fact one of not only our favorite black metal acts (enough so that Andee released the debut Verratter on his tUMULt label) but also considered so by many others across the globe. And is that some amazing Comus-ish cover art or what? It's by Dan Higgs of Lungfish, and its stark, disturbed violence and eccentricity perfectly captures this album's whorror.
Before everybody has a big ol' black metal meltdown, this is NOT a brand new Leviathan record (although there is a new one coming soon). This is in fact the Leviathan half of the recent split with Sapthuran released on Battle Kommand Records a little while back. However, it is the first (and only) time these songs will be available all by themselves, and on vinyl! And what a gorgeous slab of vinyl it is. A brand new painting by Wrest, the man behind Leviathan, adorns the cover, and it is truly gorgeous and horrifying, some sort of shadowy horned thing, a nice thick sleeve with the text printed in reflective gloss over the image. Very striking. The vinyl is either half red / half green, or half green / half black, and no you can't specify which color you want. It's random. Which means DO NOT ASK for a specific color, you will get whichever one gets grabbed at random, and of course, it's super limited, so only one per customer. So now that that's all out of the way we can explain just why you absolutely NEED this record:
The mighty Wrest and his black metal behemoth Leviathan resurfaces once again, and once again Wrest does not disappoint. In fact if anything (and if it's even possible at this point) the Leviathan material on The Blind Wound is even more fucked up and out there than ever. That Leviathan sound is present and in full effect, a blurry swirling buzz of crazy riffs, impossible drumming, those insane vocals, and completely bizarre song structures, almost proggy at points, never hesitating to stop and start, stutter through some improbably complex series of time signatures or bliss out into some strange ambient soundscape. And as if Wrest's compositional style and playing weren't unique enough, every track is rife with all manner of weird parts, bizarre sounds and fucked up sonic detritus. From strange tripped out drone-ambience, angular almost Greg Ginnish guitar freakouts, impossibly tortured and affected vocals that go from guttural rumble to hellish howl, to creepy otherworldly keyboard like backgrounds, to sludgy almost doomlike breakdowns to full on krautrock / mathrock workouts, albeit slathered in plenty of buzz and fuzz. The final track finishes things off in a completely unexpected way, with a warm and fuzzy slow motion smear of gauzy muted My Bloody Valentine / M83 guitars and simple blown out drumming. As always, amazing!
A long while back we reviewed a split cd by SF black metal legend Leviathan and the Bathory worshipping Polish horde Iuvenes. As much as we may have dug the Iuvenes stuff, the Leviathan material was the real reason we all tuned in. So now Viva Hate have gone and taken just Wrest's half of the split and released it on vinyl (this is either the second or third, and supposedly final pressing), with all new art, printed inner sleeves, and pressed on INSANELY thick clear vinyl. Here's what we had to say about this stuff first time around:
Finally a little more Leviathan to hold us over until his next forthcoming full length, Tentacles of Whorror! This time around it's a split with European old schoolers Iuvenes who traffic in buzzy blurry black metal, Bathory style. But let's not kid ourselves, Leviathan is why we're here and Wrest does not disappoint. Grinding suffocating swarms of buzzing guitars, ultra creepy, deeply depressing ambience, completely and brilliantly fucked drumming, haunting Burzum-y keyboards, and that inhuman bowels-of-hell rasp that occasionally erupts into an utterly terrifying demonic shriek. But it's the songs, the songs are just so fucking good. So many black metal bands make all the right sounds, but can't actually write real songs. Wrest continues to explore and push the boundaries of black metal with Leviathan, exploring distinctly non-black metal sounds and ideas, but manages to stay grim and true the whole time. The songs here are punishing and crushingly dense, disturbing and evil as fuck, but days later, you'll find these riffs stuck in your head like a crown of thorns! Essential!
Wrest and his one-man-black-metal-band Leviathan return, with the corpses of Christians and poseurs littering the bleak landscape evoked by his sonic barrage of inhuman vokills, majestic riffing, and punishing drums. Pure misanthropic musical mayhem. Surely you remember Leviathan -- Andee put out the debut double cd Verrater on tUMULt only nine months ago, and that's been a very successful release. But Verrater was only the tip of the blackened iceberg that is Wrest/Leviathan's ability and need to make intelligent and emotional extreme rock music. Hence, this suicidal statement spawned so soon. At AQ, we fancy ourselves connoisseurs of this kind of stuff, and believe us -- this guy is good (and evil)!! What we mean is, as raw as it gets, there's some intense talent on display here. Lots of San Francisco bands have gotten hyped recently, but here's one that really deserves worship. Chaotically complex, pitilessly crafted tracks like the nine-minute long "Sardoniscorn" somehow maintain this music's one-foot-in-the-grave old school spikes n' corpsepaint directive while simultaneously getting totally arty and out there with epic, prog, avant-garde elements. Doomy drone, weird downtempo percussive interludes, atonal piano, ambient psychedelia, extreme vocal unpleasantness, lots of distortion and feedback. Yes! So it's no surprise that tUMULt and Aquarius (and our customers) weren't the only entities to appreciate the grim genius of Leviathan, as Wrest's project has now been signed to multi-album deals with two black metal specialists, Moribund in the States and Drakkar over in Europe, this album being the first fruit of that deal. We even recently discovered that none other than pagan pop star and psych/krautrock maniac Julian Cope is a big Leviathan fan, recommending Verrater on his website! So, this is another one for both black metal freaks (who will find this worthy of keeping company with your Burzum, Satyricon, Immortal, etc. records) as well as any other adventurous music-lovers unafraid of dabbling in the weird and wretched...
For a while it seemed like West Coast one man black metal horde Leviathan was no more. More and more disillusioned with the modern black metal scene, an ongoing dispute with his label, a seemingly constant battle with personal demons (which no doubt inspired the sounds of Leviathan), 2008's Massive Conspiracy Against All Life was seemingly to be Leviathan's swan song, and it was a pretty epic finish to an already epic career. Then it seemed the whole world was talking about Leviathan again, or specifically the man behind Leviathan, Wrest, aka Jef Whitehead, but the focus wasn't musical, it was personal, as Whitehead was involved in a high profile series of disturbing allegations, which for now remain unresolved, legally and otherwise, and definitely had many fans writing Leviathan off completely. And as if testament to the fact that demons drive the music of Leviathan, this recent experience, and its ongoing ramifications, seemingly inspired Leviathan to start back up, and to record again, creating art from pain, and ultimately making one of the meanest, darkest, heaviest Leviathan records yet, no doubt reflecting the anger and confusion that has consumed Whithead's life over this last year. One need look no further than the album title, or the track titles, it's definitely not subtle, but then black metal never really was. And if singing about Satan was considered grim and kvlt, we can only imagine what folks will make of True Traitor, True Whore, where as the subject matter is indeed grim, the spirit hateful and brutal, TTTW is a musical venting like no one has seen before. Sure the histories of rock music, and metal music are littered with angry missives to ex-lovers, to enemies, hell, even to friends, but rarely has that anger been so fully rendered as pure black sound.
And while much of what we loved about Leviathan remains, we had mentioned in a previous review that while we might have trouble telling much black metal apart, Leviathan was, and seemingly always will be immediately recognizable, but, a lot has changed, in the last three years, that disillusionment with black metal has resulted in much of TTTW moving away from the black buzz, and the production too, handled by Sanford Parker, who also had a hand in Nachtmystium's transformation into something much more psychedelic than black, but the opening track, "True Whorror", at least for the first two minutes, are definitely as grim and black and buzzy as ever, Whitehead's demonic croak in full effect, the guitars insectoid and wildly frenzied, plenty of gnarled atonal melody, and some wild chaotic drumming, but then at about two minutes, we get our first hint of what is to come, a lilting surprisingly melodic bridge, with some cool almost sitar sounding guitars, some strange industrial sounds in the background, a weird creepy sample, and then it's back to the buzz and blast, but the sound flits constantly from grim to melodic, from frantic and twisted, to woozy and almost psychedelic.
"Her Circle Is The Noose" is almost like nineties post rock, blackened, with weird reverbed vox, plenty of clean layered guitars, loping rhythm, the main riff, more of a haunting arpeggiated melody, the Slint vibe is huge, it's not until about 3 minutes in, that the song launches into a blurry blast, but the guitars spitting out wild upper register skree, only to slip right back into that blackened post rock lope. "Brought Up To This Bottom" is a bit more black, but it's also even more tripped out, with some strange sonar like pings, a super dynamic stop/start arrangement, the sound definitely much more lush and psychedelic than past releases, the recording epic and massive, with some of the sounds so in-the-red they seem to be crumbling from the speakers, the drums sounding better than ever, definitely the most live, reminding us at times of Don Caballero's Damon Che. "Contrary Pulse", is all echoey and reverby and strangely murky, a washed out droney chunk of hypnorock, that occasionally splinters into something more black and buzzy, but even then, the sound is much less about buzz and blast, and when the song is creeping and droning, the vibe is weirdly industrial and seriously sinister.
A couple old tracks from the early demos (and later compiled on the tUMULt double disc Verrater) get redone here, the first is "Shed This Skin", which works surprisingly well in this new context, and benefits from the modern overhaul / reinterpretation, Whitehead's cool sinister croon, and with an added lushness that was only hinted at on the original, not to mention more clean guitars, and a way more psychedelic vibe. "Every Orifice Yawning Her Price", is another one that bucks black metal convention, minus Whitehead's inhuman howl, the music is weirdly post rocky, and almost sea shanty-ish, with some cool bits of warm psychedelic clean guitar swirl, as well as a cool tripped out, droney second half, where the drums continue to pound away, beneath a wild tangle of spidery melody and garbled vox, as well as thick chordal swells that swirl and pulse. Which leads right into the way more metal "Harlot Rises [Mesmerized Again]", that adds some Kiss-like flange to the drums to great effect, and after a pounding almost doomy into, switches gear, and becomes almost poppy, still blackened and post rocky, but definitely with a pop vibe. And this track might be the weirdest of all, splintering partway through into a sort of spaced out breakdown, that shifts from twisted dramatic synth/drum workouts to woozy psych trip-out, and a seriously dreamy droney outro.
Finally, the record finishes off with another old demo track, "Blood Red And True", which was definitely one of our favorite classic Leviathan jams, and like "Shed This Skin", ends up sounding amazing in its new form, the guitars impossibly thick and chunky, the vocals sick as ever, a churning chugging blackened melodic doom, the heavy parts epic and majestic, the tripped out parts, way more psychedelic, layered and lysergic, the sound impossibly lush and evocative, about as close to soaring epic Godspeed style post rock as Leviathan has ever gotten, a super dramatic finish for sure.
Yet again, Whitehead continues to push the limits of black metal with Leviathan, even moreso now that he seems to have abandoned any bonds to the scene that claimed him, and while this is definitely the most bitter and angry Leviathan record yet, it's also probably the strangest, and most progressive, and our favorite in a while, managing to keep the true core of Leviathan's sound while moving well past the tired tropes of the grim and the black, and here's hoping that this is not the last we hear from Leviathan.
Packaged in a super striking digipak, with reflective ink printing, and cyrillic style type.
Those of you who live in San Francisco may have seen or even bought some of the many self released casettes by the mysterious one man black metal band called Leviathan. Or some of you may have seen Andee or Allan sporting their Leviathan shirts, or you may have even seen Wrest, the man behind Leviathan lurking around AQ...regardless, Leviathan is the latest and certainly one of the greatest of the Bay Area black metal bands (Ludicra, Sangre Amado, the godlike Weakling [also on tUMULt], etc...) who seem to exist in some sort of vacuum here while elsewhere, band after unoriginal band keep getting signed to huge labels and hyped to death even though most of them suck.
For this release Andee and Wrest went through the 13 full length Leviathan cassettes/cd-r's (as of today that number has leapt to 15!) Leviathan had recorded since 1998 to compile a good overview. But they couldn't whittle it down enough so one disc became two, with the first disc being the newer stuff, and disc two being the older, raw-er material.
Verrater is pure, primitive, cult, home recorded evil. Two discs, twenty two tracks, one hundred and forty three minutes of buzzing, howling, pummelling, black metal. Think Burzum, Darkthrone, Immortal, that sort of thing, but with all sorts of weird twists and sonic surprises. Yes, Leviathan is grimmer than grim metal that the frost & forest lords of Norway should bow down to, but it's also pure expression unfettered by genre restraints, although informed and inspired by them. Like Weakling, Mistigo Varggoth Darkestra, Caacrinolas, Ludicra, Potentiam, Enslaved, and some other AQ-championed black metal acts, this is not just one for fans of black metal only! It's dark, weird, noisy, disturbing art embodying one man's vision that should be heard by anyone into avantgarde, experimental, psycically and physically powerful rock music. From blasting howling fury to moody ambient blackness to off kilter weirdness to droning riffery to soul crushing heaviness. What's truly remarkable is that one man, playing all the instruments himself, and recording at home, can evoke such strong emotions and invoke such musical demons. Original, evil, hateful, misanthropic, bizarre and truly black metal.
Seems like rumors regarding the end of Leviathan were greatly exaggerated. Not only is Leviathan still a going concern, but then out of nowhere pops this brand new, bad ass split, with a Greek band called Achernotas, who we knew by name but had never heard until now.
Needless to say, most aQ metalheads won't need much more prodding than the words "new Leviathan record", then there's the fact that the cd AND vinyl version of this split are both insanely limited, which means once we sell out of these, odds are we won't be able to get more, which is a huge bummer, because not only are the Leviathan tracks awesome (obviously), but we're pretty psyched on Acherontas as well.
The Leviathan tracks sound like maybe they're a bit older, perhaps before the shift from electronic drums to acoustic drums, the sound is murky, but still gnarled and chaotic and dense, the arrangements furious and frenzied, the drumming insane, and that unmistakable demonic croak. Lots of glitch and buzz, tangled atonal melodies, a heaving wall of blackened chaos, but it is Leviathan, so there's plenty of dark brooding ambience, some classic metal sounding chug, some spaced out almost doomy sounding blackness, the sound here falls somewhere right between classic Leviathan and the more twisted sonic soundscapes of Lurker Of Chalice.
The Acherontas tracks start off with haunting reverb drenched piano, creating a creepy otherworldly vibe, before the band launches into some super grim sounding black pound, the drums simple but intense, the guitars super distorted, the riffs woozy and minor key, the sound slipping easily from loping Burzumic plod, to proggy almost folky swirl, with clean guitars and strangely complex drumming, smothered in ethereal effects, the vocals especially harsh, dripping with demonic intensity, then suddenly transforming into deep haunting croon, the guitars following suit, growing more and more melodic and lovely, still all wrapped in a haze of distorted buzz, eventually fading out in a blur of minor key miserablism. Really awesome stuff. Definitely need to hear more from these guys.
But for now, if you do want one of these, cd OR lp, act fast, these have been selling like crazy and we're down to about half of what we started with. The cds come in a nice digipak (although be warned, some of the edges are a little worn in shipping, nothing we can do about it, these are probably all we're gonna get), and the lp is a super striking pictured disc, that comes in a heavy sleeve with a printed 12" x 12" insert.
We only have a dozen of these. We will NEVER get more. So this is one of those first come first served deals, quick on the buzzer, don't delay or you're shit out of luck. SERIOUSLY. Four black metal bands from all over the world. One 7". One track each. Grim and evil and cult and gone before you know it. Leviathan, Ad Hominem, Funeral Winds, Eternity. In a gorgous black on black gatefold sleeve. And as it says on the back of the record: "This piece of hate is limited." Indeed...but only in number.
Managed to get just a few more of these in stock! Direct from Wrest of Leviathan. And we are told these will be the last copies ever so don't miss out AGAIN. Here's what we had to say about this split when we first got it in:
Finally a little more Leviathan to hold us over until his next forthcoming full length, Tentacles of Whorror! This time a round it's a split with European old schoolers Iuvenes who traffic in buzzy blurry black metal, Bathory style. Really simple blast beats over superdistrorted riffs and growled gutteral vocals with squiggly leads buried waaaay doooown in the mix. Droning and repetetive and very hypontic. But let's not kid ourselves, Leviathan is why we're here and Wrest does not diappoint. Grinding suffocating swarms of buzzing guitars, ultra creepy, deeply depressing ambience, completely and brilliantly fucked drumming, haunting Burzum-y keyboards, and that inhuman bowels-of-hell rasp that occasionally erupts into an utterly terrifying demonic shriek. But it's the songs, the songs are just so fucking good. So many black metal bands make all the right sounds, but can't actually write real songs. Wrest continues to explore and push the boundaries of black metal with Leviathan, exploring distinctly non-black metal sounds and ideas, but manages to stay grim and true the whole time. The songs here are punishing and crushingly dense, disturbing and evil as fuck, but days later, you'll find these riffs stuck in your head like a crown of thorns! Essential!
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The mighty Wrest and his black metal behemoth Leviathan resurfaces once again, this time teamed up with fellow USBM outift Sapthuran. It's a good matchup in so much as Sapthuran sounds quite a bit like the current crop of West Coast black metal (Xasthur, Crebain, Draugar, etc.) which is definitely a good thing. Midtempo buzz and blur, with haunting clean guitar melodies in the background, that come to the forefront briefly on the second folky ambient track, only to be summarily obliterated by Sapthuran's closer, a dizzying blurry buzz of droning riffs buried vocal howl and splattery blast beats. Definitly need to hear more from these guys (we actually have Sapthuran's full length in stock, just ask).
But as always, Leviathan is the main event, the reason we all showed up, and once again Wrest does not disappoint. In fact if anything (and if it's even possible at this point) the Leviathan material on this split is even more fucked up and out there than ever. That Leviathan sound is present and in full effect, a blurry swirling buzz of crazy riffs, impossible drumming, those insane vocals, and completely bizarre song structures, almost proggy at points, never hesitating to stop and start, stutter through some improbably complex series of time signatures or bliss out into some strange ambient soundscape. And as if Wrest's compositional style and playing weren't unique enough, every track is rife with all manner of weird parts, bizarre sounds and fucked up sonic detritus. From strange tripped out drone-ambience, angular almost Greg Ginnish guitar freakouts, impossibly tortured and affected vocals that go from gutteral rumble to hellish howl, to creepy otherworldly keyboard like backgrounds, to sludgy almost doomlike breakdowns to full on krautrock / mathrock workouts, albeit slathered in plenty of buzz and fuzz. The final track finishes things off in a completely unexpected way, with a warm and fuzzy slow motion smear of gauzy muted My Bloody Valentine / M83 guitars and simple blown out drumming. As always, amazing!
Here's one of the latest unusual releases from Jussi of Circle's eclectic Ektro imprint (see elsewhere this list for another, Baxter Stockman). So, what's it this time? Could be anything weird that Jussi loves. Scuzzed out noisepunk? 20th Century experimental minimalism? Or maybe one of many crazy Circle side projects? Nope. None of the above. Take a look at the (wonderfully) crude fantasy art on the cover. Try obscure '80s Swedish metal. CHRISTIAN metal, to be precise (yep, Leviticus is a book of the Bible). Guess what? We love '80s Christian metal! Totally got a soft spot for it, Bible-believing bands like Sacred Warrior, Bloodgood, and Recon, it's heavy metal at its most sincere and passionate in a way. So we were excited to hear this, a reissue by a band of that ilk previously unknown to us - though apparently, back in 1985 when this album originally was released, they got some very positive press in the UK's Kerrang! magazine. We can see why. Preaching their faith sure doesn't stop Leviticus from rockin' hard, right from the start. They deliver a mighty one-two punch with majestic opening salvo "The Winner" and the ripping rocka-rolla of 2nd strike "Deborah and Barak". Yup, they tear it up - and are plenty melodic too.
Of course, this IS kinda cheesy (see that cover art again), and not just 'cause of the Christianity, Leviticus making a (pretty decent) stab at radio-friendly commercialism at times, with tracks like "King Of Kings" and "I Got Power" hoping to follow countrymen Europe into the arena of, uh, arena-rock. But heck, it's '80s metal, we can hang with that. And anyway, the NWOBHM-y goodness of tracks like "On The Rock" makes up for softer moments such as "A New Day", which brings 1984-era Van Halen keyboards to the fore.
Scandinavian metal is better known for pagan Viking imagery, or church burning blackness, but as this proves, there are church-goers up in those frozen climes who who like to rock, too. But you don't have to be a Christian to rock with 'em, 'cause even though Leviticus surely meant the title of their album to refer to God, another way to interpret "The Strongest Power" is, of course: heavy metal!! To that, we all must kneel.
Particularly recommended to fans of Ektro's earlier reissues of records by Thor!
Strong material from this local lady with the powerhouse voice. Singer, songwriter and pianist Alison Faith Levy is assisted by several members of the late great Camper Van Beethoven, and the album is produced by Chris Xefos (King Missile). A straightforward voice-driven album, it reminds us of Carole King and Aimee Mann. Sure, it sounds pretty mainstream, but that's definitely not a bad thing when it's done by someone of Levy's talent and integrity. Why she isn't absolutely huge on the radio is a mystery to us.
Singer songwriter fare from local talent, who used to be in the Sneetches. Piano and voice-driven material that reminds us of Alex Chilton, with guests Alison Faith Levy and Jonathan Segel of Camper van Beethoven who contributes lush violin.
One of the more intriguing private press recordings we've heard, this 1983 soft-focus epic of romantic longing and regret is shrouded in mystery and conjecture. The music itself is a brooding country-western tinged affair of delicate airy synth washes, gentle loping piano and soft acoustic guitar strums lushly arranged into expansive emotional ballads sung with a ghostly mumbling barely-there vocal delivery that reminds us a lot of Arthur Russell, but much more introspective. Newly reissued and remastered by Light In The Attic, not much information was given out in the original release except for a dedication to swimsuit model Christine Brinkley, a photo credit to legendary punk photographer Ed Colver and the Germanic movie star good looks of the artist himself, who has since disappeared without a trace.
Trying to uncover the mystery of who Lewis is (or was) and what happened to him, has only led to more questions as rumors began to swirl of the singer being a con-artist who arrived in LA seemingly out of nowhere driving a white convertible Mercedes with a beautiful model, stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel, hired session musicians, recorded this album and did a photo shoot only to skip town without paying any of his bills. The record eventually showed up at flea markets and fell into the hands of private press aficionados where its cult-status grew. While the larger than life mystery of the singer largely fuels the appeal of such a bafflingly sensitive and otherworldly record, the music is actually quite captivating once your ears are opened to its languid and slowly unfolding pace. Definitely a headphone record, it's a narcoleptically sublime take on the Western landscape in musical form offering up a romantic big sky worldview with a dreamy celestial-minded quietude.
We only have the cd version available now. The lp version will be released next month.
Since we reviewed the reissue of the mysterious private press album L'amour by the equally mysterious single-named crooner Lewis, who was rumored to have disappeared shortly after its release in 1981, a lot has happened. First, there was a discovery of not just one, but of two previously undiscovered albums he released in the early eighties, of which Romantic Times is one, now reissued. But perhaps more importantly is the news that Lewis himself has been discovered, complete with last name, Baloue, alive and well in Canada, and he apparently has no interest in drudging up his previous life as a hopeless jet-setting and rumored bill-skipping romantic. In the L'Amour review, we mentioned the legendary rumors of his arrival into Los Angeles seemingly out of nowhere in a white suit and white Mercedes with models on each arm before running up a fancy hotel bill and studio time and then skipping town, tapes in hand, without paying his bills. While those rumors may be dubious, it's hard to argue with the cover photo of this newly discovered record of Lewis in fancy white suit with not only said Mercedes, but a white private jet to boot!
If L'Amour was all about epic space and heartbreak, an atmospheric personal lament projected onto the big open landscape, Romantic Times is much more about inviting and nurturing love back into life. Some of the songs sound like classic love songs with new words, for example the opener, "We Danced All Night", is basically "Strangers In The Night" with new lyrics and a snail's tempo. The spacious synths are tempered by narcoleptic waltz rhythms from a drum machine, and there is, of course, also some romantic sax inflections. Lewis's croon is more soulful and breathy, kind of like a mumbling Bryan Ferry, that quivers and soars with each pulse of the drum machine. But with all the romantic allusions, the slow dancing, candlelight and roses, the silhouettes shot through a brandy glass, there is this pervasive creepy stalker vibe that we imagine women would run for restraining orders if they heard this music on a date. Which is kind of why we are digging this so much, the allure of romance and affluence blind-sided by some creepy sentimentality makes for an incredibly bizarre listen.
One of two concurrently released albums from Wire's eccentric bassist / vocalist Edvard Graham Lewis. Even through the lens of Wire's situationist post-punk and avant-pop eccentricities, the solo and side projects for Lewis were almost always well beyond the scope of Wire's amorphous signature. Dome was an early investigation into proto-electronica and disjointed industrial bricolage, and then there was the contorted romanticism of '80s balladeering through the under-appreciated He Said moniker.
Where the companion album All Under is the more abstract and (slightly more) unconventional, All Over finds Lewis returning to his capacity for penning some brilliantly weird avant-pop numbers. The overall feel of the album is sunk in a liquid narcosis that runs parallel to the blurring miasma of shoegazing; but Lewis doesn't drown his work in reverb. It's a great trick to build something hypnotizing though a skeletal synth & guitar pop context. "We've Lost Your Mind" girds a motorik click track of Oval-like glitching with a minor-chord jangle that harkens back to A Bell Is A Cup Until It Is Struck era Wire if it were recorded today. "The Start Of Next Week" is a fabulous piece of dark techno that could fit somewhere near Silent Servant or Surgeon. The dubbed-out tropical ditty "Quick Skin" pools Lewis' vocals into layers of overlapping delay patterns with a tinny rhumba and chicken-scratch guitars channelling the spirit of Brian Eno's Another Green World, albeit with a darker color palette. Other tracks do push the abstraction with a few tracks sounding similar to what :zoviet*france: would make if given the challenge to make a 'pop' record circa 1988. Like All Under, this is brilliant.
One of two concurrently released albums from Wire's eccentric bassist / vocalist Edvard Graham Lewis. Even through the lens of Wire's situationist post-punk and avant-pop eccentricities, the solo and side projects for Lewis were almost always well beyond the scope of Wire's amorphous signature. Dome was an early investigation into proto-electronica and disjointed industrial bricolage, and then there was the contorted romanticism of '80s balladeering through the under-appreciated He Said moniker.
There were also plenty of one-off collaborations with various Swedes throughout the '90s (H-A-L-O, He Said Omala, Hox, etc.) and one hell of a great collaboration with John Duncan.
That Duncan / Lewis album immediately jumped to mind when we first put on All Under, a compendium of soundtrack work and ephemera recorded at various times over the past 13 years. The eerily paranoiac blips of phasing shortwave radio broadcasts fire across the first two tracks of All Under, both of which are variations on work composed for a multi-channel video piece by Gunilla Leander. These electrical flurries, flecked with irradiated ash and attenuated glitches, are shaped from the droning data-streaming into mercurial melodic ambience that wouldn't be out of place on Aphex Twin's dreamtime masterpiece Selected Ambient Works Volume II. "The Eel Wheeled" again reflects similarities to that Duncan collaborative record, with Lewis slowly reciting one of his bizarre assemblages (which also form the basis for Wire's lyrics, even those sung by Colin Newman). His Burroughs / Gibson / Dick inspired sci-fi fragmentation with his baritone voice elegantly sitting amidst his discordant collage, projecting an ominous sound of a crumbling society being sucked into its virtual self. The finale is another soundtrack piece "No Show Godot," draping wisps of arctic noise onto a soft rhythmic chatter as Lewis slowly unveils a blossoming radiant drone that terminates at the unveiling of a long-form drone-pop number for ritualized pulse, blurs of fourth-world vocal exoticism, Sub-Saharan cinematic nods, and Lewis commanding a subdued industrial mantra akin to an opiated version of Muslimgauze. Like All Over, this is brilliant.
Memphis blues legend Furry Lewis was one of the first of the original bluesmen to reach wider recognition with modern audiences, thanks in part to, well, not dying first of all, and secondly, for his decision to come out of retirement in the '60s and share his tunes with a new generation, including stints opening for the Stones and playing on the Tonight Show.
The songs collected here are from Furry's initial run, with recording dates spanning 1927-1928. The first session, recorded in Chicago, features some additional musicians providing guitar and mandolin to Furry's powerful vocals. These songs are cool, slow but steady, and kind of easy going. It basically sounds like a bunch of guys hanging out just playing for the fun of it, and it's really likable stuff. But things take a darker, and frankly, way better turn when Lewis goes at it alone. Thankfully, these songs make up the bulk of this collection. Songs like "Rock Island Blues" move with a sinister vibe, while "Jelly Roll" rides at a nice lazy pace. Lewis also offers his take on classics like "Stack O'Lee" and "John Henry", all featuring some impressive guitar work and a classic blues drawl. Then you have songs like "Furry's Blues", with such timeless themes as killing your woman and leaving home in the lyrics. Classic stuff for sure, this nice looking double lp is presented in Monk's always striking packaging and comes highly recommended.
Mr. Lewis is my hero. He was the first to popularize perversion with his low budget B movies and bring it to the the drive in. And to the people. Without his original low-fi nasty gore, who knows where some of us would be. And who knows which of your favorite
We were never really all that into Crass. And we have no idea who the heck Jeffrey Lewis is, but shit, this record has totally kicked our asses. Okay, ass kicking might be a little off, considering what a playful, fun, and goofy record this is. And not goofy in a bad way, just goofy in that way that old pop record are, those super naive early K records singles, old They Might Be Giants. You know, clever and cheeky, almost like children's music. In fact this record might be just the thing to get your toddler started early in their nascent desires for anarchy and their just waiting to blossom urge to smash the state. And it won't hurt teaching them some profanities either, maybe baby's first words will be "Fuck off!"
The arrangements are sing songy, strings, piano, simple acoustic guitar, the sing songy aspect is probably due to having to cram so many words in such little spaces. Minus the lyrics, this might be some gorgeous twee bliss pop disc, bits of folk, tinkling piano, moaning strings, stretches of drone, some subtle twang, all woven into a lilting playful pop. The darker songs almost sound like Magnetic Fields, all brooding melancholy misery and muted pop jangle. But it's the lyrics hat make the record, that turn these playful pop songs into off kilter punk rock, indie folk, protest songs. Lewis has a super laid back sung/spoken delivery, that suits the songs and lyrics perfectly. He's also joined by some awesome female vocalists, who sing a handful of the songs, but mostly join in for the choruses, like on "I Ain't Thick, It's Just A Trick", the hook delivered in a strange boy/girl harmony that sticks in your head like crazy.
Some of the tracks sound a bit beatnicky, with bongos, and tongue twisting political manifestos, lots of this sounds like it could be some weird NYC band from back in the nineties with a record or two on Shimmy Disc, a sort of off kilter, fractured anti-folk, some are extra goofy, a couple are intense and dark. But light or dark, goofy or earnest, the lyrics transform each song into something almost sinister, something subtly powerful, the lyrics having to carry much of the anger and bitterness, since in Crass, the music was as vitriolic as the words, and here for the most part, the music is anything but. The result, while still patently poppy and folky, is much more thought provoking and subtly challenging than most pop music.
Huge Crass fans might be distraught at these reinterpretations, but Anarcho dabblers might just dig, and folks into weird pop, and weird folk, who like their tunes with a little weight-of-the-world behind them, should definitely give this a try.
Awesome packaging, a colorful coloring book sleeve, with two die cuts, revealing an inner sleeve decorated with various images which show through the die cuts depending on which way the sleeve is oriented. Also includes a massive comic book rendering of how this record came to be on one side, while on the other, a comic revealing just what those images showing through the cover mean.
Acid tongue?! Well, from the sounds of her latest album it's not residing in Ms Rilo Kiley's mouth. Her voice is as sweet and smooth as ever, however, the album itself is certainly asking for one thorough tongue lashing. On it, she's taken a flying leap into the syrupy slick pool of adult contemporary. Aaaaiiiieee! And the guest appearances of Chris Robinson, M. Ward, Zooey Deschanel and Elvis Costello (heck, these days he's the king of the genre!), don't help one bit. Someone in Hollywood must've thought this was a good idea. A shudder inducing shame.
The lovely voice that defines the sound of L.A.'s Rilo Kiley goes solo on (in?) this Rabbit Fur Coat. Well, sort of... she's got a pair o' angelic voiced twins in tow, and the results are a remarkably lady-like affair. Jenny Lewis unveils a much broader range of both style and expressiveness -- generously planting a number of bare-branched country and gospel inflected saplings here and there amid her more familiar sounding lush pop blossoms. Initially upon hearing the poignant, soulful opening track, we mused that fans of Neko Case might also take a shine to the equally red-tressed Lewis. Mind you though, Lewis and her music do come across as being considerably more milquetoast (meaning, you probably won't be finding The Grand Ol' Opry taking issue with her the way they did with the fiery Ms Case!). At any rate, it's clear that in both fashion and song, she's just as comfortable in womanly Lawrence Welk Show gown as she is in a winsome floral country frock or barefoot in a sassy pop gal mini-dress. To boot, she's stacked the indie luminary decks in her favor -- her pals Conor Oberst, Ben Gibbard (whom she sings with in Postal Service), and Matt Ward to name a few -- and the star-studded cast is put to good use on the very faithful rendition of the Travelling Wilburys' tune "Handle With Care". Quite a beauty that's just might not only appeal to her younger Rilo Kiley fans, but also their parents!
Psst, coincidentally Lewis' R.K. bandmate Blake Sennett's side project The Elected also just released a dandy album!
An "electronically charged reconstruction of organic sound matter" reads the preamble from Klara Lewis' debut for the righteous electronica label Editions Mego. Lest you think this slides into the territories of Small Cruel Party, :zoviet*france:, G*Park, or even Matmos with their snapping shrimp and balloon popping adventures, Lewis thoroughly renders those unspecified organic sources into murky loops that snap into place along a spine of minimal techno. The darkly chiming repetitions of Ett wistfully recall the early days of MIDI sequencing, without any of the headaches that came from all of the mathematical engineering in order to trick those samples to align themselves properly against a rhythm and vice versa. There are molten rumbles, granitic scratches, feral screeches, disembodied voices, and ventilator gasps which adhere to Lewis' dub-klang swipes at op-art repetitiveness. "Untitled" thrives in the medical-supply factory of various blips and bleeps, grafted onto a punchy techno underbelly that could have been constructed by the likes of Coh or Ryoji Ikeda. With some of the more abstracted pieces - like the dreamily aquatic "Shine" and the ectoplasmic shuffle found on "Altered" - she settles into an eerie spaciousness which decontextualizes the source material further by situating these patterned squiggles and sonic mark-making onto deep-space backdrops of nothingness. An impressive and beguiling album!
The tongue-twistingly monikered Lexaunculpt, who certainly has more possible awkward (mis-)pronunciations than Autechre, is one Southern Californian 'technical electrician' Alex Graham. An admitted 'Skinny Puppy retard' with a taste for bodyrockin' hip hop breaks, Graham has situated himself in the IDM genre of electronic music, populated by the likes of Autechre, Aphex Twin, and early Mu-Ziq. Despite having worked in the genre since 1996 with a couple of singles on Isophlux and Orange, "The Blurring Of Trees" is his first full album. On this album, Graham struggles to break free from the redundant mimicry that most IDM suffers from, with a modicum of success. In loosening his grip on the polyrhythmic whirrings and dense programming, Graham focuses on a rich, though occasionally heavy-handed melodrama of orchestrated samples that reference alienation and human anguish through a tightly restrained use of minor chords stretched out as pointillist smears of emotional resonance. In essense, Lexaunculpt stands for the gothic aesthetic of an anachronistic future, weeping in PVC leather and jet black hair about the addictions that humanity has to technology.
MPEG Download: "Drowning Cricket Quartet" [/audio/lexaunculptdrowning.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Drowning Cricket Quartet" [/audio/lexaunculptdrowning.m3u]
This record sat on the shelves for a few weeks, unreviewed cos the cover art was confusing. I mean, the record has got a hysterical white woman on the cover -- you wouldn't think it was hip hop. Turns out it *is* hip hop, and it's pretty decent hip hop at that, despite it being from Glendale, California, which pretty much guarantees these guys are whiteboys. Anyway, the hip
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Hip hop remix. Rhythm = "I Just Wanna Love U" (Jay Z).
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Hip hop remix. Rhythm = "Wait A Minute" (Ray J).
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Hip hop remix. Rhythm = "What It Is" (Busta Rhymes).
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Hip hop remix. Rhythm = "Best U Can" (Tha Liks).
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An intense, very bad acid-trip courtesy of the Los Angeles retro-viral project LFA. These death factory rhythms, bone-rot squelched sequences, and whip cracks on sheet of metal rattle as if the engine that drives whole goddamn thing is gonna self-immolate, fly apart, or just seize up from exhaustion. These creepy mutations better those constructed by Wolf Eyes and give the early Sterile Records output from Nocturnal Emissions a run for their money.
Reduce. Reduce. Reduce. It makes for a very tactile process for LFA, or Liable, the nom de guerres that Hagen K. Reins alternates between. Liable's cryptic electronics lend themselves to an engorged excess of noise and dusted obliteration; but that's not the case for MG Inzpirator through an interesting reductionism that applies to what otherwise would have become the harsh, brutal electronics akin to those by Wolf Eyes. These sequences appear scrubbed of the bulk of the sonic grit, leaving the roughly sequenced passages of drum machine and minimally programmed electronics with a crust, a film, a scab of what had previously been layered on top. This self-eradication process seems to go through multiple iterations - the xerox of a xerox, the telescoping murk of a eighth generation tape dub, the nubbly bits of gum erased all blackened with graphite from that crappy high school drawing that was wisely scrubbed. What we're getting at is that all of the weird bits of gristle and stain that hang from Liable's electronics don't seem like an effect, but the result of some subtractive process. What that may be is hard to say, and that mystery make everything all the more intriguing. Further that with septic minimalism, dumpster scraped noise, asynchronous sequencing. Deaf. Dumb. Blind. Limited to less than imagined existed in the first place.
LFZ is the new homemade kosmiche venture of former Bay area guitarist Sean Smith and his contemporary new age concern Stimulus Progression, which has been releasing both new and obscure archival recordings on cd-r and cassette, such as the Les Vampyrettes cassette we listed last time. The self-titled release from LFZ is inspired by Harmonia, Fripp and Eno and Terry Riley, but we also have a handful of their second release, Pointless Prism which features 14 shorter trance-inducing pieces in a more kind of Steve Halpern vein based on timbre, colors and sonic frequencies. Not as dynamic as the self-titled release, but highly purposeful for any hypnotic states you might be seeking.
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LFZ is the new homemade kosmiche venture of former Bay area guitarist Sean Smith and his contemporary new age concern Stimulus Progression, which has been releasing both new and obscure archival recordings on cd-r and cassette, such as the Les Vampyrettes cassette we listed last time. LFZ is inspired by Harmonia, Fripp and Eno and Terry Riley, bringing us two longform pieces that progress through various movements of modular synth, electric guitar and an array of analog and digital effects. In an effort to convey the journey of life and death, synthesized raga modes are employed through searching improvisations and oceanic expanses of sound. Sonic spaces morph seamlessly from cosmic floating fields to pulsating jet streams, and intrepid wonder to pensive hallucinatory explorations. Available on cd-r and cassette. Quite lovely, but limited to 100 copies. You know what that means!
We also have a handful of their second release, Pointless Prism which features 14 shorter trance-inducing pieces in a kind of Steve Halpern vein based on timbre, colors and sonic frequencies. Not as dynamic as the self-titled release, but highly purposeful for any hypnotic states you might be seeking.
Here is Ms Lhasa De Sela's debut album from 1997 which we alluded to in a recent AQ List. Yes, this is the one that came before her current sumptious full length The Living Road. If you love one you'll surely love the other. Simply stated, it's an earthy yet electrically charged beauty! Effortlessly elegant, Lhasa's sultry vocals (sung in Spanish) entwine with the snaking acoustic guitars and accordion. A seamless blend of dangerously seductive torch balladry and an enchanting carnival-after-dark atmosphere. Recommended!
Stunning! Heck, when we heard murmurs that Joey Burns from Calexico might soon be playing live with Lhasa we figured that was a pretty darn good indication that we were in for something really great with this new album... and The Living Road does not disappoint. Each song on Lhasa De Sela's second album lures you deeper and deeper into the shadows, and you'd be wise to follow. What you'll encounter is a slowly unfolding, deeply intoxicating drama of mariachi horns, desert twang guitars, somber piano, ghostly theremin and pedal steel and oh yes, her voice which is a force unto itself -- dusky, slinking, and smouldering winding its way around her English, Spanish and French lyrics. The music has a rich mysterious cabaret and carnivalesque flair and it's not surprising 'cause in between albums she spent her time in a small travelling circus with her sisters in France! If you'd like some current points of reference, think Calexico fronted by a much older Mirah or a much younger Omara Portuondo (Buena Vista Social Club). If you like this don't miss her first album La Llorona that came out back in 1997. Recommended.
We were very excited to see the arrival of a new full length from this Montreal based songstress! This is album number 3 for Ms Lhasa De Sela, and all of the adjectives we've showered upon her previous two albums do still apply here (2004's The Living Road and 1997's La Llorona were both highly recommended, beautiful, sultry wonders, please see our reviews for the detailed descriptions!). However, some might find this one to be perhaps a bit more (or too) 'Lilith Fair' and AOR-ish at times. 'Twas a bit disappointing in that regard. Although her voice is as amazing as ever, these recordings didn't floor us immediately like the previous ones did. The overall tone weighs heavier on melancholia and less on darkly whimsical enchantment. Actually, it draws easy comparisons to Norah Jones' last album Not Too Late, and conjured imaginings of Chan Marshall as a smoky lounge singer too. So, while we still wholeheartedly embrace her first two albums to one and all, this one might be destined for a different audience.
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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One track, nearly forty minutes, titled "The Eric Zann Memorial Barbeque", live at Terrastock '97...no doubt Lovecraft's Eric Zann would approve of the cosmic noise conjured here. I'm told that this performance was one of the surprise highlights of the Providence Terrastock, and fans of improvised spacerock can now experience it on their home stereos. Lhasa Cement Plant contains present and former members of noise legends Borbetomagus (the guitarist and ex-electronics guy, to be precise), but do more of a rock thing...
The last time we heard from Lhasa Shore Leave (and the only time come to think of it) was way back in August of 2005, when we had a super limited 3" cd-r, that sold out in no time and had everybody clamoring for more. Finally a year later, we have the just as amazing follow up. Still limited but not as prohibitively limited as the 3".
The sound is similar to the first release, just stretched out, those extra 2 cd inches allowing for plenty of space to stretch out, more space for LSL's buzzing minimal sprawl.
Epic droning ragas assembled from multiple layers of grinding guitar buzz, give way to spacious stretches of ambient tranquility, with distant shimmers and minimal percussive clatter. A mournful melody woven into the slow shifting soundscape before building back into a crackling static hum, pulsing with buzzing static. Elsewhere, gorgeous acoustic guitars drift apart into blurry breathy drifts, and wide expanses of sparkling ambience waver and warble like a desert mirage. So nice. A near perfect batch of blissed out dronedream raga.
Each sleeve hand painted in pink and hand stamped, then treated with sand paper. Every copy is different and each includes a printed color insert.
This is a gorgeous little slab of droning free rock shimmer, twenty minutes of keening, pealing, warm and warbling, fuzzy foggy dream like bliss, Three lengthy tracks of slow moving, slower buliding, barely shifting swirls of warm chordal hum, simple stretched out melodies and trancelike Ur-drone. As good as anything we've heard from Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Pelt, Birchville Cat Motel and the like. Each 3" cd-r comes in a unique hand made fabric sleeve sewn from real Japanese obi's. EXTREMELY LIMITED. HAND NUMBERED. ONLY 50 COPIES MADE. WE GOT A WHOLE BUNCH BUT WILL MOST LIKELY BE UNABLE TO GET MORE!
