We find stuff all the time, tucked away in the close, in the backroom, copies of records that somehow slipped through the cracks, record we hoped to eventually get more of, but eventually forgot about, it's pretty exciting to (re)discover these mysterious releases, even more exciting when we can't for the life of us remember where they came from, who ordered them, or when we actually got them.
Which is the case with this killer split of ultra heavy funereal doom metal, which we've had for almost 5 years, but only just now realized we had never listed. Which is a shame, cuz both these bands are pretty incredible.
Maiden Voyage are from the UK, and traffic in some seriously extreme miserablist doom, not crushingly heavy, as much as depressive and dark, reminding us a bit of Esoteric, that same sort of weird production, spaced out and a little bit brittle, making the sound more druggy and psychedelic, the guitars are still thick and fuzzy, the riffs glacial, the rhythms a snail's pace pound, the vocals a belched demonic grumble, but the melodies are skeletal, and the songs seem to dissipate into near ambience, the riffs ringing out, leaving just ghostly traces of spidery psychedelic guitars, it's actually more like some sort of doom-d slowcore, than any sort of true doom, which is what makes it so cool. Haunting, and creepy and atmospheric and a little bit damaged.
Maiden Voyage are teamed up with another UK funeral doom combo, the awesomely monickered Amaranthine Trampler, whose sound is strikingly similar, which makes sense, as both bands are one man bands, and than one man is THE SAME GUY! Amaranthine Trampler offers up another weirdly lo-fi bit of lumbering bleak misery, the vocals a bit more chantlike, the vocals a little bit more caustic, but overall, still moody and miserable, a bit ambient and abstract, thick swaths of chugging, some almost groove, giving way to grim funereal crawls, and like Maiden Voyage, those spidery psychedelic melodies and the weirdly lo-fi vibe and doom-ed slowcore feel.
Needless to say, if you're a fan of haunting mysterious outsider doom, and depressive ambient grimness, twisted drugginess and damaged black psychedelia, all spread into thick swaths of downtuned creep and crawl, then best snag one of these before they're gone...
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES, each one hand numbered, but since this came out close to 5 years ago, odds are it's undoubtedly out of print by now. We only have 4 or 5 copies, so if you want one, you'll have to move a little faster than either of these guys...
It's been a very long time since Robert Hampson has released a Main album and an even longer time since he's produced a *great* Main album. Ablation changes that, although those who would be expecting the deconstructed hypno-rock of Motion Pool or Hydra-Calm will be disappointed; but those who had followed Hampson's trajectory starting with the last few Main records about a decade ago into spatialized electro-acoustics only to rediscover his infatuation with the drone which finally brought him back to the guitar as a principle instrument will certainly understand where this record is coming from. Hampson is still working at the storied GRM studios in Paris, and there is an infusion of the classic aesthetic of what came out of GRM within Ablation (notably Parmegiani and Ferrari), but at the same time he does link it back, if in a subtle way, to the mesmerism which girded the Main productions in the '90s. That said, any connections to his former group, Loop would be quite a stretch indeed.
On Ablation, Hampson has recruited Stefan Mathieu - a brilliant drone technician in his own right whom we've not heard from in ages - and the pairing works seamlessly, even as it clearly slants towards Hampson's vision of a cold disconnection dispensed in overlapping hissing layers and hypnotic patterns of abstracted sound. The percussive klank of a prepared piano on "I" is a bit of a red herring for what's found throughout Ablation especially on "II" and "III", is a series of slow ellipses of churning guitar drones and golden tonal coronas drifting with all of the uneasy beauty of an android's dream. The closing track "IV" bends along a radiophonic arc with ether crackle and metallic rasping and slow motion pixelations from a sharply rendered synth that forms the coda to the album. Organic. Liquid. Electric. Motorized. Bleak. Holy. All of those adjectives apply to this fantastic album. Welcome back, Main!
Exosphere is Main's second contribution to the ongoing series of VPRO radio commissions, following a three way split with Flying Saucer Attack and White Winged Moth. Robert Hampson launched the Main project over a decade ago, after jettisoning the blackened hypno-rock of his incredible ensemble Loop in favor of a droning deconstruction and ambient isolationism that he qualified as 'drumless space.' A few years after the drums left and Main's structures became more and more abstract, Hampson set his guitar down to collect dust for good, as Main has now become entirely about digital fragmentation with a parallel aesthetic to Janek Shaeffer, Roel Meelkop, and Ekkehard Ehlers. For Exosphere, Hampson began with the recordings of those elements of a journey that are typically uninteresting and often forgotten, such as the taxi cab to the airport or the time waiting at the train station. With all of his DSP filters run amok, very little of those field recordings retain their original banality; instead, they acquire a dynamic expressivity with shivering digital textures, anxious time-stretching ripples, and monolithic drones that have more in common with the holy minimalism of Phil Niblock and LaMonte Young than the digital aersolization of Fennesz. Staalplaat continues their unique packaging of the Mort Aux Vaches series with a single piece of trifolded paper, holding the disc in place with a winged-brad. For Exosphere, Staalplaat cleverly recycles the waxy cardboard from orange juice containers.
When Robert Hampson began exploring "drumless space" through his digitally tricked-out guitarscapes under the guise of Main back in the early '90s, those initial records ("Motion Pool" in particular) were compelling albums of circular hypno-rock riffs spiralling through bleak, ominous drones. On one hand, Main had signified the birth of post-rock alongside other hybrid electronic / rock bands such as Seefeel and Disco Inferno (a couple years before the term got lumped onto Tortoise); yet on the other, Main had inspired the isolationist aesthetic where jack-booted industrialists and grizzled metallers tried their hands at grim ambient constructions. Since then, Main's influence has waned, as people like Jim O'Rourke and Fennesz have upstaged his guitar radicalism; and also as Main's albums have become increasingly more hermetic and less interested in the ideals of rock.
This last reason is obviously why Main got dropped from a sweet deal on Beggars Banquet; but, such opened up a number of possibilities to collaborate with Janek Schaeffer and Antenna Farm, as well as to produce this fine piece of electronic abstraction for (K-raa-k)3. On "Tau," very little is left of anything even closely resembling the timbres, harmonics, and actions of a guitar. It could be quite possible that there is in fact no guitar on this album. Nevertheless, Hampson calmly describes a sonic narrative through discrete samples which recall the alien tonalities of Morton Subotnik's work with the Buchla synthesizer. Loaded with MAX / MSP filters, these individual sounds amass into an icy soundtrack of microphonic detailing.
The evolution of Robert Hampson's career has employed a steady skeletonization of the guitar -- possibly to the point that he doesn't even play guitar anymore on any of his records, but at least to the point where he's producing nothing that resembles a guitar. After dissolving his first band (the incendiary hypno-rock group Loop) and fronting Main, Hampson first dropped all drum tracks, then removed the bass, and gradually shifted towards sampling technologies over the guitar itself. "Transiency" is a short 20 minute EP, released by longtime Main / Loop / Hampson fan Kid 606 on the Tigerbeat 6 label. True to the last couple of releases, Hampson offers studied compositions of electronic minimalism and concrete flourishes that have been clipped against gaping voids of quiet spaces.
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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
It's been a while since Fat Cat offered anything from their outstanding series of split 12" singles, and the much ballyhooed release from laptop-guitarists Main and Fennesz has been well worth the wait. Main -- now solely under the propriety of Robert Hampson -- offers an exceptionally well done set of granular synthesis applied to the source material purported to be guitar drones, bowed cymbals, and homebuilt stringed instruments. Little of the textural sounds of the original remains within Hampson's compositions, which become sterile investigations of microscopic sounds fluctuating with digital crackle. Similarly, Fennesz relies upon digital manipulation to reveal trace elements of guitar driven avant-pop amidst the dominant masses of warm buzzings and electric fractures.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Staalplaat continues their "Mort Aux Vaches" series of commissioned radio broadcasts with this split release between Main, White Winged Moth, and Flying Saucer Attack. These recordings find all three experimental guitarist artists at their quietest and on their best behavior. Flying Saucer Attack gets the most attention with 4 softly played acoustic guitar tracks that are buried underneathe a building wall of reverb -- sort of like the mellower pieces on FSA's recent album "Mirror". Main offers a 15 minute track for treated guitars that is quite active by the standards of Robert Hampson's increasingly inaudible outfit. Tiny samples of malfunctioning guitar cables and soft scrapes on the strings repeat throughout the composition along with a bell like tonal drone. White Winged Moth (aka New Zealander Dean Roberts) also presents a 15 minute piece, with his humid guitar drones. Altogether this is an excellent compilation of work.
The "Psychedelic Solid Free Attack Group" from Tokyo return on the legendary Psychedelic Speed Freaks label with five scorching new tracks. Mainliner this time around are bassist/vocalist Nanjo (High Rise, Toho Sara, etc. etc.), guitarist Kawabata (Acid
CLEAR VINYL! Limited release!!
Back in '97, when this utterly distorted slab of Japanese psychrock was originally released on compact disc, we were perhaps a little bit more succinct in our reviews than we are now, saying simply in two sentences:�
Nanjo, Kawabata and Yoshida return, with another blast of High Rise-style psychedelic riffery. Turn it up past, like, "2", and give your stereo speakers a few final thrilling moments before they fry.
Still true! Perhaps, for those just tuning in, we should add that Asahito Nanjo is the bassist from legendary PSF-label psychedelic speed freaks High Rise, Makoto Kawabata is of course the hairy bearded "motor psycho" guitarist from the beloved Acid Mothers Temple, and Tatsuya Yoshida is the eight-armed drummer from Magmoid prog duo Ruins, just to mention the primary crucial underground Tokyo acts these cats have been involved in. Mainliner Sonic was the trio's 3rd album, give or take a cd-r or cassette or two, if we've got the chronology correct. And it's just one of two Mainliner efforts with Yoshida on the drums, a lineup that happened to be identical to that of another, more spazzed out band, Musica Transonic.�
At a little more than a half hour in length, these five tracks represent a typical in-the-red session of Mainliner's more Les Rallizes Denudes than thou loud garage psych improv groove mayhem. Really, you've heard of "fuzz monsters"? This is, like, fully 94 percent fuzz, almost like a blast of Merzbowian noise, with some crashing drums and raucous riffing and squiggly soloing buried beneath. Totally trance inducing. All the noisiest garagiest bands today PLAYING AT THE SAME TIME might not be able to top this. For fans of Acid Eater for sure!!!
The cd version has been out of print for years (though we hear rumors of a reissue on a Chinese label...) so it's even awesomer to have this vinyl edition on new label Assommer (run by one of the guys from the LA psych band OGOD, currently on tour in the USA with Acid Mothers Temple).
At last, a reissue of the debut album from Japanese heavy psych trio Mainliner. It came out on Charnel Music in '96, but has been out of print for a long while now and with its unavailability has grown in stature. Of course, it's a great record, the one that Acid Mothers Temple were trying to emulate on their recent "Electric Heavyland" set. And yep, it does feature AMT's Kawabata Makoto on 'motorpsycho' guitar, along with free jazzer Hajime Koizumi on drums and bassist Nanjo Asahito of the legendary High Rise. Mainliner always was just a slight variant on the High Rise template (themselves a variant on the Les Rallizes Denudes template it seems), formed originally by Nanjo 'cause his High Rise bandmates were averse to touring and he wanted to take his rock on the road, or so the story goes. Anyway, this disc was Mainliner's first and best, all players outdoing themselves in the realms of psychedelic heavy garage improv distortion overload. So, if you missed it the first time around, now's your chance to experience this classic. It's nice to have it back in just 'cause now we're listening to it again and we'd forgotten how great it is. Rock!
MPEG Download: "Black Sky" [/audio/mainlinerblack.mp3]
The new cd from Japanese psychedelic power trio MAINLINER is actually a reissue of their previously vinyl-only Psychedelic Polyhedron LP from back in '97, which was MAINLINER's second album, though a lot of folks never saw it. At last it's now on cd for all you MAINLINER fans who missed out on that long-gone import vinyl. Huh? No, I'm not shouting at you. It's just that putting MAINLINER in all-caps seems like a fitting way to indicate how loud and distorted and blown-out and in-the-red these guys are. But you know that already. Alongside bassist Asahito Nanjo's other band High Rise these guys are the kings of Japanese garage acid fuzz speedfreak heavy psych, pretty much. Though, actually, on this record, the original two side-long cuts, "Show The Cloven Hoof" and "Cardinal Virtues", were slightly less bludgeoning than usual Mainliner fare, being dark, meandering improvs closer to another of Nanjo's projects, Ohkami No Jikan, than to the pedal-to-the-metal rock insanity of, say, Mainliner's perversely titled debut Mellow Out. But compared to almost anything else they're certainly over-the-top. And this compact disc reish includes a bonus third track also from '97, a riffier ten-minute rocker called "Solid Static" if somehow you need an adrenaline kick after those first two 20 minute tracks. In case you're curious, the line-up for this particular Mainliner album is the same as yet another of Nanjo's bands, Musica Transonic, the trio consisting of Nanjo with guitarist Makoto Kawabata (Acid Mothers Temple) and drummer Tatsuya Yoshida (Ruins)!
In some Spinal Tapped version of mythology, the gods of rock and roll, of noise, of distortion, of turning amps up to 11 and melting faces, having once said "let there be rock!", recently must have looked down in dismay from the heavens (where they dwell in castles made of ROCK, which float on puffy clouds generated by fog machines) upon their creation and found something in today's music scene sorely lacking. Where was the primal motorpsycho fuzz feedback rock freakery they originally had commanded? Not nearly enough of it about (and heck, even too much would never be enough). So, they summoned their loyal servitor, The Bearded One, Kawabata Makoto. As lead guitarist/guru of trippy Japanese jammers Acid Mothers Temple, Kawabata has always been a devout worshipper, doing the bidding of the gods with many, many Acid Mothers shows and releases month in and month out. But now he was called upon to do something more - to resurrect the mighty MAINLINER, power trio to end all power trios, and teach a lesson in transcendental distorto-delic mayhem to all mankind. And, lo, faithful Kawabata has not failed in this holy task!
Thus, Mainliner is back, with Revelation Space. It's been over a dozen years since the last proper Mainliner release, 2001's Imaginative Plain cd on PSF, and even longer since Mainliner made their debut with the unbeatable classic Mellow Out. The lineup has changed - in fact it's important to note that this is specifically billed as Kawabata Makoto's Mainliner, 'cause originally he was just the young hotshot guitarist in the band, which was in fact founded by bassist/vocalist Nanjo Asahito of the legendary High Rise, as an almost doppelganger version of that trio so Nanjo could go out on tour when High Rise couldn't. But now, for whatever reason, Nanjo's no longer participating in the band, presumably having given Kawabata his blessing to carry on with the name and mission. Kawabe Taigen, from new wave Japanese psych band Bo Ningen, has been chosen to replace him; and in addition to holding down the rumbling bottom end, he manages to emulate Nanjo's droning otherworldy croon quite capably.
They've had several different drummers on various releases (including Tatsuya Yoshida of Ruins); the drummer here, Koji Shimura, is from AMT, has played in High Rise and many other "Tokyo Flashback" acts, and appears on several previous Mainliner releases including Imaginative Plain. Thankfully, as it turns out, the "new" Mainliner is just as over-the-top and in-the-red as the old Mainliner ever was, maybe more!! They took this seriously - it's not just yet another freaky Kawabata album (as good as they always are), nope.
The opening title track drops the listener in at the deep end and then some, immediately unleashing insane blown out crumble and stutter, the guitar sounding like it's being run through an effects box labeled both Brainbombs AND Faxed Head, but then when it's wed to simple motorik drumming, and hazy, soft focus vox, the combination is strangely beautiful. Beautiful, too, the blurts of feedback shriek, the echo-drenched squalls, the chaotic drum splatter. Really, it's less about the songs, and more about the sound. If stripped of the insanely distorted guitars, this iteration of Mainliner would be a whole different, less beastly beast. And sure, white noise psych guitar freakouts were always a (big) part of Mainliner, but the sounds here seem so much more extreme, the guitarnoise utterly relentless, the whole record wreathed in a crackly field of malfunctioning guitar / damaged amp buzz skree, almost like something Editions Mego would put out, that caustic and corrosive.
But still, let's talk about the songs. The two-minute blast of "D.D.D" is like Aufgehoben doing a Stooges cover, playing through mile high Marshall stacks, and plugged into a daisy chain of dead battery stomp boxes, this time the maniacal vocals matching Kawabata's wild noise-shred with some seriously acrobatic, near falsetto wailing. Even the 'prettier' songs, like "Taitan", find Kawabata wrapping the tribal rhythms and swoonsome shimmer in wild tangled ribbons of strangled, distorto shred and stuttering, glitched out axe frenzy, so the prettiness is not just buried, but obliterated, or so it seems, until that guitarnoise is momentarily peeled back, eventually revealing the hushed mesmer still lurking just beneath the surface. "The Dispossessed" (found on the cd only) could be some classic proto-metal groover, with its busy drumming and woozy, bluesy groove, but there, the guitars seem to explode from within, a grinding blast of Hendrixian shreddery fused to Butthole Surfers style psychedelic freakery, again balanced by some truly haunting, ethereal vox.
And then there's the final track "New Sun", a 20+ minute epic, that begins with a gnarled churn of super distorted riffage, wrapped around an almost 'funky drummer' beat, those drifting spectral vocals hovering over the top, the band locked into a weird warped groove, a lurching metallic blues stomp, that about 4 minutes in slows down to a dirgey crawl, around the same time the guitars explode into some seriously heart of the sun super nova style fretboard freakery! And when they return to the main riff, the guitar is somehow even more distorted and blown out, and they cycle through the song proper one more time, before finishing off with 8 minutes of utter in-the-red cosmic guitar god freakout, with Kawabata flying high, his axe spitting sparks, the drums and bass buried beneath an avalanche of some of the freakiest, fantastically fucked up, psychedelic leads ever, building to a finale that cranks the drums to a frantic gallop, the bass thrumming fiercely, all within a swirling sonic cloud of Kawabata's amp destroying, soul searing psych-drone shred. Whew!!
The gods must be pleased. Any Mainliner fan will be too. But this is NOT just for Kawabata/AMT/Mainliner fanboys, excited though those folks should be. Nope, 'cause there's at least one aQ staffer who realized after hearing this that they NEEDED, but didn't have, all the previous Mainliner albums. You might too, and this would certainly make a good place to begin your lifetime of worship.
Not sure what the future holds for Kawabata Makoto's Mainliner, 'cause Kawabe Taigen's Bo Ningen band is based in London, where they seem to be making a name for themselves, collaborating with the Savages and such (we'll try to track down some imports by the way). But even if this is all we get out of this trio for another 12 years, it will suffice - it just might take that long for our ears to recover!!
As some of you mighty recall, the vinyl version of this was originally meant to be a Record Store Day release this year - they didn't get it pressed in time, so it was bumped back, but it's still hella limited - 500 copies for the world, either white or swamp green vinyl, released on what we're gonna call Mainliner Day. We've got about a dozen left and that's gonna be it. The good news is, though, that the compact disc version, which isn't quite so limited, contains a 9 and a half minute bonus track, the aforementioned "The Dispossessed". Other differences: the vinyl sleeve is black with gold print, while the cd comes in a white miniature lp-style sleeve likewise with gold print. And graphically, both kind of look a lot like Mellow Out, doubtless quite intentionally.
Not sure why this record is so appealing, but it just is. It's big and dumb and fun and crazy and silly. Fairly sure it's a send up of the current MTV party hip hop sound, from bumping big beats, to slow jams to Mariah Carey sort of stuff. But it's so perfect it could easily fool fans of the real thing. Which I suppose is the point. Reminds me a lot of the N.E.R.D. record, all relentless driving beats and buzzing synth lines with goofy singing/rapping. Kind of lo-fi but you can tell it would sound bumpin' in your boomin' system. A big wild party, a big messy sloppy mix of all sorts of sounds: Missy Elliot, L'Trimm, Miami bass, two step garage, Vanity 6, and all sorts of crap. There's even a sort-of-cover of the Pet Shop Boy's 'Opportunity'. Weird. And the lyrics are so goddamn funny. The slow jams do get a bit much as the record progresses, but there's a couple wicked tracks that make the whole thing pretty worth while. I'm functioning completely under the assumption that this is all a perfectly calculated/executed joke, but if it's not a joke, it's almost even funnier.
MPEG Download: "Piranha Party (Gentrification Party)" [/audio/majesticonspiranha.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Piranha Party (Gentrification Party)" [/audio/majesticonspiranha.m3u]
Prepare to be soothed and elated. Here's the second album from Majeure, aka A.E. Paterra, one half of Zombi. (FYI, the other half of Zombi, Steve Moore, also has a new solo album out, Light Echoes on Cuneiform, that we'll hopefully have reviewed for you next time around!)
Any longtime aQ customer knows we're big Zombi fans, and of the duo's respective solo work too. In fact, the first Majeure album, Timespan, was a Record Of The Week. So this new one, well, it's great, that's a given really. But beyond that, we're have a hard time coming up with stuff to say about it. What to add to what we've said already about Majeure's brand of propulsive, synth-laden, spacey instrumentals? (Of Timespan, we wrote: "Sprawling spaced out sci-fi electronic minimal kraut disco epics of the highest order. Fusing the creepy film music of Vangelis and John Carpenter with the pulsing hypnotic minimalism of Steve Reich or Philip Glass, even some propulsive motorik Can style krautrock, all woven into sprawling spaced out psychedelic futuristic retro faux film music, layered synths, looped melodies, and a killer mix of programmed rhythms and live drumming".) This new disc is a bit less sprawling, with only one of the six songs breaking into the double-digits duration-wise. And the mood is perhaps lighter and lovelier. But otherwise, what? We will stress that A.E. Paterra really knows what he's doing. (Moore too, on his discs.) This is well-crafted, retro cosmic shimmering synth bliss with some groove, yeah. We're lovin' it. It's like New Age disco music, and we mean that in a good way.
Ok, why not let's list all the gear Paterra is credited with playing on this: "drums, Moog Source, Moog Voyager OS, Kawai SX-240, Korg Lambda, Korg Polysix, Roland Alpha Juno 2 + Roland PG-300, Arp Omni II, Ursa Major Space Station, Mu-Tron Bi Phase, and an old German plate reverb". You don't even have to know what all that stuff is to get an idea about what this album is like. But gadgetry aside, what's more important is, like we said, Paterra knows how to use all those synths to make truly mesmeric music, that sounds both authentic and enjoyable.
Majeure's retro-vision isn't limited to the music - the art and graphic design is nostalgically spot-on. In fact, while there will be a vinyl lp release of this (which was bumped back a bit), the compact disc is the way to go anyway, on account of how they've replicated the '80s look, including the text explaining the superior performance of the Compact Disc Digital Audio System, and how to care for your new cd ("If you follow these suggestions, the Compact Disc will provide a lifetime of pure listening enjoyment"), which proudly bears the DDD code meaning a digital tape recorder was used for recording, mixing and mastering. At the same time, the cover looks like it's been reduced down from an lp-sized original, everything in tiny type, the tracklist divided between a side 1 and side 2. Nice.
Majeure is the drumming half of electronic sci-fi prog synth duo Zombi, and explores similar territory on his 3 song debut. A measly 3 songs you say? Yeah, but 3 songs in 42 minutes! That's right, sprawling spaced out sci-fi electronic minimal kraut disco epics of the highest order. Fusing the creepy film music of Vangelis and John Carpenter with the pulsing hypnotic minimalism of Steve Reich or Philip Glass, even some propulsive motorik Can style krautrock, all woven into sprawling spaced out psychedelic futuristic retro faux film music, layered synths, looped melodies, and a killer mix of programmed rhythms and live drumming, the vibe is ominous and epic, so evocative, it's impossible not to imagine some sort of insane fight in zero gravity, jump suited androids grappling amidst a strange neon latticework, or some futuristic car chase, through dimly lit streets, a grim crumbling futureworld, where the outcome of said chase will determine the fate of humanity.
The opener, the awesomely sci-fi named "The Dresden Codex", is a total future space disco kraut jam, the first half a throbbing mesmerizing krautdronesynthscape, eventually, bass drifts in as does awesomely fuzzy bass synth, the melodies dramatic and epic, a slow build that gets more and more intense before fading out into a stripped down moody bit of synthy drift, before exploding back into action, the live drums going nuts, suddenly it sounds a bit like a way more sci-fi Trans Am too, with a little M83 fuzz thrown in for good measure. "Teleforce" is all afternoon special straight to video science fiction, with its throbbing low end synth, and simple drumming, but the sound quickly gets thicker and more dense, and all ominous and intense, thick layers of rumble and whir over that machinelike pulse, then in come soaring strings, and after a brief bit of tension building Carpenter like spaced out minimalism, a lazer battle ensues, the track churning and chugging amidst a sky full of swirling effects and lazerblast-like pyew-pyew-pyew's...
Finally, the album finishes off with the 18+ minute "Timespan", beginning with a cloud of rumbles and whirs, before the sky fills with flecks of synth and space-y FX, a haunting bit of Logan's Run ambience, before the track slips right back into some groovy eighties sci fi synth disco, and for the next 10+ minutes, we're careening though a neon lit future world, battling on dancefloors, soaring between strange obelisk like structures, dodging lazer fire, running for our lives from lumbering robots, and finally destroying the mainframe and liberating the human race, all to the strains of some of the coolest, retro sci-fi sounds since, well, since these sounds weren't really retro at all.
Making an awesome album even awesomer, the cd version (but not, sadly, the vinyl) comes with a bonus remix disc (reissuing an out of print 12"), featuring reinterpretations of the album tracks by Steve Moore (the other half of Zombi), Justin Broadrick of Jesu, and Black Strobe. Moore takes "Timespan" and roughs it up a bit, giving it a more bruised, darkened and ominous cast, still an eighties soundtrack, but this time it's some dark foreign film, death more imminent, the end of civilization a foregone conclusion, but this is the sound of a ragtag group of survivors, hurling themselves into the void, on a desperate quest to save the universe, all to the strains of a pulsing Goblin / Carpenter score. Broadrick takes "Teleforce", and does something to it, hard to say exactly what, but suddenly it sounds like a warped Moroder post rock remix 12" spinning off kilter, warbly and hypnotic, eventually blissing out, more and more minimal and skeletal and softly psychedelic, before a bad ass dubby last few minutes, thumping muted rhythms, underpinning eighties new wave synths, and clouds of M83 style haze, a fucking killer groove that would seal the deal had the deal not already been WELL sealed. And finally, Black Strobe rework "The Dresden Codex" into something much more house-y and minimal, a sort of gleaming late night futuristic drift through mysterious silvery danceclubs, and exclusive penthouse parties, everything prismatic and blurred by a space age cocktail of psychotropics, a night spent cavorting in your gleaming surrogate body, your consciousness painting the town red, while your physical form sits safely in stasis at home, this is the sound of that soul shearing, head spinning rush, as an entire night's debauchery is downloaded in a 17 minute timelapse sonic injection, a heady, hypnotic, burst of electronic color. So rad.
The double compact disc comes in a super fancy, oversized mini lp style gatefold sleeve. And the vinyl version, also gatefold packaged, includes a digital download so you can iPod it.
Recently reissued as a bonus disc accompanying Majeures's Timespan full length, these three tracks were originally available as a 12", featuring reinterpretations of the album tracks by Steve Moore (the other half of Zombi), Justin Broadrick of Jesu, and Black Strobe.
Moore takes "Timespan" and roughs it up a bit, giving it a more bruised, darkened and ominous cast, still an eighties soundtrack, but this time it's some dark foreign film, death more imminent, the end of civilization a foregone conclusion, but this is the sound of a ragtag group of survivors, hurling themselves into the void, on a desperate quest to save the universe, all to the strains of a pulsing Goblin / Carpenter score. Broadrick takes "Teleforce", and does something to it, hard to say exactly what, but suddenly it sounds like a warped Moroder post rock remix 12" spinning off kilter, warbly and hypnotic, eventually blissing out, more and more minimal and skeletal and softly psychedelic, before a bad ass dubby last few minutes, thumping muted rhythms, underpinning eighties new wave synths, and clouds of M83 style haze, a fucking killer groove that would seal the deal had the deal not already been WELL sealed. And finally, Black Strobe rework "The Dresden Codex" into something much more house-y and minimal, a sort of gleaming late night futuristic drift through mysterious silvery danceclubs, and exclusive penthouse parties, everything prismatic and blurred by a space age cocktail of psychotropics, a night spent cavorting in your gleaming surrogate body, your consciousness painting the town red, while your physical form sits safely in stasis at home, this is the sound of that soul shearing, head spinning rush, as an entire night's debauchery is downloaded in a 17 minute timelapse sonic injection, a heady, hypnotic, burst of electronic color. So rad.
We weren't at all sure what to make of this at first. Apparently there's been some degree of hype around these guys, the usual 'next big thing' stuff, of which we were blissfully unaware, instead we threw Impersonator on having no idea what to expect, and initially we were a little perplexed, faced with a moody, minimal drift, underpinning some big, super dramatic vocals, a world weary emotional croon, draped over a strange swirl of layered and looped vocal fragments, we were almost immediately mesmerized. The strange thing is that it landed at aQ right around the same time as two other sonically similar records, both reviewed elsewhere on this week's list. One is the Mayerling, which is another sort of slow croon minimal pop record, but that one is more electronic, and there's the new Dean Blunt, which also recasts his/their sound as something more darkly and electronically croony.
And while we dig all three of these records, there's definitely something special, and yeah, majical, about this record, hushed and haunting and heartfelt, the melodies aching, and in their own way timeless, the musical accompaniment so minimal in some cases, as to be nearly not there, a whispery organ whir, a chordal smear blurred into a soft focus drone, but elsewhere, beats percolate and surface, synths swirl, sounds blossom into prismatic flurries, sounds crumble and fade, at least one song sounds like some old eighties new wave ballad, but for the most part, these are dark, mysterious modern minimal torch songs, the vocals the focus, and the driving force, the melodies gorgeous and unforgettable, we're reminded of Scott Walker, Ian McCulloch from Echo & The Bunnymen, Midge Ure of Ultravox and even more so, the more we listen to Impersonator, the more it sounds like it could actually be the sonic sketch for a much bigger, more bombastic record. From the choruses, the arrangements, the vocals, even the minimal instrumentation, it's easy to imagine reworking this songs with buzzing guitars and pounding drums, sheets of synth buzz, which might be why they're so effective in this much more minimal form. It actually sounds like these could be tracks by groups like the Editors, or Interpol, or The National, with all the elements stripped away, leaving just the bare minimum, and somehow retaining the dark energy, the emotional heft and musical intensity of 'the original'.
A truly strange, and truly wonderful record, one that we've been listening to almost non stop since it came in. And for some of us, already a definite contender for our end of the year best of 2013 list...
The recent instore by this Canadian duo was a total stunner, their broody, minimal electro pop balladry sounding just as good live as on record, with the added strangeness of a vocalist who looked like he should be fronting a hardcore band, shaved head, boots, white t-shirt, grasping the microphone with a steely gaze, but those vocals immediately transformed him into a very unlikely balladeer.
"Turns Turns Turns" might be one of our favorites from their debut full length, Impersonator, and maybe the least minimal of the bunch, with programmed beats, a woozy vocal loop, lush and layered, those deeply dramatic vocals, intense and emotional, classic pop through a modern minimal filter, folks who have yet to check out Impersonator, give this a listen, and see if you aren't as smitten as we are. And being that smitten, had us frustrated that the group only had that one full length. So we were super excited that there was a 12" with three additional non-album tracks. So beyond "Turns Turns Turns", there's also "What That Was", which is much more lo-fi, all buzzing synths and primitive Casio rhythms, but then the vocals swoop in, and it's pure Majic. Fans of Magnetic Fields should definitely check these guys out, could be your new favorite band.
The flipside starts off with another more lo-fi jam, simple programmed beats, a dreamy piano refrain, some swirly ghostly vox, and a strangely psychedelic high end melody near the end, but it's the next track, "I Want To Warn You", which makes this woth grabbing, broody and buzzy, moody and darkly dramatic, like a demo version of a track that SHOULD have been included on Impersonator, and a song that helps hold us over until there's finally more Majical Clouds to be had...
NOW ON VINYL!!
We love dancehall, the beat, the rhythms, the toasting especially, the lurching hypnotic groove of it, but what we, and lots of other folks have always had trouble with, was the lyrical content, the whole scene in fact, rife with violence, and homophobia and misogyny, much like American hip hop, but even more fucked up and seriously unpalatable.
So much so that plenty of folks around aQ land who might otherwise dig dancehall big time, have sworn off it completely. UNTIL NOW.
Diplo and Switch, bring their twisted and tweaked approach to beats and grooves, and whip up one the wildest, craziest dancehall records EVER. And what better way to thumb their noses at traditional dancehall than by getting a whole gaggle of female rappers and toasters to team up with the more well know male Jamaican dancehall vocalists, often verbally sparring back and forth in the same song. The sound is supercharged, electrifying, the beats banging, the samples bizarre but perfect, a tangled technicolor musical backdrop over which the vocalists do their THANG.
Morricone-esque guitars, the clip clop of horse hooves, ringing cell phones, horse whinnies, dizzying looped rhythms, a killer stuttery beat, tons of woozy low end, everything chopped and hiccuppy, an awesome deep growly bit of toasting, and some cool looped Santigold vox, before she gets to spit her own bad ass verse, and that's just the first song.
The whole disc destroys though, relentless non stop hip shaking head bobbing sweaty sexy speaker destroying musical magic, some tracks bliss out into some sunshiney reggae grooviness, all laid back, infused with some awesome smoky sultry vox, other tracks get raw and rough, with buzzing guitars and fuzzed out bass lines, plenty of clatter and crunch, others are fizzly and festive, with vocodered vocals and skittery beats, and still others are dense tightly wound jams, drenched in effects and tangled up with rollicking block rocking beats and squiggly melodies. Even as an instrumental record, this would kill, but the vocalists push it over the top, tongue twisting flows all over the place, lightning fast sputters, growly drawls, head spinning back and forth and of course plenty of whoops and whooooooos...
Summer dancehall party record of the year for sure, with awesome Major Lazer cartoon cover art, very reminiscent of the classic old Scientist albums!! So recommended. Every time we play this in the store, someone comes up to see what the heck it is!
We love dancehall, the beat, the rhythms, the toasting especially, the lurching hypnotic groove of it, but what we, and lots of other folks have always had trouble with, was the lyrical content, the whole scene in fact, rife with violence, and homophobia and misogyny, much like American hip hop, but even more fucked up and seriously unpalatable.
So much so that plenty of folks around aQ land who might otherwise dig dancehall big time, have sworn off it completely. UNTIL NOW.
Diplo and Switch, bring their twisted and tweaked approach to beats and grooves, and whip up one the wildest, craziest dancehall records EVER. And what better way to thumb their noses at traditional dancehall than by getting a whole gaggle of female rappers and toasters to team up with the more well know male Jamaican dancehall vocalists, often verbally sparring back and forth in the same song. The sound is supercharged, electrifying, the beats banging, the samples bizarre but perfect, a tangled technicolor musical backdrop over which the vocalists do their THANG.
Morricone-esque guitars, the clip clop of horse hooves, ringing cell phones, horse whinnies, dizzying looped rhythms, a killer stuttery beat, tons of woozy low end, everything chopped and hiccuppy, an awesome deep growly bit of toasting, and some cool looped Santigold vox, before she gets to spit her own bad ass verse, and that's just the first song.
The whole disc destroys though, relentless non stop hip shaking head bobbing sweaty sexy speaker destroying musical magic, some tracks bliss out into some sunshiney reggae grooviness, all laid back, infused with some awesome smoky sultry vox, other tracks get raw and rough, with buzzing guitars and fuzzed out bass lines, plenty of clatter and crunch, others are fizzly and festive, with vocodered vocals and skittery beats, and still others are dense tightly wound jams, drenched in effects and tangled up with rollicking block rocking beats and squiggly melodies. Even as an instrumental record, this would kill, but the vocalists push it over the top, tongue twisting flows all over the place, lightning fast sputters, growly drawls, head spinning back and forth and of course plenty of whoops and whooooooos...
Summer dancehall party record of the year for sure, with awesome Major Lazer cartoon cover art, very reminiscent of the classic old Scientist albums!! So recommended. Every time we play this in the store, someone comes up to see what the heck it is!
Most of us were big fans of the Major Lazer full length from last year, but even those of us who didn't totally fall in love with with it are going crazy about this new ep of remixes especially the banging new track with M.I.A. that leads it all off. Major Lazer is the blasting, dance inducing, dancehall influenced project of master producers Diplo and Switch and with folks like Buraka Som Sistema and Thom Yorke giving them the remix treatment this is start to finish adrenaline pumping, body moving blasts of ecstasy. If we were hired as party planners for someone looking to put on a rager that we would want to lose our minds at we would urge them to blast this so loud loud followed by other smoking new releases from M.I.A., Omar Souleyman, and maybe that Shangaan Electro compilation of killer new South African dance jams. Maybe part of the magic is that it's an ep which makes this so perfect, there is no overkill or filler or duds. Every single second hits so damn right. And as cheap as it's priced this one is a no brainer!
Here's guitarists Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggars again with their third album under the Major Stars moniker, after working together previously in such similarily-psychedelic bands as Crystalized Movements, Magic Hour, B.O.R.B., and the not-to-be-forgotten Wormdoom.
As you might expect from these Terrastock rock heroes, "Distant Effects" features a lot of nimble psych guitar solos, dirty with effects and wanky (very Hendrix like). The drumming, also, is big and bombastic. We like a lot of this, except, as unfortunately tends to be the case with Mr. Rogers' stuff, for the vocals. His lackluster pipes project a sincere indie-boy dullness, without being heartbreaking or special enough to excuse. Aside from that drawback, "Distant Effects" is a fine album for fans of 60's inspired psych guitar jamming (which is what happens a few minutes into each track once Wayne shuts up and the band starts to cook), with a great recording sound and a varied style from song to song, of which there are just four, reaching a bit over a half hour, culminating in the 14 minutes and 45 seconds of "Elephant", which sees the Major Stars really stretching out with some righteous heaviness. On Squealer, where it seems to belong, seeing as how that label is also home to several High Rise and Acid Mothers Temple releases!
Not quite, unfortunately.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Kate Biggar and Wayne Rogers of Crystallized Movements, Magic Hour, and the highly-regarded Twisted Village label and store.
Now on cd, the 2nd Major Stars album (with bonus track from an out of print 12"). This record starts off innocuously enough but by the time the last track "Dream of the Accidental Bird" reaches its tenth minute, you're in distortion heaven. 1/2 instrumental, the first "side" with singing, the second saying "the heck with that, let's jam!" and thus without. Either way, the psychrawk blow-out factor is in full effect as one might expect from anything having to do with guitarist Wayne Rogers (Crystallized Movements, Magic Hour, etc.).
Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggar of Magic Hour and Vermonster team up with two other fine gentlemen as the Major Stars.
Finally, the return of an all time AQ favorite black horde, the Danish master of depressive suicidal black metal, and certainly the most aptly named, Make A Change... Kill Yourself. It's been 2 years, but feels like an eternity since we've heard from the fellow named Ynleborgaz, and his not so merry one man band. The self titled debut was an across the board record of the year around these parts. So dark and miserable, but so gorgeously buzzing and epic, one of the greatest slabs of Burzumic mayhem we had heard, well, since Burzum hung up his axe and extinguished the torches and traded it all in for a cell, white power and some synthesizers.
The vinyl only (so far at least, cd supposedly to follow eventually) II is the perfect follow up, two more lengthy stretches of bleak black miserablism, wrapped in dense swaths of thick buzz, and rife with the most gorgeous, anguished melancholy melodies ever. Two tracks, each taking up a whole side of the lp, and each an epic journey, sonically and emotionally.
Side one begins with forlorn guitar melodies drifting beneath a black cloud of crumbling sound, minor key pianos, an aching funereal lament, that drifts gently along while a distant black buzz slowly encroaches, eventually becoming a blackened wash of blown out depressive misery, blasting double kick drums and teeth gnashing wails over a relentless, midtempo buzzing blurry lope, Burzumic and EPIC, trancelike and crushingly depressing. Gloriously sad and heartbroken but simultaneously brutal and furious and grim. Part way through, the black curtains are drawn back, revealing a slow swirl of acoustic guitar, crooned clean vocals and monk-like chants, a calm drift through the eye of the storm, only to be sucked back down into a black pit of endless torment shortly thereafter, launching back into a looped trancelike buzzscape, the riffs cyclical and repetitive, so completely mesmerizing and utterly and brutally epic.
The flipside bursts immediately and full on into a blast of black buzz, relentless riffing, blown out blast beats, so grim and frosty, before slipping into some near ambient dronescapes of drawn out buzzing drone guitar, and super processed, ominously intoned vocals, a weird almost Wolf Eyes-ian soundscape, brooding and mysterious. Eventually, the music builds back into a monstrous, beautiful, seemingly endless stretch of hypnotic riffs and simple pounding drums, a sort of black buzz drone, that just goes on and on and on, lulling the listener, into some cold dark place, a dark deathlike drift, floating along on a dense swell of buzzing guitars, and some of the most gorgeously melancholic melodies EVER.
So goddamn good. Depressive suicidal black metal record of the year? Without a doubt. Black metal record of the year? Quite possibly...
Pressed on super heavy vinyl, housed in thick jacket, the lp in a printed inner sleeve.
It's very rare that a band name cuts so succinctly to the heart of what a band is all about. So perfectly encapsulating the hate and misery and blackness of the music. Thus we have Make A Change Kill... Yourself, certainly doesn't trip off the tongue, but it's not supposed to, like the music, and the sentiments behind it, nothing here is supposed to be easy, or happy or joyful. It's meant to be hard, brutal, sad, dismal, hopeless, miserable. And it is, but on such a massively grand and epic scale it's sort of breathtaking. Huge mournful minor key swirls of buzzing guitars, ultra depressive and and strangely melancholy. Mostly midtempo, often trudging into downright doom, occasionally bursting into brief blasts of furious thrashing, but never for long, always settling back into a seething lurching blackened lament. Massive stretched out epics, the shortest track clocking in at 14 minutes, the longest pushing 30. Relentless double kicks beneath a black flow of downtuned Burzumic buzz, thick and rich and dense and dark, so emotional and intense, fuzz atop buzz atop blur atop whir, swaying and loping hypnotically. This takes the very best parts of Burzum and Xasthur and other blackened depressives to the next level, introducing a massive and majestic Godspeed element, as well as some incredibly catchy melodies, albeit still appropriately raw and black and grim, but they manage to float wraithlike, endlessly in your ears, in your brain, in your soul, like the ghost of a memory, a weird feeling of sadness and loss, that sticks in your head just as much as the bleak and somber melodies. Very rare for any music, let alone buzzy blurry black metal. Incredibly poignant, ambient interludes, ghostly female vocals, strange drone-y breakdowns, mysterious chimes and swells, brief glimpses of desolate soundscapes, all serving, along with the almighty BUZZ, to lead us even further down that dark path to nothingness.
BLACK METAL RECORD OF THE YEAR for sure!
Ex-Nation of Ulysses exiled to the garage. Ex-Sassiest Boy in America Ian Svenonius is the artist who wishes to be known as Prince.
Spock haircuts, tight pants, white leather belts and a 'missed-the-point' white suburban take on James Brown.
The Make-Up were so much of what was great about indie rock in the '90s. Their commitment to all-ages shows, putting on a totally spirited and performative show, their release of a multitude of 7" singles, their aim at infusing some soul and propaganda into an all too stiff scene was such a welcome respite. Those of us who remember seeing them live know what an amazing spectacle their live shows were. Ian Svenonius channeled his inner preacher meets James Brown meets RFTC's John Reis for a concoction that oozed with charisma and infectious presence. Several years before bands like The Hives and White Stripes were coordinating their outfits and creating mystique with their presence, The Make Up were doing that with a brilliantly uniform vision and execution while keeping their hearts and principles deeply rooted in the underground, by always playing all-ages shows and keeping those door prices low. Taking their Nation Of Ulysses Dischord roots and adding some much needed ass shaking and soul sounding spirit into the equation.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Wow. I had no idea the Makers sounded like this now. They got some really schnazzy production which only serves to make them sound all generic 80's college rock, sort of like the Replacements on a very, very bad day. And then there's even a ballad or two? Whatthufuck? This just sounds... sad and pathetic, like Bon Jovi or something. What happened tough guy? Gone all soft? Yuck.
With their newest record (a sort of stupid concept record), The Makers come across as much more glam than abusive, with lots of rhinestones, teased hair, and big Elton John sunglasses. Notorious in the past for getting themselves into a brawls with other bands and audience members, they seem to have redirected more of their energy and aggression into their style and music. Crank it up, flashy bad boys.
All right, before we go naming the debut album from San Francisco's The Makes Nice the #1 Pop Album Of The Summer Even Though It's Barely February Already, full disclosure: we do happen to know these guys. An especially good friend of ours is guitarist/vocalist Josh Smith, whom you too probably know from some other bands of his in the past -- he used to play lead guitar in the The Fucking Champs, and also was integral to the legendary SF black metal band Weakling! So after Josh quit the Champs a few years ago, you can imagine our reaction when, eventually, he told us that his next band project was gonna be a power pop, power trio -- with him singing as well as playing guitar! That's pretty far from the instrumental metal of The Champs, or the epic evil of Weakling, eh?? But damn if he didn't pull it off!
Teamed up with Aaron Burnham (of The Mothballs) on bass and vocals, and Jack Matthew (of Harold Ray Live In Concert) on drums, Josh's new band has not only only blown us away with their live shows but now present their killer debut album, the cryptically-titled Candy Wrapper And Twelve Other Songs. The thirteen tracks here run about 31 and a half minutes -- most of 'em not even hitting the 2 minute mark. But each is crammed with so much blazing pop energy in the vein of freakbeat, psych-pop heroes of yesteryear who populate compilations like the Nuggets 2 box set (they'll tell you themselves) that it's got enough head-nodding, foot-tapping hooks for an album twice its length, and could power a full on ballroom blitz to boot.
Hopping on a White Striped bandwagon? No, not at all. What sets The Makes Nice apart from a lot of the current crop of garage rock outfits is their emphasis on Beach Boys/Beatles styled vocal harmonies and sheer songcraft. Yeah, most of these songs are totally raw and rockin' and full of high energy sonics, but also carefully arranged with vocal sweetness that would do Brian Wilson proud. Furthermore, the album is woven throughout with memorable guitar solos. Peeling off licks with tasteful abandon and doses of thick fuzz, Josh's virtuosic playing really gives The Makes Nice their unique signature and vitality. Fucking Champs fans who pick this up just 'cause Josh is on it won't find any metal, but they will hear plenty o' great guitar playing -- and in fact, Josh really lets loose with more soloing here than he ever did in the Champs! So rad guitar + sweet harmonies + utter catchiness = why The Makes Nice totally rule, basically.
And they didn't got to all that work with the vocals without giving some thought to the lyrics as well, so this thing has just got about all the angles covered, top of the pops as far as we're concerned. Definitely this disc should have a lot of appeal to fans of sixties Brits like The Who, Pretty Things, Creation, and Tomorrow up through '70s, '80s, and '90s North American acts like The Raspberries, Cheap Trick, Redd Kross and Sloan! Seriously, the toughest thing about writing this is that we still have to write a bunch of other reviews before this week's New Arrivals list goes out, but from working on this, we've got pretty much this entire record stuck in our heads right now -- and we don't want to make it stop!
This Time Tomorrow? As in, by this time tomorrow, all these songs will be stuck in your head! San Francisco power pop power trio The Makes Nice hit us with their second album, again crammed with catchiness, boasting a bunch more action-packed, altogether killer, no filler tracks. A pitch-perfect hybridization and revitalization of all of their varied retro influences, from '60s Nuggets style garage to Elvis Costello to the Raspberries to Cheap Trick to the pansiest of paisley psych to, even, Devo. All 14 numbers are poppy n' boppy, but there's definitely two general sorts of songs The Makes Nice like to knock out, to knock us out: one is the energetic, nay frenzied, punker fueled by whiplash Keith Moon-ish bashing, full of slashing guitar rippage. Or, we get foot-tapping, sunshine n' lollipops hooks and harmonies... but even then, the headspinning guitar licks are in full force, Josh Smith doin' proud such legends as Billy Gibbons, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page. Even though it's only 33:48 long, this album is an embarrassment of riches. Heck we made their debut Record Of The Week. This one's just as good, maybe even better. No sophomore slump here! 'Nuff said?
If anything, The Makes Nice sound even more assured and dangerous this time 'round. If they've got any competition, they sure shut 'em down. Their not-so-secret weapon remains the wham-bam-thank-you-mam soloing of guitar whiz Josh (still formerly of The Fucking Champs, and Weakling too if it matters) but drummer Jack Matthew and bassist Aaron Burnham hold up their sides solidly for sure, and actually it's the whole band's involvement in complex arrangements, clever boy-meets-girl lyrics, and vocal harmony that really makes The Makes Nice something special. That's the thing, despite how prolific they are (by this time tomorrow, they probably will have written another cool song or two!), their craftmanship is prodigious, little details get a lot of thought. And as a result, they're not for everyone. The scuzzy sloppy garage crowd may find them too accomplished, complex. While pure pop fans might not get into their raw garageiness. And both camps could be scared off by Josh's advanced Stratocaster chops. On the other hand, in our book those are all real good things. So get with the program!
Protometalheads, psychfreaks, Japanophiles - listen up.
Imagine, what if Janis Joplin sang for Black Sabbath? And further imagine, what if both Janis and Sabbath were in fact Japanese?
Well, you almost don't have to imagine. 'Cause Carmen Maki and Blues Creation's album together has just been reissued, on both cd and vinyl!
It dates from the magic year of 1971, originally released 'round about the same time as Blues Creation's all-time proto-metal classic Demon & Eleven Children, which we've gone on and on about before, one of the heaviest albums of the era, from a band who were basically the Japanese answer to Black Sabbath. And Japan had some heavy bands back then, like Flower Travellin' Band, Flied Egg, Ranmadou, and Speed Glue & Shinki. But of all those, the most Sabbathy one was probably Blues Creation (though of course FTB comes close, having actually covered the song "Black Sabbath" on their debut).
The lovely Carmen Maki, for her part, was already a popular Japanese singer, definitely of the Janis Joplin blues belting school. Though she's also been likened to Grace Slick, and even to a female Robert Plant. Made sense for her to team up with this particular shit-hot blues rock outfit, both live and on this record.
Bands back then tended to do a lot of covers, but instead of being obvious and covering a Janis Joplin song, the opening track here is a bit more obscure, though it might sound somehow familiar anyway, it's a version of "Understand" by a lady often compared to Janis, Lydia Miller of the American band Fantasy. They do a few other standards on this album, "Motherless Child" and "St. James Infirmary", but all the other tracks were written by Blues Creation guitarist Kazuo Takeda.
And to be clear, this record isn't nearly so heavy as Demon & Eleven Children, not all the time, a lot of it's in fact fairly mellow, and all of it is, naturally, quite bluesy. But, even when they're not in the midst of a rollicking full-tilt Mean Old Boogie, the gentler "soft rock" stuff is pretty nice; and each track usually builds into a fine frenzy of wild wailing blues licks and distorted riffery. Those solo sections are really when the Blues Creation guys get to let loose, though Cream is probably the much bigger influence here that Sabbath.
Maki later fronted a band called Oz (no not the Swedish '80s metallers), who were pretty heavy too, and proggy; we'd love it if that stuff got reissued too someday...
Mako Sica first came to our attention about a year ago with their awesome cassette on PlusTapes and an insanely limited 12" on Permanent Records. They really struck a chord with us, as the Chicago trio conjured an intimate collection of songs that sounded lush and expansive in a way other groups only hope to achieve. The cassette was lo-fi, but not as an excuse, and now the band ventures to new realms with their proper full length debut. Recorded live in an actual studio with no overdubs, the higher fidelity is used to the band's advantage, as they are able to properly expand upon the sound they nailed on the home recorded cassette. The three lengthy songs on Dual Horizon are the result of musicians who clearly understand the importance of working together as a unit to achieve something else entirely. Sure, there are bands (or more often than not "dudes" with solo projects) doing similar things throughout the globe - you may be reminded of a more Americanized version of Urthona with less distortion, or perhaps Expo '70 if their interests lay grounded in the desert instead of the cosmos - but Mako Sica is its own beast altogether, and more than most, these guys use negative space as an instrument unto itself for a truly unique feeling that is as beautiful as it is unsettling. It should also be noted that Dual Horizon was recorded by Todd Rittmann of US Maple fame, another band these guys recall at times, though after a couple handfuls of peyote.
"I'itoi" opens the record with wordless droning chants and some sparse bells. An atmosphere is established as windy sounds creep in, giving things a nice ominous vibe. Eventually, something begins to take shape as it bubbles out of the haze before turning into a thick ambient fog. The song is evocative of the middle of nowhere, the badlands from which the band took its name, and sharp bursts of jagged guitar snake about while voices continue to swirl in the mix. The sound is huge but still remains grounded by the musicians who refuse to lose control of their instruments to psychedelic noodling. Soon, a steady rhythm comes in and takes things heavenward as one guitar takes the lead with super fast picking on the high notes while the other holds down the role of bass. Things eventually change direction with a pronounced drumbeat taking you to another place altogether. "5th One Is The Dark" begins life with a softly muted root note taking the lead during the lengthy buildup. A tremeloed guitar begins to sound like something blowing in the wind, and though it's a bit "surfy" sounding, there are no waves in the desert, and it becomes another part of the band's enveloping sound. Sustained feedback and a voice soon work their way in, and though you can hear words, you are unsure of what is taking form. The song is dramatic and highly cinematic, managing to conjure the incomprehensible hugeness of nature while also sounding affirmative of the cycle of life that will continue after we're gone.
Taking up all of side 2 and clocking in at 21 minutes, "Dunes" rides out with giant sweeps of low end before everything drops and a steady tom rhythm comes in like a heartbeat. The guitars come back with a submerged melody and jangly high notes as you venture to the far reaches of your mind, and at around the 4 minute mark, things actually start to move with the flow of a "rock" song, but in a very minimal way, again utilizing the the open space around the band. It's interesting how the drums avoid using cymbals too much, as this works really well with the band's lineup; nobody overtakes anyone else and they sound like a living, breathing unit, and even though there is a lot of improvisation going on, the band clearly knows where to take things. As the song winds down, more voices emerge and disappear, with a blaring trumpet melody helping to further disorient you in the best of ways.
The record itself is pressed up on some awesome black and white hazed vinyl and includes a download card for those of you who plan to wander off under headphones with this thing playing on repeat. And while we're at it, we should point out the fact that there's only 250 of these bad boys out there, so don't sleep on this!
Chicago's Mako Sica have been a longtime favorite here at aQuarius, and with their second full length (third if you count their live vinyl debut), we figured it was about time more people took note of this amazing band. The trio whips up a heady and unique noise that goes way beyond simple classification and remains blissfully in its own world. The main ingredients � two guitars, drums, and evocative wordless vocals � are augmented here and there with trumpet, thumb piano, and various percussive flourishes, but it's the way the musicians interact with each other that makes this band so special. And while they certainly do rock as they ascend to higher levels of psychedelia, calling Mako Sica a "rock band" or a "psychedelic band" doesn't quite hit the mark. The noise addled skronk of hometown labels like Skin Graft is certainly evident as well as plenty of free jazz and world music influences, but the band never tries to be anything other than themselves, and with those influences guiding the way they have arrived at a stellar sound that will be instantly accessible to adventurous listeners. At the same time, a level of mysteriousness remains constant, demanding repeated listens. As distinctive as it all is, we know this will appeal to fans of legendary groups like Trad Gras Och Stenar, Taj Mahal Travellers, and Les Rallizes Denudes, not to mention the current crop of San Francisco bands blowing the minds of the world like Barn Owl, 3 Leafs, and Carlton Melton. How could we not make this a Record Of The Week?
Essence opens with the monolithic sidelong "Fate Deals A Hand". A slow, eerie buildup gives the impression of a rising sun as the sounds bubble to life. Sustained, cello-like drones and bells accompany a voice that is itself another layer of beautiful sound. The mood gradually shifts and an underlying harmonic fuzz on one of the guitars indicates that things are finally gonna take off. The heaviness and unease of the guitars grows as the percussion becomes more insistent, and six and a half minutes in the sounds begin to merge into a more distinct form before launching into an ominous psych jam that is almost metal if it weren't for the way the drums hold it all in place. Queasy, discordant sounds kaleidoscopically swirl about as the vocals (which at times sound almost like Nina Simone if she were wordlessly chanting) add an awesome, somewhat disorienting vibe that makes it difficult to guess when and where this music could be coming from. It's amazing how the vocals illustrate a story without words and create drama, even if you aren't quite sure what it all means. Eventually a delayed trumpet glides into the maelstrom, at which point the band somehow still holds back and lets an atmosphere of spaciousness build - spaciousness being one of the key elements separating this band from the rest of the pack, who often try to cram as much as possible into the proceedings. Of course, Mako Sica launches into another distorted freakout before reaching a final and total silence. Fucking awesome.
Side two offers up two more lengthy jams, beginning with "On Cracked Sea". Cosmic chanting and guitars operate in unison, trading melodies freely without confining themselves to any traditional structure. Instead, it's just TOTAL music, melodic, jagged, beautiful, and noisy, all at once, with the drums clattering about creating just as much mood as the guitars. More of that awesome harmonically rich fuzz guitar comes cascading in, bringing the song to a new level of intensity before winding down into a woozy blissful fadeout. The final track here, "Chain Leg", begins with some low ominous rumblings and more bad ass vocal chants, reminding us a bit of a less metallic version of UK space/psych/drone collective Bong. Eventually the proceedings get a little more abstract even as some discernible riffing takes center stage. Everything sounds perfectly in place and open to whatever adventures appear to be happening in real time. Musical freedom, pretty much.
For a band that has continuously surprised and inspired, Essence stands as Mako Sica's greatest achievement so far. Their somewhat shadowy existence may mean they might not the first band that comes to mind when pondering the international resurgence in explorative, free form psychedelic music, but it's hard to imagine that not changing with this amazing record. Get it now!
Chicago's Mako Sica return with another cassette release, with the band conjuring up two lengthy pieces live in their hometown plus an additional studio outtake from their amazing Dual Horizon album. You couldn't put together a more varied trio; the band is comprised of Polish guitarist Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (who also handles trumpet duties) formerly of longtime favorites Rope, drummer Michael Kendrick who cut his teeth for years in the underground metal community, and North Carolina bred guitarist/vocalist Brent Fuscaldo. Somehow the three managed to come together in the center of the United States, and with an arsenal of influences and references have managed to create a sound that is distinctly their own. Pinning the band down with terms like "psychedelic" or "improvisational" may help one get a vague enough reference, but these ultimately prove insufficient. The songs are expansive and constantly moving forward, always avoiding the pitfalls of mindless jamming and relying on the natural interaction of the three musicians, who possess an uncanny understanding of how to work with each other. Not surprisingly, there is a strong jazz influence to these songs, but the guitar team of Drazek and Fuscaldo is more than qualified to rock out and bring things into bold new territories. Kendrick's drumming perfectly complements his bandmates and provides the elastic framework that really sets the band apart from their peers.
The live performance was captured in August 2010, and monolithic 17 minute opener "Fate Deals A Hand" begins like smoke looming out across the horizon with an exotic Eastern feeling. Wordless chanting is used to great effect - sort of like a MUCH more restrained and melodic Haino-esque wail, at any rate an essential part of the band's musical vision. Things slowly build in intensity as the guitars create walls of swirling atmosphere while cymbals slowly crash about in waves as bells chime away. With the shamanistic vocalizing you probably won't be thinking "band from Chicago" as they lurch forward and become almost demonically heavy. The lead guitar snakes about while the rhythm work is created on the low strings for a sound that is a lot like you would get from an actual bass guitar. As we've mentioned in past reviews, these guys are experts at incorporating negative space for a totally unique effect, and even with members of the audience yammering away it almost seems like the voices were meant to be there. Bits of atonal free shredding stab like knives and bear a resemblance to legendary skronk rockers US Maple (whose Todd Rittman actually recorded the outtake on this tape). The band eventually cools down with sparse freeform drumming and some vocal-like trumpet work adding an elegant yet slightly disconcerting vibe before going into another suite of blissed out heaviness. Wow. Side 2 opener "Ancestors" begins with a steady drum plod carrying things forward while a thumb piano provides a unique kaleidoscopic melody. The dramatic low end guitar resembles something one might get on a synthesizer and the vocals create a cool mysterious feeling before the band explodes into a finale of beautiful noise that no doubt had some jaws dropping to the floor. As mentioned earlier, "Red Rivers" was cut during the Dual Horizon sessions. The song is another perfect demonstration of how well these guys know each other as people and musicians. The sharp bits of delayed lead guitar give out a jagged little melody alongside the gorgeous wordless vocals. The song has a lonely cinematic Western feel to it, eventually becoming reminiscent of Sabbath's "Planet Caravan" as it kicks into a steady groove with one guitar establishing an amazing dubbed out rhythm while the lead guitar dances about before wrapping up like a sunset.
An essential outing from one of Chicago's great unsung bands, and we are looking forward to the band's next full length which is in the works - can't wait!
"Recorded by the band in an old attic with creaky floor boards, rusty pipes, stained rugs, a hot water heater, and a borrowed 8-track reel-to-reel."
So state the liner notes to the PlusTapes re-release of this excellent Chicago band's recorded debut. And after one listen, such a description certainly makes sense, as the music exhibits a sort or urban rusticity, a sound that is as pleasantly detached as it is connected to life in a big city.
Comprised of players from Chicago's experimental and metal scenes (and featuring Przemyslaw K. Drazek of longtime Aquarius favorites Rope), Mako Sica exists as its own island within a city generally known for post rock and heavier sounds. A dreamy haze of gently strummed melodies floats above free form percussion with chantlike vocals that aren't as much sung as they are summoned, occasional bursts of trumpet punctuating the atmosphere. At every moment, a beautiful and softly sustained drone permeates the recording like an additional member of the band. And then, right when you've happily fallen into Mako Sica's trancelike psychedelia, the band snaps into a rhythmic groove that is focused but never forced. The beautifully textured songs walk along the border of experimentation while never losing themselves to mindless abstraction. And when the tape finally runs out, your first impulse will be flip it over, walk into Mako Sica's world once again, and stay there.
As we mentioned above, this gem comes to us from the good people at the ever reliable PlusTapes, which also means it's ultra limited. 100 copies... we received 20, so you know those won't last long
That *Acid Mothers Temple Alert!* *Acid Mothers Temple Alert!* *Acid Mothers Temple Alert!* emergency warning alarm has been going off pretty much continually here at Aquarius over the past couple weeks, driving us all batty. We thought it must be broken or something but no, there's just been THREE more releases from those hairy Japanese hippies known as AMT plus another Kawabata collaboration (w/ Daevid Allen of Gong). So let's assess the threat.
Makoto Mango is a pseudonym for Kawabata Makoto for this release, entitled Guru & Zero. He's joined by Psycho de Lick (Daevid Allen) and Mango Cottongo (guess who). Together they recorded this disc, one single 48 minute trip, I mean track, that's full of "organic loopage", "bio illogical yodelling" and "glissando guitar". Hallucinatory drone, whispered vocals, heavenly guitar tones, sci-fi effects, spoken psychedelic sermonizing... these guys aren't known for their restraint, but they do manage to maintain a nicely tripped-out mood for the duration. A bigger success than Gong's Acid Motherhood album, from the standpoint of someone who digs Kawabata's mellower journeys. Note: y'know that picture of Kawabata on the toilet that graced the back cover of that disc? Well on the inside of this cd's booklet they take that unfortunate idea and run with it...
Even if it didn't say Kawabata Makoto on the cover, or if you didn't know that Kawabata is the guitar player in Japan's Acid Mothers Temple, you might guess that this was somehow Acid Mothers Temple related, just from the cover graphics. Naked hippy chick in yoga pose, check. Flying saucer, check. Comic book style voice balloon, check. (She's saying, "AHAAAAAAA... UMMMMMM", which could be alternate, onomatopoeic titles for this disc's two tracks, actually.)
And knowing that, you have an idea what this is all about. It's one of Kawabata's most blissed out, droned out efforts. Actually, it's hard to imagine something as physical as a guitar being involved in its making. Kawabata seems to be playing some more ethereal instrument, a simple shimmering cloud of cosmic sound that already existed at the dawn of days, long before anything as mundane as a guitar was ever invented. The transcendent, translucent 46 minute "She Came From The Shining Sea", followed by the shorter (17 minute) and even quieter "Kiss On The Dream Planet", seem more like mental projections, delicate dream drones direct from Kawabata's inner space practice space. It's certainly difficult to believe that he's actually, you know, touching anything to make this music. In reality, these two tracks were recorded at the actual Acid Mothers Temple (Kawabata's flat in Tokyo, we assume, or better yet a commune filled with those naked hippy chicks) in January and March of 2006... Kick back, close your eyes, and enjoy.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES.
