Ways Of Being collects a handful of rare, previously cassette only tracks from this moody minimal electronic cold wave dream pop songstress from Australia, her sound hazy, and druggy, and woozy and washed out, super spare drum machine rhythms dubbed out and doused in reverb, over which RW, aka Stacey Wilson, drapes wheezing synths, multi tracked FX caked vocals and softly pulsing basslines, everything blurred into one heavenly swirling sonic mass.
But the sounds here, while all plenty moody and murky, are still surprisingly varied, from the super spaced out, dub heavy, rumbling drone driven, space-dirge of "Ill Health", to the ominous Casio-core skitter of "Thieves", to the moody drifty melodic murk of "Detached Living", to the haunting minimal gloom pop of "Make Plans". Some of the tracks slip into near Stereolab / Broadcast territory (albeit a much murkier, low fidelity variant), while others pile on the FX until the original song all but disappears beneath a haze of sonic swirl, the vibe is gorgeously melancholic, darkly droney, psychedelic and spectral, equal parts Grouper, Fabulous Diamonds, U.S. Girls, Death And Vanilla, Cough Cool and other purveyors of haunting, otherworldly lo-fi dream-psych ghost-pop.
NWOBHM rarity reissued. Thumbs up.
Emerging from the pit of tentacled screams is local death merchant Ritual Chamber and his first full-length, following up a very promising demo released back in 2013. Dario Derna, the sole member of Ritual Chamber, cut his teeth in a number of other metal projects, including the buzzing blackness of Krohm, and as a keyboard player in the rain-soaked funeral doom band Evoken. And, although Evoken and Ritual Chamber share few musical similarities, both projects share and obsession with murky, atmospheric grimness. Obscurations is a deep, twisted pit of rain-soaked misery, a maze of death metal riffage that stands toe-to-toe with the glut of fantastic death metal of late: Abyssal, Chthe'ilist, Disma, Aevangelist, and Funerabrum (for which Derna drummed). Atmospheric, ugly, heavy, and somehow all done by one person. Nasty stuff.
The gloomy post-punk monochromaticism of Ritual Howls has its antecedents - the ominous decadence of the Red Lorry Yellow Lorry and Sisters Of Mercy, meshed with the low-slung swagger of the Lynch / Badalamenti incidental musics from Lost Highway or Wild At Heart. Yes, those are very welcome things for the black-clad denizens of the world; and Ritual Howls makes good in their application of these references. Turkish Leather follows a handful of suitably sub-underground cassettes, including several on the cult industrial-noise publishing house Nostivelo. On those cassettes, Ritual Howls thrived in the catacomb murk of overblown production with a single microphone picking up a thunderously loud session a la Les Rallizes Denudes. Here on Turkish Leather, Ritual Howls did find themselves in a studio, which allows them plenty of room to breath in all of the asbestos, nuclear fallout, or swamp gas, depending on what post-apocalyptic scenario you'd want to locate Ritual Howls. Of course, their home town of Detroit all serves them well in that regard, though there's very much a southwestern tremolo-laden twanginess that echoes through these propellant goth-punk tunes. Had these lads been from Los Angeles gigging at the Scream in the '80s, they would have been right at home.
True metal fans! Bend an ear... and perhaps prepare to bend a knee? Ritual Steel (not to be confused, though it's not easy, with fellow Germans Sacred Steel) record for Rich Walker of Solstice's cult metal label Miskatonic and are the sort of band whose cd booklet proudly includes a reproduction of a show flyer with their logo beneath those of The Lord Weird Slough Feg and Twisted Tower Dire. Actually, we heard about these guys from Slough Feg -- those San Franciscan metal masters remarked upon playing with Ritual Steel in Germany last summer, giving 'em the thumbs up. And this record is indeed a lot of old school fun, starting with the fantasy cover art of skeletal knights and the punning album title (who said Germans don't have a sense of humor?), right through to the heavy-(and-hoary)-as-hell, head-banging '80s style metal music and frontman Sascha Mauer's leather-lunged screeching. He does a deliberate, indecipherable Udo Dirkschneider impression in one song that will just kill you. His band's brand of DIY Maidenesque gallop is in the same arena as Metalucifer, for instance. Pure metal mania, by fans, for fans.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We may have missed out on legendary punk rock outfits Gorilla Biscuits, CIV and Youth Of Today (even though one of us is indeed straight edge), but holy shit did we love Quicksand, the connection being frontman Walter Schreifels, who played in all four, but for many of us, Quicksand was our introduction to Schreifels, and what an introduction, totally epic heaviness, huge riffs, killer songs, the band a crack team of crushers, Schreifels' voice so distinctive, raspy but emotional and intense.
After the dissolution of Quicksand, Schreifels went on to start various projects, one called Walking Concert, and this one, the long running Rival Schools, but unlike the heavy post punk crush of Quicksand, most of Schreifels's post Quicksand output was way more pop, a sound he was surprisingly well suited to (which was definitely hinted at in Quicksand), the first Rival Schools record, United By Fate, still kills, so we were super excited to find out about a brand new record, the first RS record in a decade, and very little has changed since United By Fate, big crunchy powerful pop songs, like a stripped down Quicksand in a way, another one of those bands that if there were any justice, these guys would be playing stadiums, and Letterman, the sound is aggressive, and heavy, but also jangly and hooky and way melodic, the vocals as distinctive as ever. Might be a bit too wimpy for punks and metalheads, but heavy pop fiends should definitely check this out (and United By Fate).
If you're anything like me (Andee), you absolutely -loved- Quicksand and shed quite a few tears when they called it quits. Rarely had there been such an aggressive, almost-metal band that managed to be melodic and catchy as fuck without sounding cheesy or
I was so excited to find this record a few moths back. I had been waiting like crazy (if one can wait like crazy) for the Rival Schools record (Walter from Quicksand's new band) and here it was. What a score! So I brought it home, threw it on, and it wasn't
Track five is a languid, slow rolling moody epic, with rumbling slow strummed guitars, and chiming harmonics sounding like the Wipers or Nirvana's Lithium alllll sloooowed dooooown. The record closes with a bang. A huge crunching, sort of bouncy Quicksand style guitar attack. Crunchy stop-start riffs (ala Helmet's 'In The Meantime') but with Walter's scratchy sad boy wail and totally epic almost sing-along choruses. So so good. I love this record!
It's been a while since we last heard from Rivulets, aka Nathan Amundson, whose sound is a delicate acoustic guitar driven slowcore folk, haunting, hushed and intimate, and whose career has seemed always tangentially connected to slowcore pioneers Low, due in no small part to Low's Alan Sparhawk having long championed Rivulets, taking them on tour, playing on their records, and even releasing one of their albums. For whatever reason we pretty much forgot about Rivulets entirely, even though they tour tirelessly and this is in fact full length number four, and when we discovered there was a new record, this one, for whatever reason, our first impulse was that we didn't really care, and weren't all that into the band. But within the first 90 seconds, we remembered exactly what we loved about Rivulets, so much emotion conveyed with so little, the arrangements spare and sparse, Amundson's vocals gorgeous and warm and intimate, and the opening song here, the aforementioned 90 seconds (or so) is darkly delicate, and sweetly melancholy, just vocals and guitar, until about a minute in, when the song gets just a little bit more lush, then shortly after, some of the dreamiest vocal harmonies ever, only the hardest of hearts could not be smitten. We were most taken by the second track though, "No Talking", which starts off all spidery guitar, barely there percussion, clouds of cymbal shimmer, Amundson's vocals, slipping into a lovely falsetto, a gorgeous bit of folky balladic creep, the sort of thing that could have gone on forever, but then it begins to ramp up, electric guitar, the drums hitting a little bit harder, eventually building to a full on psychedelic blow out, the guitars all tangled up in a wild sonic swirl, the cymbals emitting sheets of metallic shimmer, before fading out, leaving just that muted percussion, and that melancholy guitar melody. Might be one of our favorite new songs so far this year. And to be honest the record is full of 'em. A gorgeous collection of hushed softly psychedelic slow core folk, with some surprising dynamics, and some awesomely explosive moments. A new favorite for sure. Definitely recommended for fans of Palace, Songs: Ohia, Iron And Wine, Herman Dune, Mt Egypt, and the rest.
The rainy season has poked its chilly overcast head into the sunny skies here in SF. And in timely fashion, the wonderfully downcast Rivulets has returned too. Primarily the work of one gent Nathan Amundson, Rivulets has been graced with some notable guest players over the years including Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker of the likemindedly somber Low. On You Are My Home, Amundson is joined by the none too shabby musical guests Codeine's Chris Brokaw, Jessica Bailiff, Christian Frederickson of Rachel's, Boxhead Ensemble's Fred Lonberg-Holm and Bob Weston of Shellac and Mission Of Burma. Their combined guitars, keyboards, strings and horns work together with Amundson's heartbroken voice magically to create a deep dark melancholia.
Warm, intimate and gentle. Rivulets' slow, pretty songs are based primarily around the voice and acoustic guitar strumming of mainman Nathan Amundson, but with the delicate textural and melodic embellishments of humming optigan, chiming xylophone, droning
Jim O'Rourke's "Bad Timing" seems to have become a seemingly influential album, oddly because at the time of its release it seemed to mostly notable as a John Fahey parody. Yet, it opened the ears of indie and alt.country fans not only to the works of Fahey and Souled American, but also the floodgates for a handful of interesting experimentations with folk & country aesthetics, such as Loftus, Tim Foljhan's Two Dollar Guitar albums, and now this collaboration between Rick Rizzo (from Eleventh Dream Day) and Tara Key (from Antietam). Interludes of farfisa and guitar distortion fit snugly in this sleepy album of delicately played instrumental folk. A strong showing.
You know anything on Def Jux is gonna -sound- good. Obviously, with El-P producing, you're guatanteed ultra clever samples, big + weirdly funky beats and just overall awesome and completely original production. So what do we get with a record on Def Jux produced by someone else? Thankfully it seems that RJD2 is a faithful disciple of the mighty El-P, taking all his tricks, but giving them some personal flavor and using them to craft actual songs instead of looping tracks for rappers to flow over. A lot less hip hop and a little more R+B. DJ Shadow comes to mind. An now that I think about it, 'Deadringer' sounds like the record Shadow should have made instead of the disappointing 'The Private Press'. Track one is a James Bond interplanetary chase scene theme, with swinging sixties horns and big bursts of brass. Why the hell didn't they get RJD2 for the new Bond movie instead of Madonna. Ugh. Anyway, after a brief intro, track three comes in with swelling strings and minor key piano, under a slowed down soul classic, again recalling Shadow at his best. Melancholy piano break downs, all moody and sultry, smoky and funky as hell. Track four is another transformed Northern soul tune turned into a funky big beat epic. And it goes on and on from there. There are occasional guests, vocalising or rapping, but overall, the music stands on its own. Totally great. Fans of DJ Shadow, Cannibal Ox, U.N.K.L.E., DJ Vadim and the like NEED this.
Some of the other folks here at Aquarius consider this new RJD2 to be a bit of a disappointment, in comparision with his excellent previous effort Deadringer, but I (Allan) think it's pretty good -- as long as you realize it's a totally different thing. It certainly has its moments, among 'em the opening couple of tracks wherein RJD2 invents some sort of heavy duty, off kilter prog-soul. Hard-hitting, choppy funk that I can't help but like. The thing is though, that Since Last We Spoke isn't really a rap record. I mean, Deadringer was less about the flow of the guest rappers than RJD2's DJ Shadow-esque sample-scape production, but here he really gets outside of the genre. There's no rapping in fact. Parts of this don't sound hip-hoppy at all (although he'll drop in some boom-bap and wicky wicky wak just to remind you). RJD2 is spinning the dial all through this disc, from the aforementioned almost hard-rock tracks to mellow electronic indie-pop with Beatlesy vocals to Latin-inflected Dating Game style theme music (which is what began to lose some of my co-workers I guess). And it sounds like he's been listening to a lot of Giorgio Moroder's film soundtrack music. I'm not entirely happy when he gets into some smooth jazz territory with breathy soul diva vocals over top, though I'm sure lots of people will like that too. But even if not every track is killer, I think it's an impressively eclectic mixture. Maybe it suffers from that too. But the sheer verve of some of this puts the likeability factor high enough (on my meter anyway) to give this a recommendation.
One of the best hip hop records of last year had to be RJD2's Dead Ringer, a wicked mix of gritty beats, seamless sonic collages, and epic cinematic soundscapes. And the track 'The Horror' was the one that set the whole thing off, a dark and soulful, horrific musical trip through seedy streets and back alleys, a noirish epic that rivaled DJ Shadow at his best. So to hold us over until the next record comes this deluxe double cd compilation of different mixes and video footage. Disc one starts off with the original track, 'The Horror' and it just reaffirms what a fucking amazing track it is. Hasn't lost any of its impact. The rest of the disc expands the sonic pallete of RJD2's nightmarish funk / soul hiphopscapes, with some minimal female vocals and tense cinematic strings, serious soulful grit and fierce funk, and loose ramshackle rhythms and dark drony dreaminess. Even if you don't have the Dead Ringer album, this disc of mixes is good enough to function on its own, no throw away remix/filler crap here. Disc 2 is a cd rom that has two live performances (as well as some interviews), one from the Bowery Ballroom in New York, the other from our very own Beta Lounge here in SF. And proves beyond any sort of doubt that RJD2's got some serious skill on the decks as well as the sampler. Also included is a 'making of' documentary chronicling the filming of 'The Horror" video (which we unfortunately don't get to see) and an animated video for "The Horror" that is really amazing looking, a fuzzed out noirish nightmare, claustrophobic and grainy. Like a cartoon gone bad! Definitely recommended, as is of course the Dead Ringer full length.
MPEG Download: "Bus Stop Bitties" [/audio/rjd2busstopbitties.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Bus Stop Bitties" [/audio/rjd2busstopbitties.m3u]
DJ RJD2 sampled his way to notoriety with 2002's Dead Ringer and garnered comparisons to Moby and DJ Shadow with his subsequent release Since We Last Spoke. Now it seems he's put all of that behind him in a display of versatility with the very different The Third Hand. The samples and synths that gained the aforementioned praise are present in his current work, but are much more subdued, perhaps to not overshadow another first for the artist - his own vocals. The album slips smoothly from electro pop to electro funk/hop on it's most noteworthy tracks "Beyond" and "Sweet Piece." The promo for this record boldly declares the works to be "genre transcending." We're not so sure the album transcends as much as gently combines and modernizes what we love most about particularly notable genres (Brian Wilson and Stevie Wonder are also mentioned in the promo), but still pretty dang cool.
The Third Hand saw RJD2 (Ramble John Krohn) stray a bit from the samples and scratching that gained him notoriety as a DJ. Third Hand was the first record Krohn produced all on his lonesome and the first to feature his own vocals. The result was an album that slipped smoothly from electro pop to electro funk/hop and impressed many critics as a display of his versatility and songwriting abilities rather than his DJ skills.
Therefore, we were surprised to see an instrumental version. It makes sense that one might want instrumentals of songs from Deadringer or Since We Last Spoke to weed out the sampled vocals and rapping that lay atop some pretty impressive scratching and mixing, but none of that is present on The Third Hand and the result without vocals is alarmingly a lot like telephone hold music. Frankly, it's a bit boring. That said, we wondered why he didn't spice it up a bit and remix his own instrumental tracks? But after all, he's already produced and arranged the music over his own vocals to create a distinct sound, and maybe it's hard to go back when you've gone so far. Perhaps Krohn's intentions are to see what others can do with the record, because while the music is less than exciting on it's own, it might be a good sample for someone else to work into their own music...
Rllrbll's (Rollerball without the vowels) tweaky garage improv-jazz fuckery appears to be recorded in a room with a single mic to give equal density to the clattery of guitar feedback, kitchen appliances, drum kits, sax, and anything else that might make sound. No Neck Blues Band, Rocket Science & The Nigger Loving Faggots, Iran, and Jackie-O-Motherfucker may be a few of the inscrutible references for Rllrbll.
Ralf Wehowsky (aka RLW) has been shapeshifting sound since the early '80s, when he was in a dada / art-punk outfit called P.D., which later morphed into P16.D4, who earned quite a reputation throughout the '80s thanks to their aggressive adaptation of musique concrete techniques filtered through a DIY industrial-noise-punk lens, which landed them some highly influential albums on RRR and Selektion. P.D. emerged more from a 'band' context with their pieces shaped from sessions of synth, bass, drums, and noise and then cut up with cacophonic abandon. As P.D., the project could be seen as coming out of the same scene as Einsturzende Neubauten, Der Plan, and Die Todliche Doris, but by the time they morphed into P16.D4, they were an entirely different beast.
These recordings from RLW represent something of a transition period between P.D. and P16.D4 with some of this material getting thoroughly altered on the first P16.D4 album, recorded in late 1980 and early 1981. The album is split into two sessions, both offering fucked-up space-jazz workout with sporadic barked Germanic vocals and swells of feedback countering the post-Krautrock vibes, skittering drums, and noir basslines. One can think of something sort of like the Plastic People Of The Universe or the oddball Factory band Crawling Chaos or maybe even a super-loose Captain Beefheart filtered through a Kraut-punk exploration and expressionism. It's pretty hard to pin any of this down. Wehowsky didn't do much to these tapes in terms of his signature jagged cut-n-splice techniques aside from some seasick inducing tape reverse tricks, but it is very interesting to hear where RLW and crew would begin their sessions. This would certainly appeal to those keen on the more experimental avenues of the Berlin punk scene. Limited to 100 copies.
The black and white photo on the cover, of a taxidermed but still quite alarming bat, wings spread, fangs bared, malevolent and mummified, looking like some decaying Victorian museum exhibit, perfectly heralds the organic, psychedelic, and somewhat disturbing dronology to be heard on the disc within. Sometimes creepy, but fascinating and atmospheric. And, in a way, beautiful, like the delicate membrane of the bat's wings.
Look, we don't rave about EVERYTHING on Utech. Just most things on Utech. In fact, we haven't even yet reviewed several the label's previous batch of releases (among them Architeuthis Rex, The Skull Defekts/The Sons Of God, and Ural Umbo), but had to rave about this one (and a couple other cool new titles as well, you'll find highlighted elsewhere on this list: Bassett/Graf and Arcn Templ). RM74 is the solo project of Swiss soundmeister Reto Mader, who also plays in Ural Umbo, Sum of R, and Pendulum Nisum (of which we've only heard the former). And while that Ural Umbo disc Utech recently released was interesting, this solo effort from Mader REALLY caught our ears. Not that it's easy to describe. Abstract and ominous soundscapery, "music" bathed in glowing shimmer and shuddering suspenseful drone. It's all instrumental electro-acoustic experimentation, Mader playing guitars, strings, percussion, piano, electronics, kalimba, organ, synthesizer, and effects... the disc divided up into 11 individual tracks that are different enough to really stand out as "pieces", each one its own mysterious transmission from Mader's outsider imagination, and the spirits that move him. For instance, the opener, appropriately titled "Early Morning Fog", begins with swelling, buzzing drone and hum, mesmerically undulating, eventually adorned with what sounds like the gentle plinking of a fragmented music-box melody... already we're entranced.
Most of the tracks operate upon a basis of electronics, effects, radio static, buzzes, and morse code clicks, the instrumentation not so easily recognizable, though for instance you can definitely hear steel strings of a guitar twanging reverberantly on track three, "Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea", amidst creaking sounds suggestive of a wooden ship at sea, perhaps...
As well as being a great release for Utech, Reflex we think would sound equally at home on the Miasmah label, although it would fall on the "grinding-est" side of their catalog. Other "Recommended If You Like" comparison candidates for this might be the Guillaume Gargaud discs we've reviewed recently, or Gregory Mullen, or the murky microscopic textures of certain Jewelled Antler recordings... Recommended at any rate, regardless of whether we can find adequate analogies for it!
The packaging, unlike most Utech releases, this isn't in a slim sleeve, but in a thicker, all-cardboard digipack style package, with a pocket (a little tight, we must say) inside for the cd, another for a folded insert which depicts that bat in fuller detail. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, also!
Reto Mader is back, with a new release on the consistently-excellent Utech label. The haunting solo work of this Swiss dronologist (also a member of Ural Umbo) already got a rave review from us a couple years ago, for his previous release as RM74 on Utech, Reflex, so we're pleased to now hear more from this project - lots more, since it's a double disc! Previously, we described RM74 as organic, and abstract soundscapery, "bathed in glowing shimmer and shuddering suspenseful drone". Such is still the case here, Mader's semi-ambient, instrumental electro-acoustic constructs being both beautiful, and on occasion creepy - most notably when disc's two's "We Run In Vicious Circles" suddenly brings the noise, with grit and distortion and an insistent synth figure, something BAD happening in the inner-mind projected imaginary movie for which this is the soundtrack - move over, Umberto! Mostly, though, it's quite quiet and benign, warmly embracing the listener, as these discs spin on, incorporating delicate drones, scattered percussive tinklings clinkings, chimings and clatterings, sweetly keening strings, and soft buried melodies into a slowly unfolding, wordless narrative. Mader employs piano, bass, synthesizer, field recordings, kalimba, theremin, and many more unidentified sound sources (scrapings, cracklings, shortwavey-staticky-ings). These two discs could take some time to fully explore, played over and over. Our suggestion: remove your watch, lower your shades, let RM74's Two Angles Of A Triangle take over your timekeeping and create cycles of light and dark for you. You might be awake, you might be dreaming, days and days may pass - you'll have an experience. And even if you don't take it that far, it's a lovely listen.
These discs come in a beautiful, black/white/grey illustrated tri-fold, six-panel digipack, art by Thomas Hooper.
We'll keep this one simple: if you're a fan of the 'stoner rock' genre, and especially if you're into those lords of space Monster Magnet, you must buy this disc!! Atomic Church is second album by Sweden's Roachpowder (the name comes from Burrough's Naked Lunch
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Swedish 'Southern' groovy stoner metal. Who would've thought that something this southern fried and stoned sounding could come out of Scandinavia? Huge crushing riffs, ultra catchy hooks, and an amazing Phil Anselmo (Pantera/Down) sound-alike vocalist (that is, like Phil when he's actually singing, not when he's sounding stupid). Incredible.
The proto-metal lovin' legions who read the AQ list should be quite pleased with this reissue - take a trip down this particular Road and it's heavy riffing all the way, early '70s style! A power trio put together by former Jimi Hendrix Experience bassist Noel Redding in 1972, Road only made this one record for a rock-oriented Motown sub-label (the eco-friendly Natural Resources) before they broke up, and it quickly became lost to the mists of time, though we'd have thought Hendrix fans, if they'd heard it, would have been chuffed... anyone who likes stoned hard psych, with loads of wah wah wailing will dig this, it's total hippie heaviness (well, "I'm Going Down The Country" isn't so heavy, it's an acoustic jam, natch). There's some sixties sike-pop to it as well. But tracks like "Mushroom Man" and "Spaceship Earth" are spaced out and heavy all right, these three long hairs dishing out quite the din, with the 9+ minute album closer, title track "Road" gettin' almost DOOMY riff-wise.
Certainly deserving of recognition in the proto-metal realm, Road goes with Toad, Cactus, Moses, Tiger B. Smith, etc., and is probably the best thing that Redding did post-Hendrix, though we haven't heard his whole discography, to be sure. But it beats Fat Mattress, in volume and heft for sure, despite that earlier outfit's name (the drummer here was also in Fat Mattress, by the way, while the guitarist hailed from Rare Earth).
This is one of several new reissues from the new Relics label (Churchills, Aguaturbia are some other, more internationally-oriented titles that just came out, we'll be listing soon too). Nice to have, though the booklet's a bit skimpy, the cover reproduction looks kinda washed out and blurry. It does include something in the way of liner notes, though, from which we learn that Redding fell down some stairs at Frank Zappa's place prior to the formation of Road. Hmm, that almost sounds like the description of a band, but not this one! Thankfully he recovered from the accident and added Road to the list of awesome proto-metal obscurities.
All you need to know is that the record is called Stormbringer, it's one single thirty minute track, and the instrumentation listed is: drone, sub-sonics, drone & invocation, and temporal distortion. Okay, maybe some of you need to know a little bit more, how about... DOOM. Or DRONE. Or SLUDGE. Or maybe... SUNNO))), Khanate, Whitehorse, Marzuraan, Monarch, Moss, Boris, Corrupted... uh huh, you see where we're headed. Portland's Roanoke are the latest outfit to dive headlong into that same black doom tarpit, And their glorious din, while having much in common with their slow motion brethren, definitely has a hellish charm all it's own. The guitars are huge, of course, riffs are so slow and low they sound less like riffs and more like molten flows of distorted rumble, the drums are a simple pummeling thud, the vocals are like death metal growls at 16rpm, an impossibly low gurgle, but Roanoke have a crazy dynamic thing going on too, wherein their endlessly droning downtuned sludge is occasionally punctuated by strange stop start stretches where the guitars tighten up and cling to the drums and lock into a sort of stuttering chug. Pretty cool. And definitely way more dynamic than most of the droning sludge doom outfits around. But never fear, this is first and foremost, slooooooooooow, drooooooooooooning dooooooooom, ultra mega sludgy and haevy as fuck. Listening to it right now and even at super low volume it makes the speakers on this computer sound like they are crumbling to bits!
LIMITED TO 100 cd-r copies.
Soundway Records strikes again with another groovy reissue, this one from Ghana. (Actually there's two killer new Soundway titles of African extraction that just came out, the other one, by Edzayawa, we plan on reviewing next time.) You might know Rob already from the title track of this record, which appeared on Soundway's great Ghana Soundz compilation a few years back. Apparently they got a lot of requests for a full Rob reissue from folks entranced by "Make It Fast, Make It Slow", so here it is, yay! And it's full of more awesome Afro-funk tunes besides that one from the comp.
This was Rob's 2nd album, originally released in 1977, rare and collectable ever since, this being its first reissue outside of Ghana. Soundway calls the one-named Rob "enigmatic" and says that this record offers up a "stranger, slower" form of Afro-funk than is the norm, and we'd agree. Make It Fast, Make It Slow tends towards the latter half of that title commandment, and is possessed of a unique, odd feel, having a spiritual vibe to it, with Rob providing the sort of spaced out gospel funk preaching on songs like "I've Got To See You Again, Lord" and "He Shall Live In You" that reminds us of some soulful early Parliament/Funkadelic stuff along those lines. His slightly gruff voice is compelling, and stands in nice contrast to the sweet, soft backing chorus. And though while this is not "just" dance music, this IS super funky, with irresistible rhythms and magnificent horns that both groove and warble. When Rob sings "Loose Up Yourself" on the opening track, you will!
Of the many great Afro-funk reissues we've seen lately, this one is a definite standout, up there with Danger by the Lijadu Sisters, ferinstance. Packaged with the usual Soundway care (the cd in mini-lp style sleeve), and the vinyl version comes with download code.
Ultra obscure, freaky French '70s underground psychedelic proto punk reissued, oui!! Crazy how there's still stuff like this out there ready to be (re)discovered. The Rob Jo Star band originally put this out in 1975, probably under the influence of the Velvets and the Stooges, kinda like cult Canadian contemporaries Simply Saucer. Like SS, the Rob Jo Star Band packs these tracks with all kinds of ridiculous synth blurt, electronics swooshing and bleeping and farting all throughout this album, other key elements of which include jangling distorted guitars and heavily accented vocals... Pretty darn cool if you ask us! There's moments that sound like a French version of The Cramps, inside a spaceship; others where the singer gets kinda Damo, and basically it's a healthy (or perhaps unhealthy) dose of throbbing fuzz, chugging rock n' roll rhythms, handclaps, wild vox, with song titles like "Acid Revolution" and "Blood Flower". File with the likes of Soggy, Angel Face, and Metal Urbain...
Limited edition, import.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
From the same label that brought us records by Velvet Cacoon, Clair Cassis, Nightbringer, Temple Of N.O.T., Lonesummer, Void Of Reveries and Necktarium (same TWO labels more accurately, as Starlight Temple Society sort of became Khrysanthoney), comes this strange bit of abstract blackness, the debut 2007 release from Brazilian one man band, Roba El-Khaliyeh, who weaves deep ritualistic drones, lumbering industrial black ambience, sweeping cinematic soundscapery and raw hateful black metal into a sprawling bit of otherworldly sonic mystery.
A haunting stretch of minimal rumble and shimmer, gives way to some super noisy pound and buzz, sick vokills over moaning atonal riffage, and reverb drenched Teutonic pound, swirling synths, and thick buzzing low end, rife with strange bits of percussion, and sampled voices.
The record slips into moody, melancholic piano driven sort-of-bombastic balladry (peep the bloodied keyboard on the cover), with big drums and some weirdly glammy vocals, sounding like a black metal Rufus Wainwright, sort of. The sound quickly returns to something more hushed and minimal, deep bell like tones, softly undulating stretches of layered low end, very darkly meditative, laced with some subtly corrosive streaks of twisted fragmented melody. The record culminates in the church organ led final track, a stately hymn surrounded by thick swirls of whipping wind, before the synths come in, all majestic swells, sounding not unlike last week's Record Of The Week, Fastest, like some sort of Zelda style dramatic soundtrack, before finally fading to black.
Strange stuff for sure, but we definitely dig it. The black metal element is brief, but still seems to inform the rest of the record's not nearly as black soundscaping.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Housed in a slim dvd case, with full color cover and insert, recorded on gold cd-r.
Latest chuck of spaced out doom drone from these long time aQ faves, Burners finds the group getting seriously melodic, sort of. Where on past records, RD trafficked more in abstract drones and ambient doom, and psychedelic soundscapery, the three extended tracks here are more slowcore than doomdrone, more space rock that soundscape, a new direction for sure, but without losing the various drone and doom elements that made past records so compelling.
The record opens with a loooooong stretch of moaning ambience, heaving slabs of muted crumbling distortion, before the drums kick in, a simple, skeletal, almost krautrock beat, and then the rest of the band launch into a droney, fuzzed out space rock dirge, tons of reverb and echo and delay, distant tinkling melodies buried in the mix, the vocals processed to the point that they become just another layer of swirling sound, a plodding, hypnorock workout that builds to a blown out, seriously in-the-red finish. The second track dials it back a bit, all tribal drumming and warm whirring organs, more reverbed vox, washed out and ethereal, murky and muddy, a gorgeously blurred bit of slowcore lumber.
The second side is all one track, which begins with keening soft melodies over buzzing layered low end, and epic slowburning dirge, almost like White Hills or the Heads, at 16 rpm, a blown out space rock, slowed waaaaay down and wrapped in layer after layer of haze and grit and buzz. Majestic, melodic, melancholic, the bass thick and billowing and blackened, the guitars howling above it all, total, with a blurred tribal outro, garbled vox, chiming guitars, tons of effects, all drifting beneath a ever shifting layers of sonic murk, total space kraut doom dirge bliss!
As much as we dug the Robedoor disc Hidden Ascension, reviewed a couple of lists back, our first exposure to this doomy duo, we were still a bit taken aback by how freaked out the AQ massive got over that disc. They flew out of here and ever since we've been having trouble scraping up any more copies of that way too limited disc. So we got in touch with the band and managed to get a bunch of another disc (as well as a collaborative lp reviewed slewhere on this list), Christ's Vipers, released on UK label Chocolate Monk, and it should hit the spot for all you folks jonesing for more Robedoor.
Robedoor is the duo of Alex: slime, knives and distortion, and Notnotfun label head honcho Britt on fire, howls and cloaks...
Hmmm... but what does all that mean, sonically? Well, precisely what you might imagine. A blackened drone drenched world of slime and knives and fire, dense clouds of distorted howls, a thick cloak of fuzz and buzz wrapped around the proceedings like a thick, well, cloak!
Actually this is a lot prettier than you might imagine. That is if your idea of pretty includes tons of low end and a world of slom motion doomdrone. Four lengthy tracks, the first, a wash of huge rumbling bass riffs, ringing out and gradually spreading out into a shimmering black smear, above it all, some sort of melody is played out, hard to tell if it's a synth or a guitar, or even a voice, but it wails all muted and muddy above the roiling blackness, the whole track a dirgey throb that sounds a little bit like caveman doom outfit Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg. The second is a cavernous, malfunctioning trawl through some wasted Wolf Eyesian industrial soundscape, lots of amp buzz and cord crackle, all manner of glitch and hiss drifting above dense black billows of subterranean sound. Track three is another intensely dark drift, a little more caustic than the first two tracks, this time with vocals, ultra distorted and buried in the mix, it's like another instrument, wailing and caterwauling away, as it is slowly dragged along by a dense flow of furiously blown out low end psych bass swirl.
Finally, the disc finishes off with a near static wall of low end, that builds from a minimal throb to a seriously freaked out sonic squall. Imagine Birchville at its most noisy and damaged, then fuck it up a bit, slow it down some, crank the PA to 11, and stand back as the amps literally begin to liquefy, the stage slowly transformed into some rumbling pusling black lump, the musical version of watching a star implode, or a planet die, all rendered in lots and lots of low end and plenty of grinding glorious feedback.
After a whole mess of lps and 7"s and cd-r's and splits, we finally got our hands on the very first proper cd release from East Coast dirge drone duo Robedoor and it's a killer.
As we admitted before, we were late on the uptake, having only discovered Robedoor early last year, but have been doing our best to make up for it, grabbing every single shred of sonic sludge we can.
Closer To The Cliff is more of what we've come to love. Long extended dirgescapes of crumbling distorted drones, buried black melodies, rumbling expanses of downtuned thrum. Keening feed back and coruscating high end smeared into glimmering expanses of effulgent murk, a deep black glow in a roiling whirl of muted melody. It's like SUNNO))), in its massive nearly static crawl, but where SUNNO)) is like sticking your head in a black hole, Robedoor is like staring into a black sun, letting your eyes glaze over, and the various sounds and colors blur into dreamlike dronescapes, much more lo-fi and textural, gritty, grimey, constantly in flux, less about riffs slowed down as it is about pulling sound apart, exposing the strange musical guts inside, allowing them to spill out like deep black sonic viscera.
But beyond just the sheer brute force of Robedoor's deep black sprawl, much of this disc is spent sans heaviness, letting the rumble and roooaaar dissipate, exploring delicate crystalline expanses of barely there shimmer, twinkling music box melodies suspended in gently whirring fields of whispery ambience and soft chordal washes, reminds us of Andrew Chalk filtered through Tim Hecker, gorgeous and glimmering, but always with that ominous low end in the background. Or imaging a Nadja record, spun really slow with your finger and broadcast through a beat up old amp.
A gorgeously washed out and dreamily disembodied soft-doom...
So just in case the album title doesn't totally give it away for ya, here it is, another slow burning dose of blackened drone from LA's Robedoor! In tune with their prolific nature, the duo brings us another terrific offering of menacing dronescapes to add to their huuuge list of releases. These guys just keep it coming and we don't mind a bit.
Side A is a solid 15 minute slab of swirling, heavenly bodies, of heavy heavy drift, a melting singing bowl in the lap of a woodland mystic. Building from a trembling, blissed out ocean of high end, a metallic wash into a murky pool of buried vocals and low-end geologic rumble. Hypnotic and mesmerizing, a demonic ceremony howling from the depths of an icy cave.
Side B kicks off with creeping, tuning guitar swells, boiling like tar in the hot sun. The blown out toll delicately dissipates leaving only seconds of silence before a sludgy, down-tempo drum lures all into its rhythmic daze. The two march into a slow paced trudge only to unveil Robedoor as they approach actual "song-ness". While most of their other records have been more or less straight-up drone, this track is new territory for the duo, towering chords ringing out over chanted vocal melodies. Pretty cool. Yet another enchanting release that will most definitely satisfy any craving you might have for mysterious sounds, deep ritualistic musics, and cavernous drones that rattle the bones.
Seems like the LA based doooom dronelords Robedoor have slowed their endlessly prolific output lately, pretty sure these guys are in a bunch of other projects and are busy running record labels and stuff, but either way we're happy to have a few copies of their brand new cassette on Monorail Trespassing. Exorcism Blues delivers four brand new tracks of mind-melting, ground ripping heavy drone that falls somewhere between the synth sorcery of the recent secret abuse lps and the dark, doom drone stylings of earlier Robedoor recordings. Slow trudging glacial ambience that melts beneath the paralyzing summer heat. Super killer and super limited, we've only got a handful of these so act fast in you want one, they'll be gone before you know it!
We're a bit embarrassed to admit we had never heard Robedoor before, heck, we'd never even heard OF them. Which is saying something as a quick internet search reveals about a MILLION cd-r's and cassette releases. Although the same search reveals very little else. All we can glean is that they are a duo, one half credited with slime, knives and distortion, the other with fire, howls and cloaks, and that they are part of the Notnotfun noise axis. The rest is a mystery. Which befits their gorgeously mysterious sound. Huge growling, glowing slabs of slow shifting low end. Slowed down riffs and long dark streaks of moaning sound, some sort of improbable mix of SUNNO))) and Skullflower. Or the gloomiest doomiest Wolf Eyes record played manually, pulling it around with your finger, a constantly fluctuating low end rumble, laced with haunting distant melodies and high end guitar buried in the murk. Fans of all thing slow and low AND heavy will definitely want one of these. We need to hear more from these guys for sure!!
Packaged in a plastic bag with a black and white insert and some sort of weird plastic hair. LIMITED TO 78 COPIES!!! These will be gone in a flash...
Latest chunk of dirgey psychedelia from these aQ faves, and as we noticed on the past few records, Robedoor's sound has been growing consecutively more melodic, their songs sounding more like, well, songs, rather than extended freakout jams. These three tracks here offer more proof that Robedoor do in fact have a softer side, but fear not, they're still plenty distorted and dark and tripped out, the songs are just more restrained, they'd have to be to fit 3 on a 7". But the shift suits them, washes of keening high end drift above scrabbling bass suspended in the ether, guitars chime and ring off in the distance, each track is a slow build from spare spaceiness to tribal pummel, the rhythms minimal yet propulsive, vocals hazy with effects and woven into the fabric of these songs, another layer in an already thickly layered sound, the tracks grow more and more dense, usually culminating in spaced out droney drift, laced with delicate melodies, all psychedelic and fuzzy and murky and way psychedelic, and pretty dang kick ass!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
A beautiful swirling murk drone mass from the always transcendent Robedoor! Pained Seer is the first cassette document of Robedoor we've gotten our hands on here at aQ, and it's a gorgeous vision quest to be sure!
The first track, "Acid Collapse", Is an undulating sonic dream, pulsating and writhing, feedback and fuzz rising and falling, spooked vocals mutter desperate incantations in the distance, all buried under an acid tongued drone. The sound is warm and enveloping, wrapping the mind in a twilight, come-down trip blanket, made of ghostly tones and acerbic pulsations. Building slowly in intensity, the sound becomes more and more excited, percussive elements enter to punctuate the brain burning death rattle, eyes rolling back into the head, sun caving in, by the end of it there's a hole blown in your head, and a vacuous peace where your mind used to be.
The flip side, "Reverse Vision", proceeds in the same mode, but perhaps a bit darker. Doomy even. A blackend progression is played on what sounds like a cheap keyboard set to cello, or maybe bassoon, hissing otherworldly vocals sing fractured melodies, all buried in murk-fuzz reverberating textures. This must have been recorded in some deep dark cavern situated far below LA, some place where that California sun cannot reach. The sound so dense and distorted, harrowingly dark visions creep through the mind's eye like lost sonic specters searching for a vessel. The piece drifts and drones and floats away into the ether, the progression remaining until the bitter end.
This tape, much like the Swanox / Scraps Of Dogs also on Caligulan featured on this list, is packaged beautifully. A photo of the sun coming through the trees on the cover, with these rad fleur d'lys cut outs on the corners of the inside flap. And A Magic The Gathering card is included in every cassette! Radical shit. Unfortunately, we got the last ten copies of this wonder, so when they're gone they're gone. Get it.
The latest from these longtime aQ psychedelic heavy faves finds the group's shift to the Hands In The Dark label accompanied by a crazy stylistic sonic shift as well, sounding almost exactly like what you might imagine a Robedoor record would / should sound like on a label that is more geared toward twisted electronics and beat driven weirdness. The opening track begins with a sort of crunk style programmed almost hip hop sounding beat, then introduces thick, densely buzzing swaths of low end, almost like super low end dubstep wobbles, then in swoop streaks of swirling almost symphonic synths. The sound heavy, but more textured and dense than properly psychedelic, and while there does seem to be some guitars that creep in here and there, they mostly add some tripped out psychedelic effects or buzzing textures, cuz for the most part, at least for the bulk of the song it's a strange electro-psych synth-hop trip out, that gradually grows more noisy and freaked out by the song's end with some distorted vocals, and some actual guitar buzz, all of which eventually explode into a super distorted squall for the last minute or two. Holy shit, so cool, easily the weirdest, coolest thing we've heard from these guys for sure.
And while we were sort of expecting that opener to be a sort of anomaly, the rest of the record is just as weirdly warped and electronic. With a title like "Blasted Orb", track two seems like it should be some Les Rallizes style blow out, but instead, it's all skittering electronic rhythms, bleating horn like melodies, woozy shimmery textures, layered loops, dense crumbling textures, psychedelic certainly still but more a sort of beat heavy electro-psych.
"Flannel Shroud" is all electronic pulsations, heaving orchestral synth blurts, super processed, reverbed vox, a twisted mix of psychedelic garage rock, and electro synthscapery, but it works, heady and hypnotic and freaky and far out, with some Eastern style sitar sounding melodies, the end of the track cranking up the tempo, where the usual Hawkwind style blowout would go, but instead, it's a weird sort of electro-kraut psych out, with wild tangled electronic leads over programmed beats, and still more crumblingly distorted textures. And finally, "Concrete Brother" is a sort of electro-garage sci-fi creep, slithery and plodding, the drums pulsing and distorted, with thick synth (guitar?) buzz, yowled reverbed vox, keening high end melodies, weird industrial clatter, like some sort of modern avant take on the grim electronic swagger of Suicide, but heavily psychedelicized, droney, and dirgey and drowsily hypnotic. So goddamn great!
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!! Already sold out at the label, so these are very likely our last copies!!! Includes a download code too!
Another sprawling drone space psychedelic doom bliss workout from these Southern California sonic explorers. Whereas past records were seriously dense and grim and droney, Raiders finds the band blossoming into some seriously lysergic space doom drift, vocals soaring through fields of reverb, the guitars thick slabs of burnished buzz, the drums skeletal, the whole vibe druggy and dreamy, and way more ethereal.
The band do get heavier, hauling out the fuzz bass, and letting the drums get all tribal, but even then the thick clouds of rumbling blur, are laced with spidery tendrils of glistening high end melodies, and a soft hazy gauze of smeared vocals and layered effects, trippy and buzzy, drifting into Loop / Spacemen 3 territory, albeit a bit more ferocious and feral. Throughout though, the band seem to keep the ambience anchored to songs, or at least almost-songs, everything melodic, subtly or otherwise, sometimes pretty and haunting, other times chaotic and crushing, and again at other times hushed and minimal.
Still plenty doomy and droney, but probably Robedoor's prettiest and songiest slab of sound to date.
Another grim slab of nightmarish dooooom drone from LA's prolific Robedoor! Initially put out on cd last year by Release the Bats (which is now out of print, and we're sorry we neglected to review it before that happened, considering how much we like it!), this heavy wax offering of skull crushing invocation is some of the most intense and noisy stuff we've heard from these dudes. Rancor Keeper, now thankfully reissued on vinyl by Seacave, builds with layers of crushing overdrive underneath blankets of wretched vocals and blistering feedback, reaching points of Skullflower-like aural annihilation only to retreat to the solemn hallways of abandoned cathedrals. Kind of reminds us of a much more droney and less brutal WOLD, only more doomy and more mysterious. Blackened to the crisp and placed at the foot of the amplifier altar, the record moves from all-out destruction to moments of somber reflection, pools of shimmering organ/synth drones hovering in solace before the devastation returns. "Wendigo Psychosis" is quite the 15 minute finale, hellish hypnosis and pummeling, lo-fi drums kick in toward the end only to leave a heap of smoldering carnage in its wake. Dark and cataclysmic, there's an underlying beauty that lurks deep beneath the surface of the mind-melting sonic destruction. Housed in a super grim black lp sleeve with some appropriately bleak artwork, definitely and completely recommended for all worshipers of the weird, noisy and blackened drooooone!
First Robedoor release we've listed in a while, but by no means have these guys been slacking. Nope, we just looked away for a few months and 3 or 4 lps slipped �under the radar, so we're gonna try to get all caught up, beginning with this, the newest (we think), from this drone-y duo.
We've always dug these guys, whether they were doing something muted and whispery, or kicking out the thick drone-y jams, this one is a little of both, probably leaning toward the former.
The first side begins with an almost tranquil landscape of processed rhythmic buzz, that soon becomes a cacophonous roar, warm, thick synthy drones lay atop pulsing subterranean rumbles, deep subtle percussion peppers loooooong drawn out tones, a burst of textured noise erupts, spewing thick buzzing crumbling guitars, barely audible chant like vocals are buried underneath, super noisy, but weirdly hypnotic and dreamlike.
The flip side is split into two extended tracks, the first is a super abstract doomy groove, wailing plaintive guitars and moaning wordless vocals, suspended in a massive expanse of black ambience and mysterious shimmer, which gives way to a loooong slow drone, with a strange Velvets-y melody buried way down under the surface, more creepy almost choral vocals, a super amorphous abstract drift, haunting and otherworldly.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
