What to say about Avarus that we haven't already said? Have a look at the aQ website for review after review extolling the virtues of these freaky foresty folky Finns. Heck, Andee even liked them enough to out out a double cd of theirs on tUMULt.
Longtime readers of the aQ list are no doubt by now familiar with Avarus and the sonic orbit they exist in. Kemialliset, Anaksimandros, Fonal Records, but of all the multitude of soundmakers and amazing records, there's just something special about Avarus that makes them maybe our favorite of the bunch.
This lp-only release captures the group on tour in the US in 2006 and 2007, and live Avarus can be a much heavier and riffier beast. Two sidelong jams, the first recorded in Washington D.C., finds the band channeling German Oak, offering up a murky buzzy groove, that sounds like it was recorded in some bunker, the guitars muddy and thick, the percussion simple and propulsive, a gorgeous and druggy blow out that takes up most of the side, but eventually the riffs drift off, leaving a scattered abstract soundscape of bird calls and weird vocalizations, of detuned guitar and stumbling skronk, swirling effects and mumbled chanting, angular and obtuse, building to a cacophonous finale.
The B side, recorded in Providence, is like the second half of the first side expanded to nearly half an hour, total abstract minimalism, dada-ist sound making of the highest order, reeds creak and shriek, percussion stumbles and skitters, vocals are spoken, hummed, broadcast through a megaphone, deep resonant swells surface and quickly fade away, the track growing gradually more and more chaotic, the vocals transformed into moans, the drumming growing more frenzied, the air seeming to thicken with murky buzz and fuzzed out whir, as if the fidelity in the room is slowly decreasing. A pretty neat trick, and one that surely suits Avarus' absurdist sensibilities.
Packaged in a full color fold over sleeve, with a printed full color insert. Pressed on beautiful greenish clear vinyl. And pretty limited of course, just can't remember HOW limited. VERY we're guessing...
More limited cd-r madness, again from our Finnish faves Avarus. A super limited one track 22+ minute live set, and it'a a little surprising considering what we're used to from these guys. The last few Avarus releases have been dreamy, stumbly psychedelic tinged folk, with loose tribal drumming, and an odd assortment of bowed, plucked and strummed instruments, reminding us very much of AQ faves Kemialliset Ystavat (with whom Avarus share members) and tribal, free-rock collective the No Neck Blues Band. But this live record is a different beast altogether. Channelling the spirit of the Dead C, Avarus kick up quite a racket, a thick slab of sound, with LOTS of guitars, feedback and some seriously chaotic drumming, recorded hot and overblown, adding just the right amount of distortion and haze to the recording. It almost sounds like some New Zealand noise rock band like Gate or maybe UK psych/drone ensemble Sunroof! -covering- Avarus. A nice new direction for one of our favorite bands! In handpainted sleeves, every one unique!
A 3" cd-r from this obscure & primitive Finnish psych-folk entity. Stumbling psych jamming spread over two tracks, nearly twenty minutes. Imagine the Dead C playing Finnish forest music. Or Tower Recordings covering International Harvester next door to Reynols' practice space? Droning, damaged clatter, like the cavorting of drugged out hippy carpenters. This band may or may not have members in common with labelmates Kemialliset Ystavat, that OTHER amazing damaged Finnish folk combo (of which we have a new release, see nearby for review) -- but any rate, fans of Kemialliset will like this too. Numbered and limited to 100 copies.
Yet another blissful excursion into the wild Finnish Forests with one of our favorite troupes of intrepid sonic explorers Avarus. This limited lp only release finds these Finns exploring similar sonic terrain as past releases, but even though it may be a well trod part of the forest, Avarus know how to ferret out all the secret little hiding spots and all the beautiful sounds as yet undiscovered.
Drifting abstract melodies unfurl from detuned guitars, woodwinds flit and flutter like birds darting through the treetops, plenty of percussive clang and clatter underpin the action, while far off in the distance, the forest frolicking is threatened by thick black swells of grinding low end, and stormlike rumbles. The A side offers up a full on hippy kraut jam near the end, noisy and propulsive and about as rocking as these guys ever get, with pounding drums, looped riffs all amidst clouds of whirling swirling sound.
The B side is much more restrained, more mysterious and abstract, with long stretches of near silence, plenty of microscopic sonic happenings, an extended sprawl, as if the musicians, exhausted from side one's closing jam, are all stretched out in the shade of the forest, lazily plucking strings, and rubbing metals, kicking drums with their feet as they stretch out on the sun dappled forest floor, making music that is as relaxed as they are, strange, slow burning, haunting and dreamlike...
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!! Each one hand numbered, packaged in super eye popping dayglo full color sleeves!
Quite a few of you who read our list are probably already followers of the whole Finnish folk-psych underground, right? So this Avarus will most likely already be going in your basket (especially since it contains all of their WAY out of print early releases!)... But if you're not yet a Finn-folk-freak, you'll also find this to be a great introduction to one of the key bands from that scene...
This double cd collects the early recorded works of the mysterious Finnish free folk collective Avarus. Previously released as limted run cd-r's and 7"s (in tiny runs of 50-200 copies), these tracks are a tantalizing glimpse into the mist-shrouded musical world of Finnish underground music, equal parts the hypno rock of fellow countrymen Circle, the pagan ritualism of The Wicker Man, the droning throb of Faust, the propulsive rhythm of Can, and the lo-fi clatter and skree of the Dead C.
Imagine a land of forests and fjords, a land of dark skies and windswept landscapes. Then imagine the sort of music this land would evoke. Droning hypnotic clattery free folk, dark and propulsive, mesmeric Krautrock, rhythmic pagan musical rituals, all detuned guitars and hand drums, chanting and wild free percussion, and everything in between.
Avarus combine psychedelic folk rock, motorik Krautrock, free jazz and modern noise into a totally mesmerising, totally unique modern avant noise/folk, unfurling lengthy meandering almost funereal jams, desolate and mournful, but dreamy and pastoral, machinelike and hypnotic at the same time. Strummed acoustic guitars frame distant throbbing caveman percussion, dreamy soundscapes are punctuated by occasional clang and clatter, all swaddled in the warm drone of amp buzz and ambient hum. Lo-fi, rambling, ramshackle blues jams mutate into wildly propulsive psych-folk with intensely strummed guitars and far-away flute melodies.
Dipping their toes into whatever variant of their unique 'sound' that strikes their fancy, Avarus sway woozily from atonal Jandek-ian campfire hippy hoedowns, to wild jams with spastic drumming and sing-songy melodies plucked out on beat up, strangely tuned guitars, to wild clattery bursts of percussion splattered haphazardly over a Skullflower-ish skree, to stripped down, jangly hyperactive psychedelic rock to loose ambient soundscapes of whir and buzz and twang, with slithery, sitar-like guitars. Occasionally Avarus kick up quite a racket, a thick slab of sound, with LOTS of guitars, feedback and some seriously dense drumming, recorded hot and overblown, adding just the right amount of distortion and haze to the recording. It almost sounds like some New Zealand noise rock band like Gate or UK psych/drone ensemble Sunroof! -covering- Avarus!
Epic and endless, rumbling and stumbling, space-y psychedlic folk jams spread over two discs, TWO PLUS HOURS. Imagine the Total or The Dead C playing Finnish forest music. Or the Tower Recordings covering International Harvester next door to Reynols' practice space? Droning, damaged clatter, like the wild drunken cavorting of drugged out hippy carpenters. Space-y and druggy and totally mesmerizingly beautiful.
MPEG Stream: "Horuksen Vasemman Silman Mysteerikoulu Royh Eli Vuh Tai Siis Moi Kaikki: Rikottu Noidat Haluavat Luusi Universumin Pienin Kysymys Varisten Kokoontumislaulu" [/audio/avarusvasemmann.m3u]
MPEG Stream: "Horuksen Oikean Silman Mysteerikoulu Astraalikaali 25 Metria Kavellen Veden Alla Kirjoitusmerkki Aikamerkki Arkistosali" [/audio/avarusoikean.m3u]
It's been ages since we've heard from these Finnish forest freaks, four years in fact. And these days it sounds like that Finnish forest is on some other planet, their ramshackle campfire-kraut sound still perfectly intact, bit this time around, even more electronic, bouncy and playful, sounding a bit like it could be a rejected theme song for some twisted Finnish children's television program, you know the kind adults watch when they're super stoned? Woozy and whimsical, droney and psychedelic, a loping bassline anchors the otherwise freeform sound, spidery melodies in looses tangles drift heavenward, abstract percussion, some coalescing into proper rhythms, others tribal and primitive, lots of electronic bits, damaged FX, warped swirls, slow shifting textures, and lots of voices too, but not singing, more just talking, and snippets of conversations, as if the whole thing was super casual, recorded while other folks just went about their business in the background, occasionally joining in, but just as likely making dinner, or playing cards. The vibe is super loose and laid back, but also weirdly cosmic, some of the melodies sound like effected kazoos, everything is sing-songy and playful, but as the track progresses, constantly shifting and morphing, the sound grows more abstract, the electronics gradually taking over, until the sound splinters into something wholly other, the upbeat bounciness reimagined as something almost jazzy, Eastern and exotic, before finally, a slow stretch of hushed muted mesmer unfurls, murky and mysterious, and yet somehow retaining some of that childlike playfulness. The whole side sounds like just part of an even more epic jam, a days long musical ritual, of which we were only privy to a tiny glimpse.
The flipside delivers more of the same, as if really it was part of the same epic jam, but here it gets even more groovy, sounding almost African at times, tranced out and hypnotic, super rhythmic, the sound building momentum, growing even more dense and droney, buzzy and layered, blossoming into a druggy psychedelic swirl, that is downright divine.
SUPER LIMITED!! Get one before they're gone...
Yeah, it's a bit price-y, but then for some reason Ultra Eczema lps always are. The thing is though, they're generally also gorgeous looking, deluxe sleeves with wild wacked out eye popping covers, ultra thick vinyl, and in most cases, especially this one, the grooves are packed with sounds to match. That is to say wild and wacked.
The newest record from forefathers of the Finnish free folk scene Avarus, is not in fact a new record, but instead a document of Avarus' recent trip to the states, in particular a live on the radio session for Brian Turner's show on WFMU. Two side long jams, the ever fluctuating collective trimmed down to a mean lean trio, on the first, they capture here their most primitive side, lots of rattles and percussion, thumps and clicks and creaks and moans, all accompanied by strange inhuman vocalizations, sounding like humans discovering speech for the first time, howling, crooning, mewling, grunting, all that tangled up with some super abstract free jazz drum skitter, some detuned string plucking, which builds to something much more substantial, a cacophonous squall of horns and even more strange vocalizations, a garbled transmission of alien folk free jazz confusion, that manage to some still sound hypnotic and cohesive. The final few minutes are an awesome skittery croaking looped outro, that we sort of wish would have gone on for longer.
The flipside starts off with more caveman jazz, strings scraped and plucked, drums splattered here and there, those alien vox, but peppered with warm reedy buzz and all manner of other abstract sounds. After a brief bit of garbled gurgling, the song sprawls into a gorgeous super skeletal, percussive workout, this too with the feel of proto-humans discovering rhythm, primal, primitive, tribal, super spare and spacious and weirdly mesmerizing.
The sleeve as mentioned above is indeed eye popping, green on orange eye torture, a killer super tripped out psychedelic illustration, mirrored in black and white on the lp labels, and of course extremely limited. ONLY 300 COPIES!!!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Finnophile alert!! A new super limited 7" from our favorite avant-free-folk-forest collective Avarus. In cool hand screened sleeves. Lots of buzz and clatter, scrape and skree. Side one is less folk and more Sunroof! shimmer, while the other side is a wash of ambient folk, with a dark minimal throb beneath atonal sawing violins and kitchen sink percussion buried in the murk. Always so good. And again, let us remind you: VERY LIMITED!!!!
Once again these wide eyed Finnish forest freaks crawl out from under their mossy stones, from inside their firelit caves, out of their huts made of pine needles and sticks and twigs, set up around a campfire, under a full moon, dressed only in fur and animal bones, and conjure up the woodland spirits with their tribal free folk juju. Okay, so maybe it's actually just a bunch of music nerds like you or me with killer record collections and a bunch of old amps and guitars, but to us, it sure sounds like the glorious din these folks whip up could only be the product of some drug fueled ancient forest ritual. Which is precisely why we love Avarus and their Finnish underground rock brethren (and sistren!). The music they make sound not of this world. And we don't mean "Oh Finland's like a whole other world!" we mean, space, or an alternate dimension or even that huge hollow area at the center of the earth. The music of Avarus is that unique and that strange, exactly what we picture one might hear, stepping off of an interstellar transport, realizing for the first time that the atmosphere is breathable, and the vegetation is strangely lush and very Earth-like, that sound, "like music?" that lures us and our team deep into the alien forest. Or in the heart of South America, at an archaeological dig, strange markings on the rocks we've been unearthing from the very lowest levels of the lost temple, finally there's some sort of portal, a huge iron door, and... wait, is that... music? But what is it? It's like nothing we've ever heard, those sound like guitars, and voices, but so... strange....
For those of you who need more musical references, imagine a little Dead C, a little No Neck Blues Band, some Sunburned Hand Of The Man, Faust, Can, The Wickerman, all sorts of tribal musics, Parson Sound, Tower Recordings, Taj Mahal Travellers, even fellow countrymen Circle, Keukhot, Uton, Tivol and of course lots of drugs and lots and lots of space. This newest Avarus is a bit heavier on the guitar than previous outings, almost like they dug up a couple ancient fuzzboxes and ran their dang whole freaked out jam through 'em. There are lots of creepy krautrock bits, some blown out near noise parts, and lots of fuzzy disembodied psych, gurgling synths, splattery percussion, thick washes of feedback, primitive electronics, and loads of grungey guitar grit, it's all woven together into a crazy perfect psychedelic patchwork.
More crazy random collage artwork, this time no Garfield, but plenty of walruses, a map and an octopus. Half the record was recorded live in Dublin with Tara Burke of Fursaxa as a special guest!Ô
It's been a while, but finally a new release in Fatcat's split 12" series, this time ex-Gastr Del Sol, Bastro dude teams up with Avey Tare of super hyped outsider rock ensemble the Animal Collective. Grubbs side is mostly piano, the first half of which is hypnotic, melodic and melancholy, just a brief snippet of barroom piano, ala Billy Joel or Randy Newman, but looped Reich style, and occasionally drifting into moody spare minimalism. Grubbs' second track is a fuzzed out looped drone, and sounds like the opening guitar riff from "How Soon Is Now", cut up and reassembled. Avey Tare offers up two short tracks of Chipmunks style kiddie show vocals over glitchy cricket chirps and distant feedback, and a lengthy track of homemade crunched out lofi plunderphonia, all drone-y and minimal, underpinning whispered indie boy vocals. It's a weird combo, but it sort of works.
Finally! The long out of print nineties releases from legendary industrial / power electronics / UK noise / black drone one man band AX once again see the light of day. Longtime fans of the mighty Skullflower, will no doubt be familiar with AX, the project of one time SF member Anthony Di Franco, who also did time in a number of other bands you might also be familiar with: Ramleh, Novatron, Ethnic Acid, JFK. But we always had a soft spot for AX, whose first two vinyl lps (collected here), Nova Feedback and II, originally released in 1994 and 1995 respectively, were for some of us our first taste of power electronics, and unlike much of the more harsh, ear shredding power electronics, AX trafficked in something much more droned out, a sound that whether intentionally or not, seemed to foreshadow the sort of slowburn sludge, and crumbling slo-mo ultra-doom that would follow. It's hard not to hear hints of Earth and SUNNO))) and Bunkur and Khanate or even groups like Troum and Maeror Tri, for all of its noise, and it IS noisy, that noise is sculpted in such a way as to render it impossibly listenable, totally hypnotic, and utterly mesmerizing. You can almost imagine a primitive hybrid of Troum and SUNNO))), the dark trancelike dronescape of the former, fused to the impossible black hole heaviness of the latter, but then the whole thing doused in a haze of caustic industrial crunch, and liberal swaths of grinding howling feedback.
This collection opens up strangely enough with one track that is NOT from either of those two 12"s, but is instead plucked off AX's only proper full length cd, 1997's Astronomy, but that track, "Kortex", is definitely the perfect opener, and in some ways the perfect introduction to AX. The doomiest of the bunch by far, due in no small part to its plodding slow motion 'beat', a gristly metronomic crunch, that sounds like a snare hit slowed down a hundred times and run through a bank of dead distortion pedals, over which Di Franco lays down a churning layer of crumbling blackened distortion, wreathing those plodding squashed bug beats in squalls of overloaded powergrid buzz, it's a sort of primitive electron-level ultra doom, snakelike tendrils of hiss wrapped around sheets of grinding metallic buzz, all driven by that sinister blacknoise pulse. Which leads directly into "Nova Feedback 1", a swirling psychedelic wash of rumbling black buzz, and phased out thrum, evoking the whole guitar-against-the-amp style near-static minimalist doomdirge. Fans of the late great Vulture Club and other practitioners of that sort of doomdronedrift will be in heaven.
"Heavy Fluid" is near symphonic, a sprawling 11 minute soundscape of layered guitar buzz, gristly electronics, shards of static, clouds of hiss, some serious proto-SUNN extreme slo-mo heaviness, which had us thinking a bit of another recent aQ fave, Blackwolfgoat, unfurling an endless cascade of woozy guitar buzz and melting blackened psychedelic riffage, the tones shifting constantly, as if someone was continually fiddling with the pitch knob, or more likely, an endless fiddling with the tuners, letting notes morph into other notes, to dip down into an even murkier thrum, before slowing drifting into a near howl. The sort of track, that we could listen to ENDLESSLY, only really exploding about 8 minutes in, when the original detuned creep is barraged by scrapes and squiggles and an avalanche of still more roiling guitarnoise. There are moments of pure noise, "Theme One", is in fact pretty much a four minute blast of face melting, ultra corrosive, blacknoise blur, but it almost acts like a palette cleanser, as it leads directly into the title track, which might be the most tranquil jam here, again foreshadowing the sort of bleak black soundscapery of groups like Wolf Eyes or Blue Sabbath Black Cheer or Gnaw Their Tongues, a gorgeously abject stretch of haunting post industrial buzz and hum, super cinematic, laced with all manner of grinding guitar noise, and strange moans and creaks, slipping easily from hushed drift, to cavernous bellow, and back again.
We then move into the two tracks from AX's II 12", the first a 10+ minute of grinding power electronics bliss out, which after an opening blast of speaker destroying crunch, seems to gradually settle into something more spaced out and atmospheric, but really no less noisy, buried voices, shards of feedback, and all manner of metallic crunch, are blurred and smeared into a softly heaving sprawl of dense, droned out, psychedelic free-noise drift. The second part begins as a low level hum, distant heaving moans buried beneath layers of static and hum, super dense and tense, the perfect cue for the final shot in some long lost seventies horror movie, but soon the haunting elements are all but subsumed by the swirling noise, the result a roiling sea of hiss and howl, grinding metals and churning buzz.
Finally, the collection finishes off with the last two tracks from Nova Feedback, the first, a dreamily psychedelic swirl of prismatic deconstructed guitar shimmer, and process chordal whirl, pulsing and pulsating, easily the prettiest track here, those strange melodies a recurring theme throughout the track, but gradually pulled apart and recontextualized, drifting dreamily one second, chopped up, looped and layered the next, wreathed in delay and reverb, and sent swirling into the ether, keening melodies over soft focus background guitarnoise, here rendered a dreamlike haze, totally hypnotic, and strangely tranquil. And finally, "Cluster" finishes things off, with what sounds like a classic chunk of black metal buzz, but here looped and layered and stretched out into an endless stretch of guitarbuzz mesmer, again reminding us of Blackwolfgoat, or perhaps Mick Barr, if he was restrained to just using the lowest strings, but that sort of near symphonic buzz, a churning tangle of blackened riffage, but blurred into something much more amorphous, a dreamlike cloud of psychedelic black shimmer, that is the perfect finish, to a near perfect collection.
Needless to say EXTREMELY recommended, and not just for nineties industrial obsessives (although obviously, for those folks, this is a no brainer), but if you dig minimal guitar mesmer, psychedelic doom, abstract heaviness, post industrial soundscaping, all strains of drone, especially heavy guitardrone, this collection will blow your mind.
We totally dig local free noise one man band Axolotl, and were ready for another blast of gorgeously abstract drone, clatter and skree when we threw this on, but holy cow is this record completely something else. We had to keep checking to see what we were listening to.
Some of the elements are certainly similar, but it's way dreamier and laid back, muted and murky, subtly propulsive, it actually sounds quite a bit like Oval or Gas! Which is a VERY good thing. Slow shifting underwater drift, a looped hypnotic dreamworld, rich waves of warm sound, a totally gorgeous abstract minimal ambience. So so so good!
SUPER LIMITED! 525 COPIES. Each copy is hand numbered and has a cool paste on cover.
Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and some with a little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
Live is a collection of live recordings (duh) from all over the globe, two from London, one from Glasgow, one from Amsterdam, one from right here in San Francisco, and two live on KALX. The London shows are much noisier than normal, dense clouds of crumbling distortion, static and hiss, but as always, melodies swirl beneath the skree, the various textures changing shape constantly, dizzying, and on the very dreamy pleasant side of noisy. The Glasgow show is a rich thick fluid drone assembled from glowing layers of burnished guitar shimmer and distant choir like vocals. The first KALX show is a deep tripped out druggy swirl, voices and fragments of melodies, all spinning drowsily, the second a super percussive steel string workout that sounds like solo dulcimer or something. San Francisco is a tripped out tribal drug jam, murky percussion, a haze of high end jangle, fluttering feedback, and tiny little squalls of buzz and skree. And finally, the Amsterdam show, a long stretch of high end hiss, manipulated tape, and fuzzy warbly static, all woven into a surprisingly dreamy drone. Once again, fantastic stuff.
Long overdue collection of out of print material from SF based free noise sound sculptor Axolotl. Collecting tracks from the Jyrk cd-r Oranur, the Spirit Of Orr cd-r Object Phantom and the more recent Gypsy Sphinx 12" Chemical Theater.
As much as we pretty much love everything Axolotl has done, and as much as we're psyched to have some of the older stuff on a real cd, this disc is worth it alone for the two tracks from the Chemical Theater 12", the first record where we noticed a distinct stylistic shift in Axolotl's sound. Here's what we had to say about those tracks:
"We had to keep checking to see what we were listening to. Some of the elements are certainly similar, but it's way dreamier and laid back, muted and murky, subtly propulsive, it actually sounds quite a bit like Oval or Gas! Which is a VERY good thing. Slow shifting underwater drift, a looped hypnotic dream world, rich waves of warm sound, a totally gorgeous abstract minimal ambience."
Sounds pretty great huh? Well, it is. And the two tracks from Chemical Theater are nearly twenty minutes long! Basically half of the 12". Including the 11+ minute glorious dreamy drone "Illiaster".
But the funny thing is, revisiting the older tracks, they are just as good somehow, sounding way more fuzzy and blown out and beautiful than we remember. And we definitely remember digging them, a lot, but they sound SO great... Thick washes of murky gritty grime, drones that twist and rumble and give way to fragmented bits of melody. Soft focus stretches of pixelated ambience, guitar strums that come apart, the notes drifting in all different directions, each note enveloped in its own little swath of buzz or fuzz, simple percussion, damaged rhythms, all wrapped in a dense fog of glowing guitar growl and fuzzed out feedback...
So recommended.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Not sure what happened to Axolotl, but at some point his noises got way less noisy, and everything started to sound a lot fuzzier and beautifully disoriented, almost like a few records back, the band stepped into a thick puddle of sonic quicksand, and every record they've sunk a little bit deeper, everything getting more and more fuzzed out and murky, buzzy and indistinct, until now, heck they must be neck deep, cuz everything sounds about as blissed out as can be.
Like an indie rock underground version of Mink Ink's Gas, Axolotl are now firmly in the Pop Ambient camp as far as we're concerned. Thick swirling sheets of ambience, guitars are fuzzy and drift like fat soft clouds, melodies are buried all the way at the bottom of about a million layers of grit and hum and whir, allowing us only brief glimpses, and letting occasional fragments float to the surface. Within this warm dense swirl is a pulse, a beat, a rhythm, often impossible to pick out, occasionally just loud enough to be heard over the soft din, a little like hearing a heartbeat through someone's down overcoat, a distant blurry thump, that almost just sounds like a random dynamic disturbance in the dreamlike hiss of each song's tranquil drift.
There are always a lot of amazing records vying for the coveted late night listening position, you know the perfect disc to relax to, to read along with, or best of all, to free your mind and send you drifting off into some relaxed, not-quite-sleep but dreamily blissed out headspace, and this Axolotl disc (a reissue of a super limited, out of print cd-r) has has pretty much knocked out all other contenders!
Amazingly gorgeous packaging too, a white folded over sleeve with embossed reflective silver printing, a textured pattern on the front, bold type on the back. Really striking.
Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and each with little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
Trade Ye No Mere Moneyed Art is the first release on Loci, and is everything we've come to love about Axolotl. Slow drifting mursckapes, swirls of muted percussion and disembodied guitar blur, soft edged effects, thick layers of whirring synth, crumbling bits of distortion, long static rumbles, subtly shimmering overtones, insectoid buzz, electronic glitch, and thick blown out sun dappled dreamlike drones. So nice.
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A brand new full length from local noisemaker Axolotl. We've carried loads of releases from this one man band, almost all of them cd-r's and thus almost all of them now out of print. Way Blank is actually, as far as we can tell, only the second proper cd (not cd-r) release so far, and we're glad it's a real cd, cuz it's pretty awesome.
Following up the Chemical Theater 12", Axolotly continues on the road toward a fuzzier dreamier place, more Gas and M83 and Tim Hecker than Yellow Swans and Wolf Eyes.
Everything is soft and fuzzy and bathed in a warm whirring glow. The opener "Penuma" sounds like it could have been plucked right off one of the Pop Ambient collections. Buried vocals, drifting melodic murk, all wrapped in thick slow shifting layers of fuzzy glistening sonic gauze. The second track is similarly murk and indistinct, but manages to build abstract rhythms out of crumbling distorted sonic fragments, a rumbling, creaking, whirring soundscape that builds into a massive wall of pitch shifting fuzz. Pretty glorious sounding actually. Massive and dramatic and so dreamy.
The rest of the tracks are all variations on the same glorious theme, blurry indistinct smears of foggy soft focus sound, buried melodies and distant sonic shadows, everything whirling and swirling, a cloudy ambient abstract drift through a warbly world of warm colors. A gorgeous new direction for Axolotl, one we definitely hope he'll continue to explore, joining his new sonic brethren, Gas, Tim Hecker, Fennesz, Basinski, et al., as they chart meandering dreamlike journeys into unknown worlds of sound.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
First record from this mysterious troupe, and it's a good one. We heard a little from them on that recent Space Is No Place compilation, but Axolotl is the sort of band that requires a whole record to truly unwind and explore and get us to where we want to go. This is classic, minimal, creepy out-rock music, but minus most of the rock. Damaged drones constructed from warbling synths and moaning ambient flutter, garbled melodies of chopped up voices, excited strings and all sorts of minimally percussive scrabble. There are drones but this is most definitely NOT a drone record, it's far too unsettling and dynamic. The drones are just one of the many elements of Axolotl's otherworldly miasma of sonic muddle and seemingly random sound. Occasionally a machine like rrrroooaaarr emerges from the murk, but manages to remain somehow pleasingly but not at all obviously melodic (a la the Dead C) like an anvil dipped in tar and wrapped in feathers.
This long sought after, long out of print cd-r, released originally on the Jyrk label way back in 2005, is available again for a limited time -- now as a super swank, ultra limited lp from Jefre Cantu Ledesma's (Tarentel) Root Strata label.
Triple threat SF free noise cd-r tag team match up between some names you should probably know by now, Axolotl, the Yellow Swans, and Gerritt. With three times the firepower you might think that would mean three times the noise, but be prepared to be surprised! And soothed. That's right, three lengthy tracks that lean more toward the dreamy minimal drone and the shimmering sheets of sonic skree than the all out noise attack. The first track is a slowly shifting gritty electronic soundscape of hazy melody and electronic buzz and hiss, eventually building into a louder, yet no less swath of drone and glitch hiss. Track two is a bit more in your face, with rich slabs of distorted chords and warm warbly drones, with swooping melodies and electronic mosquito buzz. The final track is twenty minutes of thick churning low end grind and grumble, pulsing with some buried beat, until the whole thing explodes into a huge wall of thick electrogrit and fuzzed out feedback screech. Wow. Really nice.
Limited to 500 copies we think.
Super limited single from these two modern masters of soft noise. The A side is from local boy Karl aka Axolotl, who over the last little while has slowly changed direction, the chaotic thick noisescapes of past records gradually becoming more and more melodic and blissed out. His half of this split continues in that direction, beginning with a brief bit of slowed down processed industrial clatter, which slowly gives way to some super blissy vocal drift. Soft swells, warm wheezing organs, bits of electronics, and disembodied vocals slowly shifting and wrapping themselves around one another. Creating strange subtle shapes and gorgeous harmonies. Lo-fi noise-rock pop ambience for sure...
Inca Ore (now also local wethinks) fills up the flipside with whispered vocals and old music box melodies, suspended in an old fashioned haze, late afternoon sun and dust motes hanging motionless in the beams of fading light. A room full of furniture untouched, old faded photos, a life forgotten. Haunting and creepy, mysterious and strangely cinematic, bits of choral fragments pepper the hushed vocals and simple melodies, sounding like it wouldn't be out of place in a Dario Argento movie.
LIMITED TO 450 COPIES, each one hand numbered, pressed on white vinyl, and packaged in thick sleeves with a photocopied insert.
We managed to get just a handful of these super limited (and seemingly already out of print, arghh!) cd-r's documenting this particular abstract free noise summit, that took place earlier this year live on the air at KDVS in Sacramento. Featuring names you should all be familiar with by now, Axolotl, Mouthus and the Skaters. Not as noisy as one might expect, instead this is some strange ambient industrial workout, murky and muddy, lots of processed vocals, clanging percussion, and weird swells of sound, cloaked in a dense swirl of lo-fi hiss. Sounds like it could be some lost live Throbbing Gristle outtake. Thick squirming guitars, creep and crawl through a craggy soundscape of thick gritty drones and jagged streaks of feedback, while haunting vocals moan and howl above the crepuscular din.
Some vinyl tag team action from these two Bay area based frenzies heavyweights. Axolotl offer up three lengthy tracks, a warped warbly hiss drenched ambient drift with distant singsongy vocals, a soft shimmery cinematic soundscapes, all soft edges, sparkling and glistening, and a crunchy super distorted blown out bliss out. All different but with a distinct certain something that ties them all together and makes them uniquely Axolotl. The Skaters counter with a side long epic, weird birdlike electronics trill and flutter, affected guitar jangles and floats dreamlike, hypnotic vocal loops, lurch and shimmy and eventually blend into a single smeary sound, the whole track dense and murky and warbly and lo-fi but as always so totally soft on the ears.
Gorgeously packaged as are all things on Catsup Plate, this time, metallic textured gold ink on a black sleeve, hand screened with a photocopied insert. SUPER LIMITED. Already out of print at the label, so we might not be able to get more unless they press more!
Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and some with a little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
The third release in the inaugural batch of Loci releases finds Axolotl teaming up with someone called Weyes Bluhd. On the first track of two, the duo create some sort of super distorted ghostly folk, where the vocals are crumbling effects drenched moans, surrounded by streaks of feedback and bursts of glitch and crunch, melodies assembled from jagged fragments of sound, all in a murky muddy soundscape of fuzzed out ambience, eventually building to a serious chunk of chaotic free psych blowout, overblown and WAY in the red.
The second track is like a shadow of the first, a whispery shimmer to the openers crunchy buzz, the vocals lonely moans, the instrumentation nothing but barely there slivers of high end shimmer, a lonely guitar drifting through the ether, the surrounding ambience fuzzy and gauzy, some serious abstract ghost town blues.
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Outside the morphological sounds of Nocturnal Emissions, Nigel Ayers has embarked on a few collaborative projects - one with Robin Storey and Randy Grief, and this one with Mick Harris (Scorn, Lull, Painkiller), and John Everall (Sentrax Records). Collectively, the trio delves into the deepest pits of the dark ambient, pioneered by the likes of Lustmord. Sublime.
The two most recent records put out by ultra hip experimental electronic label Triangle, finds that label continuing to push well past the 'witch house' genre ghetto that birthed them. To be fair, the first few proper releases on Triangle, Holy Other, Clams Casino, and Balam Acab, were already a sort of POST witch house strain anyway, with some of the WH tropes retained, but with those groups upping the production big time, and ditching much of the lo-fi drag that defined the best witch house, and in the process, inventing a new electronica. Elsewhere on this week's list you'll find the new record from SF electro weirdos Water Borders, a dizzying slab of Coil worshipping electronic what the fuck genius, and then there's this, the debut from Ayshay, which also incorporates a bit of Coil into the proceedings, but there seem to be no beats at all, at least initially, channeling some sort of Cocteau Twins ethereal drift, with some processed throat singing style vocals as a bass, the only beat a buried pulse, it's pretty compelling, and darkly haunting, and beautiful for sure. The second track offers up more of the same, channeling Grouper and stripping away all that low fidelity murk and instead creating a lush layered symphony of voices, subtly twisted and tweaked, another spectral vocal bliss out, and in fact, the third track is more of the same, it's like a three part vocal song suite that acts as a sort of introduction to the final 12 minute "Nguzunguzu Megamix", which is in fact the first track with beats, and while we may have been expecting some sort of skittery drag, or murky muted low end throb, it actually plays more like some lost Muslimgauze remix, all skittery Eastern percussion, multiple drums and rhythms all tangled up, some hand claps, some serious low end, all over those ethereal vox from the first few tracks, the sound constantly shifting, the beat growing more and more block rockin as the track progresses until it finally blossoms into some almost jungle near the end, the stutter and skitter (and some BIG bass booms), perfectly woven into that strange shimmery swirl of ghostly vox. And it's those last few minutes that are the sort of warped and weird, beat heavy mystery secret weapon that some cool DJ will unleash from his sonic arsenal at just the right time and just destroy the dancefloor. So good, getting tons of play here at AQ and appropriately just in time for the Halloween season...
Latest in the ongoing series of lovingly packaged, super limited releases from UK label Paradigms, who ostensibly are a metal label, but whose releases are sonically all over the map, the gothic chamber music of Amber Asylum, the buzzing blackness of Utlagr and Throne Of Katarsis, the blessed out dream done of the Angelic Process, the psychedelic space folk of Plants, the grinding cinematic noise of Gnaw Their Tongues, the black ambient of Wraiths, the metallic post prog rock of Woburn House, the ultra doooooom of Hjarnidaudi and we could go on and on.
And we most likely will as Paradigms shows no sign of slowing down. Two new releases this time around, a disc of progged out bombastic post black metal from Italian horde Kailash, and this here chunk of dreamy wispy neo-classical ambience from a group called Aythis.
Definitely the most traditionally pretty of the Paradigms releases, Aythis practice a sort of Dead Can Dance meets Der Blutharsch style post industrial neo-classicism, sweeping epic melodies, sung spoken female vocals way down in the mix, martial percussion, angelic choral crooning, twinkling chimes, simple minor key acoustic guitar melodies, all very dark and dreamlike, melancholic and ambient, but with that relentless percussion, the muted pounding of a death march drum, but buried beneath layers of gossamer shimmer, and warm whorls of chordal buzz. Some tracks sparkle and glimmer in the sun, epic and majestic, soul bared and head held high, all washed out and blue skied, warm afternoons suffused with a rich burnished glow, others are murky crawls through barren subterranean chambers, candle light flickering, shadows dancing on blackened walls, the dirt and sand rough against your hands, the sounds rough against your ears.
Pretty and mysterious, haunting and beautiful. Definitely recommended for fans of Dead Can Dance, Arcana, Elend and the prettier side of Cold Meat Industries...
Limited to 750 copies, packaged in a mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve.
We first discovered Chris Sigdell, aka B-Tong (which, by the way, is usually written with a little circle, you know, the degrees sign, not a dash, but our website doesn't like it, so hence the hyphen), via a four way split called One Man Drone, which as you may have surmised, was a collection of one man drone-groups, and our favorite of the bunch happened to be B-Tong, whose sound was weirdly cinematic, and fantastically and psychedelically noisy and chaotic. We compared the sound to Philip Jeck mixing Goblin and Wolf Eyes! We later discovered that Sigdell played in NID, another group who utilized drones, but wove those drones into something much more cacophonous, and expansive and lushly layered. But still, ultimately, it was all about the drone.
We had always hankered for more B-Tong, and while apparently there have been a bunch of full lengths, this is the first we've managed to get our hands on, and it's just as good as we remember; and yeah, if there was ever any doubt, Sigdell firmly establishes himself as an aQ-pantheon-worthy dronelord.
The opener, is ominous and cavernous, laced with weird crackles and gritty crunch, kindred spirits with our own Jim Haynes for sure. The sounds oozing a sort of sonic decay, and some deft and subtle sample placement, makes the opener even more chilling. It's almost like some industrial doom, stripped down to its skeletal core. A moody, muted melody, playing out like foghorns in the distance, echo drenched chimes, and tinkling percussion, buried under grey washes of softly undulating thrum, lots of constantly shifting textures, and some seriously harrowing sound design reminiscent of Ben Frost. And the sound continues to drift southward as the record progresses, a virtual journey through dark caverns, toward whatever lurks below, fields of deep resonant rumbles, dripping water, distant billows of thunder, stretched out into weird glossolallic shimmers, thick chordal blurs that ooze and bleed ominously, splashing water doused in FX and transformed into a sort of garbled alien language. Plenty of barely there lowercase ambience, but also super active sprawls of electro static gristle, ultra creepy moans and gasps, sonar pings that disappear into the abyss, short wave broadcasts from beyond, lumbering behemoth beats, dulled into barely perceptible pulsations, smears of almost dub like throb, and keening high end tones dulled into bleary shimmery sonic ripples, all locked in a sort of hazy stasis, while all around, billowing clouds of black hum drift malevolently, and beneath this black soundworld, hushed melodies, and dreamlike sonic coloration, shift constantly creating an ethereally prismatic sonic backdrop. Fantastic. Essential dronemusic for sure!!
As much as we love us some ultra doom, some seriously sick slowness, you know, that doooooom, that is so glacial, that the songs begin to crumble and ooze into viscous black pools. We do. But sometimes we just want our doom to ROCK. Sounds contrary but it's been known to happen. Doom can be slow and low and still rock. Take B.Son for example. Whose particular brand of doomic energy is drawn from bands like Harvey Milk, Karp, The Melvins, godheadSilo, more a sort of downtuned propulsive sludge with doom elements, than pure doom. But goddamn if it isn't just as brutal and heck, doomy...
Thick ropy buzzbass, pounding destructo drums, throaty howls, grinding guitars, all lurching and swaying like some drugged and demented superrock doombeast, all filtered through a bit of grinding screamo and some buzzed out metallic blackness.�
There are moments of blisssed� out post rockiness, and weird laid back grooves, stretched out near ambience and dense little mathy jams, but those moments just serve to keep the doomed sludge rock fury from becoming too much.�
Produced by James Plotkin. Spiffy black and gold sleeves... This seems to already be out of print as well, so this batch could very well be the last we see of these...
The oddly named B/B/S is another aQ sonic dream team, the sort of band we might have dreamed up ourselves, this time brought to us by the always impressive Miasmah label. B/B/S/ features longtime aQ fave/pal Aidan Baker from Nadja on guitar and bass, Miasmah label head honcho Erik Skodvin, better know as Svarte Greiner, on bowed guitar, and experimental soundmaker Andrea Belfi on percussion. It's about as dark and brooding, and sonically dense as we expected, but what we didn't expect was for it to be so jazzy. Brick Mask is a seriously tranced out sprawl of minimal darkjazz dirgery, think the Necks, Supersilent, Bohren, Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, Mount Fuji Doomjazz Corporation, etc. Four long tracks of skittery, smoldering, pulsing, blackened jazziness. Opener "Brick" spends the first half of its ten minutes in a smokey swirl, a hushed droning churn, the percussion barely there, but as the percussion builds, the guitars do to, they begin to chime, ring out, grow more jagged and sharp, expanding into clouds of keening high end, building it seems, to something explosive, but instead, the cymbal shimmers dissipate, leaving a roiling tribal rhythm, over a backdrop of ghostly chordal thrum, peppered with the occasional cloud of blurred metallic shimmer, eventually settling down into a spaced out sprawl of woozy low end murk and echo drenched abstract drift.
The opener pretty much sets the template for the rest of the record, the other three tracks offering up variations of that dark jazz-drone theme, the second track "Mask" laying down a haunting mesmeric stretch of softly undulating melodies, anchored by a thick, sinewy bassline, over the top a wild, loose, freeform percussive clatter, all of which eventually coalesces into a dense dirgey doomjazz throb, the drums driving and propulsive, the rest of the instruments surprisingly ethereal, wreathing the proceedings in ghostly chords and spectral melodies. "Plants" unfurls even more abstractly, with a strange bit of clattery minimal percussion, draped over a distant low end thrum, soft swirls, and keening melodies, all faded into the backdrop, the rhythm demarcated by a tolling bell, and little rhythmic flurries, the drums the star of the show here, even as minimal as they are. It's a super abstract rhythmic drift, woozy, and drowsily hypnotic.
Finally, "Mott" finishes things off with a sprawling 13+ minute slowburn dronescape, that begins as a hushed, barely there creep, but soon, furious cymbal skitter gives the track some tense forward momentum, while the rest of the sounds seem to ooze and drag, the implied eventual release or perhaps the promise of the whole band launching into something more meaty, only adds to the tension, and as you might have guessed, the track remains locked in this slow-mo black-jazz creep, the cymbals providing the rhythmic heft, the band doing their best to drag the sound down into the smoldering black abyss. When the cymbals do let up, the track suddenly seems loosed from it's moorings, and the final few minutes are spent in a jazzy druggy drift, a gloriously murky, somnambulant, drone-jazz finale.
Gorgeous stuff for sure. WAY recommended for fans of all of the above mentioned bands, as well as some of Baker's jazzier solo recordings...
Finally, Tab 7 of BAD ACID, the "warped outsider music bible", is here, covering pretty much everything we love, from postrock to shoegaze to doom to sludge to grind to ambient to electronic to punk to garage. A massive dose of sensory overload, sounds, images, text, music, videos, interviews, articles, from a ton of bands we know and love, as well as a ton more of which we've never heard.
The previous issue of Bad Acid was a huge hit around here, we could barely keep it in stock, even though it was crazy expensive because of the WEAK dollar and the overseas shipping. But the dollar is not so weak anymore, so this issue is WAY cheaper, but thankfully no less kick ass.
First up, there's a DVD-r, featuring interviews with the Melvins and Celtic Frost, videos from Phantomsmasher, Jacula (!!!!!!) among others, as well as live footage of Morkobot, Ramesses and Isis! Then there's a SEVENTEEN HOUR, ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN band mp3 audio cd-r, featuring tracks from Witchcraft, Otesanek, Coffins, Tenhornedbeast, Numinous Eye, Seven That Spells, Rahdunes, Stumm, Primordial Undermind, Saviours, Aldebaran, Lietterschpich, Journey To Ixtlan, Jamnation, Grave In The Sky, Ovo, Von Thronstahl, Tractor, Zodiacs, Wicked Minds, Gentlemans Pistols, South Saturn Delta, Eptileptinomicon (one of our favorite band names ever) and loads of others.
Finally there's 90 pages of full screen PDF sleeve notes, full color and super psychedelic, featuring lengthy interviews with Sons Of Otis, Ovo, Randy Holden / Blue Cheer, Rahdunes, Fuckbuttons, Helios Creed from Chrome, and Lazarus Blackstar among others! Good grief.
And just to get an idea of how sprawling and expansive and nearly overwhelming Bad Acid is, here's an abbreviated list of the hundred plus bands, new to us, some of which are bound to become new favorites: Resting Rooster, Total System Failure, High Watt Electrocutions, Spitting Off Tall Buildings, Tigrova Mast, The Black Pine, Ventura, Bang Lassi, Tetrix, Phononics, Baby Woodrose, St. Erik, Army Of Flying Robots, Vomm, A Horse Called War, Dyse, Invasion, The Deep Blue, Couldron, El Thule, Sailor Winters, Malachia, Sermoniser, Propane, Nosmaus, Dead.Circuit, Tetriori, Astra, Aftercare, Zone Six, Holy Calibre, Church Of Hed, Rise To Thunder, Cellardoor, Bikini Eyebolt, Motley Motion, Vibravoid, Space Shuttle Pilots, Oresund Space Collective, Forever Changing Concept, Stunt Cock, and again, more more more.
Packaged in a psychedelic dvd sized, 8 panel booklet, with some cool tripped out illustrations, and liner notes.
Total essential reading / viewing / listening for all heavy droney spaced out post kraut free noise jazz avant electronic outsider sound obsessives!
Sad sad news, UK underground heavy/spacey/metallic/psychedelic magazine/compilation Bad Acid is no more. Longtime readers of the aQ list have no doubt enjoyed an issue or two (or three or four) of this sprawling publication, a combination printed zine, and computerized PDF zine, complete with an audio component that usually clocks in at at least 12 hours, sometimes twice that. It's been 10 years, and Bad Acid editor Dave Gedge has a family, and kids, has been losing money (magazines, even ones as amazing as Bad Acid are most definitely a labor of love) and furthermore is a Buddhist, so in addition to simplifying his life, Gedge has simply been burnt out, which is why this final salvo is called The Burnout Issue. And this final issue is the only bit of silver lining, but WHAT a silver lining it is. This final issue is in fact, THREE issues, #10, #11 and #12, and while the printed part might be the most minimal yet, it's more than made up for by the contents of the 3 dvd-r's. This time, the magazine itself is more of an index, as it takes EIGHT pages, in tiny text, to list all the bands and songs and videos and interviews and articles.
As usual, it's split into sections, the first is the PDF magazine, accompanied by music from each band as well as a review of the band's most recent record. Some of the bands in the magazine this time around: Carlton Melton, Aluk Todolo, Bong, Plastic Crimewave Sound, Sylvester Anfang, Residual Echoes, White Hills, Der Blutharsch, GNOD, Jazzfinger, Grey Daturas, Hooded Menace, Necro Deathmort, The Gates Of Slumber, Flood, The Wounded Kings, Full Blown Expansion, Hey Colossus, Ancestral, Isis, Pelican, Scott Kelly of Neurosis, Sutcliffe Jugend, The Accused, Inade, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Atomic Bitchwax, Snail, The Twilight Sad, Ramesses, Ufomammut, Witchsorrow, Assemble Head In Sunburst Sound, Slomatics, Root, Nordvargr, Antonius Rex, Russian Circles, Centurions Ghost, Nebula, Freedom Hawk, Steve Von Till of Neurosis, Leeches Of Lore, Dianogah, Sardonis, Torche, Turzi, Ancestors, L'Acephale, and loads more, including TONS of bands we had never heard of.
The second section is the interviews, and features Meads Of Asphodel, Nadja, Expo 70, Centurions Ghost, Vincent Black Shadow, Gnaw, Unearthly Trance, At War With False Noise, Old Corpse Road, Alice Donut, and more! The next section features label profiles of Denovali, Rocket and Future Noise, featuring loads of recordings from lots of bands on each label.
Then there's a section of bonus audio, with still more tracks, including jams from Sundial, B*Tong, Disappears, Fire Witch, Realmbuilder, Jex Thoth, White Buzz, Rich Hoak, Loscil, Jonas Reinhardt, Fauna, Big City Orchestra, and once again, a whole mess of bands we've never heard.
There's also a bunch of videos, by Total Fucking Destruction, White Hills, Psychofagist and a bunch more, some short films as well, and finally, a section of bonus MP4's, featuring promo videos from Expo 70 and others, and more short films and live footage.
Phew! It's epic and sprawling, and is equal parts rad bands you know and new discoveries. Way recommended for anyone who likes music AT ALL. But definitely Bad Acid leans toward the heavy and the psychedelic and the left of center. So yeah, obviously WAY recommend, and while Bad Acid will continue on in a different, bloggier, form, it just won't be the same, so you best buy this final issue of Bad Acid and add it to that shelf of magazines you keep and treasure and reread...
Another beefy dose of industrial rhythms and bad vibes from San Francisco's Bad News, who as we mentioned before have nothing to do with the British comedy troupe of the same name that brilliantly parodied all of the cliches of heavy metal back in the early '80s. This single takes up a Crash Worship frenzy of drums extracted from the pagans and programmed into the machines of the Hypo Luxa & Hermes Pan school of Wax Trax productions circa 1989. Clipped, machine-gun snare fills and metal-bashed samples stand at the foreground of the A side, with the vocals from Sarah Bernat warped from her already diabolical chant through a square-waved tremolo pattern. The B side is a remix, with the vocals pushed towards the foreground for more of a cold-wave feel buttressed by swarming synths provided by Marc Manning; and the aggression of the programmed drums certainly remain. Super limited pressing on lead-gray vinyl. Download code? Yes and thank you.
No, not the same Bad News which offered up a British version of Spinal Tap's heavy metal stupidity and awesomeness; although there is a certain incredulity about this Bad News as well. Of course, styles come and go with each season, and many of the sounds that defined the '60s, '70s, and '80s have eventually come back around through whatever cultural zeitgeist is spurning them on. So, this Bad News is one of several bands currently at the forefront of a minor movement that is pushing beyond the minimal wave aesthetic out of the early '80s and into the more aggressive, blustery sounds of industrial uttered by Wax Trax, PIAS, and Nettwerk from 1986 to 1990. Yeah, think Vivisect 6 era Skinny Puppy or Twitch era Ministry. Bad News is the work of Alex Lucas and Sarah Bernat, the latter being renowned for her work in the chairkickingly punk-as-fuck noise trio 16 Bitch Pile-up; and her bad-ass swagger on vocals and guitar is amply matched by the heavy sequencing and blister-popped electronics from Lucas. "Decay" sports a Missing Foundation / Skullflower guitar churn amidst a slow dive bomb squalor of electric noise and Bernat's gray-colored monotone vocals, with the rhythms and electronics embued with a heavy, machined plod. Sweaty. Smelly. Greasy. The title track throws a monophunk basskick into the foreground with hypnotically aggressive intentions matched by what could only be seen as an industrial strength / megaphone raga in which Bernat chants those titular words. "Typical Illusion" is Bad News' finest moment of post-hardcore riffage affixed to militantly double-timed rhythms and cluster bombs of heavy noise, electronic confusion, and ill will. If anybody remembers when Controlled Bleeding released a couple of really ho-hum records on Wax Trax in 1989, THIS is what Paul Lemos, et al. should have been doing.
We had this on cassette briefly, and we gotta say that the vinyl mastering job renders a truly superior product. Fucking rad.
From the always impressive Sygil label, who in the past has given us stunning releases from
Aurora Dorey Alice, Charnel House, Avakr, OS, Sky Projection and more, comes this gorgeous missive of witchy, washed out dark wave gloominess/dreaminess. Falling somewhere between the drifty murk of Grouper, and the gothic torch songs of Zola Jesus, Bad Psychic unfurls stately, hauntingly meditative gloom-ragas, with soaring, tranced out vocals, over a bed of roiling dark drones, and softly churning synths. Woozy loops, and layered melodies, bleed and blur into softly undulating sonic tapestries, sometimes tethered to a spare, skeletal rhythm, but often left to float weightless in a sprawl of blackened shimmer. Some tracks (like "Dance Spell") slip into a sound a bit more overtly new wave, but even then, it's still creepy, and hazy, and drowsily lo-fi. Opener "Fortune" sets the mood perfectly, with it's tranced out, almost chorale sounding mesmer, that druggy, drowsy vibe surfacing throughout the record, sometimes morphing into a grim kosmische sound, other times blossoming into near poppiness, but always shadowy, and grey, and darkly dreamlike. Even after just one listen, we were compelled to just lift the needle and put it right back at the beginning again.
Fans of witchy, dreamy dark pop, especially folks who were bummed on the most recent Zola Jesus record, will find themselves wishing that had sounded more like this. A dark, droney, hypnotic, gloom pop gem, that comes WAY recommended. Includes a download code as well. LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!! Each one hand numbered.
"Vacuum Pulse" is a collaborative effort between Japan's Contagious Orgasm and Italy's Bad Sector, both of whom have extensive catalogues of post-industrial rumblings. This was originally a cassette from Old Europa Cafe, who fortunately issued this again in a digital format with two extra collaborative tracks. Bad Sector's sound is typified by slow Wagnerian melodic progressions creeping out of tense John Duncan-esque data-crunched drones. Contagious Orgasm prefers to lace processed authoritative speech patterns with Eraserhead radiator sounds. Their collaborative efforts sounds a lot like a louder Main without as much bass and with a gilded aura surrounding all of the work.
Awesome! We'd been waiting and wanting more from New Zealand's bizarre Bad Statistics ever since we got their vinyl-only debut, Static, last year. In addition to thinking they had a really excellent band name, we loved the doomic, droning weirdness of their propulsive krauty NZ noiserock, made even weirder by the utter outsider vocal garble that arose over their ritualistic music, like spirits or specters seemingly summoned from the other side. Now, huzzah, there's this new full-length, an actual cd on the Pseudo-Arcana label, and it pretty much picks up where the LP left off! 47 and a half minutes more of mysterious musical ceremony, Bad Statistics style, on these seven tracks. Again, the vocals (produced from the throat of one Thebis Mutante) are really strange, unhinged alien hippy rant-chant, like Ya Ho Wah's Father Yod speaking in tongues, sometimes looped and layered. Together with the throbbing drum beats, distorted electronic textures from guitar and bass, and hollow horn bleat and twitter on a track or two, you have the basic tempel-vibrating template for Bad Statistics' repetitive, rumbling, mesmerizing murk. Best listened to from a yogic position of spiritual openness, legs crossed, mind clear, third eye unblinking. Though, at their loudest, most intense chugging psychrock peaks, some vigorous rocking back and forth will be called for, maybe even full-on writhing on the floor.
Let's take the 13-minute title track as an example... it's moaningly eased into, the percussive plod slow and sparse, but after a short while Thebis cries out quite like Can's Damo Suzuki, and the pace picks up, cymbals crashing... before another long droning lull with whistling and mumbling drifting over the slo-mo chug of the guitars and drums... then towards the very end, the singer suddenly seems possessed, his voice dropping into a guttural exhortations, the din of the instruments rising into a psychedelic swirling howl... welcome to the reverse exorcism!!
Imagine the kosmic-kraut-primitivism of early Amon Duul, Tangerine Dream, or Siloah, with Circle's Mika Ratto as voice coach, encouraging Yod x Yoko vocal vibrations. Or the linear lo-fi insanity of a secret Dead C meets Reynols monster jam, if directed towards the worship of some ancient god, recorded on cheap cassette only as an afterthought. Yeah. It's pretty much awesome.
One of our favorite new records of late, comes to us all the way from New Zealand, but via Belgium (where their label, long time AQ faves Kraak are based). A mysterious troupe called Bad Statistics, their debut a two song vinyl only EPIC. Equal parts droney noise rock, propulsive krautrock, and even some weird sort-of-doom. Drenched in swirls of chaotic FX and a blown out in-the-red recording, that manages to be fierce and murky at the same time.
Each track takes up a whole side and is given plenty of time to change shape and direction, sound and spirit, transforming gradually, but managing to remain hypnotic and blissed out. The A side, begins as a doomy plod, but with clean guitars instead of downtuned distorted ones, the drums spare, and all manner of weird demon-y vocals, a sort of post rocky crawl. Eventually, synths join the fray, and along with the drums, they lock into a looped cyclical groove, over which, still more strange vocals croon and moan. And we're talking REALLY strange, mewling moaning howling weirdness. The music sounds like some spaced out Tangerine Dream, the drums a constant pound way down in the mix, the synths pulsing and throbbing, the vocals though turn it into some damaged outsider space jam. At one point the synths drop out and the vocals go crazy, sounding like they're speaking in tongues, before the band kick back in, launching into a fierce Hawkwind style FX drenched psychrock outro that goes on forever.
The second track is even better, and one of our favorite songs of the year hands down. A gorgeously blown out dirge, the guitars so hot they crumble with every downbeat, the recording super distorted and raw, but the melody and the main riff are super gorgeous, catchy and minor key, the track relaxes briefly, spreading out into a glitchy ambient murmur, over which guitars shimmer, little bits of electronics flutter, and the bass holds it all together with a simple dreamy groove. Very krautrocky, and a bit like a more lo-fi noiserock Necks. The track shifts constantly over the next ten minutes or so, to weird doomy twang, with gorgeous majestic riffing, thick bass chords, and some shapeless falsetto vocals, then to a super distorted psychdrone freakout, replete with chiming guitar harmonics, and a pulsing throbbing rhythm buried beneath a layer of crunchy buzz, then to a sunbaked space jam, all open chords, simple drumming, more shapeless vox, and finally to a washed out krautrock dirge, peppered with bits of backwards percussion, garbled voices, reverse guitar, and jagged chunks of crumbling distortion, until the whole thing slowly burns to black.
Sorry to everyone without a turntable, but this just may be the blown out space psych doom kraut jam of the year!!
Having contributed to a very nice collaborative drone record with Darren Tate and Ian Holloway about a year ago, Banks Bailey presents a solo offering of field recordings that mostly focus on the desert environs of his native Arizona. On this album, Bailey proves to be a very patient phonographer, as his recordings reveal a considered approach to choosing the sites to record and then waiting for those environments to erupt with sound. Anybody who has listened to Chris Watson's impeccable recordings and thought, "hmmm, I could do this too." has no doubt suffered from the frustration that such a task is far from easy. We'll be honest in saying that Bailey's aren't quite as good as Watson's (seriously, he's the best for a reason!), but don't take that as a swipe against Bailey's richly detailed sounds.
The first two tracks originate in Ohio, with the first investigating the delirious sounds of tree frogs and cicadas crosshatching their sustained buzzings into a wonderful humid ambience from a summertime bog. The second recording contains some of the only industrial and manmade sounds in the recording, as Bailey wanders through downtown Springfield, Ohio where the only sounds can be heard from incoming trains with bellowing steam whistles and rumbling motors. The remainder of the recordings were culled from various excursions into the Arizona wilderness, where the diversity of birdlife is plainly evident. Tweets, trills, and whistles emanate from one bird (which may be something as common as a sparrow, but we can't tell you what it is) whom Bailey has recorded while the bird was perched above a trickling stream. Later on, Bailey documents a very melodious and quite loud bird (again, no telling which one), whose song is reflected with a slight natural echo from the environment. A windstorm through a canyon seems to annoy a red-tailed hawk (now, we can get that one!), who screeches into the wind. Each of the tracks clock in about 8-10 minutes, and provide lots of details of the environment. Exactly what we want in our field recordings, in a micro-edition of 75 copies!
We're not all that sure who Banks Bailey or Ian Holloway are, but Darren Tate has long proved to be a reliable source for long-form dronemusik thanks to his previous collaboration with Andrew Chalk as Ora and his ongoing work with Colin Potter in Monos. Not to mention the multitude of self-released cd-rs under his own name. Tate's aesthetic for sculpted drones through field recordings, pedal manipulation, and occluded processing is central to Summerland, as it has been noted that Tate proved the treated guitar drones with Bailey contributing some of the field recordings and Holloway reconfiguring everything at the end. Thick shadowy tones hover ominously alongside fluctuations of tactile crackle, sounding more like some of the earlier Ora recordings than anything that Tate has produced recently. Elsewhere, tinstrung guitars splutter with atonal resonance, which stretch, elongate, and blur into drifting dark ambience.
Summerland is a limited production. There are only 150 copies of these in existence, and Summerland is already out of print at the two labels who released this.
John Zorn's Tzadik label presents legendary (notorious?) British guitar improviser Derek Bailey playing, like the title says, a set of classic ballads (recorded at the behest of Zorn himself). No, he's not taking the piss: these really are jazz standards
Here's the third solo Derek Bailey album released by big Bailey fan John Zorn's Tzadik label, and as the title sadly suggests, this disc is in part a document of the legendary (and now rather elderly) British free improv guitarist's bout with the painful condition that's the bane of office workers everywhere. Bailey didn't get it from too much mousing and keyboarding of course, it's the fretboard that did it to him. And that's no laughing matter, a guitarist suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome -- yet somehow you can imagine that if any guitarist could persevere through a crippling hand/wrist ailment, Bailey could. In fact, due to his usually rather abstract and atonal sound, some might (unfairly) say that we'd never notice... Certainly, despite the carpal tunnel, these tracks are full of all the stark, scrabbling, skeletal beauty that Bailey fans appreciate in his work. Ringing, scraping sounds with occasional alarming jumps in volume that threaten to feed back. Should we imagine gentle cries of pain?
The first track, "Explanation & Thanks", features Bailey's voice as well as his precariously plucked guitar. He's not singing, but rather speaking, in a very personal tone as if to some friends (who may have been present?). It's kinda nice, really, the feeling of his warm and halting talking perhaps influencing how you'll hear his guitar playing on this and subsequent tracks, full of human personality rather than being the alienating skronk for which some might mistake it.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Back in stock and at a much more reasonable price thanks to the new domestic distribution of Zorn's Japanese Avant label... Again, this is the critically-disputed love-it-or-hate-it record featuring British guitar improv legend Bailey "dueting" with DJ Ninj (who some might recall contributed the beats to Buckethead's jungle disc). Probably -- heck, definitely -- a record that will appeal much more to Bailey fans than jungle buffs.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Recording from 1975 originally issued in Italy of 14 short (each under five minutes) solo improvisations by Bailey. At the request of the artist, no historical liner notes have been included - instead there are four nice photos of Derek eating an apple. Ooh, now there's a selling point!
Earliest ever recordings of legendary British free improv guitar dude Derek Bailey playing solo, circa '66/'67. Those who only know (and love or hate) Bailey for his later, freely improvised, spidery abstractions will find that these unreleased (until now) private practice tapes reveal more melodic, composed moods to Bailey's playing than you might expect, although "sparse" and "difficult" are still terms that would apply here. Really this is primarily of historical interest to Bailey fans, giving a window thru which knowledgeable, interested observers can perhaps see how his musical development at the time incorporated his disciplined jazz-based background, the new, free music of the day, and his obssession with the not-so-free music of Webern (as detailed in Bailey's liner notes). Others may find this interesting as well, as sorta pretty, kinda spooky, lo-fi guitar noodling.
