Aero-Mic'd began as a solo concern for local San Francisco artist Wayne Smith, but has over the years evolved into a three piece synth trio for live shows with the additions of Cliff Hengst (Troll) and our own Scott Hewicker (The Alps). Specializing in long form kosmiche explorations that gently shift into woozy bowed drones with a mixture of field recordings and ambient atmospherics, 22:44 is mostly culled from a live 2010 performance at San Francisco's Grace Cathedral, with subtle augmentations from other home recordings. Invited by the art and music publication entity Land and Sea to perform in the late great cathedral event series Episco Disco (where artists were invited to create installations and music events inside the hallowed space) , Aero-mic'd used the echoing acoustics and the substantial room ambiance to create a floating sound world of soft angelic otherworldliness. Layers of synth and computer-generated drones and loops, bass tones and field-recordings merge with sounds of sleigh bells, bowed guitar, kalimba, and murmurs and footsteps from the moving crowds. Limited to 50 copies. Play loud for full effect!
Artist/Designer/Musician Wayne Smith's third outing as Aero-Mic'd (not including last years collaboration with the Sadnesses, Cloud Mama) is a family affair but not in the usual familial way. Made to coincide with a exhibition of new artworks at Queen's Nails Annex in San Francisco, I Think You're Great, includes many guest appearances from friends and local luminaries, including video artist Anne McGuire on vocals, writer Kevin Killian (intoning a series of tai chi movements on opening track "Cloud Hands"), and performer/painter Cliff Hengst, all of whom have been collaborating on each others projects off and on for at least the past ten years. Smith is a master of mining magical significance through the filtering, manipulating and repetition of found sounds and images (celebrity, the cultic and the mundane play against each other constantly). On the title track, clocking in at over 15 minutes (an epic by Aero-mic'd standards whose songs normally clock in at under 2 minutes), he expands his sound from previous efforts by including excerpts from a live performance at the Headlands last year with William Collins from Mire on guitar and tibetan bowls and Cliff Hengst on percussion. Intermixed with the live and programmed bells and filtered guitars, Smith includes one of his signature sound pieces, "Hello", recorded by calling people randomly from the phone book and recording their standard but delightfully varied greetings. With I Think You're Great, the feeling is definitely mutual!
From local musician Wayne Smith comes this *excellent* little slip of a 25-minute album. A record this genre-hopping might in lesser hands be a chore to listen to, but with Aero-Mic'd the first few minutes are just so good that you easily put your trust in
As you probably well know by now, we here at AQ have long been fans of manipulated found sounds and field recordings -- dogs barking, ice melting, whatever -- either on their own, captured just as they were heard, or better yet, twisted and smeared into drones and soundscapes, reimagined as completely alien worlds of sound. And while the source material may not be obvious, just knowing where the sounds come from, can make the listening just that much more thrilling. And the creepier and more unlikely the source sound the better. And it sure doesn't get any creepier than this. Sure Matmos used the sounds of rhinoplasty and various other procedures to concoct their abstract electronica, but Aesthetic Meat Front used only the sounds of a corpse being embalmed for Embalmer Tapes. Every single sound, whether it's the casual whistling of the embalmer, the slow rumble of processed suction sounds or the clang of metal instruments dropped in bloody metal trays, each and every sound was captured deep in the sublevels of a funeral home, while an embalmer removed all the fluids from a corpse. Euuuw. But sonically, WOW!
Sometimes the sounds are instantly recognizable, the above mentioned whistling and clatter of surgical instruments, snippets of conversation heavy with the reverb of a small tiled room, small motorized pumps, footsteps, but more often, the sounds of suction, and the sounds of the machines pumping, are stretched out into warm whirring rumbles, or chopped up and reassembled into hissing blasts of fuzz and grrr. But mostly this is a weird warped world of drones, from dreamy and shimmery, to harsh and jagged, all imbued with the specter of mortality, life most fleeting, the great abyss, the sounds already sonically ominous and foreboding enough, but even more so on a psychological level, knowing the source of every sound, engendering a creepy dark ambient atmosphere thick with the heavy hanging shroud of death. So awesome.
SUPER LIMITED!!! WE GOT THE LAST 20 COPIES. ONCE THESE ARE GONE THEY ARE GONE FOR GOOD!
A while back we reviewed a record called Embalmer Tapes, from mysterious sonic terrorists Aesthetic Meat Front. That cd was a collection of processed sounds culled from the sounds of an actual embalming session, those sounds, scraping and suction and whatever other sorts of things go on during the process were collected and tweaked into a strange and haunting dronescape, and of course we sold out of them immediately (we actually got a handful back in if you missed out, see elsewhere on the site).
But the man behind AMF read our review and got in touch to see if we were interested in getting copies of a super limited releases celebrating the 10th anniversary of Aesthetic Meat Front. So here we have it, Temple Of Flesh a massive gathering of sights and sounds, a cd, a cd-r and a dvd-r, containing sounds and songs and sights and visuals, performances and rituals, all set to the glorious haunting soundscapes of Aesthetic Meat Front. This was limited to 180 copies world wide, we got 25 and we will NOT be able to get more.
So let's go one disc at a time. The first disc features the text from AMF's Temple Of Flesh ritual, translated into 12 languages, and then processed into a world of mysterious invocations and chants, industrial drones and dark ambience. A truly creepy, harrowing sonic journey, deep dark resonant smears of low end drift beneath martial drumming, and haunting chants, swirling snippets of sound, warbling and whirring, growled animalistic voices, bizarre ambient FX, jagged shards of industrial detritus, bursts of fuzzed out hiss and grinding slabs of rhythmic chaos, creepy chorales stretched into seasick soundscapes, disembodied voices drift and hover, snippets of found sound and conversation, all of these disparate elements woven into an epic, monstrous sonic tale of death destruction and mayhem, of blood and death and rebirth. So intense and strangely beautiful.
This limited edition version also includes a cd-r, that features tons of remixes as well as rare unreleased material. Also included is a dvd-r chronicling one of AMF's live rituals, an extensive modern primitive ritual featuring beautiful women in corsets, piercing, bloodletting, animal carcasses, suspensions, shaving, lots of blood and bodily fluids, very intense and graphic, all set to the creepy otherworldly dronescapes of Aesthetic Meat Front. Not for the squeamish or easily offended. As if that weren't enough, all three discs are packaged in a DVD style case, with full color covers, the bonus cd-r is housed in a hand numbered paper sleeve (numbered and decorated in blood!) as well as a handful of full color inserts, with photos from the rituals, text and assorted AMF related information.
SUPER LIMITED!!! Once these are gone they are gone for good....
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What do you get when you cross SUNNO))), Swiss metallic post rockers Shora and UK proglords Guapo? At the very least we got your attention now don't we? Well, Aethenor is a collaboration between Stephen O'Malley (SUNNO))), Khanate, etc.) Daniel O'Sullivan from Guapo and Vincent De Roguin from Shora and sounds nothing like you might expect.
SUNNO))) might be the closest, but don't be expecting any crushing down tuned drones or slow moving sludge, instead Deep In Ocean Sunk The Lamp Of Light is a series of ambient explorations, slow moving sonic floes, very tidal sounding, thick washes of warm whir in a wide open soundscape of murky industrial percussion, and soft sonic wells, All three guys are credited, along with their usual instruments, with 'room', so as you might expect, these tracks are enormous sounding, spacious and grand, epic drifts through a dark landscape of creaking timbers and whirring wind. It's almost like a doomier version of Nurse With Wound's Salt Marie Celeste. An old rickety ship, creaking and groaning as it traverses some haunted pass, replete with moaning demons and all manner of creepy sonic incursions. And that's just the first song! The second song, another lengthy moody crawl, is super minimal, very reminiscent of seventies kraut prog like Tangerine Dream or Popol Vuh, thick keyboards that churn and slowly shift, over a backdrop of percussive clatter and keening high end melody.
The last two tracks are both around 5 minutes but somehow embody the same sort of epic spaciousness. As a pair they are a bit like the musical version of one of those paintings that from one angle shows the portrait of a person, but from a slightly different angle shows the same person as they appear in death!
The first angle is all crumbling distorted organ and tinkling music box melody over an intricate web of tape hiss, record crackle and analog synth splutter, dreamy and dark, like some sort of late night lullaby. The other deathly angle sounds like the track before it but with all the life sucked out, the warm glow dimmed, leaving a gaunt shell, the fuzzy slowly decaying, desiccated skeletal remains of a pretty song. The final few minutes offer up a super creepy haunted house melodic coda, a weird minor key music box melody over a strangely mechanical hissing rumbling rhythm. So spooky! And so nice!!!
Latest record from this ever shifting sonic collective, still comprised of the core duo of Stephen O'Malley (SUNNO))), KTL, etc.) and Daniel O'Sullivan (Guapo, Mothlite), although this time the group is rounded out by Kristoffer Rygg, aka Garm from Ulver, plus percussionist Steve Noble.
En Form For Bla is the result of several performances in Norway earlier this year, and finds the group shedding much of their previous heaviness in favor of a sound much more haunting and abstract, spaced out and introspective, the guitars less murky and muddy and massive, and more spidery and ethereal and minimal, laying out deep low end thrum and keening upper register shimmer. Rygg operates like a dub producer, electronically treating the sounds, while adding some of his own, the result is a constantly shifting landscape of drift and doom and pulsing heaviness and whirling almost free jazz sounding sonic exploration.
The big surprise here is Noble, who is all over the record, without overplaying, letting the record remain unstructured and abstract, while still moving it beyond mere static ambient improv, whether it's scattered bits of subtle skitter, thick clouds of shimmery cymbal or pulsing rhythmic pound, the band tend to creep and crawl, but when they do let loose it borders on Bitches Brew style jazz psychedelia, albeit a bit more blackened.
The overall sound is quite atmospheric and soundtracky, the melodies subtle, but the feelings they evoke not so much, stirring up dark clouds of sinister brood, and epic soaring cinematic mesmer, occasionally slipping into some minimal krautrock throb, like on the mesmerizing "Vivarium", and sounding a bit like a more low end heavy Necks (or maybe Supersilent), and then lurching into some giallo style mood music, on "Vyomagami Plume" and sounding like a deconstructed Goblin, a gently chaotic assemblage of heaving bass and twisted keyboards, of clattery percussion, and spaced out electronics, but all deftly woven into something moving and emotional and darkly compelling. Fantastic stuff.
Not sure how it happened, but the last Aethenor full length completely passed us by. We had it in the shop, but just never got around to reviewing, not cuz we didn't want to, or because it wasn't awesome, it was, it's just that we get so much stuff, as hard as we try, we can never seem to get to it all.
Well we won't let it happen with this one, Faking Gold & Murder, the latest from the 'supergroup' known as Aethenor, featuring one Mr. Stephen O'Malley, who plays in a few other bands you've probably heard of, as well as guys from Guapo and Shora. Oh, and that David Tibet guy. Current 93, you know. Anyway, the sound is maybe not what you'd expect, eschewing the roiling crush of O'Malley's other groups, and the wild psych prog of Guapo. Instead, Aethenor traffic in some sort of otherworldly avant abstract prog, or something, black ambient free folk drift maybe, it's actually pretty difficult to describe.
Four long songs, numbered instead of titled. The group offering up a lush backdrop of rumbling guitars and keening high end, bursts of dense drumming, billowing clouds of cymbal shimmer, moaning minor key melodies, very abstract but not minimal, a very active, roiling sea of sound, over which Tibet does his thing, singing, speaking, testifying, hard not to compare it to C93, maybe if Current 93 were way heavier and splattered with wild drumming, but the same sort of primal alchemical vibe. The tracks do occasionally coalesce into something more propulsive, offering up grinding slow motion riffage, weird looped soundscapes, clattery almost free jazz, thick crumbling distorted walls of guitars, woozy minor key piano, wheezing organ, plenty of bombast and bluster, but also plenty of hushed whisper and delicate drift, all presided over by Tibet, whose high priest vocals perfectly suit the strange blackened backgrounds. Cool stuff. Fans hankering for that old Current 93 sound, well some of this might be the closest you'll get these days, and anyone into the dark and droney, the mystical and mysterious, the heavy and abstract, enter the temple and bow your head in reverence, the ritual has begun.
Gorgeous packaging, super thick three panel, metallic gold on black, letterpressed cardstock sleeves.
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One of two new reissues on this week's list from Swedish dark ambient alchemist Trepaneringsritualen, who on tape is teamed up with another previously unknown to us artist, Aether. It's difficult to tell from the liner notes or the packaging, which is which, but it really doesn't matter, as these two like minded dronescapers both draw from the same poisoned sonic well, thick corrosive low end rumbles, blurred blackened synth thrum, layer upon layer of black blur and grinding muted crunch, this is definitely dronemusic, but a sort of hellish minimal variant, super dense, and dark, and heavy, the sound rife with overtones, the various textures and elements constantly shifting to reveal subtle tonal variations, the sound progressing toward something much less bleak and buzz, and more blissed out, with drifting voices hovering in epic expanses of grim shimmer and hushed hazy hum.
The flipside (again not entirely sure which side is which, or even if it's a collaboration), is much more industrial, lots of booms and crashes, what appears to be a super slo-mo doom, stretched out into a grimly psychedelic landscape of long tones, and heaving rhythmic churn, lots of percussive filigree, the sound less droney, and more sort of abstract and cinematic, driven by a skeletal, but seriously crushing rhythm, the beats miles apart, making it seem even less like a proper rhythm, and more like occasional bursts of caustic crunch, the results though are intense, and gorgeous, and super hypnotic, the sound evoking some sort of otherworldly hellscape, which manages to be both beautiful, and brutal at the same time.
LIMITED TO 150 COPIES!! Packaged in beautifully silkscreened gold inked three panel J-cards.
Yup. A Frames and Climax Golden Twins are AFCGT, get it? And they do play out quite a bit, but rarely outside the confines of the Pacific Northwest. The five dudes of AFCGT did make an excursion down to San Francisco for a one-night only show at the lovely El Rio a few weeks back; and as great as they are on record, they kick ass live. The performance confirms a lot of things we figured about the band, that the members of A Frames set up the taut grooves on bass, guitar, and drums for the Twins to splinter away from in their dueling mutations of psychedelia, post-hardcore sludge, spy thriller licks, and punk intensity. For those not fortunate enough to have caught them at the El Rio, this live cd-r should do quite nicely; and even as an AFCGT record - live or otherwise - it's pretty damn great. Well, considering that the band probably just sets up a single mic in a room anyway to record, the presence of a live audience doesn't detract from the sound. AFCGT offers two cuts from their Dirty Knobby 10" and a track from their self-titled debut, plus two previously unreleased tracks. Hopefully, there will be more of this cd-r than the 20 copies of which we are currently aware.
Oh, shit. Here's one of those discs that we just know we don't have enough copies of. AFCGT is an acronym for A Frames + Climax Golden Twins, a project that fortunately didn't just disappear as a one-off collaboration. The five-piece, instrumental ensemble for three guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer had knocked our socks off with a couple of awesome recordings in 2008, most notably their eponymous debut of noir-tinged noise rock girded by uncanny, propulsive grooves; and they're still doing it in 2009. The Square Microphone Tapes are cracked sessions of mutant psychedelia transposed through damaged punk-post-punk slabs of sludge, woozy noise, and art-damaged riffage. The opening cut "Strike 9" is a barnstormed of a scuzzed garage rock track with allusions to the days when Sub Pop and grunge meant something that was crafted on a shitty 4-track in some Northwest warehouse. Well, that's exactly where this was recorded! AFCGT unravels the recordings through a divergent set of x-ray guitar licks breaking off low-slung backbeats, some slo-mo tape exercises that come across as Stooges outtake played back at the wrong speed a la Neu! 2, and lots of heavy-tracks that could be the improbable sound of the Sun City Girls recording an album for AmRep. In other words, it's pretty fucking awesome. Hopefully, there will be more than the 20 copies we know exist...
Whew! The first time we got something in from AFCGT, it was a painfully limited cd-r that exploded like a supernova and then disappeared just as quickly from the site. So, it's a damn good thing that this awesome collaboration between A Frames and the Climax Golden Twins has resulted in another batch of unbelievably good recordings. This time, it's a bit less limited, as Dirty Knobby has pressed these 8 tracks onto a 10", which should mean this thing will be around a little bit longer than the debut. The sound of AFCGT here is pretty much the same. Instrumental tunes with Mack truck rhythms, spring-loaded basslines, and giddy explosion of jagged guitar riffs that come together in what AFCGT blurts out as "New Punk." These swamp mutations of detuned Cambodian garage pop songs with an excess of stereoscopic distortion certainly have a Sun City Girls meets the Birthday vibe going on, with occasional excursions into a free noise mess of devolved noise and out of control drum fills, sort of like some of the Laddio Bollocko breakdowns. Who can complain about a Laddio Bollocko reference? Not us!
Holy shit, this is fucking great! And who would have ever thought that the A Frames and the Climax Golden Twins would make a record together? And who would have imagined that it would be this fucking awesome? It's all superlatives and all expletives in describing the first collaborative production from AFCGT. The A Frames had managed to raise some eyebrows here through their post-punk appropriations of early Wire and early Fall, but the vocals had always been something of a miss for them especially on the last Sub Pop album. But in working with the AQ-endorsed Climax Golden Twins who are a band accustomed to delivering exemplary instrumentals from literally every corner of the avant-rock landscape, the A Frames have the permission to shut the hell up and let the Climax Golden Twins dump the fucking kitchen sink all over A Frames rhythmic swagger. The album opens with a tumultuous blast of glue-huffing noise-rock, sort of like a fistfight between the Butthole Surfers and the Sun City Girls. Soon after, a series of bad-ass Birthday Party / Oxbow swamp rock riffs explode with spindly space-age gamelan leads; elsewhere, the No Wave ghosts of R.L. Crutchfield-era DNA emerge with of jagged chops across the guitar pick-ups, bloodied fingers and all. Fuck, it all sounds fucking great! It's a damn shame that this thing is only limited to 50 copies! That perhaps is our only complaint.
Afflux is the musique concrete collaboration between Eric La Casa, Eric Cordier, and Jean Luc Guionnet, but these folks add a unique twist to the normal electro-acoustic tricks learned from INA-GRM (i.e. Pierre Henry, Luc Ferrari, Michel Chion, etc.). This trio employs "an on-site electroacoustic device" (my guess, a laptop) to allow them to improvise with the landscape, while simultaneously recording and filtering their source material (inclement weather, faulty drainage pipes, rising tides, the resonance from long stringed instruments, the communication from a maritime navigation post, etc.). Amidst the rustling textures and swooshing environmental din, Afflux uses nearly every trick in the musique concrete book (flanging, parabolic eq-filtering, granular synthesis, razor sharp editing, stereo field spatiality, etc.) For all of its austere recordings and pristine production techniques, "Azier St. Martin-Sur-Mer Dieppe" is more of a theatrical document, capturing just one of the residues from Afflux's perfomative activity and sounding more like one of Michel Chion's laborious constructions than a live documentation.
Afflux is the seriously minded collective of French field recordists and concrete composers including Eric Cordier, Jean-Luc Guionnet, and Eric La Casa. Their goal is to construct gestural compositions by mixing and processing field recordings as they are occuring with a number of improvisational / spontaneous events, electronic filters, amplified steel strings, and broad stereo spatialization. The first Afflux album "Azier St. Martin-Sur-Mer Dieppe" was imbued with a nautical theme, and this one keeps true to the navigation / transportation themes, focusing on the A13 motorway in Bouquetot, a train platform in Paris, and a petroleum factory in Port-Jerome. In all instances, Afflux observes and re-interprets the border space between natural (rain and wind in particular) and man-made (cars rushing by on the highway or the grinding of a train's breaking mechanism) phenomenona. Within these spaces, Afflux describes some rather dramatic conflicts, or perhaps better stated, has contextualized the experiences to heighten the drama between these two forces. Within each of the three recording contexts, Afflux articulates such crescendos of activity; typified in the incremental screeching of metal from the train accompanying a nervous factory din and the spring-loaded rattle of those amplified steel strings. This is an impressive recording and well worth checking out, far beyond the gimmick value of the live / on-site production, however, valid that technique may be.
We're going on instinct here, as the batteries on the Walkman are really struggling to hold any kind of charge. So the playback of these live recordings from the Brooklyn neo-kosmische outfit Afterlife is riddled with erratically warbling tape-speed variations that do make for a cool effect... but this is probably not what Afterlife intended. That said, these woozy drunken drags of tape across the playback head follow our longstanding infatuation with vinyl crackle or playing tracks intended at 45rpm at 33 instead. Here, our dying tapedeck slurs the twinkling tones of Afterlife's crystalline hybrid of Emeralds, Popul Vuh, Klaus Schulze, and Cluster, all performed live at three gigs -- Shea Stadium in Brooklyn, Upstate Artists Guild in Albany, NY, and at a house show in Wilmington, Delaware. Off to buy more batteries... Pro-duplicated, 73 minute tapes in an edition of 100 copies.
Afterlife is pretty shameless in their reconstitution of the Emeralds sound, to be completely honest. But considering how much New Age fluff that continues to emerge out of the whole synth-wrangling scene, an album that bares its teeth is more than welcome in these parts. Okay, there's no guitars to be found in Afterlife, so it may fit closer with the John Elliott pantheon of projects, but there's a density of sound and an industrial gravity that hangs upon Afterlife's churning electronics that aligns them more specifically with the foreboding and melancholy sounds of Emeralds' classic album What Happened. Details, details.
Lazer sharpened vibrations and the sparkling percolations bring the amorphous ambience of the album's opening number "Cycles" into focus with rainy-day synthmuzik passages that persist across the first side of the album's dream-shot electronics. The second side of Celestial Habitat darkens the mood considerably, especially on the two sprawling last tracks "Paths Untouched" and "Until Eternity" whose deep growling bass tones threaten to fling the needle right off the turntable (well done on the vinyl cut, Hooker Vision!). The duo tops everything off with percolating step sequencers and plenty of deep-space arcs that peer through the Emeralds lens back towards Klaus Schulze in fine style. Limited to a mere 300 copies!
Take turntablist Christian Marclay, Swiss percussionist Gunter Muller, Sonic Youth guitarist Lee Ranaldo, and legendary NY via NZ experimental guitarist / bagpiper David Watson, armed with their weapons of choice: turntables, percussion, minidisks, electronics, guitars and bagpipes, and let them loose. And you'll get pretty much what you might expect. Not some mish mash hodge podge improv bullshit, these guys are masters, and these six tracks demonstrate that mastery bigtime. Lush and textured, dense and detailed, moody and evocative. Marclay's turntables are magic, a bank of primitive analog samplers, spitting out fractured rhythms, mysterious melodies, various snippets and samples, the perfect framework for the others to use as a jumping off point. But each player is perfectly capable of taking the helm, while knowing when to let someone else take over.
Lush ambient dronescapes peppered with twisted melodic fragments, all sorts of overlapping and layered rhythms, constantly shifting, changing shapes, transforming before our very ears, some tracks brood and lope, others soar and howl, all of them dizzying and elaborate. The soundfield is constantly expansive and in flux.
Lots of improv is way more fun to play than to listen to, but this stuff is totally engrossing, even for the listener with no interest in "improv", so musical, some of it in fact sounds so good it's impossible to believe these guys were making it up as they went along.
Hypnotic, enthralling, confusional in places, intense in others, hushed and haunting in still others, a wide weird world of sound that begs for deep listening, and invites the listener to let go, to become totally and utterly lost in the sound.
Pressed on super thick vinyl, and housed in really swank, heavy full color gatefold sleeves, 3 sided set, the fourth side sports a cool scribbly etching by Lee Ranaldo. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES.
From the same label that brought us the blackened witchy doomdirge of Charnel House, and the abstract black metal doomscapes of OS, and the droned out cosmic weirdness of Sky Projection, comes this mysterious new release, from a one man band called Agakus, whose debut release is a heavy sprawl of caustic abstract industrial dronescapes, bleak abject expanses of churning downtuned rumble, of crumbling black noise clatter, as well as lots and lots of space, the doom and noise coming in waves, leaving near silence in between, like the musical version of listening to the thunder to figure out how soon the storm will arrive. And thunder is definitely an apt comparison, as the sounds here are massive low end reverberations, and when the storm DOES finally hit, it's almost symphonic in scope, a droned out psychedelic skree that's a thick cloud of layered tones, a slowed down pulled apart melody, the sounds massive and dense, and so blown out that they seem to blot out the other sounds, like the dinosaur footsteps in Jurassic Park, everything in your house will rattle, books will slide off shelves, plaster will fall from the walls, as this plodding, blackened behemoth crawls beastlike from your speakers. This plodding low end underpinning sheets of hum and hiss, mesmerizing looped melodies, and stuttering textures. Elsewhere groaning slabs of blackbuzz churn beneath anguished wails and dense squalls of feedback, again separated into some strange sort of super spare, super spaced out death march rhythm, burst of bleak brutality, then hushed ominous shimmer, waiting for the next blast to come.
Dark and dense, sinister and seriously grim, this is some black sonic energy, some bleak ultradoom blackdrone minimalism that should definitely appeal to fans of Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, Pig Heart Transplant, Wolf Eyes, Stalaggh, Wolvserpent, Abruptum, MZ412, Pussygutt, Khanate and other similarly black spirited dronelords�
Packaged in a cool Chinatown fireworks style paper sleeve, stickered, with a full color sticker as well as a printed, hand numbered insert inside. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!
BACK IN STOCK!
We're beginning to think EEE is our new favorite black metal label. After last list's brilliant Light Shall Prevail, and now this disc from Agathothodion (with tons more still to review).
We're ready to convert! Convert? Oh yeah, we forgot to mention, this is WHITE metal, as in the opposite of black metal. Un-black metal. This is not satanic or hateful, instead it's hopeful and holy. But you'd never know it from listening. Agathothodion is bizarre and creepy and dark and, well, very very black sounding. And the thing is, while some of us have problems with religion being so dogmatic, this particular sonic representation of Christianity is anything but dogmatic. In fact it points out just how cookie cutter the majority of black metal really is. What we're getting at here, is this is some totally demented, freaked out, blissed out and drone-y, haunting and hypnotic ambient experimental black metal. They list their influences as GOD, JESUS CHRIST, Xasthur, Burzum, Leviathan, Isis, but they might as well have also listed Benighted Leams, Urfaust, Dead Reptile Shrine... you get what we're talking about. This stuff is fucking amazing! Traum Von Gott collects two long out of print eps, Stavkirke and Telos, and adds a bonus track)
So what the hell does it sound like?
A buzzing blackness that's spread out into a thick loping wash of blurry buzz, super dreamy, fuzzy warm midtempo black metal, soft swirls of midtempo trudge, totally hypnotic and drone-y, but it's the vocals that had us. Some sort of ancient sounding ghostlike falsetto croon. Drenched in reverb, not singing lyrics so much as just sort of moaning, and groaning. It almost sounds like the guy from Urfaust when he's 100 years old, his wheelchair pushed up to the mic, as a reedy disembodied voice drifts from his parched lips. Totally intense and creepy, definitely some of the most unique vocals we've heard. And while at first they sound completely bizarre, after a while, you really can't imagine the vocals sounding any other way. But that's not all that's strange about this band. They also break their song down into strange little post rock interludes with weird bloopy underwater bass, almost like a black metal Three Mile Pilot. But it really is the vocals, a nearly hysterical sounding completely chilling tortured cry spreading over the proceedings like a blood red fog. Almost like the sound you could imagine coming from behind a locked door in an insane asylum, that strange inmate who has been sitting in the corner for 20 years, mouth and eyes covered, but who continues to wail at all hours of the day.
Man, this is so great, pretty much all we've been listening to. We were all ready to proclaim the Light Shall Prevail record as our new favorite black metal record (the same guy behind that band too we think) but now we're not so sure. Might just be easier to begin singing the praises of white metal and proclaim EEE our new favorite label...
Squeaking, scraping scraps of violin improv turned into musique concrete via magnetic tape and razorblade -- that's the specialty of Japan's Hideaki Shimada, aka Agencement. This disc contains two long, low-key, slowly unravelling tracks, one from '93 and the
Our pal Drucifer's Dielectric label has been laying low of late, for the most part... yet Drucifer did dig this debut recording from Agents Del Futuro enough to add it to the Dielectric discog as a limited edition cd-r packaged in a colorful, collaged, oversized, silkscreened folder! ADF (a one man band, that man being local Mission-dweller Jesse Clark, a painter and percussionist) makes improvisational use of all sorts of acoustic instruments and non-instruments (some of 'em include: bike wheel, Korg 770, squeaky door, doumbek, dried seed pods, Paiste 22" symphonic gong, Turkish tea cups, marimba, radio, echoplex, harmonium, sandpaper, bass, singing bowl, drum set, piano, tuned Nepalese gongs, voicemail, billiards...) along with electronic processing and tape looping of the sounds produced, to create the 17 tracks of Mydrone. Some of it is indeed droney, other parts almost poppy... there's lotsa noisiness, fractured beats, glitchtronic sampling, some singing... all of it together kinda broken down and damaged and unpredictable. A fun lo-fi stew of soundmaking weirdness, running the gamut from dreamy to jittery, that totally fits into the Dielectric roster alongside artists like Die Elektrischen, Karen Stackpole, Gerrit, the Dielectric Minimalist All-Stars, and Brian and Chris.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
On DelayOnMyPillow, AGF -- aka Antye Greie-Fuchs of Laub -- offers a digitized variation on the musique concrete tradition, in particular the psychological narratives described in Luc Ferrari's work. Just like Ferrari, Greie-Fuchs amplifies closely mic'd whispers to capture all of their lip-smacking and breathy intonation and positions those whispers right up against the speakers while tiny digital events and processed environmental recordings flutter in the background. She effectively creates an artificial stage for those vocalizations coupled with her own Bjorkish vocals, alternating between sounding charmingly intimate and downright creepy. Extending what cinematic allusions can be drawn from such a composition, Greie-Fuchs offers brief interludes of detached electro-funk, bip-hop, and post-techno acting as segues between the bulk of the work. A curious, modern-day reinterpretation of musique concrete.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Ultra limited latest release from the uber prolific Antony Milton and his always genius PseudoArcana label. This time it's an ultra limited lathe cut, created of course by the lathe cut master himself, Kiwi legend Peter King. Limited to 50 copies, the initial pressing of this lp disappeared in no time, but we managed to get a tiny handful of this, the second and final pressing, and it's a doozy. Packaged in a gorgeous hand screened/painted brown paper cover with a brown paper inner sleeve and housed in a resealable plastic jacket, and the record itself clear with printed inner labels, this split teams up label head Milton and his Nether Dawn project with Irish one man band Agitated Radio Pilot. And it's a perfect match up.
Agitated Radio Pilot unfurls slow growing, wheezing melancholy melodies and warm warbly atmospheres, split into 4 tracks, it sounds more like one lengthy extended pastoral drift, a lazy wander beneath leafy trees and a burnt orange late afternoon sky, laid back and blissed out. Melancholy and gauzy. The muted buzz of guitars, warbly melodies, all very hazy and indistinct.
Nether Dawn (this time accompanied by fellow NZ noisemaker James Kirk) counter with their own brand of blurry haziness. Long drawn out drones, hushed whispered vocals, smeared buzz, distant washes of distorted guitar and muted rhythmic clatter. It sounds like pop songs stretched out and pulled apart into spare skeletal stretches of somnambulant sound. Like ARP, it's all very soft focus and dreamlike. And remember, with lathe cuts, the more you play them, the more they degrade, and the sound gets even fuzzier and blurrier and more washed out. So after a bunch of plays this might sound even better! So lovely.
Second and final pressing of 50 copies, once these are gone, we won't bee able to get more.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The enigmatic Agnes returns with yet another suitably dark and suitably mysterious transmission of gritty textures and carcinogenic drones. As we mentioned before in our review of her oblique, eponymous 3" cd-r, we can find little information on who Agnes is. She hails from Chicago; and this is the second release we've been able to track down, but that seems to be all we can discern. Who else she's worked with or what she's done before these two releases remains an unknown. All of this matches with the sounds she produces, bringing to mind the early work of Maurizio Bianchi, in part finding parallels to his mythic disappearance by 1983 from the noise community with all sorts of conspiracies and hearsay getting tossed around; but also in hearing a sympathetic aesthetic through Agnes' zombified electronic swarmings, high voltage crackle, and generalized bad vibes. The first side buzzes and marches along grimy arpeggiations which seem both organic and machined at the same time. The second side laces a more noxious crackle against a chugging rhythm that steadily loses its will to live and gets consumed by tactile drips, clicks, whirs, and squeaks sending visions of greasy machines dating to the early 20th century whose gears spit out metal filings, run at unsafely hot temperatures, always on the verge of blowing a cog and causing the whole operation to grind to a halt. It's really nice to hear Agnes stretch out her compositions along a broader axis beyond the 15 minutes or so of that aforementioned cd-r; but unfortunately, this tape is super limited and already out of print. That said, we've heard rumors of a full album on wax from Ms. Agnes. Bring it on, lady!
Oh, Agnes. We know nothing about you, but you make such hermetically strange drones and noises. Given the utter lack of information - just a name and the sounds on this 3"cd-r - the triangulation towards something like the hauntological noisescaping of Haxan Cloak might be appropriate or maybe the electro-shock rhythms of a latter-day Aaron Dilloway might serve as an apt comparison. That contextual void is a defining characteristic of the Agnes recordings, as she (we'll assume this to be a she) makes compellingly skeletal pieces that orbit around the defined camps of witchy electronics, pulse-tone minimalism, analogue fetishism, oblique experimentation, industrial mind control, and hell, let's throw Fluxus in the mix, cuz that could definitely fit with what she does.
There was a Frans De Waard project many moons ago called Goem that took its cues from Pan Sonic and Ryoji Ikeda, but what made Goem really interesting was that many of the rhythms were created from an obsolete medical device which was designed to heal and massage damaged muscles, tendons, and nerves through electrical pulses. Of course, Goem turned that into a rhythm box, and something similar could be the source for Agnes' electro-pulse minimalism. However, Agnes does this WAY better than Goem, whatever she may be using, bringing a mid-tempo voltage control pulse to the first track with cryptically sourced hisses and wheezing tones that surely must be electrical in nature. The second track finds the rhythm more disjointed and its electrical signals overdriven with a whumping bass distortion that would be hard to fabricate within a digital workstation. A strangely percolating half-melody of what might be a feedback loop or might even be a shortwave utility signal beacon repeating around this squelching rhythm. Both tracks never remain static but are constantly shifting, twisting, and morphing. Brilliant stuff. Limited to 70 copies.
"All records should be six minutes long!! I just listened to this whole record, and it was awesome!"
- Me (Andee) ranting when I threw this on the first time.
By now, it takes a whole lot for us to give a shit about a 'remix' record. Pretty strange that one of the first remix records in ages to totally kick our asses would come from grindlords Agoraphobic Nosebleed and avant post metal label Hydra Head. But remixes aside for the moment, metalheads and grindfreaks should be thanking their lucky stars that AnB's legendary PCP Torpedo 6" has finally been released on cd. All SIX minutes of it. One of the most perfect slabs of mechanized grind metal EVER. Dense, convoluted, heavy, ridiculous, scary, blazing fast, buzzing and snarling, short and sweet. PERFECT GRIND! So it would almost be worth it for PCP on cd alone (okay, maybe $15 for 6 minutes is a bit steep, but it's soooo good!). Thankfully, PCP's 6 minutes gets rounded out by an hour long bonus disc of remixes from folks like Justin Broadrick (Jesu, Godflesh, etc.), James Plotkin (Khanate, Phantomsmasher), DJ Speedranch, Merzbow, Jansky Noise, Vinda Obmana, and a bunch more. From Plotkin's timestretched, ultradistorted industrial freakout mix, to the Godfleshy sludge and pummel of Broadrick's mix, to the skittery acid fried IDM Dev/Null mix, to Vinda Obmana's bleak wasted industrial soundscape mix, it's all totally weird and wonderful, most of it very very noisy. But what would you expect when the source material is the violent and vitriolic hate fueled fury of Agoraphobic Nosebleed?!
And then there's the packaging! HOLY SHIT. Totally deluxe double disc digipak, all in vivid yellows and reds and oranges, the front some sort of factory, with multicolored flames licking the sky as pills rain from the heavens. The inside is a dizzying blur of pills and capsules, each disc covered in tiny little flames, the six minute PCP disc a little black 3" cd embedded in a 5" plastic disc, all flickering little blue flames, the remix a 5" black disc with red flames, so completely and overwhelmingly gorgeous. Includes a black and white insert with all the liner notes and lyrics confusingly tucked amidst and within a litany of pharmecutical jargon, suggestions for dosages, various health warnings and lists of side effects. Awesome!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Another way too limited disc of lilting and lovely fingerpicked folk. Solo steel string guitar, dark and delicate. Beautiful!
Yep, this is in fact a 10", and it does indeed cost $100, and heck we're not even marking it up at all! We're just giving folks a chance to nab one of these, which are limited to JUST 25 COPIES, to help Root Strata pay for this year's On Land Festival. Last year was incredible, and this year looks to be even better (you can read more about it in the intro to this week's list!). But a four day festival, with bands from all over the world, is a massive undertaking, and costs a lot of money, so every little bit helps, thus we have this, an insanely limited, and pricey object / artifact, two sides of droned out blissful psychedelic drift, Ilyas Ahmed recorded live last year at the On Land festival.
Thick swaths of humid guitar drone, muted muddy vocalizing, spidery melodies, skittery percussion, all blurred into swirling clouds of psychedelic shimmer, with the B-side getting heavy, the band locking into some serious space rock throb, before blissing right back out, the sound sprawling into a smoldering rage flecked drone-psych driftscape, so nice.
Only a very few of the 25 left, these are obviously mostly for obsessive Ahmed fans, folks who want to help support the On Land Festival, folks with money to burn, or some combination of the three!
Sweet packaging too.
As much as we love cd-r's, there are times, with certain records, that they make us so frustrated. Sure part of the charm of a super limited cd-r release is that it's fleeting. Often handmade and labor intensive. So the whole project becomes ultra personal for both the artist and the listener. But some records just need to be heard by more than 50 or 100 or even 200 people. Such is the case with Ilyas Ahmed. An Aquarius customer who sent us one of his home recorded discs a while back and who completely blew us away. We've been bugging him ever since to send us more and more cd-r's (and you in turn have been bugging us like crazy to get more copies of the old discs, and keep our eyes peeled for new ones). The first four are already long gone, so we were super excited to get this new one a few days ago. And it's just as good as any of the others, if not better. Definitely stranger. Before, Ahmed offered up little snippets of some long lost forest folk. Shimmery and pastoral, lilting and so so pretty. And while much of this disc explores similar territory, overall, it's much darker, and a bit more aggressive. The opening track is sort of glam folk jam, dark super distorted steel string strum and soaring ethereal falsetto vocals. The riff is sort of grungy, dripping with distortion, but never obfuscating the urgent strumming, and leaving space for Ahmed's super dramatic wail. Had this track been played with electric guitars plugged into big amps with pounding drums, it might sounds a tiny bit like modern day Circle. Weird, bit so cool.
After that, things veer back into moire blissy folk territory, with finger picked steel string guitar, more subtle crooned vocals, simple percussion, a late night drift through an abstract drug folk dreamworld. But the last two songs bring things right back, with the guitar again drenched in reverb and distortion, a little more languid and laid back, but still a fuzzy druggy muted squall, a little bit reminiscent of Rein Sanction actually, but a bit more mellow and shimmery soft. Lazy drawled vocals over fuzzed out Mascis style riffing, all blown out but still mumbly and lo-fi with distant falsetto vocals hovering wraithlike just behind the strum and buzz. Naqi may be a dreamy free folk record, but it's got some serious teeth, a little fuzzy buzz and a fried amp patina that makes these songs sound way more druggy and psychedelic. Which is most definitely a good thing.
Each sleeve is hand designed, a unique collage on the front, album and artist hand written on the back. Includes a printed insert.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Each copy hand numbered as well.
Hot on the heels of the recently reviewed, way overdue, double disc reissue of two LONG out of print cd-r's, comes a brand new disc from one of our favorite music makers, Ilyas Ahmed.
In the past, Ahmed has found himself lumped in with lots of modern guitarists, of the neo-Appalachian persuasion, Blackshaw, Rose, etc. And while Ahmed can definitely fingerpick with the best of them, his records were never distinctly 'guitar' records in that same way, even though most of his songs are based around a guitar. And his prowess on the steel string was never really the focal point of those discs. Instead, he used the guitar and those bits of Appalachia, merely as elements in a much larger sonic picture. Vocals, raga like drones, horns, hand drums, each part of a lush lush expansive soundscape, which just happened to be draped across a framework of steel string shimmer, while all around that acoustic guitar, swirled strange and wondrous sounds.
The new disc, The Vertigo Of Dawn, while indeed rich with lustrous guitar, is even more far out, more psychedelic, more druggy, and manages to turn that guitar into something weird and wonderful, a hazy fuzzy ghostlike folk, otherworldly and haunting.
The record begins with a tripped out ESP style free jazz drone drift, all long tones and moaning horns, very serene and sedate and meditative, lots of space, warm whirling reverb, the horns hovering over a soft backdrop of deep rumbles and muted buzz, Eastern style melodies played out like snake charmer melodies, the whole thing very exotic and mysterious and free jazzy.
The second track begins with some aggressively strummed guitar, distorted crooned vocals, and some killer Eastern style melodies (again), it's like freak folk filtered through some Middle Eastern bazaar. The following track is more druggy and woozy, the acoustic guitar again the focal point, but surrounded on all sides by swooping backwards guitars, and ghostlike falsetto vocals. The next track is a sunshiney hippy folk jam, with simple subtle percussion, strummed minor key guitar, but wrapped around some truly haunting vocals and horns, high and drawn out, sometimes hard to tell if it's a horn or a voice, but they add a strange tension, and turn the fluttery folk into something much more intense and mysterious. The whole record is like a long strange trip for Ahmed's guitar, it's gentle melodies, and simple strumming, making their way through strange song after strange song, sometimes, floating unmolested, just glimmering and glistening, while other times being buffeted by thick squalls of buzz and whirring drones, and at others, slowly pulled apart into strange minimal steel stringscapes, each note a sparkling star in a constellation of minor key melancholia, often accompanied by Ahmed's lonesome falsetto wail, wrapping protectively around the guitar's fragile shimmer. So nice.
Fans of all that neo-Appalachia stuff will definitely dig this, as will folks into the freak folk cd-r scene, but even if you're into folky psych like Six Organs Of Admittance, Steven R. Smith, Scott Tuma, and other steel string soundscapers, you might find this much to your liking...
The packaging is fantastic as well, both the lp and the cd are housed in super deluxe fabric textured gatefold sleeves, both with printed insert, the lp is on 180 gram vinyl and is limited to 750 copies.
Limited to 50 and we only have nine so once they're gone they are gone for good! Yet another self released cd-r gem comes our way. Ilyas Ahmed works his way around a guitar in a manner that would have fit right at home on the great "Wooden Guitar" comp that came out on Locust a few years back. Totally great playing that both wanders and resonates with ease and purpose. A little bit like a more loose Jack Rose with a definite Fahey influence and that early good Leo Kotke sound to boot. Something really humble and lowkey about the record that makes it sit so well too. Too bad these will be gone before you can blink, but now we know to keep our eyes out for future releases that hopefully won't be so super limited.
Latest record from psych folk troubadour Ilyas Ahmed, his first since 2009's Goner, and much like Goner, his sound continues to move away from the super delicate folky drift of his past records. In fact, we remarked in our review of Goner, that there was a marked shift toward a sound more distorted and blown out, and while that record seemed to simply bury all of the delicate sounds under buzzing guitars and pounding drums, on With Endless Fire there seems to be a more of an organic hybridization of the two. The sound here is less prettiness-wreathed-in-heaviness, and more prettiness recorded in a way that it actually BECOMES heavy, the sound super hot, and in-the-red, so much so that lots of the music sounds super saturated, but it only makes it sound that much more urgent and intense. Even the moodiest broodiest bits, seethe with energy, a smoldering emotional intensity that oozes from every note.
The record opens with "Now Sleeps", a lush layered raga, all buzzing tones, that build and build to an almost Sunroof! ur-drone level, softened by Ahmed's ethereal vox, the raga sloughing off high end until it becomes a dense drone, which is soon joined by acoustic guitar, and simple shuffling drums, strangely recorded, the result a sort of blackened sun baked psych folk dirge, again with Ahmed's voice changing the tenor, all wistful and weary, but distorted and thus intense and emotional, and when the leads come in, super blown out and fiercely psychedelic, convulsing over that warm brooding rhythm beneath. "Skin In Circles" is more folk pop, softly rhythmic and propulsive, the seemingly minimal guitars, imbued with an energy and intensity that transforms a delicate bit of folkiness into something darker and more brooding. That same vibe oozes into "Stained Sky", which almost has a classic rock vibe, but again, the sounds are so blown out and druggy, that it becomes a sort of blackened psych ballad, gorgeous and harrowing.
After a brief bit of steel string balladry, a lovely mid record bit of hushed dreamfolk, the sound shifts right back into that smoldering drone, with another expanse of layered twang flecked heaviness, laced with spidery tendrils of dense buzzing melody, wrapped around a more delicate bit of psychedelic drift, which leads right into the sprawling "My Mirage", another deserty folky drift fused to some thick super distorted psychedelic guitar, the perfect balance for Ahmed's vox and the shimmery steel string strum, the second half of the song blossoming into a gorgeous dreamily blown out psychedelic dream dirge, that eventually fades onto record closer, "By The Light", which ditches all the distortion for something much more hushed and lovely, a hazy, reverby stretch of warm washed out dream folk, a darkly sweet lullaby and perfect way to wind down, and drift off.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. Pressed on high quality virgin vinyl and housed in a super heavy Stoughton tip-on style jacket. Also includes a download coupon. Cassette version coming soon, btw.
What a thrill it is to discover one of our customers quietly making music as beautiful as, if not more so, than the music we love and listen to every day! Such is the case with aQ pal Ilyas Ahmed. We listed one of his cd-r's a few weeks back, which didn't last long since we only got a handful. We also got copies of his other limited cd-r which sold out so fast we didn't get enough to list at all. Well, we didn't want to blow it again so we made sure to reserve 30 copies of this, the newest cd-r release, and again it's a breathtaking bit of beauty. Solo acoustic guitar, gentle and lilting, soft focused and dreamlike. Definitely in the spirit of John Fahey, Richard Bishop, Jack Rose and the like, but much less Appalachia, and more introspective folk. Minor key and melancholy, fingerpicked steel string guitar, candlelit and moonlit, melodies flickering like shadows, deft and smooth, but effortless and carefree. So so so so lovely!
Packaged in a cardboard sleeve, with hand screened artwork affixed to the front and back. Hand numbered, LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!
Dead Rails is the second full-length from Air Conditioning, now quite at home on Load after a debut disc on Level Plane. They're from the same Allentown, PA scene as Pissed Jeans, and even (much more, whoah) noisier than those guys! They also were on a 4-way split LP we listed last time, the Tiger Tongue Pussy Cactus: Terminal Fantasies For Malefic Youth on Hospital Productions. Regarding that, we said Air Conditioning sounded like a supercharged noise rock Tim Hecker, all blown out buzz and buried melodies, and this follows suit.
Air Conditioning combine vacuum cleaner guitars with industrial-strength drum pummel for a noise rock delight, stress on the noise. Sheets of feedback shriek accompany indecipherable angst ridden punk hollers, all subsumed far below a tsunami of rumbling distortion. Although Dead Rails has its quiet, dare we say pretty side too, on the more ambient droning likes of "I Run Low". But when on the disc's final, 16+ minute track, Air Conditioning ask us to "Accept Your Paralysis", they've probably also caused said paralysis with their amped to the max geetar STATIC and mind-numbing rhythmic throb. Here, their noise rock gets almost psychedelic, like one of them Japanese bands, maybe Up-Tight or LSD-march veering into Hijokaidan territory!
An awesome 4 band pile up, the state of modern black noise, or blackened noise rock, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. This stuff is fierce and heavy and demented and so great. From the same label that brought us the primitive black metal of Malkuth (reviewed elsewhere on this list), the raw black fury of Bone Awl, those killer Akitsa reissues and a recent MB reissue, comes this killer 4 band anvil to the head. Up first is the Vegas Martyrs, featuring Hospital head honcho and Prurient mastermind Dom Fernow, and just like the recently reviewed lp, it's another gloriously blown out and beautiful slab of blackened pop flecked noise rock. In the red and on the verge of destroying your speakers, VM offer up a killer Maiden-like riff over super distorted drums, garbled FX drenched vocals, super hypnotic and repetitive, all wrapped up in a crumbling stereo killing production, finishing off with several minutes of glitchy grinding murky noise...
Up next is Air Conditioning, who sculpt their noise into something sorta pretty, huge swaths of blown out buzz over blurred buried melodies, layer upon layer upon layer, all shifting and shimmering, it almost sounds like a super charged noiserock Tim Hecker. Abrasive but surprisingly lovely. Up third is The New Flesh, show kick out the jams, ultra lo-fi style, a noisy practice space sounding garage rock sludge jam, all downtuned guitars, distorted trash can drums, and a weirdly deep voiced vocalist, who occasionally let's loose with a glass gargling screech. Dirgey, grimey, almost like some long lost Swans rehearsal tape. Finally, finishing things up are the Coughs, who weave some strange drone-y dirge with skronky sax and buzzy bass, fuzz guitar, all in short sharp bursts, creating a weirdly spacious plod, looped and cyclical, until the wild female vocals come in, and suddenly the Coughs sound like they're channeling old school Riot Grrl through new school noise. Out of nowhere comes a blast of spastic drum freakout before returning to that gorgeously relentless sludge-y pulse...
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES. Packaged in a thick black on green paper sleeve, printed inside and out, pressed on clear green vinyl.
Geoff Marx, Thomas Muer and Derek Greenberg are the brains behind this sound installation from '98. Just now in at Aquarius, it is constructed using three simultaneously playing cds. One containing found environmental sounds, one of beats and one of melodic and harmonic content. Each collection of sounds is fragmented and randomly mixed up by the shuffle mode of the cd players, thus creating a constantly changing sonic environment.
Mr. Gerard Cosloy and Ms. Claire Pannell return with their third album of indie-skronk. If you and your best friend were really good at improvising on a processed guitar, an analogue synth and a drum kit after listening to DNA, Handful of Dust, and Fushitsusha, then yes, you too could be as good as Air Traffic Controllers... then again you too might be CEO of Pfizer Pharmaceuticals.
Gerard Cosloy & Claire Pannell's improv-skronk guitar/bass duo returns with a new album, recorded live to minidisc in various downtown NYC locations. Two guest saxophonists feature on one song, but despite that the aforementioned "skronk" element has in fact been reduced a bit from previous outings--"Existence Period" seems a bit prettier than earlier Air Traffic Controllers discs. Very nice.
Remember that Arktinen Hysteria compilation of '60s-'70s underground electronic/avant-garde music from far-off Finland? Pekka Airaksinen was one of the composers whose work made that comp such a great freaky blast of Arctic creativity. His career has stretched from the late sixties 'til today, from his membership in the notorious Finnish underground 'rock' outfit The Sperm to solo recordings now being released on his own cd-r imprint. This anthology makes a valiant effort to wrangle some of the best of Airaksinen's diverse and bizarre output onto one disc, and also includes a second disc of 'remixes' of his stuff by a surprising array of current sound makers, among them Nurse With Wound, Es, Simon Wickham-Smith, Mira Calix, and Curd Duca. From proto-Industrial noise to electronic beats to free jazz to massive drones, Airaksinen's work is interesting and always avant-garde. We'd actually have preferred that both discs be given over to his original recordings (how 'bout a reissue of the entire 1970 Sperm album Shh!?) rather than get the remixes, but we're not complaining, this is a cool comp and doubtless more will be forthcoming especially if the presence of the big-name remixers get folks to buy this who aren't already intrigued by the pioneering Finnish sonic weirdness on offer.
Longtime readers of the aQ list probably remember a strange lp by a group called Sperm, a mysterious collection from 1970 of experimental sound from the Finnish underground, the project of a man named Pekka Airaksinen, who under the moniker Sperm, created a series of haunting soundscapes, and 20th century tape music, experimental landscapes of wild skronk and skree, out-jazz, lots of drones and weird rhythms, that as we said at the time puts the modern noisemakers to shame.
Well this little artifact was just unearthed, or at least, finally reissued/released, a recording made by Airaksinen in 1972 as his Sperm project came to a close, shortly before he gave up music for a decade. And its proximity to the Sperm record timewise definitely reflects the sonically similar sound, an extension of sorts of the recently laid to rest Sperm, if anything the sounds here more intimate and reserved, less noisy, and more electronic, more rhythmic, with long stretches of barely there minimalism peppered with haunting electronics, disembodied melodies and murky percussive thumps.
Like the Sperm record, the sounds are all over the map, with some strange ineffable something linking them all together, mysterious mechanical rhythms that sound almost like some sort of primitive home brewed techno give way to droned out free folk reminiscent of countrymen Avarus and Anaksimandros, chaotic drumming and layered high end tones, which drifts into more of a moody futurescape, all swirling effects and muddy electronics. The flipside begins with a long stretch of warm subtle ambient drift, which splinters into some awesome, but awesomely maddening looped high end skree, before slipping into some strange cosmic crunch, and then finally some blissful spaced out drift.
Gorgeous, strange stuff, anyone who bought the Sperm record will probably want this, and all you Finnish weirdo music obsessives, this one is for YOU.
Of the three recent releases / discoveries from the Los Angeles Free Music Society through the Cortical Foundation, Airway's "Beyond The Pink" is the strongest, if not the most listenable. Joe Potts -- one of the more prominent players in the LAFMS --
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.
Some super experimental low end doom drone minimalism from Brad Rose, who besides playing in The North Sea, Corsican Paintbrush, Jade Emperor also runs the insanely cool Digitalis label.
Up until now, most of what we've heard from Rose has been on the folky side of things, who knew he had this in him. A seriously grindingly dense churning buzzscape. Caustic and thick, huge slabs of heaving low end, layer upon layer of black hole heaviness. Dentist drill high end surfaces here and there, but overall, every track here is some sort of leap into sonic tar, struggling to breath or even hear, your ears clogged with crumbling back grit, your body pinned to the ground beneath wave after wave of slow motion blacknoise pummel.
You know if you need this. If you're into the slow, and low and HEAVY, you probably do. But this was LIMITED TO ONLY 72 COPIES. It's out of print. We have 15. Do the math.
Red cassette cases, red cassettes, cool full color sleeves on nice textured paper, each copy hand numbered.
The fourth cassette from this East Coast minimal drone duo, half of which, as we've mentioned before, just so happens to be Brad who runs the Digitalis label.
This tape takes up right where the last one left off, a dark slowly expansive exploration of deep black minimalism, this one begins less heavy than the others, murky and mumbly, looped low end drifts out from the speakers like doomy ripples, soft pulses, distant throbs, part way through the sound gets all airy and swooshy, almost like some blackened new age. But that's just about when the sound thickens, and grows slightly more corrosive. A crumbling, grinding muted flow more soothing than heavy.
But flip the tape over, and we're back in the heavy guitar realm, with swirling streaks of buzz and pulsing effects, droned out chordal whir, intense blown out squalls of freaked out noise, dense swells of high end skree, everything warped and warbly and wrapped in damaged electronics and strange sonic glitches, an avalanche of fragmented riffage building to a Total like rrrroooaaar. Cool.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES!!! Comes packaged in a full color fold out cardstock insert, the tape wrapped in a cassette obi, screen printed on heavy textured paper and each one hand numbered.
