It's been nearly two years since we first heard the Portland, OR duo, Golden Retriever. That first cd-r release was so uber-limited that they were gone before most people had the chance to even register it. Thankfully this follow-up on Root Strata is both on vinyl and has a larger pressing, but that doesn't mean it will be around forever, so don't wait too long.
Light Cones sees the duo of Matt Carlson (one half of Bonus) and Jonthan Sielaff further expounding on their signature dynamic of modular synthesizer and bass clarinet interplay. Over two side long tracks, each about 20 minutes, the duo push the musical limitations of their essentially monophonic instruments into new forms and shapes. The beautiful ambient drift of their first release is present in long stretches, but they're buffered against darker passages of alien cathedral-ish organ swells, laserium like wave-forms, low-end whooshes and mechanoid insect-buzz swirls. The clarinet provides a clear reed tone in the mid-range that lyrically elevates the sound while keeping it just shy of a stratospheric etherealness, often descending pitches into an abyss of soft microtonal angularity. There is a sense of cosmic uplift to the work here that is not casually offered but comes only after thoughtful attentive listening through some deeply sonic twists and turns. Gorgeous stuff!
For their Thrill Jockey debut, the duo of Matt Carlson and Jonathan Sielaff make surprisingly rich long form electronic music using basic monophonic instrumentation of bass clarinet and analog modular synthesizers. We have been big fans of their Root Strata releases, especially their last long player, Light Cones, which took their dynamic interplay into all sorts of unexpected territory. But we couldn't help but wonder where they could go from there. Fortunately, upon first listen of Occupied With The Unspoken, we realized we didn't need to worry at all. Over the course of four tracks, the duo created extended recordings and carefully edited them into succinct passages focusing on melodic compositional interplay over free-form improvisation, allowing more ideas to come into play. This results in a more fully realized vison of cosmic uplift than in previous recordings. In fact, this may just be our favorite release from these guys so far!
We won't go into too much detail with this as it's limited to a mere 100 copies and odds are will be sold out or nearly so by the time you're reading this.
Golden Retriever is the duo of Matt Carlson, from Bonus, who we've raved about in the past, along with multi-instrumentalist Jonathan Sielaff, the two use synthesizer and bass clarinet to evoke images of some dystopian future, or the streets of some dying city, the synths buzz and rumble, whir and thrum, the clarinet soars and sings lyrically, subtly intertwined with the synth buzz, the two occasionally falling together perfectly, creating a thick swath of ominous sound. The clarinet flutter and flits, occasionally slipping into some abstract jazziness, other times offering counterpoint for the synths' low end melodic buzz, or unfurling long long Niblockian tones, which is when GR sound the best, when the synth and clarinet are locked into longform stretches of near static sound, tense and intense, minimal and mysterious.
Gorgeous packaging, elaborately folded vellum sleeve, with the full color disc visible from within, and a small printed insert. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES.
We reviewed a record by a drone combo called Number None a while back. We didn't know too much about it or them, but what we did know was that the sound those guys produced was totally up our alley. Definitely drone based, but all over the map, wrapping various drones around all sorts of varied sonic elements, somehow creating a more cohesive whole than would seem possible.
So now we have the debut from this Chicago duo, called Golden Sores, which just so happens to feature one of the guys from Number None, and in the Golden Sores, the focus is much more defined, and the two craft an incredible collection of heavy buzzing dronemusic. Each track here a sprawling ever expanding black cloud of sound, from grinding low end rumbles, to effulgent sun dappled shimmer, some tracks take the murk of Sunn 0))) but spread it out and blur it into something more soothing and tranquil, others channel the urdrone rituals of Sunroof! through their own dirt smeared sonic filter. Some of the tracks slip into an almost late period Earth-like gospel Americana, but rendered in shades of grey and in smeared streaks of soft focus shimmer, and still others are swirling effects drenched expanses of outer space exploration.
The closing track gets downright nasty, adding a layer of crumbling distortion to a drone that sound like it was assembled from chanted voices, the two elements wrestling against one another until finally finding stasis and allowing a lilting melody to surface amidst the grind and buzz.
Totally gorgeous. If you like any of the above mentioned bands, or outfits like Tunnels, Svarte Greiner, Eternal Tapestry, Pussygutt, Half Makeshift, and other minimal cd-r dronelords, the Golden Sores will be your new favorite affliction.
Beautiful packaging. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered...
Starring Mr. Christian Fennesz.
Another weird and wonderful release from the mysterious Tapeworm label. "What's so weird and wonderful and mysterious about someone remixing Fennesz?" you might be wondering? Well on Remiksz, Stefan Goldmann makes use of Fennesz' previous Tapeworm release, the collection of samples appropriately titled Szampler, which gathered up various source material used to create some of our favorite Fennesz records and then wove those raw samples into a surprisingly cohesive whole. With Remiksz, things get pretty meta, with Goldmann removing Fennesz' original samples, one by one, replacing them with samples of his own, recorded and created over the last decade, in the same sequence, eventually resulting in this, Remiksz, a sort-of remix record, which contains absolutely NO music by Fennesz. Instead, Goldmann has composed a record using Fennesz' Szampler as a template, or a framework: the track durations are all the same, all the arrangements, it's just the sounds that are utterly and completely different. We guess one could argue that it therefore does incorporate MUSIC (in the sense of organization/structure) "written" by Fennesz, but just not his SOUNDS.
So Fennesz fans at first might be a bit puzzled, or disappointed, which definitely seems fair, but give it a chance, Goldmann has a fantastic arsenal of sounds and samples, many of them quite reminiscent of Fennesz himself, and like Szampler, Remiksz ends up being a deliriously varied barrage of tripped out psychedelic soundscapery, tendrils of buzzing guitar, dense staticky rumbles, orchestral bursts, little bits of melody, long shimmery drones, swirls of crackly haze, and blown out gauze, delicately drifting harmonics, dark ominous piano, cinematic strings, fields of celestial glitch and burnt black squelch, skittery fragmented rhythms, buried samples, cricket-like clicks, lots of reverb and washed out echo, warped and warbly tape experiments, primitive synths, a blurred and ever shifting short attention span sprawl of fractured lush loveliness and glitched out sampledelic sputter. Awesome.
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!!
The one thing about The Tapeworm label, is that while you never know exactly what you're gonna get, you do know more than likely it's definitely something you want to hear, whether you realized it or not. One of two new tapes from The Tapeworm this time out, this one from Berlin electronic producer Stefan Goldmann, who also runs the Macro Recordings label, but don't be expecting any sort of beats or techno here, instead, it's a gorgeously dark record of solo guitar. Goldmann describes himself as a mediocre guitarist, but a versatile engineer, so for his Tapeworm contribution, he recorded a whole bunch of little guitar bits, softly struck harmonics, simply strummed chords, pizzicato notes, plenty of clicks and scrapes, even his barely audible breathing as he hunched over the guitar, and cut and chopped and spliced and diced the various elements into 5 tracks, two different versions. The result though is not some sort of rapidfire plunderphonic workout, instead, it's delicate, and sublime, lots of space and subtle melody, warm little chordal tangles drift over softly shimmering expanses of space, strange plucks and thumps are built into barely there rhythms, one track does coalesce into something almost propulsive, but somehow remains minimal and abstract, even what sound like mistakes, mis-hits, muted notes, get reworked into the slow shifting anti-folk, free jazz dark drift tapestry Goldmann creates. Each side contains the same program, but different versions, so using the reverse function on your tape deck, you can further loop and tangle and reassemble the original tracks into different arrangements. So cool.
As always, LIMITED TO 250 COPIES...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Ah, it's October '06 and we just realized that this Goldmund album somehow slipped by our review-writing radar last year. So... better late than never, we're writing about it now.
This is the latest serene album from Goldmund also known as Keith Kenniff also known as Helios. Whereas the latter's most recent offering Eingya is an equally hushed post-rock beauty composed on guitars, keyboards and electronics, Corduroy Road's contemplative interludes are played almost solely on piano. Scant fleeting guitar strums add a barely-there percussive element sort of like a brush across a snaredrum. Ultra spartan and tenderly evocative. If you're looking for an album to instill utter calm (for yoga, massage therapy, bedtime?), look no further.
Shhhhh. As quiet and unassuming as it is, this new Goldmund 7" triggered an aQ realization that we hadn't written about his last cd Corduroy Road that came out last year. Uh oh, shirking our duties! Ah well, a review for that fine release was promptly written (it's listed on our website). Anyways, Heart Of High Places features six more of his resonant, uncluttered piano compositions. Slow, delicate and dewy. This record is part of the great 7" series from Type Records that also includes aQ faves Paavoharju and Machinefabriek.
We haven't heard from Goliath Bird Eater in a while, a guitar and drums duo from LA featuring one Mr. Bobb Bruno as the axe wielding half. We were warned (or was it promised?) by Caligulan label head honcho Anthony, that this GBE was gonna be the heaviest yet, and just a few minutes in, and we're convinced. Whereas the last GBE was sort of mathy and freaked out, we compared it to a stripped down Dazzling Killmen, this new one is all slow burning heaviness, heaving churning guitars, sounds like an ocean of guitars, all tuned as low as they go, and unfurling massive swells of crumbling rumbling glacial heaviness. Eventually, the heaviness recedes, leaving something much more abstract and spacey, all processed guitars, swirling effects, very droney and krautrocky, fans of Expo 70 will probably flip, but best not be averse to heaviness, as they band slip right back into that churning roiling crush that started things off, before finally slipping into a slow simmering low end drift to finish off the first side. There doesn't seem to be any drums on side A so as he's credited with organ too, we can only assume that some of that heaviness could be attributed to some serious organ abuse.
The flipside starts off with another metallic riff, this one a bit more propulsive, and wreathed in shimmering organs, somehow melding some grinding slow motion metal with spaced out krautrock drift, pretty bad ass for sure. This side two doesn't offer up much in the way of drumming, other than what sounds like the click of a hi-hat keeping time, but it hardly detracts from the oozing sprawling heaviness, in fact if anything, the lack of drums lets the sound spill over in all directions, the main riff becoming more and more muddy and blown out, the organs and synths taking on more of the sound, until yes, the drums finally drop, and the song is transformed into some gorgeously in-the-red krautdrone space rock groove that definitely rivals anything you've heard from the various sonic space explorers reviewed elsewhere on the site. The music gets downright majestic, the drums locked in and motorik, the sort of jam that could, and as far as we're concerned SHOULD, go on forever. FUCKING AWESOME.
Killer packaging too, silkscreened and painted photo paper sleeve, with printed metallic gold cardstock insert.
One of our favorite tracks from Flying Lotus's excellent Los Angeles record was the penultimate track "Testament" that featured a singer we imagined was discovered in some remote smoky opium den in Morocco. The voice felt ancient, a weezing whispering mixture of Jimmy Scott and Billie Holiday that we thought could have been a sample from an old dusty recording. Well, it turns out that voice is one Sumach Ecks (aka Gonjasufi), a San Diego based yoga instructor and one-time rapper and DJ who in a chance meeting with The Gaslamp Killer and Flying Lotus in Las Vegas, struck up a bond with the two producers and they started working together. A Sufi And A Killer is an amazing debut, a perfect fit between the dark off-kilter beats of Flying Lotus, Burial and King Midas Sound. But it also surprisingly displays a lot of vocal and musical range, moving into some rockier moments, tripping out on short interludes or sometimes delving down strange, mysterious but always interesting sonic tangents. Supposedly it took much longer to mix than it did to record, showing a dedication to detail that is truly rewarding to listen to. Highly recommended!
Now available on vinyl!
One of our favorite tracks from Flying Lotus's excellent Los Angeles record was the penultimate track "Testament" that featured a singer we imagined was discovered in some remote smoky opium den in Morocco. The voice felt ancient, a weezing whispering mixture of Jimmy Scott and Billie Holiday that we thought could have been a sample from an old dusty recording. Well, it turns out that voice is one Sumach Ecks (aka Gonjasufi), a San Diego based yoga instructor and one-time rapper and DJ who in a chance meeting with The Gaslamp Killer and Flying Lotus in Las Vegas, struck up a bond with the two producers and they started working together. A Sufi And A Killer is an amazing debut, a perfect fit between the dark off-kilter beats of Flying Lotus, Burial and King Midas Sound. But it also surprisingly displays a lot of vocal and musical range, moving into some rockier moments, tripping out on short interludes or sometimes delving down strange, mysterious but always interesting sonic tangents. Supposedly it took much longer to mix than it did to record, showing a dedication to detail that is truly rewarding to listen to. Highly recommended!
Endless Bummer is such a good name for a record. Usually we're not all that into puns as titles (or band names), but Endless Bummer manages to be a pun, while sort of flipping the spirit of the original inside out. We always wanted to call a record Endless Bummer, but we've now been beat to the punch TWICE. At least. Once in the nineties by Further, whose Endless Bummer was an effervescent chunk of in the red post-Pavement slacker Beach Boys worship, and now this record right here, by the mysteriously named Good Stuff House, whose own particular Endless Bummer is much darker and more sedate, a sprawling drift of minimal shimmer and fluttery folk enveloped by dense clouds of natural reverb and billows of soft buzz.
We didn't know too much about Good Stuff House, we had another cd-r that we dug quite a bit, but which went out of print before we could get enough to review, but now we know just why we liked GSH so much, it's the two guys from dronedrift duo Zelienople, and none other than long time aQ fave, guitarist Scott Tuma, he of the legendary Souled American as well as a clutch of amazing solo records (including a recent record of the week). Pretty much hard to go wrong. And Endless Bummer is further proof of just how far from wrong these guys can get....
Apparently Endless Bummer was recorded in unorthodox spaces, warehouses, churches, basements, and it's not just the band performing live, but much like Taj Mahal Travellers 30 years earlier, who would record various performances, then broadcast them into the space, playing along live, often more than once, every step adding more and more murk and buzz and reverb and echo, the sound getting less and less distinct, until it became the sound of drifting along some murky body of water, through a sonic fog so thick it clings to the surface of the water, every note sounding like it had travelled up from the bottom of the sea, or echoing off of the distant shore. Tuma offers up bits of his gorgeous distinctive guitar, and while they do manage to hover briefly, they seem to absorb the sounds around them, soft spidery tendrils transformed into thick swells, the trio introducing bits of voice, various other sounds, all rendered almost immediately unrecognizable, becoming more another part of this sprawling organic whole, cymbal sizzle becomes shimmering clouds, drifting over the drifting murkscape below.
The sound is simultaneously muddy, murky and lo-fi, yet warm, glistening, and subtly melodic, everything is muted, the softened edges barely hiding the glowing sonic glimmers within. Gorgeous.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. Packaged in super subtle silver ink on pale blue fold over origami style sleeve.
Originally released as a super limited cd-r on Time-Lag in 2006, this is the long awaited vinyl resurrection of Good Stuff House's untitled debut. As you may know, Good Stuff House is (or was) the trio of Scott Tuma of Souled American and Mike Weis and Matt Christensen of experimental drift-drone duo Zelienople. We reviewed a while back a cd-r on Root Strata with the evocative title of Endless Bummer, and that was seemingly the last we heard from this mysterious crew. But since we never got a chance to review their first release, we're glad to bring it to you now, courtesy of the fine folks at the Indian Queen and Holodeck labels.
Rooted in the same sorrowful dust/dusk as Endless Bummer, Untitled feels freshly fertile, a spidery mist in a resonant boggy forest. The sound of splintery banjo, hand drums, church chimes and sleigh bells feels like a slow train ride of creeping death, but far removed from present time, instead in a sepia toned past where mournful violin and bowed strings march funereally into the woods for ceremonial burial, the body becoming one with the earth in the beautifully removed timbre of decaying drones, and skeletal Appalachia. Piercing through the murk, a host of voices far away bleakly sing with squalled guitar slides and cavernous ambiance, the sound bloating intensely or becoming deathly sparse in carefully wrought filigrees of graceful dreamy drift. Gorgeous and limited to 300 copies!
Download card included.
Scott Goodwin is probably not a name most of you know off the top of your head. But as the man behind minimal drone combo Bonus, we were pretty excited to hear what he had been up to lately, especially since the Bonus discs we'd carried in the past were some of our favorite minimal drone music,
Impeccable Surface is definitely less rumbly and buzzy and low end than Bonus, but no less drone-y or hypnotic, this 32 minute disc begins with a pulse like high end tone, some strange klaxon, bleating out a machine like throb, while beneath and all around it, thick textured electronic tones ebb and flow, swallowing the pulse entirely, then fading to a distant whisper, the sound incredibly lush and full, the sounds slipping back and forth from ear to ear, heavily panned, the sound very spatial and expansive. A few minutes in and another, louder layer of tones join the fray, and seem to swoop wildly over the proceedings, but begin to blend with the various other sounds, and suddenly it's almost like one of those paintings you stare at a different shapes emerge. The tones blend and then beat against each other, the sounds stuttering, buzzing, transforming into smooth long harmonies, and then back again, a glorious sonic tangle, that seems to spin and change shape, change colors, change appearance right before our ears. A dog whistle tone soon joins in and the whole thing gets that much more intense, until finally, at about the halfway mark, the piece becomes much more minimal, a single tone undulating, wavering, joined by another tone, way off in the distance, the distant ultra high tone eventually eclipsing the lower tone, until it sounds like Ryoji Ikeda or Francisco Lopez. The main tone lurches back in, and suddenly the tones are winding in and out of each other's space, drawing all sorts of minimal melodies and not quite rhythms until the track shuts down, leaving just that impossible dog whistle tone, and then silence.
Some seriously incredible minimal drone music for sure. The usual suspects will definitely need this. And of course, be warned, SUPER LIMITED, when we run out, we may not be able to get more.
First proper cd (not cd-r) release from Scott Goodwin, whose day job is in the group Bonus, but who spends his spare time, making even MORE drone music. Unlike the thick and rumbling, almost doomlike drone of Bonus, on his own, Goodwin tends toward the minimal, more Niblock than SUNNO))), less distortion, more timbre and tone. Goodwin's most recent cd-r Impeccable Surface demonstrated a dramatic shift in that direction, but with Off Light, Goodwin full realizes his vision, crafting too extended drones from pure tones, sine waves, the result is a subtle dronescape of shimmering overtones, and of sound in flux. Niblock is definitely the closest reference, as Goodwin seems to approach his drones in a similar fashion, lining up the layers, the tones, and then shifting them microscopically to create various rhythms and colors. For what seems fairly static, the sounds are incredibly active. Changing shape, their textures constantly shifting, the overtones creating rhythms, those rhythms interacting with the tones and creating counter rhythms and more overtones. With headphones it's easy to get sucked in, it almost makes the listener dizzy, the way the sound seem to move and breathe, but take a step back, and the sound seems more static and manageable, but ever beckoning, with its own impossible gravity. The two tracks, one low, one high, both offer up glimpses into sound, both entrance and enthrall, each soothing in its own way, but far too complex to be ambient music. The sound is academic as well as primal (what's more primal than the drone?), ethereal and ineffable, yet measured and composed, the sounds here are complex enough that they can be appreciated on either level, as a world of sound to explore, and attempt to understand and unravel, or as pure sound, simple and subtly lovely. Or better yet, a mix of the two.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!!
Not only do the Grey Daturas kick up a serious noiserock ruckus, they also run their own cd-r label, the mysteriously titled Diagnosis... Don't! There are three new releases, and we managed to get a handful of each.
Gordon is an Oakland-based sound artist, who designs blankets with speakers sewn into them, each connected to some sound producing device, a toy or musical instrument, the listener is then encouraged to wrap themselves in the blanket, and luxuriate in the sounds produced by the listener's movement. Incredibly immersive and so goddamn cool! This disc captures a brief snippet of Gordon's installation. A warm fuzzy soundscape of distorted electronics, droning and growling, hissing and rumbling and whirls of haunting electronic glitches all woven into an undulating swirl of thick buzz and strange murky and mechanical melody.
SUPER LIMITED (of course!). Each disc comes packaged in two squares of one of Gordon's blankets, sewn together into an oven mitt like sleeve.
The fifth title in Sonic Youth's self-released series of experimental work isn't Sonic Youth proper: instead it's bassist Kim Gordon, lauded avant-percussionist Ikue Mori, and DJ Olive of the illbient drum'n'bass group We. And guest Yuka Honda of Cibo Matto. Certainly all these folks have made excellent music with their regular groups, but in the name of that emperor who had no clothes, we must tell you that this record sucks. It's terrible. It's trying to be avant improv, I think (it certainly wasn't composed), but just comes across as utterly self-indulgent noodling without a center, a focus, or a point. The sound of a toilet flushing just might be the most apt moment on the record. Wanting to be supportive of Kim's side projects, and being a big fan of We and Mori, it pains me to have to write this. They're smart people, they must have realized this is BAD! How could they NOT know? For heaven's sake! A total disappointment.
What do Aidan Baker, Gnaw Their Tongues, Alkerdeel, Persistence In Mourning, Caina and Expo 70 all have in common? Well they've all released records on ultra cool Portuguese micro label Universal Tongue. And to that list you can add these guys, the strangely named Gorgontongue, one part Arizona black metal outfit Ganzmord, one part Oklahoma funeral doom horde Persistence In Mourning. Although the parts don't necessarily predict the whole in this case, as The Lighter Side of a Suicidal Mind is not in fact metal, black, doom or otherwise, instead this duo are exploring some grim, haunting, oppressive black ambient otherworld, blending soft noise, field recordings, mysterious murky effects, layered drones, much of this sounds like a prettier, less harsh Gnaw Their Tongues, sort of epic and cinematic and dramatically doomy, but also a bit like a more grim blackened Expo 70, that same sort of glimmering slow burn kosmische krautdrone, but laced with strange processed vox, crumbling industrial detritus, swaths of wheezing organs, buried barely audible rhythms, the occasional hellish shriek, tangled bits of detuned acoustic guitar, dubbed out electronics, ghostly vocals, woozy arpeggiated melodies, keening feedback, bits of Dead C like free rock drift, sprawling expanses of space-y ambience, various bits of crash and clank twisted and transformed into strange sonic streaks, rumbling low end pulses, crumbling walls of corrosive metallic crunch, tinkling chimes, all drifting through epic black expanses and dense squalls of psychedelic abstract effects-damaged buzz, culminating in the near meditative final track, a haunting, black ambient driftscape, hushed and haunting and weirdly lovely.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES!!! Housed in a Blue Ray style dvd case, with a printed two sided front cover, and a printer insert / mini poster.
Sometimes aggressive, sometimes gentle, and as the title suggests, having to do with the destruction of a piano. Extended performance techniques reconfigured through a sampler. Features the Rova Sax Quartet. Quite nice.
A couple customers suggest we track this down, the debut record from the Goslings, and from what we heard about it we were expecting yet another record of downtuned sludge doom drone, SUNNO))) / Earth worship, but man is this anything but. It's definitely heavy, but not typically heavy, or really sludgy even, which probably has a lot to do with the way this was recorded, ultra blown out and super distorted, sheets of crumbling high end and maybe the harshest crunchiest guitar sound we've heard in forever, but the Goslings take this white hot heaviness, this blown out brutality and somehow make it pretty, lovely, gorgeous even. Drifting female vocals and sweet sweet melodies are buried beneath a dumptruck of fuzz, like the a Mazzy Star record, covered by the Melvins, recorded by Merzbow or Masonna. Every track is hiding a secret center, a streak of lush melodicism that sound like bits of My Bloody Valentine, Jesus And Mary Chain, and huge slabs of warm and wonderful dream pop, all roughed up and dipped in tar and rolled in dirt and sent staggering through a minefield of razor sharp guitars, pounding Teutonic drums, all tangled up into a machinelike throb, trudging relentlessly at a snails pace, a head crushing plod wrapped in barbed wire riffs and a thick haze of violent whir, but still you can see a little glimmer, a shiny little wink from within the massively suffocating clouds of drum dirt and guitar grime, all tape hiss and recording grit and musical chaos, a glowing orb of crystalline shimmer, buried and barely visible, almost like someone was tossing bright shiny pop hooks into a pit filled with snakes and nails and used syringes and garbage and soiled diapers and rocks and dead animals. So is this the most gorgeous ugly record ever? The ugliest lovely record ever? The harshest, sludgiest pop record ever? The loveliest harsh noise-sludge record ever? Maybe all of the above. So good!
Not sure if this got repressed or if the label just found a stash of discs under the bed, either way, this monstrous slab of sound is available again, if only briefly...
We've been pretty dang obsessed with the Goslings since the very first second we heard them. They have found massive favor with the SUNNO))) crowd, but other than being slow and heavy, they seem to be a whole 'nother beast. This married couple from Florida, craft impossibly noisy and gu wrenchingly heavy pop songs. That's right, you heard us, pop songs. "But wait," you say, "I'm listening to the sound samples and I don't hear any pop..." Well listen closer. Much closer. Hold your breath and close your eyes and dunk your head into the Goslings gorgeously abrasive soundworld and you will feel the pop. That's the beauty of the Goslings, each song is like a diamond dipped in mud and wrapped in barbed wire. Beautiful lilting shimmer-pop doused in crumbling crunchy downtuned guitar sludge and sheets of jagged feedback. A brief snippet, a casual glance, and all you'd see or hear is NOISE. But settle in, lean back, let the Goslings wash over you, suddenly shapes begin to emerge. melodies drift in and out, riffs take shape and then fade into the mist. A super blown out in-the-red dreamlike sludge, equal parts Boris drone, My Bloody Valentine bliss-out, and shimmering crystalline pop. Like a Mazzy Star record dipped in hot tar and then wrapped in a hundred layers of feedingback guitars. So beautifully heavy. And as we've mentioned in other reviews, the Goslings just might be the loveliest harsh noise-sludge pop band ever!
Packaged in a cool silkscreened oversized sleeve with abstract pink art and the cd affixed to a little plastic nub on the inside. As always, way too limited.
Not many artists can lay claim to their very own musical genre, but Hollywood, Florida's The Goslings are among the elite few who most definitely can. On first listen their sound seems to fit pretty comfortably amongst the current crop of distorted deconstructed decaying blissed out dreamy dirge rock that seems to be all the rave (Nadja, Alcest, Hjarnidaudi, Procer Veneficus, etc.), after all they often get described as half SUNNO))) and half My Bloody Valentine, but that's really only half (again) true. And while their sound does share some of the elements of those other bands, The Goslings are their own perfect, synergetic sonic force, an organic, original soundworld that has absorbed and re-synthesized those influences entirely. In other words, on this latest record, they somehow manage to sound way, way heavier and much, much more lush, transforming any vestiges of other bands' sounds into something distinctly theirs. Formerly just a husband and wife duo, Max and Leslie Soren, Occasion finds the couple joined by two apparently full-time members which does nothing but help make their sound, thicker, and more dense, more intense, more distorted, and impossibly, more beautiful. It's not a huge departure from the sound of their previous outings, but that's not really a bad thing. Occasion just serves to demonstrate that their sound is now even more of a particularly refined and menacing chunk of skull crushingly gorgeous sound.
Each of The Goslings' records has been self-recorded straight onto tape in their $15 an hour rehearsal space. Before it was a 4-track, now it's a reel-to-reel 8-track tape, with any additional tracks being added at a friend's house in Pro Tools -- a slight upgrade, but again, one that merely serves to push their sound even further into some hellish sonic realm. Mastered by James Plotkin, their commitment to relatively lo-fi, analog recording a significant part of why each and every track is so totally ear-stabbingly, skull-fuckingly shit heavy. But beneath the obvious doom veneer, the crushing sludge, the washed out hiss and buzz, there are buried some lovely melodies and more of the Goslings' near perfect pop songs. Fear not though, it's not like Nadja or Jesu, where there is potentially enough of said pop to turn-off those more dedicated to the seriously heavy and/or utterly grim. Regardless of the surprising melodic structures lay hidden beneath the blown out bluster, or the prettiness of Leslie's vocals drifting ethereally throughout, the music, the sound, the Goslings' sheer power continually threatens to overwhelm, a bludgeoning slab of sonic destruction that's systematically destroying your entire life, note by note. Then out of nowhere, there's a weird little bluegrass number, a brief respite before the band lurch back into motion, unleashing another avalanche of village crushing, ultradistorted, stumbling, downtuned beautiful brutality.
A higher recommendation would be difficult to give. Essential!
A few years ago (2006) we reviewed the debut album from unpretentious modern day prog rockers Gosta Berlings Saga, of Sweden. Checking in with them again, they're up to album number 3, released Stateside by the venerable progressive rock / new music label Cuneiform. This actually came out last year, so we're a little late to it, but this sort of prog rock is timeless anyway (it might as well be from 1975!). They're still pushing our "traditional" prog rock lovin' buttons, so we thought we ought to list it for those of you likely to feel the same way, who dig other 21st century efforts at updating this '70s genre from the likes of Astra, Diagonal, and Crime In Choir, for instance.
Glue Works, like GBS's preceding albums, is mostly instrumental, and not overindulgent (for prog) - and thus could just as easily be seen as a moderately mathy "post-rock" album (but with mellotron!) instead of anything self-consciously retro. Most of the songs are even quite short and succinct, with only two of the 7 tracks breaking into double-digit lengths, those would be the powerful symphonic epic "Island" (12:58), and the album's multifaceted grand finale, "Sorteragatan 1" (12:51).
Filled with the varied drama & delight of grimy distortion, pleasant keys, eerie synth, sweeping strings, some angular new wavy guitar, and even musical saw, the entirety of Glue Works is a melodic and moody opus that nods to the proggy '70s without growing a ponytail or anything. Quite nice!
We recently discovered this little German label called Gruenrekorder, who specialize in "Phonography and Audio Art" which translates to field recordings, turntablism and audio installations, which definitely sounded right up our alley. We then discovered that they had 60 or 70 releases, probably more by the time of this review, most cd-r's and all incredibly limited, usually to 50 or less. Yikes. Had to do some quick thinking, so we picked two of the most promising sounding and got a bunch of those (a bunch meaning 25 copies, which is half of the pressing). So elsewhere on this list you'll find the other Gruenrekorder release, a sound installation for turntables and plastic angels, which somehow seems to perfectly balance this one right here, a field recordings of bats, collected via ultrasound, much like the The Inaudible World cd / book we listed a while back, but while similar, the sounds here are different enough, that if you dug The Inaudible World, Fledermausrufe Im Modulationsverfahren makes a good addendum.
Collected by Matthias Gottsche, head of the NABU department for protection of the bats in Schleswig-Holstein, the sounds here were a part of an infrared film project, assembled for species analysis, but due to the overlap and chaos of the various animals recorded, it ended up useless as research material, leaving it to exist simply as sound art.
The best part is the description of this disc on Gruenrekorder's website, explaining why it is all one track "Because of the reduction to only one track the listener has to go through it all at once and with it is confronted with his one staying power." Yes! And this will definitely test your staying power. As the sounds of bats, their sonar rendered audible to human ears, sounds a bit like several people playing Yahtzee!, shaking dice in those little plastic cups, but never actually rolling them, just shaking and shaking. The percussive rattle fluctuates from baseball card in the spokes flutter to a dense clattery cacophony, a tangled rhythmic web that is constantly shifting and undulating, and is in its own weird way quite soothing and hypnotic. Still hard to believe these sounds come out of bats...
Beautifully packaged, printed cd-r, striking black and white sleeve, cool infrared photos, but again, LIMITED TO ONLY 50 COPIES!!! So once these are gone, we won't be able to get more.
Not to be confused with Stevie Wonder's album of the same name, this is a new collaboration between Bill Gould (of Faith No More as well as numerous other diverse international projects) and Jared Blum (whom aQ followers may recognize from his numerous musical aliases such as Beaks Plinth, Blanketship, Vulcanus 69, and their Bay Area parent indie label Gigante Sound).
Perhaps needless to say, this is quite different than the elder Talking Book or than any of Gould's past predominantly metal-rooted musical pursuits for that matter, but it's very much in familiar abstract sound shaping territory for Blum. Indeed, although you will find keyboards and synthesized sound here as you would on Wonder's 1972 classic, Gould and Blum sculpt them (as well as tapes, vintage vinyl and acoustic instruments) into shadow shrouded soundscapes instead of driving funk or soulful pop. The album starts out lurking in the dank gloom of earth-bound recesses, but later tracks drift out into the heavens with shimmering melodic guitar lines. Nice! It's an effective collaging together of the hazily delicate and the gristly dissonant. Soft crackle and hiss suggests something aged, dusty and weathered. Haunting moods are conjured by shifting tonal and textural layers with shards of piano and guitar cutting through the foreboding clouds. A darkened room and headphones are most certainly advised to best experience Gould and Blum's assemblage of blistered drones, faded abrasions, buzzing protrusions and bass-heavy contusions. Recommended for fans of Aidan Baker (Nadja, Arc), BJ Nilsen and Stilluppsteypa, Campbell Kneale (Birchville Cat Motel, Our Love Will Destroy The World, TRMRS) and followers of the abovementioned Gigante Sound label. Released on Gould's Koolarrow label.
Somehow, we have never reviewed anything by Gown (not to be confused with Gowns plural), the work of Andrew Macgregor, who is one half of Bark Haze with Thurston Moore. But this is as good a place to start as any.
On For The Maples, Macgregor enlisted the help of longtime AQ faves Sunburned Hand Of The Man, for one big final psychrock blowout before he left the US of A for more Northernly climes (aka Canada), and it is indeed a blowout, but not without plenty of gentle twang, fluttery folk, and meandering jams. The opener starts out with a massive multiple drum jam, a furious percussive cacophony, with thick streaks of blown out psych guitar, but all that quickly settles down, into a spacious twangy drift, the vocals crooning over slowly unfurling minor key guitars, and shuffling drums, but the track ramps it up and is soon a murky krautdrone groove, Macgregor's guitar, keening and wailing over Sunburned's druggy drift. The second is another woozy spaced out jam that builds to a total wild pagan psychrock freakout.
And finally, the nearly 20 minute closer, Sunburned in full on caveman drug jam mode, Macgregor wrangling some seriously cosmic sounds out of his guitar, the whole group locked into a psychrock duel to the death, culminating in blown out blast about halfway through, before the track devolves back into a churning space drone plod, gradually petering out to fuzzy soft shimmer.
Gorgeous heavy 180 gram vinyl, thick silkscreened sleeves, hand numbered, LIMITED TO 698 COPIES, each lp comes with a real cd (not a cd-r) of the whole record, AND while they last, a SECOND disc, of previously unreleased material. But there are only about 300 of those, and we only got a handful so those definitely won't last long.
Strange and shambling ode to the underbelly of the American heartland from this duo comprised of Ezra Buchla (ex- Mae Shi) and Ericka Anderson (Amps For Christ). Mixing dusty feedback squalls, damaged electronics and bummed out gospel-y folk with distorted narratives involving drugs, cataclysmic weather and self-abuse, Gowns sounds at times like a primitive Cat Power if Chan Marshall went in a much darker direction after recording Moon Pix. Red State is mournfully elegiac with a simmering intensity that is barely restrained, much like the rarely lit corners of our troubled country.
Huzzah! Here's another vinyl-only dose of the wigged out freakery whipped up by French guitarist Gregory Raimo, aka GR, whom you might also know as chief gunslinger in the psychpunk gonzo combo Gunslingers (the other 2/3's of which operate separately as well, in the form of AQ fave occult metal-kraut unit Aluk Todolo). Gregory's latest solo blast is an escaped inmate from the Mexican Summer sanitarium, an agitated record full of slashing buzz-fuzz geetar tangle, distorted ranting vox, and clattery drum skitter-scatter, bashed out in frenzied yet hypnotic fashion, the kind of psychedelic greasy sizzle that would make unsuspecting square's heads explode. It's raw, one-man band sounding stuff for sure, mostly on the electric extreme, but GR does for a moment get into folkier realms with the acoustic strum and echoing Gallic vox of "Hymn Of Pan" closing side one, based on the Shelley poem.
On the cover it mentions you'll hear "Guitar Hoodoo", "Liquid Bass" and "Spiral Drums" but it could just has easily have said, "Spiral Guitar" and "Hoodoo Drums", the bass liquid all the way though. Definitely something for fans of Michael Yonkers (with whom GR has previously collaborated, if you liked their super limited out of print lp The High Speed Recording Complex you'll like this), also maybe Bill Orcutt/Harry Pussy, The Fall, ESP-Disk influenced freejazzrockn'roll, and really all kinds of primitive krauty splatter and staggering art-punk damage.
Limited to 750 copies, includes mp3 download card.
Inspired by a month long series of nightmares in which Grabowski found himself drowning in deep water, over and over again, the Polish electro-acoustic composer produced this exceptional piece of dark ambience for the Drone Records series of 7" singles. His subaquartic shimmering sounds slip in and out of the sonic landscape, punctuated by echoing gasps, wooden creaks, and thunderous rumbles, somewhat like the epochal Nurse With Wound album Salt Marie Celeste. Already in its second pressing which is limited to 300 copies.
J. Graf is character we've not encountered in quite some time; but here she presents an album of theatrically unstable industrial-folk madrigals. She's probably best known for her work in the circuit-bent-noise-squiggle duo Metalux; and some of the thrift-store electronics and autodidacticism carries through on The Future Is A Faded Song, but a blister-popped noise album this ain't. A few of the tracks draw from the Mars / Factrix strategies of murky amorphousness with a broken-femur gait applied to growling, slumped bass distortion; but throughout the entire album, Graf's vocals are cleanly recorded and presented front and center. As such, she comes across like a wild-eyed visionary akin to Diana Rogerson, who graced many of the early Nurse With Wound recordings with her witchy monotone, sometimes also reminding us of a totally drugged-out Faun Fables. Some of the tracks drop the gnarled grit leaving hypnotic churns of death-folk dirge strummed out on acoustic guitar; here, Graf and company reflect the transcendentally bad-acid vibes of those early Suzanne Lewis projects that nobody remembers from the mid '80s that never fit in anyway (e.g. Corpses As Bedmates, Thinking Plague, etc.) A compelling record for sure; and limited to 300 copies only.
Grale is one of the many projects encircling Bruce Anderson and Dale Sophiea, both of whom are best known for their work in the seminal Bay Area art-punk project MX-80, with another Sophiea (this being Nicolas) contributing alongside those two elder statesmen, as well as Gregory Hagan (from Common Eider, King Eider and the Thomas Carnacki ensemble). The recent productions from Bruce Anderson have evolved through a somber palette of doleful guitar plucks treated with plenty of effects to blur and shapeshift his rich guitar tones. With the extra hands lurking behind the curtains to conjure soft drones, textural abrasions, electro-acoustic hocus-pocus, and tape loop machinations, Anderson steers his contributions towards devolved, formless blurs and echo to complement the ectoplasmic emations of darkened sound. Yet, when the supporting cast mounts rhythmic pulses (as is done towards end of the second suite through a spry Necks like drum-kit march), Anderson's guitar mimics the twin guitar swarm of Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore on the instrumental Sonic Youth suites from Anagrama and Slaapkaamers. Released on Thomas Carnacki's Alethiometer Records.
What a nice surprise this record turned out to be. It's on legendary Finnish microlabel 267 Lattajaa, but these fellas are in fact American, and while they do traffic in a similar style as many of those forest Finns we love so much (Avarus, Anaksimandros, Kemialliset, Islaja) they seem to hew closer to the drifting murky, field recording flecked nature folk of the Jewelled Antler collective. But all that makes them sound super derivative, which they definitely are not. Three songs, all woven into one gorgeous sonic patchwork, tangled and gloriously blissed out, beginning with a soft bramble of acoustic guitars, hovering on a bed of blear eyed FX, over the top, sing-songy falsetto vocals coo and croon, sounding not unlike Glenn from Skygreen Leopards. The second track is a strange lo-fi rhythmscape, focused around a martial drum beat, pounding tribal and insistent over a swirling morass of processed vocals, bits of shimmering feedback, murky ambience, and thick swells of subtly melodic whir. The final track, which at 17 minutes makes up the bulk of the record, is a sprawling epic, that traverses all sorts of different sonic territories, managing to make them all sound wholly interconnected. A burst of hiss and damaged FX, synths and feedback, gives way to deep resonant stretches of metallic buzz, which in turn give way to some aggressive acoustic guitar strumming and muted percussion, a creepy haunting Comus-like ritual, before morphing into an ever changing soundscape of glistening melody, rumbling low end, fractured folk, and smeary soft focus abstract ambience, finishing off with an almost peppy sounding outro, all major key guitar, strange percussion, a simple barely there rhythmic pulse, and slithery strands of glimmering fuzzy melody. Wow.�
The bad news is... we only got a handful of these, and we're not entirely sure we'll be able to get more. But give it a go, fans of dreamy abstract free folk do NOT want to miss out on The Grand Hotel...
This sophomore release from St. Louis instrumental art-core trio Grand Ulena is an ep comprising three fairly lengthy tracks. Each one builds a massive, almost static crescendo of bass, drums and guitar. Loud, difficult, trance music for those already attuned to the likes of Fushitsusha, who will find this cool indeed. Btw, Darin Gray (of Dazzling Killmen, Brise Glace, You Fantastic, etc.) is one of Grand Ulena's component parts.
Just a list of the folks playing on this here record should have most aQ customers all in a lather: The Skaters, Glenn Donaldson (Jewelled Antler Collective, Skygreen Leopards, Blithe Sons), Clay Ruby (Burial Hex, Zodiacs, Totem), Mansfield (Bruce Carkiss, Garage Indians), Nic Stage (Davenport), Endless (Craig Microcassette System, Drunjus), Tyler Olson (Davenport), Clay Kolbinger (Math Balance Volumes, Davenport), db Pedersen (Ng Keindhiet, Three Bags Full, Rope)...
Recorded one night in 2004, in a barn, and it sounds like it. Fuzzy and warbly and creaky, these tracks were originally released as a super limited tape, and are now available as a slightly less limited lp, with an extra track from the same session, not on the tape!
You know who was there, so you probably have a rough idea of what it sounds like. Gorgeous gauzy drift and drone, lots of fuzz and crackle, everything muted and washed out, clattery percussion, chant like vocals, lots of room sound and delay, swirling FX, underneath the soft swirl of lo-fi ambience lurks some sort of rickety skeletal dronefolk, songs that are barely recognizable, threatening to fall completely apart, all wrapped up in the warm whir of the recorder, bits of feedback, electronics, and here and there some propulsive krautrock like drumming, but all muddy and blurred into something more tribal and primal. Anyone who digs any of the folks taking part, is bound to dig this A LOT.
Beautifully packaged in old lp sleeves, turned inside out and hand screened in green and brown, quite lovely and QUITE LIMITED!!!!
We've only heard just a couple of recordings from Jonas Asher; but those we have heard - the UW Owl LP done with Jochen Hartmann and the split release under Asher's Grasslung moniker - have been outstanding pieces of analogue electronics that run the gamut from the glumly sublime to the dourly ominous. This super limited edition cassette from the local imprint Black Horizons slants more to the blackened electronic side of Asher's aesthetic. A turgid, low-end pulse marches through the first side of In Bad Fields, much like an even slower version of Wolf Eyes' cancerous rhythms. Sinewaves and speckles of electro-magentic static flicker through the lurching pulse. The second side fashions those bass rhythms into an unsettling roar whose surfaces get abraded through a similar undercurrent of static found on the first. Very dark stuff.
Given that Asher's Phaserprone label produced some of the finest letterpressed editions of artwork well suited in its iron hued colors and post-industrial iconography, Black Horizons had to come up with something special for Asher's first release outside of Phaserprone. The artwork is a nice silver-offset print job on a darkened metal-colored paper, and the whole cassette is encased in a hand-cut plastic slipcase. Watch out for the blackened nail hiding in the packaging, too. Really cool!
The tape is a C20 and is limited to 100 copies, or thereabouts!
After a whole bunch of super limited cd-r's and tapes, dronelord Grasslung, aka Jonas Asher, finally releases his first proper cd full length, on Root Strata, which is seemingly right where it belongs, as sonically, it definitely falls right in line along side Barn Owl, Pulse Emitter, William Fowler Collins, Grouper, Keith Whitman, Duane Pitre, Le Revelateur, and the like, and much like many of the Root Strata crew, Grasslung's approach to the drone is similarly abstract, something much more ethereal and ephemeral, almost new agey, hushed and minimal and slightly ominous, haunting even, long tones, layers and textures, fragmented melodies left to drift in soft expanses of hushed hum and burnished shimmer, the sound both lush and spare, some tracks dense and dark, others seemingly lit from within, glowing softly, from gorgeous contemplative piano driven minimalism, the notes allowed to ring out and gradually fade, the overtones subtle and the low end rumbling way below, to something more glimmery and reflective, soft billowy synthscapes, the melodies stretched way out, allowed to sweetly swell, and to drift dreamily through fields of blurred organ chords and washed out streaks of windswept muted thrum, to a Caretaker like victrola-ed haze, all looped warble and sepiatoned thrum, to smoldering distorted dronedreamdrift, thick swaths of softly churning out of focus buzz, blissed out dronedoom loops, layered and left to gradually melt into one another, creating gauzy swirls of softly colored sound. So totally lovely.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES.
This is a split cd-r of pure analogue synth sweeping and Kosmische dirges from Grasslung and Pulse Emitter. Portland's Daryl Groetsch has been pumping out the micro-edition releases with anybody willing to release his gnarled take on '70s electronic expansiveness; whereas Grasslung, the solo project of Jonas Asher who also hails from the incredible UW Owl and operates the Phaserprone label, has been much more particular in releasing his sounds. On first investigation into this work, it seemed to be a collaborative project with uniformly blackened surfaces of smoldering saw-tooth noise generation and undulating surfaces that spoke of dead-eyed electronics and sci-fi bleakness. As plausible as this seems, the first track of rippling electronics, half-consumed melodies, and amorphously twisting drones is that of Pulse Emitter; and the second two pieces of chilling, horror tonefloat mired in sickening gloom, hail from Grasslung with equal aplomb. Think Expo '70, Omit, Emeralds, and even Kevin Drumm's Imperial Distortion, and you won't be far from the mark on this great piece of modular synth sprawl. Packaged in very impressive letterpress / die-cut packaging, and limited to something like 200 copies.
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First it was the metallic noise rock crunch of Barbara, then it was the freaked out psych-noise of Lietterschpich, and now there's Grave In The Sky, who are proving difficult to describe. But holy shit, has Israel underground rock has been seriously kicking our asses!!! Hard to believe how bad ass and fucked up and utterly amazing this stuff is.�
Grave In The Sky are on the same label as Barbara and�Lietterschpich and sort of fall sonically right between the two. They are a bass/drums/vocals trio, the various members also occasionally responsible for stuff like Indian vocals, noises, effects, and Indian vocals again, hmmm.... The sound is dirgey industrial pound, doomic dirge and blown out noise rock stomp, all tangled up in as seriously chaotic and mangled musical car wreck.�
Let's start at the beginning though. The record is called�Cutlery Hits China: English For The Hearing Impaired. Okay. The songs are all named after movies: "Donnie Darko", "The Descent", "Straw Dogs", "The Devil's Rejects" and "Scum". All chiseled into a faux tomb stone on the back of the cd with the legend "Here Lie..." Weird already.�
Then the first track kicks in and we're in super distorted ultra violent crust sludge heaven where we will happily stay until the end of the record, at which point we will push play again and let this bloody brutality rain down on us all over again. Each track is a lurching sludgey doom trudge, like the Brainbombs at 16rpm, the vocals dripping with FX, hellish and harsh, distorted and twisted into bizarre shapes, sometimes so affected they turn into long drawn out helldub sonic echoes, the riffs are roiling black grooves, the drums, in the red caveman pounding and pummeling. This is some sort of primitive serial killer garage rock stomp but filtered through all sorts of Whitehouse NOISENOISENOISE, with every knob and every effect turned up to 11. The songs may begin as crusty doom dirges, but once the effects kick in every single note, every shouted lyric, every drum pound is echoed into jagged fragments and sent spinning� in every direction resulting in the songs turning into ultra damaged noise dub experimental chaos. And it sounds so amazing. Layer after layer of undulating sound, corrosive and harsh, speaker shredding buzz, vocals swirling and turned inside out, the drums distorted into blinding bursts, but buried within all of this blurry smeared musical mayhem, are strange creepy melodies, plodding industrial rhythms, huge low end swells and tons of textural grit and grime.�
Another one of those rare records where utterly abject, ear shredding noise, and an avalanche of effects and some of the harshest and hateful sounds we have ever heard, are all somehow transformed into a record we actually want to listen to. And not just once. Over and over and over and again and again. We were pretty sure it would be tough to beat Barbara and Lietterschpich, in terms of bizarre brutality, but then it never occurred to us to just mash them both together. Fucking awesome.�
Grave Temple is another kick ass Southern Lord allstar matchup. Personnel-wise, it's basically a 3 parts of the of the ever expanding and sprawling SUNNO)))) whole, and it sounds like it. A power trio made up of Attila Csihar (Mayhem, Aborym, Tormentor, occasional SUNNO)))) contributor), Stephen O'Malley (SUNNO))), Khanate, Burning Witch, Ginnungagap, KTL, Lotus Eaters) and experimental guitarist Oren Ambarchi, who also has been spending much of his free time lately in SUNNO)))).
The Holy Down is a single hour long track woven together by Ambarchi from various live performances recorded live in Israel in 2006, and spends its first 10 minutes wandering aimlessly through a haunted junkyard of clangs, and clatter, creaks and chimes, the occasional chest rattling sonic boom, but for the most part, super abstract and spacious. But c'mon, it doesn't take long before things get heavy and creepy, with the guitars billowing into black waves, and Csihar's strange chanted vocals drifting like smoke in a temple. About halfway through, they veer into serious SUNNO)))) territory, with the guitars becoming thick walls of crumbling distortion and squealing peals of feedback. The band drones on before the drums kick in (that's Ambarchi on the drums!) and suddenly the track is transformed into a chaotic metallic tribal space jam that gets more and more frenzied, some almost blast beats surface but splinter into free jazz freakouts, the vocals become a death rattle, everything still wrapped in thick clouds of black buzz, until the song fades out in a blackened swirl of ultra creepy processed ghostlike voices...
LIMITED TO 3000 COPIES! Each one numbered, the ones we got are getting close to 3000 so like most SUNNO))) and SUNNO))) related projects, these probably won't be around for long...
Surprising Utech release here, not (quite) so droney as they often are, but rather more rhythmic, and in fact downright prog-rocky. Graves And Orchestra Pits are a transcontinental two-piece, one guy (based in Stuttgart, Germany) on guitars, synths, and much else besides; the other guy (from Tokyo, Japan) on drums and electronics... Not sure how they got together, but they make a fine team, stirring up a lot of noise in a quirky, confusional, chamber-prog context. The beats are big and effected, going whap whap whap, amidst all sorts of interesting textures, some of this quite lovely really. Droned out blissful bits coexist with electronic glitch, gentle strings wrap 'round crashing cymbals, snatches of electronica intersect improv skitter... each track adding something new to the sonic stew. A compelling listen, these eight unique, instrumental mini-epics of full of fractured melody, odd noises, and disturbing drumming...
The duo format, and Japanese drummer, and overall kinetic energy, makes us think of the Ruins, but this, with its "Orchestra Pits" moniker, has an additional, avant-garde classical music gone wrong atmosphere to it, field recordings and found sounds juxtaposed with piano and glockenspiel... Plus, guests contribute violin, viola, vibes, flute, sax, etc. on a few of the tracks. So it's not exactly a stripped down sound, this is dense and chaotic and complex, though calm and sparse some of the time too, to catch you unawares.
Packaged in the usual slim, slightly oversized Utech style sleeve, and limited to just 300 copies!!
Another killer warehouse find, dug up a little handful of these, probably the last copies we'll ever see...
Yet more tripped out psychedelic noisescaping from this Wolf Eyes offshoot, featuring John Olson and crew, who offer up a gorgeously creepy, harrowing abject free jazz dronescape, that pairs skronk with rumble, shimmer with crunch, the result a haunting sprawl of cinematic dronemusick that sounds like the score for some lost Euro thriller. Moaning clouds of metallic thrum, plenty of clang and thump, creaks and scrapes, but muted and minimal, sinewave tones drift way off in the distance, squalls of gnarled electronics, weird fragmented melodies, sorrowful, bursts of percussive freakout, bits of skronk, tangled rubbery basslines, tinkling chimes, fluttery woodwinds, whirring wheezing buzz, deep resonant gongs, all woven and blurred into a surprisingly subdued jazzdronescape, cinematic and hushed, the sound of flickering firelight, of cloud choked skies and dim dank abandoned buildings. A sound that manages to be super spare and abstract, but really tight, improvised for sure, but these sounds mesh perfectly into something that sounds almost composed, a brooding sonic desolate gloom, a sort of doom jazz, or some sort of post industrial free jazz dronemusic, whatever it is we're digging it big time.
Beautiful cover art to boot!
