We had first heard about this local SF duo via various blogs, hyping them to high heaven, as the next big name to watch out for in the ever expanding world of 'shoegaze black metal', but from the very beginning, their sound was at the most tangentially black, the blackness implied in their gorgeous hazy, blown out, blissy shoegazey gloom pop sound. And even at their most buzzy, their songs still oozed pathos and passion and more importantly, melody, and moodiness, this new one is no different, if anything, it's their best sounding records yet, but also maybe their heaviest, but that heaviness is again tempered by a masterful command of melancholia and minor key melody. The opening title track should tell you all you need to know. Beginning with a slow progression of crumblingly distorted chords, sprawled beneath a female spoken word, everything hazy and reverby, we'd honestly have been happy if that's all it did, but then when the song proper kicks in, it's not with a bang, but a strange oozing melty drift, the programmed (?) drums spare and skeletal, multiple guitars winding around each other, spidery melodies and fuzzy strum, all beneath the vocals which are breathy and wistful, and just on the edge of sinking below the surface of the dreamily gauzy mix. But hold on, near the end of the song, the guitars slowly build to something more frenzied, the drums following suit, blossoming into something more Godspeed like, but then into a proper double kick blast, but as mentioned above, the sounds themselves continue to soar and swirl.
But it's not all cotton candy guitarchords and prismatic dreampop buzz. The second track gets all post punky, with yelped swaggery vocals over more powerful drums, the guitars though, still a bit soft focus and fuzzy, and then in swoop more layers, and some oooohing and aaahing background vox, the drums flitting into blast beat mode occasionally, but really barring the strident vocal yowl, this would still be pretty dreamy and shoegazey. Which is right where the sound ends up on the third track, channeling Swervedriver and Spacemen 3 through something more urgent, the vibe post punk death rock, like a super charged Joy Division, given a slightly metallic makeover, the vocals slipping back into something more poppy, Airs delicately balancing urgent gloom punk churn, epic emo, and shoegaze dream pop, and not just on that track, throughout the whole record, and we presume, their whole career.
There's definitely a sonic thread holding these songs together, but they definitely shift pretty dramatically over the course of Adore. "Missing" is a wistful dirge of a distortion doused ballad, a creeping tempo, lots of guitar buzz and rumble, but the vocals, super emotive and heartfelt, the main melody wistful, a potent combination of sonic heft and dream pop delicacy. Which is followed by "Adrift", another stripped down sprawl of psychedelic downer pop, multiple vocal lines intertwined, lots of swirling sheets of feedback, thick swaths of buzzing riffage, but all blurred and smeared into something much more dreamlike, building again to a soaring majestic Godspeed like coda, swirling and noisy and chaotic, but still lush and lovely.
The rest of the record plays out similarly, a churning, driving, nineties style blast of heavy shoegaze pop, that's a dead ringer for pretty much everything we listened to and obsessed over in our twenties, but maybe supercharged a bit, gives way to some noisy, mathy, post punk, frenetic and a little bit jagged, and with a cool bombastic stop start breakdown, but still swathed in shoegazey shimmer, and finally finishing off with a short burst of what sounds like shoegaze screamo, which if it wasn't a genre already, it is now, or really should be, cuz that last two minute blast, will most definitely leave you wanting more. Tripped out, heavy, psychedelic, gloomy shoegaze blackened buzz pop bliss of the highest order.
While not necessarily recommended for black metal folks, if your BM tastes rung more towards Alcest, Amesoeurs, Les Discrets, Deafheaven, Hypomanie, Lonesummer, Lifelover, then this could very well be your new jam. And really anyone into broody, blissy shoegaziness of all stripes, Tied To The Branches to Swervedriver, My Bloody Valentine to Foreign Cinema, Moonbell to Grave Babies, will definitely dig this big time.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!!!
This is the debut album from the highly anticipated new project from Amy of Henry's Dress/Go Sailor, Alicia of Poundsign, Wyatt Trackstar, and Yoshi of Scenic Vermont. And what a debut it is! There's certainly no shortage of fine songsmiths in this SF combo, and the resulting pop chemistry is pretty darn magical. Soft, pretty and a bit droll, but with ample bounce and feist when required. Superb indie pop gems that are not to be missed... really! You need this now... or bear the wrath of Sadie!
Local popsters Aislers Set finally return with their second, super anticipated full length. Unabashed mod-pop fans of the Postcard Records/Belle&Sebastian/Zombies variety, the Aislers' first album Terrible Things Happen has been a steady bestseller at AQ ever since it came out 2 years ago. Look for the same to happen with The Last Match -- it's that toothsomely good and that insanely catchy. Warm, jangly with honest to goodness real songs. Belle and Sebastian are rumored to be big fans, and coincidentally enough, when we play this in the store some folks mistake the Aislers Set for B&S when Wyatt, not Amy, is singing.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Split single from two beloved local groups doing the noisepop so well. The Aisler Set track is a version of the French pop classic. Lovely artwork and foldout poster by comic book artist Adrian Tomine of Optic Nerve fame.
Latest jam from local improvised noiseniks Al Qaeda (featuring one of the guitarists from aQ SF black metal faves Sutekh Hexen), here expanded to a sprawling septet, recorded live on the radio in LA. Guitars, tape loops, oscillators, drums, percussion, metal, and trumpet, all woven into a strange sort of abstract avant free noise minimalism. Spidery free jazz tendrils underpin thick swaths of brooding low end, industrial percussion and room sound are blurred into backdrops for swirls of white noise hiss, streaks of feedback, and lurching loops. It's noisy, but more a soft cacophony, a slow build, the drums not about propulsion, at least not at first, eventually the cymbal sizzle and drum splatter coalesces into a sort of krautrock groove (although that other stuff does continue right on, there are multiple drummers after all), but once the drums lock in, the clouds of ever shifting noise and texture get the anchor they need, and you can almost hear it in all the players as they seem to lock in alongside the rhythm, playing more fierce, the sounds more jagged and caustic, but the whole thing sort of more structured. The sound shifts eventually, the drums becoming more motorik, while the sounds around the drums grow more abstract, like a field of electronic buzz, sheet of billowing low end, before eventually fading out.
The second piece starts out drum heavy right off the bat, and the track is a murky monster, the guitars not so much riffing and unfurling swaths of soft focus guitarnoise and little curlicues of melody, this one does get heavy, a churning slab of krautnoise that sounds like an updated version of Parson Sound or Faust. The next track set dials back the heavy, letting the trumpet drift in a field of skittery snare and abstract electronics, the drums eventually coming together, into something like abstract krautjazz, left to meander into the final number which is a hazy washed out expanse of layered tones, of distant melodies, of overlapping loops, a blurred droney drift, that thickens as the set progresses, darkening too, before the drums kick in hard, and the sound solidifies into a droned out blur, the trumpet playing a strangely mournful lament over the top, while the rest of the band churns and chugs their way through a final blackened free noise blow out.
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES, each one machine numbered.
Despite what I am about to say, this is indeed an ultra groovy dream of an album and is well worth picking up. Really! It is unfortunate that these associations do tend to cloud the listening experience, but even without being much of a TV watcher I have to say that this new collaboration between Alias and his little brother Ehren (particularly the fifth track) really reminded us of that (albeit great) Aphex Twin track that was used in a bank commercial... alas! What distinguishes Alias & Ehren from Richard D. James here though is that they direct their spotlight to the sounds of saxophones for the melodic elements in their music. Overall, they're sound is more in line with the likes of Jimmy Tamborello (Dntel, Postal Service), Canada's Caribou, or the artists on the German pretty pop-tronic label Morr Music. Breezy and blissful, but not unexpectedly with a little more rhythm and bass presence.
With the release of Freaks In Love, from weirdo New York noise rockers Alice Donut, we realized we had never reviewed a single Alice Donut record. Ever. Most likely because most of them predated the list, but even so, that's no excuse, considering Alice Donut are one of our favorite bands EVER. And we know, it's a little like crying wolf, constantly trumpeting bands and releases as being the best ever, but we have loved, and been borderline obsessed with these guys for almost 25 years, playing every single record to death, seeing them live every time they played in San Francisco, and since they were on Alternative Tentacles, and played here so much, for a while, we just assumed they were an SF band, which really they might as well have been, cuz they were, and are, just the right amount of freaky and heavy, noisy and catchy, and are responsible for some of our favorite jams of the eighties and nineties, and many a mixtape has included at least one AD jam, often their kick ass cover of "War Pigs" with the vocals replaced by TROMBONE!
Anyway, recently a documentary about the band came out, and is presented here along with a two disc sort of greatest hits, which for the uninitiated, might just blow your mind, some of the finest weirdo rock EVER. And not just weird, but catchy as fuck to boot. Just check out the samples below for "Egg", and "Mrs Hayes", and "Dorothy", and of course the best titled song ever: "The Son Of A Disgruntled X-Postal Worker Reflects On His Life While Getting Stoned In The Parking Lot Of A Winn Dixie Listening To Metallica". Frontman Tomas Antona has one of the weirdest, coolest voices ever, and the songs, so twisted and weirdly hooky, this stuff sounds as weird and wonderful now as it did the first time we heard it. And while this 'greatest hits' is missing some of our favorites, odds are if you end up digging this, it won't be by half measures, and you'll find yourself tracking down all the records anyway.
But the real reason for this release is the documentary, which is actually super entertaining, we even watched it with someone who knew nothing really about Alice Donut, and not only dug the movie, but ended up wanting all the records afterwards. It's a pretty standard rock doc, notable for being super fun to watch, even though there were no deaths, or drugs, or overdoses, as dramatic as it got, was people getting kicked out of the band or tours getting fucked up, but all the band members are super cute and likable, and that only makes the music that much cooler.
The packaging is super sweet too, a weird oversized digipak, with a strange fold out triple disc holder, as well as a massive full color booklet, with liner notes and lyrics, and every available surface adorned with Antona's awesomely disturbing illustrations.
We're so stoked to get our hands on this limited edition release (on cassette, or black vinyl, or deluxe clear vinyl, take your pick) by this fantastic San Francisco goth/gloom duo. While there's been no shortage of new bands inspired by the sound of bleak '80s goth/industrial as of late, All Your Sisters stands way above the crowded pack as they infuse tons of raw emotion in their songs instead of just being concerned with nailing a particular sound/style.
It doesn't hurt that they do nail that sound/style so damn perfectly. Comparisons we've heard, bringing up records by folks like Clan Of Xymox, Skinny Puppy, and Ministry for sure hit the mark. We also hear hints of early Neurosis, Sisters Of Mercy, Bauhaus, and a dirty/nastier Nine Inch Nails. As the record goes on there is more of a dazed & doomy sound that will make fans of Lustmord and the like want to raise their ears to this.
But for us it all comes back to the feeling we get when we blast this record, as it gets right to our core and leaves no doubt that it was made with lots of guts, sweat, blood, and tears. So fucking good!
The cassette & both versions of the lp all come with a digital download, btw. And the 'deluxe' lp, besides being clear, comes with a special metallic printed insert.
Funny to discover a project from San Francisco by way of LaGrange, Georgia; but that's the way it goes some times. Aloonaluna is the one-woman project of Lynn Fister who landed her first cassette of thoroughly drugged-out drone-pop on the thoroughly drugged-out imprint Hooker Vision (run by Grant and Rachel Evans, of Nova Scotia Arms and Motion Sickness Of Time Travel respectively), and it's a warped gem of twisted psychedelic lullabies that seem to bridge the damaged tape resurgence with a Jewelled Antler style miasma of half-dreamt songs and half-remembered drones. She loops bells, guitars, field recordings, gristly synths, her own voice, and whatever else she can find into hazy, atmospheric songs that turn inward on many tracks (a la Grouper) but at times like on "Watercolor Rabbit" she breaks out a punchy drum machine to turn her somnambulant, stumbling songs into giddy, lo-fi dance numbers (sorta like Kwjaz remixing Julee Cruise). "Antarctica" could almost be her homage to Richard Pinhas' "Iceland" in terms of coldwave synth propulsion. Twelve tracks in all over this 45 minute tape. Nice stuff, but unfortunately this tape is already sold out at the source... so what we got now is all we'll ever get!
Latest from these sunshiney new age krautfolk drifters, a trio featuring our very own Scott Hewicker, along with Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Root Strata) and Alexis Georgopoulos (Arp), The Alps' Easy Action is record number five if you're keeping track, although it's not in fact exactly a proper full length, instead, it's a bit of a collaged inbetweener, a gorgeous, surprisingly noisy at times, druggy and deliriously delightful hodgepodge assembled from various sources, old tapes from past sessions, unused takes from their last record Le Voyage, a handful of new recordings, as well as various other sounds, all meticulously assembled in the studio into a pretty fantastic record.
As mentioned above, the sound here is not nearly as laid back and soft focus as Le Voyage. That record definitely found the band in full on meandering mode, the guitars were jangly, the rhythms subtle and minimal, when there were rhythms, the noise was kept to a minimum, it was all about tone and timbre, ambience and atmosphere, the propulsion seemingly an afterthought, the band happy to let the songs drift lazily, but if a rhythm did surface, the band would just let that rhythm guide them, until it eventually wound down, leaving the band to drift ever onward. But here, the sound is actually a bit fierce, and a little dark. The opener starts with a cloud of swirling textures and hushed effects, muted melodies, and little flecks of buzz and glitch, but it's not long before a black cloud of grinding distortion and hissing electronics threaten to swallow up the other sounds, the song is transformed into a swirling bit of soft noise chaos, culminating in a strange stuttery glitched out finale. Wow. As if that weren't enough, the second track too delivers some powerful drumming, laid over some tangled steel string guitar, and some buzzing psychedelic guitar, a guitar that gets wilder and noisier as the track progresses before everything drops out leaving just the guitar unwinding a swirling cloud of FX heavy freakout.
And so it goes, "Pink Orange" is more of a interlude, a looped bit of processed guitar, but then "For Isabel" drifts in with its seventies folk guitar, but then suddenly glitches out, as some strange bits of studio buzz swoop in, the gorgeous looped guitar figure wreathed in a cloud of hiss and buzz, and rapidly expanding crunch, good stuff for sure, just surprisingly intense.
"Loves Of A Blonde" is a sprawling bit of abstract droney drift, some steel string buzz, some muted percussion, more crunchy distorted guitar noise, a sort of abstract raga, underpinned by dark piano chords, everything wreathed in gristly bits of static, eventually, all the noise fading out, leaving just some sitar like buzz and some echoey piano, the prettiest stretch on the record thus far. The title track dabbles in some dub, adding a little reggae inflection to a loping slo-mo krautrock groove, the guitars warm and shimmery, the bass sinewy and melodic, but even here, the band lay a thick bit of crunchy, lo-fi guitar fuzz over the otherwise tranquil proceedings, which we quite like, and definitely adds a needed edge to the otherwise placid drift underneath.
The rest of the record unwinds similarly, with the band taking the more serene and melodic elements and fusing them to strange studio misfires, and random, but fantastic bits of noisiness, tinkling looped melodies, that seems to fluctuate wildly within a field of hyperactive static, transforming a shimmery sleepy loop into a mysterious bit of crumbling crunch. They take a break on the hushed and crystal clear solo guitar outing "Reflections For Peter Green", only to slip right back into it with the nearly 10 minute "Instant Light" which was previously released on the super limited Root Strata cd-r A Path Through The Sun), a track that builds slowly, lush steel string strums drifting beneath whirling bits of distant ambience, definitely channeling the spirit of Le Voyage, but the band pile on some lush, effulgent guitar buzz, and some keening layered guitardrones, filling the sky with warm sonic streaks, while underneath the sound continues to drift along melodically, a practically perfect balance between the dreamy old and the more abrasive new, before finishing off with a brief 2 minute swirl of whirling, swirling, blurred and smeared, echo drenched new age shimmer. So good. And a bit of a sonic surprise. Which has us wondering if their next proper studio full length will find the band incorporating some of this new found, more 'difficult' audio experimentation. We sure hope so!
Super limited, and packaged in a super elaborate fold out psychedelic pyramid sleeve, designed by artist Tauba Auerbach, that is easily one of the coolest things we've seen.
Includes a download code as well.
The latest from Bay Area new-kraut-folk-age combo Alps, finds the band sounding more�high fidelity than ever, and more kraut than folk, which in both cases suits them big time.
For those new to Alps, a rundown of several members should help give you an idea of where their sound is coming from: our very own Scott Hewicker (Troll), Alexis Georgopoulos (Arp, formerly of Tussle) and Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Colophon, J.C. Ledesma). But Alps is definitely more than the sum of its parts, their sound is quite varied, expansive, even epic at times, but simultaneously, they manage to craft a sound simple and solid, based as much on rhythm and texture as on song and melody.
On past releases, Alps were a much more ramshackle concern, which at the time was definitely a big part of their sound, and thus set them firmly amongst the lo-fi cd-r drone folks scene, their sound a sort of ghostly Appalachia, mixed with longform drone music, muddy muted ambience, minimal soundscaping and plenty of lo-fi buzz and hiss much of the record mired in a corrosive murk, that only added to their dark dronelike vibe. The move to Type Records, coincides, perhaps not coincidentally, with a sonic shift, where once was abstract and low fidelity, is now rhythmic, and propulsive, looped and repetitive, and most importantly, glistening and glimmering, the sound crystal clear, and this time the dreaminess doesn't come from poor recording, it comes from the compositions, and the arrangements, and a super nice sounding recording courtesy of Phil Manley of the Champs and Trans Am. The core members of Alps also have a keen interest in new age music. Not the Deep Breakfast sort of schlock that most seem to equate with the genre, but instead more the sort of inner space, dreamy drift of Tangerine Dream, Deuter, Steve Hillage and the like. And those sounds are all over III as well.
The opener is a gorgeous looped soundscape of repetitive guitar figures, and glistening chimes, almost like a dreamfolk Steve Reich, bits of Appalachia, big buzzing synths, strummed zithers, a gorgeous melancholy melody played out over the course of five and a half minutes. The second track finds the band getting their kraut on, channeling Neu! Or Agitation Free but through a much more washed out and weary space rock, like Hawkwind gone new age. Distant drifting vocals, all manner of layered buzz, distorted guitars buried in the mix, space-y FX, very tranquil and mesmerizing. The follow up "Cloud One" finds Alps revisiting their folk roots, taking strummed acoustic guitars, and simple piano, and draping them over a woozy melody and a super spare abstract rhythm. "Trem Fantasma" is a barely there whisper of spaced out dronemusic, Gloriously wreathed in musical mystery, drifting piano, fragmented guitars, some soft sixties 'ladada' vocals, another dreamy drifter that threatens to spirit the listener away to some sun dappled green grassed knoll. "Labyrinths" is another new age / krautrock meander, washed out and shimmery, the drums the only thing keeping the rest of the song from just floating away, playful melodies, that sound like Perry and Kingsley rendered in shades of grey. The next few tracks are more abstract, sounds swooping in and out, rhythms, if there are any, buried beneath soft layers of sound, everything hushed and minimal, until album closer, "Into The Breeze", which sounds just like the title would have you imagine, breezy, soft focus, the drums, simple and stripped down, shimmering steel string guitar, that ever present piano, the melody wistful, the production hazy and a little woozy, effects swirling in the background, the drums gradually becoming more and more tripped out, before fading out completely, leaving just the guitar and the piano to drift heavenward, through a field of soft shimmer and the glistening afterglow of the sounds that came before.
The more we listen to III, the more obvious the new age-isms become, which is not a bad thing at all, it wraps the proceedings, no matter how krautrocky or folky or droney, in a sweet swirl of moonlit dreaminess, turning each song into its own sort of otherworldly mesmer.
LIMITED TO ONLY 400 COPIES ON VINYL!!!!! (& the compact disc version is coming soon, but not out yet...)
From the looks of the felt pen scrawled disc artwork you might be expecting some Wolf Eyes, Black Dice or Lightning Bolt sweaty dirge-noise bursts, but The Alps go in the opposite direction, offering up glistening meditative soundscapes well-suited to gazing at frosty mountain peaks such as those of their namesake. Makes more sense when you discover that The Alps are Scott Hewicker (Troll), Alexis Georgopoulos (Tussle) and Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Colophon, J.C. Ledesma), doesn't it?
Squeaky clarinets and alien flute toots melted into whirls of swish and whoosh, all laid over ominous drones and instrument hum and tape hiss. Quite beautiful. And as with many cd-r releases, quite limited!
Gorgeous reissue of two long out of print cd-r's from Bay Area abstract drone drift outfit The Alps, featuring AQ staffer Scott Hewicker (Troll), Alexis Georgopoulos (Tussle) and Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Colophon, J.C. Ledesma), who together weave breathtaking expanses of blissed out shimmer and glistening meditative soundscapes well-suited to gazing at frosty mountain peaks such as those of their namesake.
The Alps explore mysterious worlds of haunting folky foresty freeform loveliness, trafficking in dark dreamy wonder, disembodied strains of some lost Appalachia float weightless in a dusky forest of murky mumbly ambience, while muted guitars and stumbling tribal drumming swirl and sway amidst delicate tendrils of creepy ghostly falsetto croon and swoon. Elsewhere, deep pools of shimmering cymbal wash sparkle and glimmer, the sky above a moonlit smear of ethereal electronic effervescence, all run through with streaks of subtle melody. Squeaky clarinets and alien flute toots melt into whirls of swish and whoosh, all laid over ominous drones and instrument hum and tape hiss.
Think The Wickerman meets Jewelled Antler or Neu! played at 16rpm broadcast through a moss covered speaker on the bottom of the sea, or the sound of the Northern Lights, recorded onto a wax cylinder and played back through a shortwave radio, while a boy on a nearby rooftop hurls broken cymbals into the drained swimming pool next door, the entire thing subtly underpinned by the relentless throb and pulse of rain dripping on upended plastic garbage cans. So good.
The only drag here is that the label decided to leave off one of our favorite tracks, the final number on Spirit Shambles, fearing its lo-fi sprawl and clatter didn't fit in with the Alps' lush ambience and moonlit glimmer, which is precisely why it worked so perfectly. Oh well, to hear what we're talking about you just might have to do some internet searching or late night eBaying, but don't let that deter you from picking this up, even minus that burst of corrosive murk, you'd be hard pressed to find a lovelier batch of shambling sonic swoon...
Packaged with all new artwork in a cool, sleek oversized digipak style folder.
Full length number four from these Bay Area kosmische krautfolk visionaries, the sound on Le Voyage (aka IV) the perfect extension of the soundworld they created on 2008's III, and perhaps their most fully realized record thus far, as the band have developed from lo-fi drone and ramshackle free folk, abstract Appalachia and dreamy dronemusic, to something much more measured and sonically subtle, still consisting of many of the same basic elements, yet somehow more haunting and delicate, and occasionally exploring heavier more rhythmic territory.
Part of this new expanded sound is the fact that the core trio, our very own Scott Hewicker (Troll), Alexis Georgopoulos (Arp, formerly of Tussle) and Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Colophon, J.C. Ledesma), is augmented by some serious guests, who contribute tamboura, pedal steel, bass guitar and field recordings to the already impressive (and occasionally baffling) list of sonic implements: palm guitar, 12 string acoustic guitar, Moogerfooger delay, mountain drums, electric clouds, Mini Moog synthesizer, falling piano, symphony space, radiophonic synthesizer, parabolic guitar, memory man, desert guitar, melted glass guitar and more.
But don't let the bizarre instrumentation mislead, the sound here is definitely abstract and 'out there', but perhaps not as much as that list might lead you to believe. Those instruments, subtly wielded, result in something dreamy and divine, rhythmic, propulsive, and totally mesmerizing.
The record begins with some crystalline Appalachian guitar, warm and sun dappled, underpinned by upper register shimmers, bits of piano, super minimal percussion, and some gorgeous pedal steel that gives the track a sweeping, wide open space vibe, the musical equivalent of laying in knee high grass, watching the clouds drift by in a cobalt blue sky. After a brief bit of jumbled psychedelic samplage, voices, horn fanfares, explosions, dinner party strings, applause, running water and random swirling FX drenched, the band get seriously krauty, with some stripped down tribal drumming, muted squalls of wah guitar, definitely dark and brooding, but as the track progresses, and various instruments join the fray, loping bass, steel string strum, all manner of melody, the track begins to glow, a smoldering almost space rock sounding work out, that sets its sights for the heart of the sun, but instead settles back to earth in a brief stretch of piano flecked drone, before launching into the next track, a dreamy slice of classic sounding psychedelic pop, all spare drumming, and chiming acoustic guitar, not to mention some rubbery basslines and more delicate piano, the second half of the track decidedly less propulsive and more washed out rainy day contemplative.
After another brief respite, soundtracked by a warped collage of shortwave buzz, reverbed horns, electronic glitches, swirls of hiss and grit and a brief flurry of marital snares, "Saturno Contro" commences, a lazy, lugubrious bit of dour acoustic dreampop, laced with tinkling chimes, moaning strings, softly cinematic and quite lovely.
Which leads into the records closing salvo, a three track, 20 minute fugue, that is the record's climax for sure, beginning with "Black Mountain", a piano laced buzzing raga, a gorgeous sprawling slow burn, that builds to something slightly more rhythmic, a sort of brooding chamber folk, bookended by field recordings of crickets, as if the track was merely the soundtrack for an early evening stroll through the forest. The title track is up next, a lush, loping chunk of hypnorock slowcore krautdrone drift, the drums simple and skeletal, the other instruments subtly urgent, the tone tense and intense, like the final few minutes of some space rock epic, stripped way down, slowed way down and stretched way out, still psychedelic and space-y, but more earthbound, the sound of night and day viewed in time lapse, flowers opening to the sun, and then folding back up to shut out the dark, the shadows rushing across the ground, the sky and ever shifting prismatic expanse, dark and emotional and gorgeous, eventually fading into the buzzing final track, another hazy druggy raga, thick layered buzz wrapped around a simple propulsive bassline, the song building bit time, the drums crashing, the various tones and sounds seeming to blossom like miniature supernovas, the various elements bleeding into one another, a lush cloud of swirling buzzing bliss, that could go on forever, but instead, crumbles into a fractured dubby outro before blinking out completely.
A perfectly realized hybrid of krautrock, new age, raga, Appalachia, dronefolk, an ever shifting expanse of cinematic sound, a pop music redefined and reinterpreted as something much more esoteric, hauntingly beautiful, and darkly mysterious.
SF's The Alps (featuring our very own Scott Hewicker) returns with their second full length of haunting folky foresty freeform loveliness. Featuring members of Tarentel and Tussle, the Alps traffic in dark dreamy wonder, disembodied strains of some lost Appalachia float weightless in a dusky forest of murky mumbly ambience, while muted guitars and stumbling tribal drumming swirl and sway amidst delicate tendrils of creepy ghostly falsetto croon and swoon. Elsewhere, deep pools of shimmering cymbal wash sparkle and glimmer, the sky above a moonlit smear of ethereal electronic effevescence, all run through with streaks of subtle melody. Think The Wickerman meets Jewelled Antler or Neu! played at 16rpm broadcast through a moss covered speaker on the bottom of the sea, or the sound of the Northern Lights, recorded onto a wax cylinder and played back through a shortwave radio, while a boy on a nearby rooftop hurls broken cymbals into the drained swimming pool next door, the entire thing subtly underpinned by the relentless throb and pulse of rain dripping on upended plastic garbage cans. The final track however veers into much stranger territory, but somehow still sounds very Alps. An ultra lo-fi, pagan freakout, creepy and muddy and druggy, blown out drumming, bizarre animalistic vocalisations, all seemingly captured on a hand held microcassette recorder. Weird. But very cool.
LIMITED TO ONLY 150 COPIES!!!!!
Brand new blast of shit kicking heavy rock from this local outfit, who have been pretty much out of action for close to a decade. But this new two-fer on local label Valley King finds Altamont in fine form, fronted as always by none other than Dale Crover from the Melvins, stepping out from behind the drum kit to strap on an axe and man the mic. He's backed up by Joey Osborne, from another bunch of local stoner heavies, Acid King, along with Dan Southwick, also of Acid King, and they're joined this time around by Coady Willis from Big Business and the Melvins, and Toshi Kosai, also of Big Business. And yeah, this is the first new music from Altamont since 2005, but it almost sounds like the first new music since, say, 1978!! Total hard rocking classic rock a la AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult, etc., with a bit of extra noise rock heft, but really, "Mrs. Creech" could be some long lost seventies B side from some super obscure hippie heavies, sounding a bit like the Melvins covering Skynrd, distorted vocals over some serious Southern rock style heaviness, complete with a cool, weird feedback/harmonic solo. It's not hard to imagine some sixteen year olds parked behind the 7-11, drinking beer, making out, car doors open, tape decks cranking this jam right here.
And then on the flip, they tackle a Blue Oyster Cult classic, which if you weren't sure already where these guys are coming from, well, there's no doubt now, and they do it pretty straight, total seventies hard rocking radness...
Super limited as usual, with awesome Alan Forbes cover art. Swank silk screened sleeves, each one hand signed and numbered by Forbes, and each single includes a sticker as well.
For months now, we've been trying to list a cd from a local one man black metal band called Wikkid. And the way we know it's a one man black metal band is it says so right on the front of the cd, along with the location "Bay Area California". It's a damaged chunk of extremely weird outsider blackness, that we really want to share with you all, but the man behind the band is extremely elusive. When he initially showed up here, in a 49ers jersey, a big black straw hat, and smoking a cigar in a cigarette holder, we weren't expecting the cds he wanted to consign to be anything like Wikkid. And before you knew it, they were gone. So we pestered him for more, instead he brought in some Wikkid T-shirts that he had printed at home with spray paint. So we kept pestering him, but this time, instead of Wikkid cds, or more spray painted shirts, he brought in THIS, the first release from his "black metal influenced organ/keyboard instrumental" project. We were intrigued, not knowing at all what to expect, and while there is definitely some sort of sonic thread tying the two together, Alturaz is a whole different beast, in fact without the above backstory, this could definitely pass as some modern minimalism or spaced out psychedelic kosmische. The first track is just church organ, the chords unfurling ominously, over whirring organ drones, haunting and liturgical, sounding a bit like a black metal intro stretched out into a song proper, we're reminded of Jacula too, sinister and ritualistic, haunting and darkly cinematic, super simple for sure, but really, it's more about mood and vibe, and the sound has plenty of both to spare. The second track is even more minimal, a super spare sprawl of processed organ blurts, rumbling low end thrum, fragmented melodic swirls, lots and lots of space, creepy and soundtracky and very abstract.
It's on track three, "Split Demonic Versonalities" that things get cosmic, the organs now wreathed in space-y FX, the sound swirling and shimmering, sounding like a planetarium show composed by John Carpenter, pulsing and sinister, swirling and ominously cinematic. And then finally, another super hushed, ultra minimal, barely there coda, all low end pulsations and super subtle colorations, like black billowing ripples in a sonic pond, tranquil and hypnotic, but like the rest of the record, infused with a strange ineffable dread.
Recommended for fans of psychedelic space synth, and abstract kosmische, as well as creepy soundtrack music, and it just might hold us over until we can finally get us, and you some WIKKID!
It seems many moons ago now that a mysterious man sporting a black cowboy hat with a cigar (in a cigar holder!) perched upon his lips first strode into the aQ shopfront to thrust upon us some of the weirdest, most damaged outsider black metal we have ever heard, under his one-man solo project Wikkid, and since then we've had further unexpected visits where we've been blessed with weird home made spray painted t-shirts along with cut and paste printed cassettes and cds by Alturaz, this same mystery man's "black metal influenced instrumental organ" outfit. And now here we have a split between those two projects - Wikkid and Alturaz (a split between two one man projects that both feature the same one man! How amazing of a concept is that??), and it's just as fucked up as we'd hoped. Not only in the music disarmingly bizarre, but even the little details are bewildering. The album cover simply features the same cover art from both previous Wikkid and Alturaz releases, but squashed together so they'll both fit on one cd sleeve (but make no mistake, this is all new music!). The track names at first seem to be delineated by Roman numerals, except when you get past "III" they just become "IIII", "IIIII", etc.! The beauty of these bizarre Easter eggs is it's truly impossible to determine whether this is totally calculated, or just genuine weirdness on the creator's part (but personally, we're betting on the latter.) As for the music, Alturaz starts off this strange journey with "In the Name of Self", a full 37 seconds of genuinely creepy horror movie ambient reverb accompanied by some truly bizarre pitch-shifted echo chamber death growls. The second track "Forbidden" (and second Alturaz track) is literally just three minutes of desolate Arctic tundra winds. It's not until track three where Wikkid first emerges and the weirdness truly begins. "Worship of Fire" kicks off with some guitar work (the word "riff" doesn't really apply here) that sounds like someone chewing on metal, before the song dizzily tumbles into some crazy d-beat drumming, constantly drifting in and out of time. The vocals exist on some other audial plane, like a nervous muttering goblin having a panic attack. The affect is a bit like Hellhammer crossed with The Shaggs (Shagghammer??), or as one aQer puts it: Wikkid make Striborg sound like Steely Dan. With the next Wikkid track, the sound quality totally changes (a real trademark of this split - things like levels have no meaning here!), getting way louder with much more low end. "The Unreleased One" is an instrumental mid paced plod, all chugging guitars and intermittent double bass that seems to start and stop with little regard for the song's timing. And then there's this sudden abrupt high pitched beep, way way louder than anything else in the mix, like something's being censored, and suddenly "Putting The Black Birds Blood In Your Veins" (what a title!) bursts forth with some truly demented blast beats and tinfoil tremolo guitar, before Alturaz returns to close out the proceeding with more lonely howling winds and creepy instrumental clean guitar. Needless to say, if you're interested in the shadowy fringe areas of black metal, you need to check this out, but really, we'd recommend this to anyone truly fascinated by those strange outsider records that seem to exist free of any genre constraints, and any petty earthly concerns like "listenable" or "musicality." Utterly weird, utterly fascinating, and totally amateurish but all the better for it. How could we not love it??
Reissue of the debut cd from this atmospheric local group, that uses classical chamber music instrumentation to create dark, beautiful sounds akin to a black metal Rachel's. Black metal? Well, this was originally released this by Elfenblut, an imprint of now defunct British label Misanthropy, famous as the home of Burzum! And, for further "heavy" credentials, we should mention that band leader Kris Force has played with both Neurosis and the Swans. This was previously only an import, and now boasts three bonus tracks exclusive to this new version!
Originally released as a super limited 10", local moody metallic chamber ensemble Amber Asylum's latest Garden Of Love is now available on cd, again limited, this time to 750 copies, packaged in a mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve, and includes the previously unreleased bonus track "Serenade" available only on this here cd. Four brand new tracks that take Amber Asylum's gothic strings and vocals sound even further out, having now expanded their lineup to include former members of The Gault and SF black metal legends Weakling. The opening track is quite possibly the best thing we've heard from them, a brooding dramatic soundscape of intensely moody strings, and anguished melodies. Locked in by simple almost programmed sounding rhythms with haunting operatic vocals drifting ghostlike through the mix. Sounds a bit like Skepticism with a string section, and you know that is a very good thing. The second track heads into almost Goblin territory at points with super aggressive pizzicato strings, bows sawing away at the strings emitting truly ominous melodies. The rest of the record is far more tranquil, expansive, romantic, epic, melancholic yet hopeful, with delicate crystalline piano figures, very subtle strings and sweetly plaintive vocals. So nice.
First we've heard from local moody metallic chamber ensemble Amber Asylum in quite some time. Rumor is there have been label problems, but you'd never know it from this amazing self released 10" (other than it being, um, self released). Three brand new tracks that take Amber Asylum's gothic strings and vocals soun even further out, having now expanded their lineup to include former members of the Gault and SF black metal legends Weakling. The opening track is quite possibly the best thing we've heard from them, a brooding dramatic soundscape of intensely moody strings, and anguished melodies. Locked in by simple almost programmed sounding rhythms with haunting operatic vocals drifting ghostlike through the mix. Sounds a bit like Skepticism with a string section, and you know that is a very good thing. The second track heads into almost Goblin territory at points with super aggressive pizzicato strings, bows sawing away at the strings emitting truly ominous melodies. Side B clocks in at a little over 12 minutes, and is far more tranquil, an expansive, romantic epic, melancholic yet hopeful, with delicate crystalline piano figures, very subtle strings and sweetly plaintive vocals. So nice. Available only on limited edition 10" vinyl!
Ignore the new age blurbs on the back of this cd, this is a beautiful piece of Morricone-style dark cinematic bliss from San Francisco violinist/vocalist Kris Force, featuring a revolving cast of guests, including John from A Minor Forest.
Esteemed chamber music goddess Kris Force returns with what is quite possibly her most stark compositions to date. She's joined by some of the Bay Area's finest and most beloved of the indie metal and rock community including John Cobbett (Hammers Of Misfortune, Ludicra), Jackie Perez-Gratz (Grayceon), Tim Green (The Fucking Champs, Concentrick), Lorraine Rath (The Gault), and Sarah Schaffer (The Gault, Weakling). Still Point begins with three songs that slowly drift in on droning strings (violin, viola and cello) and ghostly choral vocals. From there the gothic proceedings build gradually with the entrance of minimal piano, guitar, flute, trumpet and percussion. As always, absolutely haunting and stunningly gorgeous!
2nd album (and domestic full-length debut) of atmospheric chamber music from this acclaimed San Francisco band, sort of the goth-metal answer to Rachel's. Not that this sounds metal at all, it just seems to be the eerie classical music thing that appeals equally to Satanic Black Metallers, "dark ambient" aficianados, and so forth - and the group's association with Neurosis adds to their metal cred.
AMC's first 2 albums finally reissued on disc. This is Engine, the 2nd one. You still see Engine around in used LP bins, but Restless Stranger is really rare. I guess that's how Warner Bros justifies the price.
It's been just shy of a decade since this beloved Bay Area band parted ways with members pursuing various solo endeavors (most notably mainman Mark Eitzel) but the legions of patient American Music Club fans will surely extend a warm welcome to this, the group's reunion album, and it doesn't disappoint. Love Songs For Patriots is a suitably somber, burnished work that smoothly picks up where the band left off back in 1995. That means you can expect a consistently high standard of songcraft and musicianship on par with the likes of Robyn Hitchcock, mid-career Elvis Costello, and Red House Painters' Mark Kozelek. Really, the only thing that seems a bit out of place is the first song. It has a smoky, almost cabaret feel, but after that things settle into more familiar AMC achingly earnest, downbeat kind of mood.
AMC's first 2 albums finally reissued on disc. This is Restless Stranger, the first one. You still see Engine around in used LP bins, but Restless Stranger is really rare. I guess that's how Warner Bros justifies the price.
The first thing that struck us about this debut release from Amocoma, a mysterious black metal horde from right here in San Francisco, was the cover art, a child-like pen and ink drawing of a pile of heads, but instead of being bloody or gory or horrific, they're sort of more cartoonish, like a whole slew of stick figures were decapitated, their heads tossed in a huge pile, beneath the scrawled band logo, wreathed in clouds of smeared ink. We were definitely intrigued. And�if anything, once inside, we were even moreso...
Amocoma traffic in an ultra lo-fi, muddy murky blackness. It's definitely black metal, there is plenty of buzz and blast and howled vocals, but at the same time it's sort of stumbling and noise rocky, it's probably a little of both, but it's all rendered nearly indistinct by the incredibly FX drenched lo-fi production.�
Beginning with dreamy swirls of soft focus harmonics and distant rumbles, it doesn't take long for the band to lurch into action, a simple hypnotic riff, looped over and�over, almost sounding more like a bass than a guitar, and not so heavy as it is trancelike. The drums are mechanical and repetitive, the vocals are howled and swathed in reverb, spread out over the proceedings like a black cloud, so much so that at times they just sound like another layer of buzz. And the more you listen, the more pretty it sounds, sure it's raw and harsh, but the melody is so hypnotic, and the swirling clouds of distortion and reverb give everything a sort of soft focus shimmer.�
We're definitely reminded of WOLD, in the sense that these little fragmented pop songs, are rendered black and buzzy by the application of super saturated distortion, tape hiss and amp buzz, reverb and delay, so even at its heaviest, it's washed out and abstract, and downright dreamy. The drone element is through the roof, and it's impossible not to hear Tim Hecker or Machinefabriek or any one of those masters of smeary dreamlike sound. At some points things get super psychedelic, like halfway through "Small Dark Sea That Was A Body" where the guitar drops out, leaving just the drums, to sort of pulse and putter in a wide open expanse of soft swirl, while drifting above are all manner of glistening guitar harmonics, spacey FX sparkles, and warm warbly melodic hum.�
Damaged and dreamy, freaked out and fucked, one of our new favorite slabs of black beauty for sure...�
Last Rites is the debut full length from this moody instrumental post rock combo from San Jose, and it's awesome. The band dropped off copies ages ago, and we're kicking ourselves for taking so long to listen, cuz it's pretty much everything we love about this kind of stuff, soaring and majestic, epic and moody and emotional. Definitely beholden to another time, their sound reminiscent of the nineties, and the whole instrumental math/post rock scene that flourished then, it was an era of music we love and miss, and we wish there were more bands today doing something similar.
Amonie take that nineties post rock, and give it a modern makeover, fusing it to a more brooding slow build Godspeed style, and definitely adding their own twist, the opener here "King Of Prussia" is a near pitch perfect 8+ minutes of brooding, smoldering, epic post rock heaviness, slipping easily from intricate loping melodic mesmer, to churning, stormy noisy heaviness, rife with explosive climaxes, soaring tangled guitar melodies, powerful drumming, super intense and cinematic, peppered with hushed expanses of muted minimal thrum, and string laced melancholic shimmer, all leading up to an explosive finale.
That first track definitely lays out the template for the rest of the record, a classic sort of epic post rock arrangement, but Amonie mix things up, especially on the shorter tracks, some dense and mathy and proggy, others, glistening and almost cosmic sounding, foregoing the blown out coda, at least until the very last minute or two, still others, chiming and minimal, bookended by fierce heaviness.
The record closed with two longform epics, the first, maybe the most hushed and delicate of the bunch, a woozy, dreamy drift of glistening guitar shimmer, and lush layered tones, with a near metallic final movement, and the closer, 13+ minutes, the first 5 of which sound almost like some sort of modern minimal chamber music, until the drums kick in, and the band lurch into a woozy washed out lope, before a brief bit of distorted crunch, only to unfurl in a dreamily palindromic drift for the remainder of the song.
Awesome stuff. Fans of Godspeed, Mogwai, Explosions In The Sky and other epic post rockers will flip for these guys. Includes a download coupon as well!
...and they play 'em so well! These two ladies have definitely captured that ol' homey country sound on their debut album with a barebones acoustic assembly of banjo, fiddle, guitar and voice. They cover the likes of The Carter Family, Bruce Springsteen, Woody Guthrie among others and a couple of traditional numbers as well. Lovingly packaged in a screenprinted cardboard sleeve too! For fans of Freakwater, Virginia Dare, Trailer Bride.
A mighty fine collection of improvisorial acoustic guitar solos from Bruce Anderson of MX-80 fame. That said, Anderson's solo guitar work is miles away from the sharp, incessant cacophony of the mutant-punk of MX-80 from back in the day. It's more of a Loren Mazzacane Connors feel, but played on an acoustic guitar with classical tunings. Or perhaps as our regular customer Monte opined, "sounds like Derek Bailey, if he learned to play melodically." Yeah, that's it! Anyway, with the quiet, rather ascetic nature of these recordings, we're guessing that the reference in the title is to Robert Bresson, the new wave French film director. The dulcet plucks and slow deliberate pacing of Anderson's work would certainly make for a complementary soundtrack to any number of Bresson's films even with their noted lack of musical accompaniments. Lovely stuff, and limited to just 75 copies.
This East Bay avant-guitarist quipped that Dispassion finds him in his 'death-ray' mode. We were not all that sure what he might have meant by this; and we figured his 'death-ray' would be some fucked-up Keiji Haino styled exploration of infernal guitar noise; or perhaps a power-drone of sawtooth gnashing akin to a Zbigniew Karkowski or Kevin Drumm. But no, Anderson's 'death-ray' approach is one of atonal polyphony, through layerings of heavily processed guitar tones that are sustained, filtered, modulated, and whatnot, into beguiling phrases that more resemble the dissonant chords of mismatched church organs. In fact, if Anderson hadn't stated from the onset that this was a solo electric guitar piece, we would have assumed it to be some midnight black mass piece of diabolical pipe organ orchestration. There might be Charlemagne Palestine gleefully getting drunk on blood red wine whilst completely unaware of the psychotic technician who was tone-bending all of his minimalist, clustered drones through tricked out digital means. But no, it's just Bruce with his guitar and his pedals, and it's a very unsettling mood created by this death-ray of his. Limited to 50 copies.
Bruce Anderson wandered into the store a few weeks ago, commenting in reference to Scott Walker's new Bish Bosch album that he would much rather experience subversion through beauty than something willfully ugly. While he's quite appreciative of Mr. Walker's art (in fact he has some amusing anecdotes about seeing him as a hired gun for some garage band touring the states back in his youth, wondering who that beautiful bassist with the booming voice was), the art of subversion through beauty is an apt description of where Anderson has taken his solo guitar work. Of course, Bruce Anderson was the frontman for the seminal Bay Area art-punk outfit MX-80, and this disc follows suit with the last couple of semi-improvised recordings that Anderson has graced us with. The angularity of MX-80 is here, but the tones he gets from his guitar are rounded and rich, suspended with a sustained drone that acts as a halo on his slowly paced plucks and strums. Sonically similar to Loren Mazzacane Connors, John Fahey, and Derek Bailey, and laced with a lovely, profound sadness. Limited to 75 copies.
Bruce Anderson is best known as the guitarist / frontman for Bay Area seminal avant-punk band MX-80, whose records back in the early '80s situated themselves on the suitably angular Ralph Records - home to The Residents, Snake Finger, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Tuxedomoon, etc. This 2008 composition - possibly just released, possibly never distributed until now - is a long-form, multi-tracked acoustic guitar exploration. Upon first listen, Fahey, Loren Mazzacane Connors, and Tom Carter seem the obvious references for these lilting elliptical arrangements; but as the piece develops, Anderson is insistent on hitting purposefully sharp notes, which atonally register thanks to his panned stereo distribution of layered tracks. As result, The Inherent Beauty Of Hopelessness begins to mutate into a Jandekian aesthetic of warped raga-blues, as if the Jandek standard "European Jewel" found itself tempered and elongated into a quiet, 40-minute epic.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Everything this band ever recorded, before they became the celebrated VSS.
Grab a brew, it's Annihilation Time! This is their third album (duh) but their first for Tee Pee (and thus the first we've heard, even though they're from right over in the East Bay... must mean we're more stoner rock than punk). The standard issue spiel about AT is that, as you might have guessed from their name, they're big time Black Flag and Bl'ast! fans, crossing over into the retro-thrash movement, with some classic '70s cock rock moves a la KISS or Thin Lizzy thrown in. Think fellow retro rockin' Oaklanders Drunkhorse, but more punk and skater-ly.
So, do such blurbs tell the truth? And if so, does this supposed hybrid of Deep Purple and D.R.I. sound better on paper than on your stereo? Well check out the twin guitar leads towards the end of track 2, "About To Snap", there's shades of Iron Maiden's Smith/Murray right there, and you'll find plenty more in the way of tasty '70s/'80s metallic guitar action elsewhere on the disc, usually smack in the midst of some much more basic, punk styled riffage... while their music ain't rocket science, it is definitely some good times rock n' roll. Not the second coming of anybody, but still a neat mix of elements, glorious guitar harmonies coexisting with hoarse punk rock vox... even if it's hard to know if we're supposed to be pogoing or headbanging. It can't quite approach the shreddingness of their live shows, but it's fun nonetheless.
Antimatter is the work of Bay Area sound artist Xopher Davidson, whose intense, psychoacoustically challenging compositions earn noble comparisons to fellow Northern Californians like Scott Arford, R.H.Y. Yau, Michael Gendreau, and Joe Colley. Furthermore, Davidson has worked extensively with Zbigniew Karkowski, generating gnarled maelstroms of digital grit and volcanic noise on a handful of albums and live performances. Reset is Antimatter's first album in close to 6 years, after he released a couple of albums on the now defunct Asphodel label. It begins with a nasty low-end throb from phased oscillators, obsolete synthesizers, and integral-logic feedback systems, whose generative tension is heightened through metallic slashes and electrical bursts of white noise static. The vigor of Davidson's grim electronics dissolves on the curiously beautiful ambient construction "Sea Of Tranquility," whose vaporous atmospherics recall more of the mesmerism of Tim Hecker and Leyland Kirby emerging out of queasy sick tones and vibrational splutter. The next track "Sverdlovsk-45" was named for a Soviet secret city that enriched uranium throughout the Cold War, and it has all of the claustrophobic industrial metaphors one would expect through the belching hiss and churning centrifuge actions. The crumbling noises glow once again with a spectral beauty found on the aforementioned "Sea Of Tranquility" by the end of the record. Even so, this album is one for those keen on The Hafler Trio and John Duncan, especially since neither of those two have released anything in quite a while.
The lead off track on this cd is so wintry you can almost see your breath while it's playing! Branches is the new album from Oregon band Antlerand, and it's a fine introduction. While they initially appear to be treading shimmering sonic ground that's already been well worn by the post rock likes of Mogwai and Sigur Ros, it soon becomes apparent that they're combining it with intelligent pop sensibilities akin to sensitive, smart pop folks Bright Eyes, Arcade Fire and Destroyer... and they're doing it exceptionally well. Chamber strings and horns join the sinewy electric guitars that just might send chills down your spine. Piano, stuttery electronics and chimes pretty things up, as do the sweet female vocals on songs such as "Maybe We're Still Running" and "Make Nothing Happen" which further the comparisons to Bright Eyes when Jenny Lewis is accompanying Conor Oberst. This is simply lovely!
Not to be confused with Anvil! Though, right now, maybe they'd like to be. This Bay Area metal band, is another from the '80s that had even less success than those now famous Canucks. Much less. Back in the day, Anvil Chorus never managed to get signed, and released only demos and singles, never an album - until now. It wasn't 'cause they weren't good, in fact, they were commonly known as "the Bay Area's best unsigned metal band". It was more due to mere bad luck. And maybe 'cause their music crossed too many genre lines, from NWOBHM power, to party time LA pop metal, to progressive wank, to speed metal tech. Who knows. But it's cool that they got back together, got back in the studio, and FINALLY have released their debut album, via the Rockadrome label (who've been blessing us with some awesome proto-metal reissues lately, you should recall). Anyone who digs '80s metal ought to check this out. There's certainly plenty of shred. And don't worry, most of these songs are ones demoed back in the day thus and have that "only in the '80s" authenticity to 'em, although they're newly recorded.
Criticisms? Well, Anvil Chorus do have a tendency to a bit of cheesiness, mainly due to overuse of keyboards, that's their weak spot taste-wise. And they've probably only grown in "adulthood", towards such prog-metal pitfalls, also evinced by the awful album cover. Cheesy, yeah. Still, even their cheese can be kinda enjoyable, so this is just a warning to those who can't handle a whiff of it. Their song "European" for instance, might be too poppy for some, but it's ultimately pretty good, a classy track, though we prefer it when they're killing us with the equally classy "Deadly Weapons"! Anyway, among the 12 songs here there's lots to make folks into heavy, riffy, rippin' bands like Riot, Armored Saint, and Metal Church happy... along with pleasing the Queensryche fans that their cheesier prog side indulges. So check it out, it's some Bay Area heavy metal history come back to life (they even played a show the other night!). Oh, and making amends for the cover art, the cd booklet includes lyrics, vintage photos of the band in action in the '80s, and a band history/appreciation by local metal celeb Ron Quintana.
We've carried a 7" by this one man band (Mr. Alex Stimmel formerly of Court & Spark) for about a year, and we've been wonderin' when he was gonna grace our ears with more 'Hymns. Well, that time is now. Trowel And Era is his debut full length filled with music quite fitting for overcast (but not gloomy!), laidback afternoons. It's considerably more polished and expansive than the pair of intimate, low-key songs on the introductory single.
Electric guitars slink like a cat stretching its limbs after stirring from a nap. An assortment of other stringed instruments are delicately plucked and strummed. The inclusion of soft glockenspiel, flute, kalimba, and autoharp glisten up the impressive psych-folk proceedings. The second song actually brought to mind Pink Floyd at a Ren Faire (particularly in the vocal department), and as the album progresses those visions get even more vividly so.
Psst, the song "The Marigold" from the above mentioned 7"s b-side makes a reappearance here.
SF's Applesaucer rev up their popmobile, and cruise along with a confident bounce and energy akin to early Weezer, but with also a bit of '70s balladry thrown into the mix. Slightly quirky, well-crafted retro power pop with bright vocal harmonies, punchy drumming, and full'n'feisty guitar and keyboard interplay.
Whoahh man. San Francisco's own Appreciation is a writhing force in belted sheets, surrounded by mountainous abstractions and shrouded in fog! Now, usually with a band like this, their involved and award-winning art-school-typisch live show would totally rule over any recording. BUT NO. Healing The Father Wound is awesome!!! Partially self-recorded at a band member's house, partially at Louder Studio by engineer Tim Green (The Fucking Champs), this four song ep cd-r is their totally freaked-out psychedelic, metallic, noisy space-jam... and if you've never seen/heard 'em before, it's not what you think. It's more kid in under-roos with a sheet tied around his head, light saber in hand than anything more organized or fully constructed n' polished. But anyway, yeah -- it's all self-made and awesome sounding! That said, we must gush a tiny bit about this cd for one more reason: the packaging is all hand-made featuring artwork by the band's drummer, Bert Bergen, who silkscreened and sewed each cd sleeve by hand!! And if you have the chance to see them live, the experience is equally as rewarding as this recording. I mean, who wants to just go see a stilted band stand up on stage playing their "songs", anyway? A weird band that crosses the trying-to-be-weird barrier into genuine weirdness, where so many others have failed. Seriously, go see 'em live sometime, and tell us that hand painted volcano stage sets and the fact that no one in the band will ever rise above a crouch the whole time they're playing isn't amazing.
As mentioned on last Friday's in-betweener, for this year's Record Store Day, we finally got around to producing some aQuarius tote bags! People are always asking, and it's the eco-friendly thing to do, hope you like 'em.
It's a black bag, with metallic silver print, featuring a brand new, elaborately 'black metal' styled aQuarius Records logo, done by "the Lord of the Logos" himself, the very talented (and super nice) Christophe Szpajdel. He did Emperor's logo, among many others. He's the man. It's a nice lookin' logo, kind of black metal meets art nouveau. These 14 1/2" x 16" bags, with securely cross-stitched straps, are big enough to hold a bunch of lps (like, up a dozen single lps).
