THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
NOW ON CLEAR VINYL! When the first pressing of vinyl sold out, Holy Mountain decided to repress on clear wax. Nice. Here's our review of the music, which remains available on cd too:
Have you been missing Sleep? No, not your forty winks, we mean the mighty stoner metal behemoth that was San Jose's Sabbath n' sweet leaf worshippers Sleep. The endlessly repetitive riffs, the swinging molasses sludge jams, the massive, mantric starscapes of drugged-out space rock drone and dirge? Yeah, we've been missing Sleep too. They broke up after their magnum opus, the one-hour/one-song album Jerusalem (aka Dopesmoker), members eventally resurfacing in The Sabians and High On Fire. And now Om, the closest thing to the Jerusalem of olde! So if High On Fire's loud and speedy Motorheaded heaviness hasn't quite been giving you that same Sleepy feeling, then here's -another- post-Sleep outfit that might just do the trick.
First get rid of the guitars ('cause this is just Sleep's rhythm section, bassist Al Cisneros and drummer Chris Hakius). All they really need is a drum kit, a bass guitar and about 10,000 watts of amplification. Then set the controls for the heart of the sun, and ride all the way there seemingly on a single churning, hypnotic mesmerizing riff, stretched over three long tracks. A super distorted, fuzzed out magic carpet ride into oblivion. The main difference between Sleep and Om (besides the lack of guitar) are the vocals by Al Cisneros. Lots of vocals. And not screaming or growly, we're talking clean, chanting, trance-like vocals, WAY up in the mix. Well, they do sound a bit like the singing in Sleep, just way more prominent. It may be the single thing that keeps folks from getting into Om. But the vocals definitely grow on you, and the laconic sort of slurry sing song-y delivery just further enhances Om's druggy mesmerism. Al's stiffly delivered, endless nasal incantations are in fact now being imitated by the staffers here at Aquarius in our everyday conversations. They definitely give the whole thing a definite Hawkwind / Pink Floyd vibe, which is a VERY good thing. This is most definitely not 'metal', although metalheads will probably dig it. Electric Wizard fans especially! This is relentlessly riff heavy, ultra repetitive, simple, spaced out, hippy drug rock of the highest order. Musically it almost sounds like a Lightning Bolt record played at 16rpm, that effortless bass / drum interplay slowed down to a loping lumber, a slow motion slither, a creepy crawl. Head nodding music for head bangers. A swirling, fuzzy, spacy, mesmerizing, drone rock trip! No wonder ol' Julian Cope wrote it up as a record of the month on his great Head Heritage website...
Creeper Lagoon fans can take some comfort that after a brief break, former singer guitarist Ian Sefchick of their fave band has gone on to make more poppy goodness in On The Speakers. Following a similar path to that of his former band in more ways than one, Sefchick's new combo released this EP on the lil' indie label 17 Reasons last year only to have it re-released shortly thereafter on major label Universal. Not surprisingly, On The Speakers sound bears more than a striking resemblance to the Creeper Lagoon template of catchy clever guitar indie rock. Each of these six songs come complete with soaring choruses, boyish vocals, winking lyrics and swelling teen movie soundtrack fuzzy distorted guitars.
Oakland's Once And Future Band, featuring among their ranks guitarist Eli Eckert (ex-Drunkhorse) and keyboardist/vocalist Joel Robinow (ex-Howlin' Rain), have become minor sensations in the local scene, with friends of ours like Phil Manley (Trans Am, Life Coach), singing their praises. And having heard this record, and also having seen 'em live, we can see why - musically, they're REALLY GOOD, and they have to be, 'cause their chosen style - super '70s soundin' laid back groovy pop prog jazz fusion (!!!) is all about chops, after all. And they have 'em. Chops, chops, chops - more chops than a kung-fu flick. But, also due to their chosen style, we can see how one -could- have a differing opinion about 'em. Depends on your taste/tolerance for certain aspects of '70s kitsch. What we mean, is, ok, virtuosic '70s keyboard prog, yeah, we like, a lot actually, maybe more than we should (ELP! ELP!). So go whole hog on that, ok. Er, but then, the more yacht-y, Steely Dan-ish side of Once And Future Band, well, is it ironic? Is it NOT ironic? We suppose it doesn't matter, if you like Steely Dan, which you certainly can. Still, it's funny how these guys are SO perfect at every detail of what they're doing that it comes off a bit like historical reenactment. That's not a criticism - in fact, it might be a compliment. A matter of perspective. We never complain about bands that sound like Goblin, after all, and parts here do. A band like these guys, who also have parts that sound like Caravan, and parts that sound like Return To Forever, is perhaps just braver and bolder (and better?) than most.
Anyway, Brain, their 24 minute mini-album debut, is what they call "a four-song suite of soaring psychic jazz and Rundgrensque pop" and well that does describe it pretty well, leaving aside the question of just what is 'psychic jazz'. Something to do with their collective chops perhaps. But Brain is about more than chops, melody is big too. The songs and the singing strongly support the pop side, and all in all, it's pretty dang impressive - and quite enjoyable, if you like listening to music now that, when very similar music was made in the '70s, was more or less the reason punk rock happened (in reaction to it). Let the pendulum swing back!!
140 gram vinyl, gatefold sleeve, download included.
The Once And Future Herds brings together two overlapping Jewelled Antler duos: The Blithe Sons (Glenn Donaldson and Loren Chasse) and the Skygreen Leopards (Glenn Donaldson and Donovan Quinn). The material on this five song, 18-minute lil' 3" cd-r released by our friends PseudoArcana in New Zealand finds Glenn, Loren and Donovan relaxing back at the ranch (literally, this was recorded on a hillside out at Borges Ranch State Park) after a hard day of wrangling field recordings. As Jewelled Antler efforts go, this leans in a country-folk direction, more strummy and structured than is sometimes the case, with guit-fiddle to the fore and vocals that, at times, remind us of a muffled, mumbled Devendra Banhart. But all the weird, textural nature ambience you'd expect is also fully in the mix. It's really really nice and all you Jewelled Antler fanatics need to jump on it now, as we only have a dozen in stock of this limited release.
Although this cd is credited to the individual talents of three artists -- Colophon aka Jefre Cantu of Tarentel, the guitar and synthesizer duo 1 Mile North and The Wind-Up Bird aka multi-instrumentalist Joe Grimm -- you really can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Indeed, Conduction. Convection. Radiation. as a whole is a cohesive, near-seamless work. Very spacious, drifting and atmospheric, the first three tracks are by 1 Mile North, and the following three are by Colophon. Gauzy drones cloud the skies with occasional austere guitar melodies coming in and out of focus. The latter four tracks are by The Wind-Up Bird and they're crafted from delicate elements such as violin strings that softly wheeze, and piano keys that sound as if they're being struck as if by random raindrops. Beautiful and haunting.
Does this One Umbrella possess special powers a la Mary Poppins? Not quite sure, but we can say that they are a duo from Austin, TX whose members have suitably unconventional, enchanting names Quebron and Novella, and whose soundscapes just might set you adrift. Their 23 minute long debut floats in from the outer space wing of the new SF label Tell-All Records. Layers of drones ebb and flow, while gentle and not so gentle digital glitches, pulses and hisses provide the more insistent elements along with an occasional unexpected pretty piano melodic line. Sooo dreamy.
Sometimes you can tell what you're gonna get just by an album cover. Rarely is that more true than with metal records, and the stern looking bearded dude with the winged helmet on the cover of I: Redbad is a pretty good indication of what lies inside - furious, overblown pagan black metal that buzzes and rages like a fucking war. Ophidian Forest is a trio with members stationed in the Netherlands, Croatia, and right here in San Francisco - imagine that. They conceive their music through file swapping online, and the liner notes explain that the three band members have never communicated through phone and wouldn't even recognize each other in person. So how are the results so amazing? Dark forces are surely at work with this one, not only is the music way more "natural" (not to mention totally awesome) than you might expect from such a lack of formal communication, but it may even work in the group's favor; with nothing to focus on except the creation of thrashing metallic glory with an extra heaping of mythological nihilism, the project has taken on a greater meaning than if it would have been defined in the traditional sense of what a band should be. Obviously these three are connected on some higher plane in the realm of black metal, because I: Redbad is a perfectly realized vision, a take no prisoners onslaught of filth and transcendental power. It's also a well thought out concept record focusing on the life and times of the Frisian King Redbad (c. 680-719), who in true metal fashion resisted the Christian onslaught of the Merovingian dynasty while maintaining the pagan ways of his people, who lived near the North Sea extending along the borders of the Netherlands, Germany, and Denmark.
But this is hardly just for you history buffs out there. The guitars remain firmly in the red, the drums keep things blasting relentlessly, and the atmospheric keyboards add a nice touch of otherworldly ambience. And then of course, you get the singer's hateful, distorted screeches, adding a nice witchy element to the affair. Things are as filthy as you could hope for in a metal band, but the songs are also so punky and catchy that you might be surprised to find these sticking in your head for quite some time. To top things off, the band members all look like nefarious forest dwelling wizards, which certainly adds to the mystical vibe they have effortlessly obtained. One can only hope these guys keep up with the collaborations, because this stuff definitely covers everything we love about our black metal.
Brand new split from these two black metal outfits. There's the intercontinental trio Ophidian Forest, who have gotten much love on the aQ list in the past, one third of which is in fact the man behind eco-terrorist drums-and-dulcimer black metal one man band Botanist, who are teamed up with a San Jose one man band called Haeresiarchs Of Dis, who we've yet to review on the our list, but who some aQ metalheads have dug for a while.
The split, titled Darkest Origins, is in fact, just that, early material by both bands, unreleased until now, which as you might have guessed means more raw and lo-fi, which is just fine with us. Ophidian Forest are up first, and while the production is a bit more rough, their sound seemed to be already essentially fully formed, classic almost traditional black metal, shot through with some weird woozy melodies, the occasional almost carnivalesque keyboard, the vocals so raw and raspy, they sound like blast of staticky hiss, the overall sound washed out and a bit blurry, but in a way that really suits the sound, giving everything a tranced out vibe. OF dip often into a sound more midtempo and atmospheric, especially on the final track, which has a melody in the background that almost sounds like a Christmas carol, but when wedded to the shriek and blast, the buzz and howl, it pushes the sound toward something approaching almost choral, take the drums and vokills away and we'd have some seriously blissed out gauzy ambience, but fused to the black buzz, it becomes something pretty cool and weird.
From what we'd heard of Haeresiarchs of Dis in the past, his sound was a furious unrelenting, almost dizzying onslaught of lightning fast black buzz, furious and frantic and frenetic, a relentless blasting fury, shot through with all manner of warped melody, and constantly shifting texture, super dynamic, peppered with swaths of swirling synth, and some seriously insane vokills. And all of that is definitely evident here, although again, in a slightly more lo-fi version, with HoD slowing things down now and again, for some serious chugging, and more punkish pound, the vocals augmented by strange samples, the whole thing laced with some surprisingly melodic classic metal sounding melodies, not to mention the occasional bit of piano driven atmospheric ambience, or psychedelic swirl, or creepy static drenched Caretaker like drift, but all of that weirdness if woven into the overall blackened buzz.
SF's Oranger continue to spread the love around, dishing out their generous offerings of sunbeam-bright tunes on a different label each time. Here, they've popped up on Eenie Meenie Records. Following up last year's 2cd Shutdown The Sun on Jackpine Records, New Comes And Goes' buoyant baker's dozen is once again sure to please Oranger's fans as well as those of fellow West Coast noise-poppers The Posies and Beulah. More polished, but still retaining a bit of the rough-around-the-edges, mischievous charm that characterised Shutdown and the album that came before it Quietvibrationland (released in 2000 on former Pavementer Scott Kannberg's label Amazing Grease). The album runs the gamut from bubblegum heights to more 'serious' mid-tempo downers, and we have to say that we do prefer the songs on which the band keep the mood upbeat and the energy high. That's when they shine the brightest (at least we think so). A side note: the album cover and font choice seem a little incongruous though, bringing to mind wee hours Euro dance punk festivities rather than a California beach-destined convertible on a scorchin' summer afternoon (which is what we associate this band's music with).
With the final shows of popsters Beulah looming on the horizon, waste no time wonderin' who's gonna slip their tootsies into their fine shoes and be the new Cinderella of the Bay Area pop ball. 'Cause while Beulah were soaking up a good deal of the city's pop spotlight over the past few years, their pop brethren Oranger were quietly honing their songcraft. The results? A shining album reminiscent of the great pop of the Posies, Olivia Tremor Control, Apples In Stereo, Beulah and yes of course the Beatles and Beach Boys. On this new cd (that comes with bonus disc of fine rare goodies!), Oranger have really come into their own, revealing an impressive range -- able to funk it up, lounge it down or twang it all around, and still maintain their shiny playful pop foundations. Heaps of delightful vocal harmonies, infectious hooks and fully fleshed out arrangements.
4 local guys have fun messin' with Henry Mancini. Ralph Carney. Joe Gore. Matt Brubeck and Scott Amendola. "Eccentric." "Quirky."
Second album from local band featuring experimental reeds/horn player Ralph Carney and lauded guitarist Joe Gore, among others. "Adrenaline-fueled far-out ride through '60s and '70s film soundtracks and radically reinterpreted standards."
Once again, not to be confused with the old sceamo band THE Orchid, but yes very much to be confused with BLACK SABBATH, that's their schtick as it were, this Bay Area based doom metal act now offering up their debut full-length album after a four-song ep that we considered almost a guilty pleasure because of how much Orchid sounded utterly, EXACTLY like Black Sabbath. That's what they do, and they do it damn well. There's been other bands who emulate the Sabs, of course, that's the whole "doom metal" genre really, but Orchid sound more like Sabbath than even, say, Iron Man, sHeavy, or Sleep on Sleep's Holy Mountain!
The vocalist's version of Ozzy, though, is maybe more of a malevolent one, he comes off like Ozzy with a grimacing, evil edge. Riff wise, it's Iommi all the way. Really, every moment here sounds like it's been lifted of an old Sabbath lp, but rearranged/rewritten into Orchid's all "new" Sabbath songs. They can't complain about us saying that, that's obviously their intention, to recreate the Sabbath vibe circa 1970-73 as closely as they can, becoming Earthly vessels of sheer Sabbathiness, originality be damned. "Black Funeral" here for instance, seems to channel Sabbath's "Hand Of Doom"... but without quite (quite) crossing the line into outright plagiarism. Pretty much all the other songs on Capricorn can also be mapped to their vintage Sabbath templates, it's almost like you're listening to an alternate universe Sabbath album that never existed.
All right, so we've established that it would be impossible to write a review of Orchid's album without referencing Black Sabbath. What else is there to say? The musicianship is excellent, the production heavy and '70s sounding, with psychedelic synth embellishment and other droning eerie atmospheres (see "Planet Caravan", we mean "Albatross") - and of course catchy riffage that rocks mightily when the band is going full-bore, as on "Eyes Behind The Wall" and "Down Into The Earth" among others. There's absolutely no duds among the nine songs here, we're digging 'em all, and we think all fans of heavy retro occult metal like Blood Ceremony and Witchcraft will likely enjoy these too... as well as, of course, Sabbath fans, especially if you've worn out your actual Sabbath records and want a fresh dose.
The Church Within has done this up in super-deluxe packaging - a heavy duty four-panel gatefold sleeve, adorned with art painted by Orchid's singer. We hear rumors of an even fancier, but way more expensive, limited leather bound book version, but this will do for us! Nice.
The Decibel magazine review of this, as if rising to some self-imposed challenge, did not once mention Black Sabbath, somehow. We can't do that. Orchid sound like Black Sabbath, to a ridiculously plagiaristic extent. There's other Sabbath clones out there of course but these guys maybe go a little too far. They're good at it, though, so this new album is once again a guilty pleasure. But we do have to call BS on the idea that Orchid is anything more than a Sabbath rip off. Rock and roll is built on rip off tho, so we're not saying that's necessarily a bad thing. But if they ever did an album that sounded like Sabbath without actually using actual Sabbath riffs and whatnot we've be pleased and impressed.
Uh, can you say Black Sabbath? 'Cause that's about EXACTLY what this new band from San Francisco sounds like, same vocals, same chugging sludgy riffs, same swinging groove, same apocalyptic hippie vibe, even moreso than other bands also on The Church Within label that admittedly have Black Sabbath as a major influence (Lord Vicar, Lord Of The Grave, Seamount...). Courting confusion with the screamo punk band Orchid, they're naturally named after a Black Sabbath song (amusingly, one of those acoustic-y guitar solo numbers Tony Iommi liked to do now and then amidst all the heaviness, "Orchid" appearing on Master Of Reality). You don't get "Fluff" like that here, though, it's all about the heaviness and rockin' doominess. And it IS super heavy, and super Sabbathy, make no mistake. Maybe TOO Sabbathy... They've got mega riffs that Iommi might come asking for back someday, those unmistakable incantatory Ozzyish vocals, and an authentically Sabbathy sounding production, all of which puts 'em in the same camp as Sabbath worshippers Sleep (circa their Holy Mountain album), sHeavy, Iron Man, etc. We're reminded of Trouble too, though they were never quite such copyists. So, not too many points for originality, none at all really, but plenty for verisimilitude. And, we can't help it, we're sorta suckers for this, being the huge Black Sabbath fans we are, this scratches that itch, y'know?
So, this ep from Orchid comprises four songs you could throw on after listening to Vol. 4 or Sabotage and, if you squint your ears a bit, consider hitherto unreleased Black Sabbath "bonus tracks" (which all Sabbath lovers know are in very short supply). Of course we'd be even more impressed with 'em if they'd somehow managed to write truly 100 percent NEW songs as good as Sabbath's, rather than what's closer to pastiche, but that's easier said than done, and it's still a fun listen if you want to hear a shockingly similar Sabbath sound-alike, fun too trying trying to figure out which specific Sabbath album/song each Orchid song is emulating, which isn't too difficult really... "Into The Sun", despite its "Into The Void" like title, reminds us more of "Symptom Of The Universe". "Eastern Woman" has a Technical Ecstasy feel, we think, while "Son Of Misery" sounds more like the first album Sabbath. And "No One Makes A Sound" is primarily in the style of stuff on the Sabbath Bloody Sabbath LP, with a bit of an "Iron Man" interlude in it too. You won't believe it's NOT Sabbath, that should be their slogan.
We will say, though, that we hope they add a little more of their own flavor in the future, 'cause when we saw 'em live the other day (opening for the Pentagram/Ludicra/Slough Feg show) they seemed a bit... well there's no nice way to put it... like posers. They had the '70s look, the vintage gear (well except the bassist wasn't playing a Rickenbacker for some reason, WTF dude, get with the program, what would Geezer think?), it all seemed a bit too calculated, not really "real" enough, and without anything of their OWN in the mix it they might as well have just played actual Sabbath covers, rather than the cleverly rewritten Sabbath songs it appeared they were playing. That said, listening at home, we can't help but enjoy this ep quite a bit, the worshipful spirit of the thing comes across better here somehow! Like we said a while back in our WhiteBuzz review, sometimes you want more of a certain band's sound, and if another band can channel it too, let 'em! And we ALWAYS want more Sabbath... Orchid obviously feel the same way.
By the way, it's funny that we originally found out about these guys 'cause they're on a cool German label that we order from, even though they're a local band!
Finally available on cd, the previously vinyl-only debut lp from former Harry Pussy guitarist Bill Orcutt. And as we mentioned in our review of the lp, don't be expecting a blown out noise record, instead, this is solo guitar, Orcutt's take on Fahey, although his take is decidedly more twisted and chaotic and idiosyncratic and NOISY. The cd version features a bunch of bonus tracks not on the original vinyl (but more on those later)...
When we first got the lp in, we couldn't keep it in stock, we kept having to postpone reviewing it in fact, 'cause every time a new list Friday would roll around, we'd discover that we had sold out again and would have to wait for Orcutt to drop off more records, when the same thing would happen again. We finally got enough to list and review and they blew out of here, and again, we'd sell 'em as fast as we could get 'em in, until finally there were no more to be had.
Thankfully the cd version is less limited and should ne a wee bit more available. But now you're probably asking yourself, what's so great about this, why have they been flying out of here? Maybe it's 'cause this was picked by the editors of The Wire as number 3 in their top 50 albums of 2009. Or maybe 'cause so many AQ customers have an unhealthy obsession with the seminal underground '90s no wavey noise rock outfit that Orcutt used to abuse his guitar in, the notorious Harry Pussy. But this is pretty far from the skronk and spazz of HP. Well, it's still noisy in its way, but what Orcutt is playing here on this solo guitar album is "the blues". In an "American (very) Primitive" style. That's right, it's kinda the Harry Pussy version of John Fahey or something. Totally tangled, out there improvs from a guy who's really really feeling it, you can tell.
His steel string acoustic guitar is only strung with four strings (missing the two in the middle, apparently, who needs 'em) and it's recorded up close and personal, played in a choppily percussive, and definitely emotive way. Appalachian angst that's sometimes stark, the background hum or tape hiss somehow somber, but mostly crowded with energetic bluesy bursts of notes spilling all over themselves, punctuated by occasional yelps and hollers as the spirit moves him. Imagine an agitated, ADD old timey outsider artist on Mississippi, also part Tetuzi Akiyama, part Jandek...
Sure, there's some folks who might bring out the hoary old argument that "I could play like that too". But they didn't, and Orcutt did, and we're digging it! Definitely for fans of avant electric guitar freakouts - even though this is all-acoustic!
The cd version tacks on six bonus tracks, two from a 7" single we never even saw (or heard) and 4 unreleased tracks exclusive to this release, and if anything, the extra tracks are alternatingly more melodic and pretty, more intense and frenzied, but they all sound cut from the same fucked up, outsider psychedelic guitar freakout cloth. So awesome!
Huzzah! The former guitarist for '90s underground noiseniks Harry Pussy is back with a 2nd full length solo lp, his guitar strings once again all in a tangle - maybe six of 'em, but probably less, last we checked he had dispensed with the A and D strings, 'cause he plays a (repaired) broken-necked vintage acoustic that couldn't take the strain. Of course, the way he plays it, we'd think it wouldn't be safe with even one string...
2009's critically acclaimed A New Way To Pay Old Debts was crazy popular, a proverbial hotcake of a seller here, and fans of that record won't be disappointed with this equally emotive follow-up. Wild Bill brings the urgent, alien Appalachia, this album a noisy-as-acoustic-can-be "blues" freakout that's, as we've said before, both frantic -and- focused. Chaotic, tumbling, yet trance-inducing in its intricate intensity. There's also some calmer respites from his sturm-und-drang (strum-and-dang?), like the stark, hushed "Heaven Is Closed To Me Now".
Orcutt throws in some wordless vocalizations here and there, getting properly glossolalic at times, which only adds to the "outsidery-ness" of the proceedings - and also conveys even more authentic feeling. This is one dramatic, raw, real record; while this might be what we like to call "fuckery", he's not fucking around. Fans of such folks as Japan's Kan Mikami and Tetuzi Akiyama, Jandek, and of course spiritual "American Primitive" mentor John Fahey (imagine John Fahey meets Derek Bailey!) should find this speaks to them in a language that can't be faked. And non-fans, or not-yet-fans? Well at first blanch you might find this tough going, but stick with it and see if it doesn't stir something in your soul.
Currently gatefold vinyl-only, compact disc version to follow in a few weeks. And by the way, nice Stevie Ray Vaughan pick collection on the cover! Rolling in his grave, no doubt...
Avant guitar slinger Bill Orcutt, formerly of legendary noise terrorists Harry Pussy, returns with another lp-only offering, a starkly handsome one sided, one song record on crystal clear vinyl, documenting a performance from his recent tour of New Zealand. Anyone who heard Orcutt's limited (and sadly out of print) A New Way to Pay Old Debts lp can look forward to another slab of atonal neo blues performed in a frantic but highly focused way on a battered old acoustic with only 4 strings. Orcutt's runs up the fretboard also come off a bit like strange ragas as the strings resonate and sustain almost like a sitar at times. Though performed in front of an audience, there is a spaciousness to the recording that takes on almost cosmic proportions and works perfectly with Orcutt's guitar work, which sounds huge and menacing but also strangely melodic. Way Down South takes on a weird trancey quality, and one can only assume that Orcutt was definitely "in the moment" here. But unlike so many bands and solo artists now, who rely extensively on loops, pedals, and all kinds of electronic fuckery, this shit is stripped to its essentials - I mean, can you really get more basic than an acoustic guitar? - and ably performed by a guy who can simply shred balls. Way recommended, and not surprisingly, limited to 300 copies!
Debut blast of doom-ed orthodox blackness from this SF horde, a furious, and epic squall of frenzied guitars and furiously blasting drums, of demonic vokills, soaring melodies and grim ambience. This is another one of those records that ditches all of the experimentalism and avant-this and post-that of much of the metal we dig, and still pushes all of our buttons, offering up something true and pure, something beholden to the classics for sure, but with a sound that takes those varied influences and melds them into something pretty fantastic, moody and emotive, passionate and majestic, the sort of creeping blackened doom and depressive black buzz that we never get sick off, the songs slipping easily from frantic and furious, to lumbering and anguished, usually in the same song. Plaintive mournful melodies, draped over doomic dirges, drift right into explosive blasts of black buzz, inexorably linking the two. The fact that these guys are equally adept at both, only helps seal the deal. The sound too is a big part of it, managing to sound both raw and primitive, lush and expansive, infusing the brittle buzz of black metal with some serious doomic heft, and shading that melancholic doom with swaths of dark black miserablism. And beyond that, these guys can actually write a song, with many of the melodies here, the sort that end up stuck in your head for days. All of the songs here are pretty great, but the closer, the epic 12+ minute "By His Unflinching Hand", might be the best of the bunch, certainly the most unique, ditching much of the blackness in exchange for something moodier and more epic, the song lopes and meanders, the guitars unfurling darkly, the melodies mournful and melancholy, strip away the vocals and you'd be in serious Neurosis / Isis / Godspeed territory, a smoldering slowbuild epic of the highest order, one that creeps and lumbers, offers up some blackened skitter, before a cool super dynamic, stop/start passage, that we wish would have gone on WAY longer, and which leads into the haunting coda, all whipping winds and acoustic guitar, bleak and somber and the perfect finish to a pretty fantastic record.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Dan Wu's personal musings on Asian American-ness filtered through media, movies, and music. Film, music, and periodical reviews (including a full page on Genghis Blues), plus an interview with AQ's very own Windy Chien and also Mike Park of Skankin Pickle/Asian Man Records.
After the sprawling 4lp Lucifer Rising Suite box set on Ajna reviewed here a while back, comes yet another awesome archival treasure trove of psychedelic sounds from Bobby Beausoleil, this one focused on demos and unreleased recordings from his Orkustra, a sort of Eastern style psychedelic jazz group he started after a brief stint in an early incarnation of Love with Arthur Lee.
Beausoleil was a friend and one time bandmate of Manson (not a member of the Manson family as is commonly thought), and is currently incarcerated, not for the 'Manson Murders' though, he was in fact arrested 3 days before that infamous killing spree for killing Gary Hinman after a botched drug sale. He spent time on Death Row but his sentence was eventually commuted to life in prison, which is where he has spent the last 40 years. Much of that making music.
The Orkustra however came well before, when Beausoleil was just a young hippie who headed to California looking for love and drugs and sex, and who discovered music as a gateway to another plane, to spiritual salvation.
The Orkustra never released a proper record, so this 2lp collects many of the demos and rehearsals, most unreleased, and thus the sound quality varies, the record opener, "Bousaki Blues Experiment" features lots of drop outs where the tape had obviously been damaged, but somehow that only adds to the mood and mysticism of the recording. That track already sounds a bit like a spacier, druggier Dirty Three, but with the strange garbled bits of tape damage, it sounds like some unearthed chunk of sonic mystery. The sound of the Orkustra is actually quite varied, from gamelan like grooves, to propulsive psychedelic rock, to tripped out fusiony free jazz, a definite Eastern vibe running through much of the music. "Flash Gordon" sounds almost big band, but with strange buzzing melodies, and woozy electric guitars. "Punjab's Barber" sounds like it could have been plucked off of some Sublime Frequencies compilation, and in fact, many of the tracks here, due in part to the songs, but also the recordings, sound like genuine artifacts of lost world music. "Freeform Improvisation (While Watching An Experimental Underground Film" is a murky muddy, spaced out krautrock workout, that sounds like it could just as soon be some current band getting all retro and lo-fi. Woozy, mesmerizing, drone-y, space-y and totally psychedelic. The literally titled "Flute Player Audition" has the titular flutist adding flurries and trills to the bands, warm and languorous garage groove. The record finishes with a practice version of "Gypsy Odyssey", a sprawling 12 minutes slow burning raga infused drone jam, murky and lo-fi, the bass throbbing and pulsing, the guitars unfurled in sheets of blurred sound that slowly coalesce into riffs, plenty of buzz and rumble and in-the-red blown out psychedelic blur, a space jam, that most bands today would kill to replicate.
Incredible stuff. And as with all Mexican Summer stuff, they pull out all the stops, gorgeous thick full color gatefold jacket, thick thick vinyl, download card, it is on the pricey side, as seems to be the case with Mexican Summer releases, but in this instance, it definitely seems worth it. LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. Each one hand numbered.
SF sampling keyboard improviser and composer Ostertag's new, noisy solo disc (volume one).
The third installment in Ostertag's "Say No More" series, where he takes the improvisations of players like Mark Dresser (bass), Gerry Hemingway (drums), Phil Minton (voice), and computer-samples them into complex compositions that they then must learn and play. With this release, he has constructed new sampling compositions out of the live results of the last go-round! Both interesting and insane stuff.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
S.F. samplerist Ostertag & Japanese turntable wizard Otomo (known for their live performances with Mr. Bungle's Mike Patton as the trio "House of Discipline") take the music of "parents" Chris Cutler, Yagi Michiyo, and Herb Robertson and create "twins": diverse sampled progeny from the same source. An interesting study in nature vs. nurture!
We've got two fine releases from Our Lady Of The Highway -- this self-released cdr of their 2006 album Beauty Won't Save Us This Year and the new Fogsnob Records released full length Kill You With Numbers! Both were previously available directly from the band via a special subscription deal, but we've got a handful here for you in case you missed out.
For those of you unfamiliar with this SF band's sound... it's very reminiscent of nineties college rock of the country tinged variety. Y'know, early Built To Spill, Uncle Tupelo, The Weakerthans -- a sound for which we definitely have a soft spot! So much so, that when it's playing in the store staffers and customers alike all ask "Oooh, what's this? What's this?" OLOTH strike a balance of solid heft, sensitive guy emotiveness, yearningly heartfelt lyrics, and spacey guitar dissonance with some tasty nuanced drumming to boot. Always a good listen.
We've got two fine releases from Our Lady Of The Highway -- this new Fogsnob Records released full length and their self-released cdr of their 2006 album Beauty Won't Save Us This Year! Both were previously available directly from the band via a special subscription deal, but we've got a handful here for you in case you missed out.
For those of you unfamiliar with this SF band's sound... it's very reminiscent of nineties college rock of the country tinged variety. Y'know, early Built To Spill, Uncle Tupelo, The Weakerthans -- a sound for which we definitely have a soft spot! So much so, that when it's playing in the store staffers and customers alike all ask "Oooh, what's this? What's this?" OLOTH strike a balance of solid heft, sensitive guy emotiveness, yearningly heartfelt lyrics, and spacey guitar dissonance with some tasty nuanced drumming to boot. Always a good listen.
Another Of, or rather, Ov album from AQ fave/friend Loren Chasse, known to most of you as one of main movers in the Jewelled Antler cd-r psych folk scene. His solo project Of has turned into Ov now that he's been joined by his wife, who is also probably known to a lot of you as Christine, the person in charge of all the mailorder shenanigans here at Aquarius! Small world, eh? She also has long-time Jewelled Antler credentials, was formerly a member of Skygreen Leopards, and currently jams with Whysp. And like we said in our review of the debut Ov cd-r that came out on Jewelled Antler last year, if you're a mailorder customer it couldn't hurt to make her happy by ordering one of these... just kidding, really she's very professional. But, we DO recommend it anyway to all you folks into droning, drifting, field recording/psych/improv stuff in the Jewelled Antler vein, of course. Noctilucent Valleys carries on the slowly-moving kinetic sculpture sound of its predecessor The Moon Is Down, sleepy, darkly dreamy, glimmering (that's the radiated, glow-in-the-dark "noctilucent" part) and chiming and rumbling. Some moments achieve a disorienting dissonance that brings to mind some old Simon Wickham-Smith / Richard Youngs collaborations... which one of this couple gets to be RY and which is SW-S we wonder? Or maybe we shouldn't. And as well, Loren Chasse admits to indulging in some heavy Fripp/Eno worship here, and indeed we can hear the entrancement of Evening Star as filtered through the lo-fi, home-recorded, Jewelled Antler aesthetic on some of these nine tracks... so nice, if you're in the mood for these moody abstract glacial instrumental (what instruments??) lullabies. Kudos to Soft Abuse for putting this out (so it didn't have to be a cd-r like the debut) but we must make one minor complaint: the one page cd "booklet" (not a booklet), though adorned with nice artwork, is just a bit flimsy, y'know. Whereas this music is much more substantial in nature.
This is a monumental occasion, the return of Jewelled Antler, after a seriously lengthy hiatus. This is the first Jewelled Antler cd since the last Of record, The Quartz Pond, way back at the beginning of 2005. It also marks the debut of newly married duo Ov, which just so happens to be sound artist Loren Chasse (Thuja, Blithe Sons, Child Readers, Coelacanth, Of, etc.) , and our very own Christine Boepple (Whysp, Skygreen Leopards Skyband, Kyrgyz, etc.). You know that whole 'beautiful music together' thing, but wow is that the case with The Moon Is Down. The first two tracks are lengthy abstract soundscapes of bells and chimes and gongs and percussion. The amazing thing is that the final result doesn't necessarily sound all that percussive, instead Chasse and Boepple manage to smooth the sounds into a dreamy billowy fog, with tinkling bells, reverberating chimes, it's like floating through a slowed down sculpture garden, huge pieces of metal slowly swinging, and gently rubbing up against each other, sending soft ringing tones to float softly across the gauzy landscape like dry leaves on a summer breeze, underpinned by slow low end pulses, smears of glistening shimmer and a constellation of glimmering tinkles. There are lilting guitars too, but plucked and strummed so sparely, they almost just sound like more chimes.
The record shifts gears after that, drifting from one dreamlike sound to another, a rich and exotic tribal landscape, huge swells of crystalline fuzz beneath fluttering flute melodies, primitive shakers and hand drums, and what sounds like forest sounds, drifting in and out of the mix, a world of alien lullabies, super distorted melodies over warm warbling woodwinds and textural percussion that sounds more like the crinkle of plastic, a gentle stream of fuzzy organ, buzzing harmonica, plink plonk guitar melody, pocket full of coins jangle, all bathed in a soft focus shimmer and some Eno-esque melodic ambience constructed from a dense assemblage of notes and tones, rich and oversaturated with tonal color, delicate minimal guitar strum and a mesmerizingly reedy hypnotic high end flute melody hovering in the background.
The final track is mostly made up of field recordings when the pair were on a trip to Germany, they were strolling through the quiet streets when suddenly the town's church bells began ringing, more and more, from every direction, a glorious cacophony, here there is a brief interlude part way through, a wheezing organ breathing out a fuzzy melancholy melody, but it quickly drifts away, leaving the record to fade out with just the distant pealing of bells. Wow!
Packaged in a beautiful hand printed sleeve, a strange angular crystalscape on the front, a mysterious symbol on the back, each sleeve with a different color ink and different colored paper. Includes an insert with liner notes and an image of some mysterious multi horned instrument on the other. As with most things like this, SUPER LIMITED!!!
We were super psyched how crazy people went for the Ovens, whose debut full length (which crammed together 44 songs and THREE actual albums onto one disc) released earlier this year on tUMULt was easily the pop record of the year, if not EVER. These guys are total geniuses, spitting out song after song, usually a minute or less, often MUCH less, each jammed with hooks and melodies and goofy lyrics and shredding leads and pounding drums that most bands would kill for. We compared them to some impossible mix of Weezer, the Beatles, the Melvins, the Fucking Champs and Guided By Voices, and while that might capture their essence, what they do is so much more than the sum of their influences.
This 10 song 15 minute ep, recorded way back in 2003 (when they were still called the Peels), is raw and rough around the edges, much punker, but is still rife with incredible songwriting, some kick ass guitar shreddery, ridiculously catchy hooks, and those same gorgeous instrumental interludes, lyrics about how the songs sound better in their heads, getting wasted, sleeping, dying, puking and all sorts of gloriously mundane stuff. They're definitely still a pop band, but back then, their punkishness really shone through, with some of the punkest jams reminding us of the Dwarves at their poppiest, balancing their more strummy Beatles-esque moments, the two sides of the band constantly battling for supremacy, neither winning, more often than not resulting in a wild ultra chaotic falling apart draw.
The band hate this record, but fuck it, there are some awesome jams here, and anyone who bought the tUMULt full length will most likely dig this one too.
We can definitely get all hyperbolic and gushing when we're super into something, nothing wrong with that, so with that disclaimer out of the way, we can once again proclaim that these guys just might be one of our favorite local bands. Here's hoping the rest of the country, the world and the universe catch on soon.
More amazing stuff from the vaults from these late (maybe) great (most definitely) SF pop geniuses. Ovens was Tony Molina's grind pop juggernaut before he went 'solo', and like the Ovens cd on Andee's tUMULt label (of which these tracks were meant to be included, when it was originally planned as an 'everything ever' sort of collection), here's 4 super short, crushingly catchy timeless classic noise pop nuggets, two sides, nine minutes, a bit punkier than later Ovens stuff, but only a bit, still strummy dreamy acoustic guitars, super melodic leads, some metal guitar chug, killer vocal harmonies, impossibly hooky melodies... more pop goodness crammed into these minute long bursts than most bands manage on a whole record, equal parts Weezer, Guided By Voices, Teenage Fanclub, the Beatles (at least one blatantly and brilliantly ripped off Beatles part here, see if you can spot it), Bee Gees, the Fucking Champs, Beach Boys, Thin Lizzy, all of Molina's influences crammed into another clutch of pitch perfect poppiness.
Recorded in 2005 with Kurt Bloch of the Fastbacks, limited as always, and these Ovens singles seem to disappear crazy quick, so grab one before they're gone...
The latest (posthumous?) single from local noise pop geniuses the Ovens, fronted by Tony Molina of the Tony Molina Band, and if you've been digging Tony's recent solo lp, and have yet to hear the Ovens, prepare yourself for some seriously mind blowing pop overload. This single is untitled like the last two (and the cd on tUMULt) and like those records, this new (old) 7" is another dizzying survey of this group's impeccable pop chops. Eight songs in about 6 minutes, equal parts Weezer, Guided By Voices, Teenage Fanclub, the Beatles, the Fastbacks, Dinosaur Jr, plenty of fuzz and crunch and jangle, glorious harmonies, some shredding leads, laid back laconic vox, and as always, hooks galore, oodles of catchiness crammed into seconds. These tracks were recorded back in 2008, and this 7" is meant to be a sort of companion to the last single on Catholic Guilt. The sounds is a bit more lo-fi, but there's no disguising this sort of utter pop mastery. The only frustrating part of these micro-missives is that you'll find yourself flipping this single over and over and over and over and over, every three minutes...
Ovens just might be the most underappreciated best band in SF. Although that looks like it could maybe be about to change. The various members live in different cities now, and only really play about once a year, but at their most recent show, a few weeks back, HUNDREDS of people showed up, and went NUTS, there was a pit, and crowd surfing, in a tiny little hole in the wall club. Which might have you thinking these guys are some sort of heavy punk rock band, when in fact, they're a pop band. An amazing incredible pop band, whose songs routinely clock in at about the 30 second mark, and whose lyrics are mostly about getting drunk, getting high, getting fired or getting hurt. We joke that if their songs were longer and weren't all about drugs, they would be THEE most popular band in the land. And we believe it. Their sound like some impossible mix of Weezer, Guided By Voices, The Beatles, Thin Lizzy (who they covered at that show), Teenage Fanclub, old Bee Gees (who they also occasionally cover) and the Fucking Champs. Total hook filled pop, with killer dual guitar harmonies, shredding leads, amazing hooks, like the sort of hooks most bands would KILL for, but these guys toss out hooks like that in 20 second songs and simply move on to the NEXT killer hook. Hell, our own Andee loved Ovens so much he put out their debut full length (much more raving about these guys in that review elsewhere on the aQ site, and heck, if you don't have that yet, you should buy it NOW).
This latest blast of perfect pop is just that, perfect. Nine songs in 8 minutes, the longest song 1:59, the shortest :34, the band kicking out feedback drenched fuzzy power pop one second, lilting Beatles-esque ballad the next, a dreamy acoustic guitarscape leads right into a woozy chunk of nineties style indie rock, but with those guitar harmonies, that kill, and then it's right into another perfect chunk of miniature pop, in the amount of time it's taken to write this review, we've listened to the whole single 3 times in a row, and the thing is, now that the review's almost done, doesn't mean we have any intention of stopping.
Easily one of our favorite local bands, heck, local or not, these guys are incredible! And if you get a chance to see one of their rare (and usually brief, not to mention littered with eighties hardcore covers, although at that most recent show, they covered Leeway!!) performances, don't blow it, if there's any justice in the world, these guys will be HUGE, and the world will be humming along to their jams, 30 seconds at a time!!
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!
The cult metal label Stormspell (who brought us all those obscure Jewels Of Gwahlur discs listed last time) has just released the cd version of this Oakland-based outfit's full-length debut, previously issued on vinyl via the band's own Magic Hermit imprint. Ovvl (or Owl - the band's name is obviously Owl but it says Ovvl here, perhaps for legal reasons 'cause there's probably a dozen other bands called Owl, or just to be weird) is a four-piece, featuring three brothers on guitars and drums, plus an unrelated female bass player. We'd seen 'em in person before, opening some local metal shows, playing heavy duty sludged-out stoner rockin' stuff, but they hadn't made much of an impression - until we heard this disc. Sometimes (as it was with Saviours) that's what it takes, a chance to listen to 'em at home, undistracted, not at the bar getting beers and talking to friends. And turns out, for this sort of thing, they're pretty dang good!
What sort of thing? Well, Stormspell aren't just about '80s styled true metal and thrash, they're also into heavy retro '70s psych sounds (they did the debut Noctum disc after all). And that's what Ovvl delivers, clearly influenced by the likes of Sabbath and Budgie, and at times reminding us a lot of early Monster Magnet. Fuzzed out, bell bottomed badassery!
The album opens with the energetic "Gypsy River", a concise biker boogie rocker with cleverly cliche hippie blues lyrics we can't help but dig (mostly about how the titular Gypsy River is driving the singer insane). The second track, "Medicine Mirror", mixes together Sabbathy riffs, Thin Lizzy-ish guitar harmonies, and UFO vocal melodies (we're hearing a little "Doctor Doctor" in the refrain). Yeah, it's easy to play a game of spot the influences from Ovvl's dad's '70s classic rock record collection, but they do it in a way that's not at all unacceptable, mashing all that good stuff up and making it heavier - and at least there's more than one influence at work, unlike with, um, those other local heavies, Orchid.
Then on track three, "Glaurung", Ovvl stretch out for a 10+ plus prog suite fixated on Middle Earth fantasy, that begins in an acoustic Led Zeppelin mode before turning into more of a lumbering Pentagram-style riffer, with vocals that totally remind us of Bobby Liebling. And there's a drum solo! Other tracks on the album adopt a rougher vocal style, and crank up the punk energy, sounding more like contemporaries The Shrine or Hot Lunch.
And so it goes, these presumably pot-puffing throwbacks telling tales of demon rides and snake-eyed goblin women. Music for mystic partiers, basically. And who wouldn't want to be a mystic partier? We'll be spinning this a lot. GYPSY RIVER YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE!!!!
This is REAL 'emo' rock, let me tell you. Not indie-pop emo but totally heavy, insane, noisy emotionally cathartic art rock mayhem. URB magazine says this is a 'must have', which is pretty bizarre because while WE think Oxbow rules, it's hard to imagine
We've written a lot about this band over the years (many years - they've been around for, like, 20!). Here's a quote: "Oxbow have always languished in relative obscurity here in the US when they really deserve to be ruling the whole damn world. Essential, intense, heavy, dark, weird, artful, aggressive, fucked genius with few peers."
We said that years ago about the previous reissue of Fuckfest (as an import double cd with their 2nd album King Of The Jews) and while they've gotten a bit less obscure - their unholy alliance with the Hydra Head empire has helped a lot in recent years, way better for them than their former label, SST - and Oxbow now have fans from among the legions of metalcore/postrock kids for sure, they still aren't yet the overlords of all that they should be. Maybe in the next life (now that would be a shock!). Those that have gotten into 'em though, in this life, are indeed the chosen ones.
Now Hydra Head has done all the new Oxbow fans a favor and reissued the band's magnificent 1989 debut Fuckfest on cd by itself for the first time, in a nice mini-lp-style sleeve, remastered. If you haven't heard Oxbow before, this is just the place to start, begin at the beginning. If you have heard Oxbow, but haven't heard Fuckfest, then you need to. All their albums are amazing, but this one is the one that first blew our minds way back when (well along with King Of The Jews, their other early effort that followed this in 1991, we first heard 'em both together on 2-on-1 cd Balls In the Great Meat Grinder Collection released by the long defunct Pathological label in the UK), and has the same effect today. Some insane shit here folks.
Fuckfest features all the trademark Oxbow elements... Sheer heaviness and suspenseful calm. Nearly indecipherable yet disturbingly expressive, anguished, almost hysterical vocals. Transgressive lyrics bawled by a man-baby-monster. Massive sheets of swampy slide guitar. Skittery bleeding hand solos. Led Zeppish cockrock riffage one moment, abstract angular post punk dissonance the next. Tinkling piano. Jazz infected drumming, country tinged atmosphere. What we'd now call postrock loud-soft dynamics. Music that's cathartic, cacophonous and complex. As well as impassioned and emotive. And exceedingly well crafted.
This album is maybe Oxbow at their most "metal" (and punk). After all, the original release was billed as "a six-song mega-muscled trip into total desperation". Certainly it's a tour de force of primal screaming stomping staggering, that's also surprisingly full of beaten-down beauty.
You could compare Oxbow then and now to the likes of the Jesus Lizard, the Melvins, the Bad Seeds, and there's elements of all of those here, but from the get-go Oxbow was OXBOW. Nothing else like 'em, and that's not even taking their infamous live performances into account.
To quote something else one of us (Allan, when he interviewed guitarist Niko in the first issue of his old 'zine) wrote about Oxbow long ago: "Oxbow is definitely a what-the-hell-is-this? kind of band... I can only describe their sound as kinda if you took, say, the Jesus Lizard, Neurosis, the Ruins, and Caroliner and got them all howling at the moon together". Again, that just means they're unique. And amazing. (And, to be sure, maybe not for everyone.) Fuckfest proves all that, though fans know already.
Thanks, Hydra Head. Presumably we can look forward to a similar reissue of King Of The Jews soon too? The same review above will go for it too, pretty much!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Double cd collecting the first two utterly amazing Oxbow lps from '89 and '91, which previously were available on cd as The Balls In The Great Meat Grinder Collection on the UK's Pathological label, now out of print--but that was only one disc, which meant a whole song was scrapped, and another faded out. Those have been restored here, plus you get an unreleased track called "Pannonica" from the King Of The Jews sessions. Guests on these albums include Lydia Lunch and Klaus Floride. Recently returned from a tour in Japan, Oxbow have always langushed in relative obscurity here in the US (current domestic label=SST, argh) when they really deserve to be ruling the whole damn world. Essential, intense, heavy, dark, weird, artful, aggressive, fucked genius with few peers.
If someone had never heard San Francisco's Oxbow before, and knew nothing about them - or for that matter knew nothing about Sammy Davis Jr. either - we wonder what they'd make of that album title/cover art? Definitely wouldn't help 'em guess what sort of music lies within, some of the earliest and insanest stuff by an AQ fave band we lovingly call "fucked rock geniuses". If you are one of those innocent souls who have never heard Oxbow before, well, dive in here and see if you can take it. And needless to say, if you are already an Oxbow fan, of course you NEED this if you don't have it already, which you might not, since until now Oxbow's 1991 sophomore album King Of The Jews has never been available as a domestic compact disc release. It has been paired previously with their 1989 debut Fuckfest as an abridged single cd, and then later as a double, both imports long out of print, as are of course the original vinyl lps on Oxbow's own label CFY Records. And this new Hydra Head reissue is the most deluxe and definitive, packaged in a nice paste-on mini lp-style sleeve, and enhanced with four bonus tracks, three of 'em previously unreleased.
Back when we reviewed Hydra Head's similarly presented, equally essential reissue of Fuckfest in 2009, we said that when they did King Of The Jews, we'd probably just write more or less the same review, that is, saying that this record also displays all the elements of Oxbow we appreciate: primal swampy skree and atmospheric loud-soft dynamics, lumbering slide guitar sickness and singer Eugene's regression therapy vocal histrionics... it's part Scratch Acid (or Jesus Lizard), part Butthole Surfers, part Birthday Party, part Cormac McCarthy novel, part primal psycho-sexual cabaret, part utterly alien WTF?!
This album's special guest star Lydia Lunch joins the madness on 2 of the cuts, "Daughter" and "Angel", utterly subsumed into the crazy, kecak-y, confusional handclap chaos of the former (what an album opener, damn!!), adding extra drama to the latter. Not that Oxbow needs much help in the drama department; Eugene's bedlamite mewlings and mutterings amidst the band's desolate atmospheres and sudden rock spasms are both bizarre and intense and go way beyond mere music-as-entertainment that's for sure.
Oxbow has been keeping rock weird for a long time now, and this is one of the most crucial documents in their entire discography. It'll clue you to the Oxbow formula of lots of tension, not so much release, though there's more of the latter here than on some other Oxbow outings... Highly, highly recommended!
At last! This 1995 Oxbow opus, the third album from our favorite San Francisco fucked rock geniuses, has been reissued, with two never-before released bonus tracks appended. A Steve Albini production, the album proper features special guests the Rova Saxophone Quartet, while the bonus tracks see Oxbow collaborating with the late Kathy Acker, the feminist/punk writer. For those unfamiliar with the wonders of Oxbow, this album would make a fine introduction, and fans of course MUST OWN it. It shows off their weirdly catchy brand of aggro art rock, totally heavy and, what's the word, transgressive? When they're not kicking your ass, they can get into some hauntingly gorgeous droney territory as well (as on bonus track#1). But their forte is sliding seasick Led Zeppelin guitar riffage with wailing mental-breakdown vocals, songs loaded with hard-hitting, post-post-rock dynamics and complexity. Let Me Be A Woman, like all of Oxbow's best work, radiates a shuddering vibe of despair, angst, and seething violence. Terrible beauty indeed. Originally on Dutch label Brinkman, this now appears via the French label Ruminance, testament to the superior tastes of Continentals we suppose!
Rock and roll as a raw nerve art form, that's the intense Oxbow aethetic... a band that dares you to listen, much less attend one of their shows. Avant garde yet drawn to swampy roots, Oxbow's approach is both intellectual and primal at the same time, these men channeling psychic and physical distress into their music, so much tension and release it's disturbing to behold... This brilliant and unique Bay Area outfit has been going strong against all odds for almost two decades now (!) and with each passing year seem to gain a wider audience, despite never ever being a part of any scene or trend. Not one that would help them, anyway. Except maybe now, that they've seemingly been accepted into the Neurosis/Isis axis of arty post-metal noisecore, releasing their last full-length An Evil Heat 4 or 5 years ago on the Neurot label and now (finally!) reappearing on Hydra Head with this cd+dvd package. Love That's Last isn't exactly the new Oxbow opus we've being waiting for, since it's not an all-new album but rather a collection, complete with commentary and lyrics in the booklet, of unreleased live cuts, improv tracks, compilation rarities, and a few "greatest hits" from their hard to find early albums. You'll certainly get a representative serving of their cathartic ugly/pretty rock action here, with all of Oxbow's characteristic Bonham beats, slide guitar skronk, droning ambience, and of course the distinctive mewling/screaming baby monster vocalizations of scary front man/fighting man Eugene Robinson. Highlights (and that's what all this is, really) range from their infamous "Insylum" duet with Marianne Faithful from 1996's Serenade In Red to the 1998 live recording "Glimmer Bird" to the prototypical expression of Oxbow anguish that is "Yoke" from their 1989 Fuckfest debut. Ten tracks in all... you too might be crying like a baby when it's over. Oxbow would be happy about that.
The DVD portion includes 5.1 mixes of a handful of Oxbow classics, plus filmmaker Christian Anthony's Oxbow documentary Music For Adults (previously available here at AQ when it was a dvd-r release) with outtakes too, AND a bunch of additional live footage of the band in Belgium and San Francisco. Here's what we said about Music For Adults before: "Now you can vicariously join Oxbow for their summer 2002 European tour. Even better than actually being there, you can enjoy their shows and tour hijinx without running any risk of Oxbow singer Eugene getting you in a headlock (and pulling down your pants, as happens to at least one unhappy Scotsman in this film). The live footage captures the Oxbow rock machine in all their twisted, bawling glory, while the 'behind-the-scenes' stuff will show you that they're actually all really nice guys!"
So, Oxbow fans NEED this. And it's obviously the first thing the prospective Oxbow fan needs to pick up as well. Hopefully that's just what's gonna happen. Recommended as always with all Oxbow product!
NOW ON VINYL!! Gatefold.
Finally! What, five years in the making? It's been that long since San Francisco's unhinged avantgarde-hardcore-blues-metal artistes the one and only Oxbow last lashed an explosive new full-length recording to our heads and pulled the pin, way back in 2002 with An Evil Heat. Yeah, last year's "live and rare" cd+dvd collection Love That's Last was great for fans and newcomers alike, but also whetted our appetite to hear some actual new dementia from this unique outfit. But Oxbow have always done things at their own leisure, having been around for long enough to now be selling records to metalcore kids who were probably not even born when Oxbow's first album, Fuckfest, came out in 1989. This is only their sixth studio album since then, but when you make music this intense, this cathartic, this disturbed, deviant, raw, heavy, fucked up, etc. etc. (to use a bunch of the usual words to appropriately describe Oxbow) it's not like you could, or should, make that many albums. It wouldn't be healthy!
Over the years, Oxbow has inevitably changed, grown, matured. The mania of early albums like Fuckfest and King Of The Jews has been relaxed (though always ready to erupt), and there's been more in the way of beauty crammed into their complex compositions to contrast with the ugly stuff. Even as they find more and more of a "metal" audience with releases on Neurot and now Hydra Head, their music is sweetened with strings and piano... But The Narcotic Story still brutalizes with the Oxbow basics: sinewy slide guitar riffage, moody soft-loud dynamics, mathrock tightness, and of course the psychotic vocals & lyrics of singer-you-wouldn't-want-to-fuck-with Eugene Robinson. His delivery is sometimes like a mewling baby, sometimes like a crotchety grandpa, usually both at the same time, Robinson his own multi-tracked schizoid choir. Here, his homeless-man mumbling and primal screams are joined by more coherent singing. But you'll still have to listen hard to figure out what he's on about -- if you dare. Just like at an Oxbow show, it's dangerous to get too close.
Definitely, Robinson is an essential part of the Oxbow equation (one that will make or break the band for the uninitiated), but his naked displays of verbal and non-verbal (again, go see 'em live!) nihilism wouldn't carry the same weight without the sparse tension, technical precision, and dramatic, damaged melodicism provided by the instrument-equipped band members. The Narcotic Story finds them keeping up their end as well. "Frankly Frank" is a classic, swampy Oxbow creepy-crawl, "She's A Find" a lovely, lush dirge. These tracks and all the rest here are the Oxbow fix old addicts like us want and need, and ought to hook a few unsuspecting, previously clean-living youths as well, for whom Isis and Neurosis were the gateway drugs...
Back in stock! We've now got the French version of this classic Oxbow album. No, it's not IN French, we mean now that the original SST cd is out of print, we've imported copies of the cd edition released in France on the Ruminance label (home also of Cheval De Frise and Chevreuil). Here's our review from when it was an Aquarius Record Of The Week back in 1999:
A masterpiece of dark, cathartic, emotional rock cabaret from this great San Francisco band. Heavy slide guitar, baby-like wailings (from Oxbow's large, scary, nearly-naked body builder frontman Eugene), Nick Cave-ambience & math-rock technicality. Kind of like the Jesus Lizard meets Marianne Faithfull, except that Ms. Faithfull actually does appear on this record! (and the Lizard do not; Oxbow slaughters them...) I might also mention the cover pic by Richard Kern and the production by Steve Albini, but Oxbow are their own special thing, original and amazing, and those celebs are mere hangers-on.
San Francisco's legendary confrontational exports Oxbow return with another sonic beatdown in the form of this vinyl only release. The first side features the band and French noisemaker Philippe Thiphaine winging it in the studio. The fact that these songs are improvisations recorded "in 180 non-successive minutes" is testament to this band's unholy powers. The songs are lumbering and almost doomy at times, but Eugene Robinson's crazed vocals give the band a slurred swamp blues feel. It kind of sounds like the Jesus Lizard on quaaludes - meaning this is right up our alley. It's disturbing and awesome, and Oxbow, more than most bands, really understand how to work with negative space for that extra dose of creepiness. It's sort of like walking down a dark alley and knowing you're about to get your ass kicked, without knowing exactly when. At the same time, Oxbow are experts at rocking out. Their sound is nihilistic and unstoppable like few others. It wouldn't be right to call them "metal," but they certainly possess many attributes that so many metal bands just can't grasp but desperately wish they could. One thing's certain: Oxbow are scary as fuck.
Side 2 features the band in the most ideal setting - live, in concert, terrifying small clubs throughout Europe (though not France, if you are curious). The band simply SLAYS here, and if you needed any more proof of their truly unique sound, look no further. It's interesting that Oxbow takes a sort of post-punk starting point and ventures seamlessly into greater realms of musical exploration. Robinson's voice is something to behold here as he screeches and moans like a crazy man. The band is in top form on these tracks, displaying a loping, queasy attack that is both tight as hell and almost, ahem, "jazzy" at times. It's heavy and atonal as it winds all over the place, and strangest of all, it's actually kind of catchy. It sounds like the culmination of years of collective hatred and a perfect understanding of their own sound.
This one comes housed in a classy thick sleeve on nice heavy vinyl, and we give this bad boy our highest recommendation.
Finally! What, five years in the making? It's been that long since San Francisco's unhinged avantgarde-hardcore-blues-metal artistes the one and only Oxbow last lashed an explosive new full-length recording to our heads and pulled the pin, way back in 2002 with An Evil Heat. Yeah, last year's "live and rare" cd+dvd collection Love That's Last was great for fans and newcomers alike, but also whetted our appetite to hear some actual new dementia from this unique outfit. But Oxbow have always done things at their own leisure, having been around for long enough to now be selling records to metalcore kids who were probably not even born when Oxbow's first album, Fuckfest, came out in 1989. This is only their sixth studio album since then, but when you make music this intense, this cathartic, this disturbed, deviant, raw, heavy, fucked up, etc. etc. (to use a bunch of the usual words to appropriately describe Oxbow) it's not like you could, or should, make that many albums. It wouldn't be healthy!
Over the years, Oxbow has inevitably changed, grown, matured. The mania of early albums like Fuckfest and King Of The Jews has been relaxed (though always ready to erupt), and there's been more in the way of beauty crammed into their complex compositions to contrast with the ugly stuff. Even as they find more and more of a "metal" audience with releases on Neurot and now Hydra Head, their music is sweetened with strings and piano... But The Narcotic Story still brutalizes with the Oxbow basics: sinewy slide guitar riffage, moody soft-loud dynamics, mathrock tightness, and of course the psychotic vocals & lyrics of singer-you-wouldn't-want-to-fuck-with Eugene Robinson. His delivery is sometimes like a mewling baby, sometimes like a crotchety grandpa, usually both at the same time, Robinson his own multi-tracked schizoid choir. Here, his homeless-man mumbling and primal screams are joined by more coherent singing. But you'll still have to listen hard to figure out what he's on about -- if you dare. Just like at an Oxbow show, it's dangerous to get too close.
Definitely, Robinson is an essential part of the Oxbow equation (one that will make or break the band for the uninitiated), but his naked displays of verbal and non-verbal (again, go see 'em live!) nihilism wouldn't carry the same weight without the sparse tension, technical precision, and dramatic, damaged melodicism provided by the instrument-equipped band members. The Narcotic Story finds them keeping up their end as well. "Frankly Frank" is a classic, swampy Oxbow creepy-crawl, "She's A Find" a lovely, lush dirge. These tracks and all the rest here are the Oxbow fix old addicts like us want and need, and ought to hook a few unsuspecting, previously clean-living youths as well, for whom Isis and Neurosis were the gateway drugs...
FYI, we hear that someday Hydra Head has plans to release a deluxe edition of this cd, in some sort of special packaging, a hardback book apparently... dunno when though.
You know Oxbow, our favorite cult, avant-garde, psycho-sexual hard rock outfit from right here in San Francisco? Well now thanks to filmmaker Christian Anthony, now you can vicariously join Oxbow for their summer 2002 European tour. Even better than actually being there, you can enjoy their shows and tour hijinx without running any risk of Oxbow singer Eugene getting you in a headlock (and pulling down your pants, as happens to at least one unhappy Scotsman in this film). The live footage captures the Oxbow rock machine in all their twisted, bawling glory, while the 'behind-the-scenes' stuff will show you that they're actually all really nice guys! The sound is fine for the performances, but sometimes you'll have to turn up your tv to make out the interview portions due to unavoidable background noise. It's a DVD-R, homemade production but totally pro in filmic execution. Definitely one for Oxbow fans, to tide you over until they play your town again (unlikely unless you live in SF or in Europe) and 'til their next album comes out (rumored to be a Hydrahead release in 2005). Folks unacquainted with Oxbow might be mystified, but if you've got the right stuff you might just become a fan too. Check it out...
We've been raving about krautdronedrifters Expo 70 quite a bit around these parts, and you all have been equally smitten it seems. Their blissful spaced out meditations, looped guitars and thick washes of outerspace shimmer pushing all our krautrock and doomdrone buttons.
But imagine Expo 70 with a bit more muscle, more grit, more guitars, more synths, just... MORE. A bit darker, a bit heavier, more buzz and more layers, less blissy and more propulsive. Imagine almost if you can, a more metal Expo 70, and maybe you'd end up with something like Ozmadawn.
We highlighted a disc by an SF band called Horseflesh a short while ago, a killer slab of post industrial krautdrone, channeling the German masters, but also more recent floorcore like Wolf Eyes, Yellow Swans, Skaters, etc. Well, the man behind Horseflesh just so happens to be half of the duo known as Ozmadawn, and on Rise Of The Moth, he and his partner take up from where Horseflesh left off, jettisoning some of the washed out shimmer and industrial crunch for something much more thick and corrosive, blown out and druggy, dense throbbing pulsing blasts of buzzing snarling layered krautdrone nirvana. Falling somewhere between Popol Vuh and SUNNO))), Hawkwind and Vulture Club, gloriously trance inducing outerspace hypno-heaviness. Not to say there aren't blissed out moments, there definitely are, the band unfurls super dreamy synthscapes, that drift and pulse, that feel like they trail off into forever, but those tranquil stretches always eventually seem to build into something equally hypnotic but way more fierce, soon overtaken by coruscating blackdrone guitars, and all manner of thick buzz and oscillating whir, somehow retaining the same sense of mesmer, but within a much more dense and aggressive framework. Simultaneously thick and heavy, soft and space-y, murky and metallic, drone-y and dreamy.
Packaged in cool hand screenprinted digipaks, pressed on black cd-r's, with a screen printed cardstock insert, and each with a unique 'recycled' Ozmadawn sticker.
Latest release from Bay Area blissdronespacedrift duo Ozmadawn, this one a gorgeously and elaborately packaged double cassette of music for sleep, separated into two sections, "For Sleep Or Meditation" and "For Smoke And Spirits".
The first tape is designed as the title suggests, for meditation and sleep, and is indeed a dark, dolorous bit of drifting low end, slow motion rhythmic swells, shimmering drifts of soft buzz and delicately crumbling distortion, lots of space, distant hiss, a softly swirling bit of minimal ambience, but with a dash of grimnity, this is not totally blissful and dreamy, the sounds here are dark and haunting, the mood harrowing, the overall vibe cinematic, the soundtrack to late nights and lost caves, to grey clouds drifting in front of a blood red moon, the various bits of electronic glitch, sound like they could be field recordings, insects, small creatures exploring their nocturnal landscape, all quite beautiful, but simultaneously quite dark.
The flipside gets even more evocative, with a layer of hiss that makes the record sound like it's wreathed in a rainstorm, or at the very least a late afternoon shower, the rumbling and buzzing drifting way back behind a sheet of processed hiss, the whole thing a softly shimmering bit of deep blackened late night moodmusic. So nice.
The second tape, the one designated "For Smoke + Spirits" is indeed a much more stirring bit of soundscapery, right out of the gate, creepy and tense, long tones wrapped around repeated motifs, total scary soundtrack stuff, a slow build from haunting to downright freaked out, streaks of feedback, a low lumbering melody, but right up in front a bit of sustained chordal soft focus skree that will most definitely have your hairs standing on end. Still pretty and mesmerizing, but seriously and cinematically harrowing, eventually building to a full on swarm-of-insects frenzy, a buzzing, swirling, convulsing wall of sound, while underneath, the original creep and drift continues to hover, the mix of the two disparate elements creating something gorgeously noisy, and/or noisily gorgeous.
ULTRA limited, as in 50 copies, we got about a dozen, they come housed in those oversized plastic clamshell cases, the kind that usually contain language tapes or instructional cassettes, the sleeve is hand stamped, hand numbered, and assembled one at a time, featuring a cool reflective front cover, includes a printed insert, and again, will probably be gone in no time...
It's here! Not Here Not There is the first release from Painted Caves, aka Evan Caminiti, one half of psychedelic dronefolk duo Barn Owl, and while Painted Caves, like many of the Barn Owl offshoots, definitely exists in a similar sonic plane, one of sprawling smoldering guitar thrum, and shimmering soft focus guitar ambience, Not Here Not There finds Caminiti getting way more abstract, mixing some ethereal synth drift into the dense swells of chordal thrum, a gorgeous expanse of guitar/synth exploration, with subtle electronic manipulations, all blurred into a gauzy softly billowing whole. The tape begins very much like past Barn Owl outings, a sort of twang flecked, sun dappled whirring cloud of warm guitar swirl, but after a spell, the sound grows downright malevolent, expanding into churning sonic stormclouds before dissipating into another hazy washed out ethereal atmosphere, underpinned by a
smoldering chordal fog, wreathed in a murky shimmer that soon gives way to a brooding softly undulating soft-psych thrum, and eventually finishes with the dreamily wistful final track, a hauntingly melancholic smear of muted prismatic buzz and hum, almost like a more psychedelic dronedrift version of the Caretaker, with buried lost memory like melodies, and a glimmering field of soft focus crackle and cosmic haze.
This is the first release on Caminiti's Dust Editions imprint and is LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Includes a digital download as well.
