Surveillance is the latest release from Evan Caminiti, one half of aQ beloved drone/doom duo Barn Owl. And displays Caminiti's gradual shift away from purely guitar based ambience, toward something more dark and dystopian, and beat driven, shedding much of the twang flecked duskiness, in favor of murky fragmented rhythms, and gristled textures. Barn Owl too has displayed a similarly dramatic sonic shift over the last few releases, introducing drum machines, and synths, and similarly Caminiti's partner in Barn Owl, Jon Porras, has expanded his solo sonic palette as well, occasionally shoegazey, but also dabbling in witchy electronics, most notably as DVVLLXNS. But Surveillance might be the closest either have come to crystallizing such a distinctive, and distinctively entrancing sound, one that channels seventies and eighties soundtrack music, abstract electronics, modern minimalism, minimal house music (a la Chain Reaction), and who knows what else, into something stunningly mesmerizing, hauntingly bleak, and strangely alien. Yet somehow, still quite beautiful.
Surveillance does play out like some sort of soundtrack, with a few moments touching on the Carpenter/Goblin sound that seems to be so prevalent these days, but those moments definitely don't smack of any sort of bandwagon jumping, instead existing as just one sonic element, deftly woven into a much more sprawling and epic whole, with most of the tracks blossoming into something altogether stranger, lurching, pulsing, revealing mysterious arrangements, unfurling constantly shifting textures, rhythmically mesmeric one second, a creeping tar pit ooze the next. "Event Boundary", sounds a bit like a futuristic Muslimgauze, a simple skeletal rhythm, drifting atop a whirring raga like buzz, and wreathed in soft melodic swirls, heady and heavenly hypnotic, gradually growing more and more sinister, the electronic buzz sounding almost like processed horn bleats, the strange tangle of electronics dense and tense, haunting and harrowing for sure. "Leningrad" is similarly bleak and barren, with another field of buried pulsations, beneath arcing fields of tones, and soft focus synth sweeps, not to mention some dubbed out beats, all in a softly psychedelic haze. "Flesh On Tape" is about as close to the current Carpenter craze as it gets, but even then, the sound is much more minimal and softly glitchy, the Chain Reaction influence in full effect, maybe Carpenter on Chain Reaction is good band math, and it sounds just as good as you think it would.
"Shadow Gamelan" sounds like it was plucked from some obscure seventies Euro-art film, not hard to imagine this on a soundtrack for a movie like Possession, softly squiggly guitars, disembodied buzz, lots of echo and dreamlike reverb, hazy and soft focus, but underpinned by a subtle sonic malevolence, while "Loft Life" sounds like something on Kompakt slowed way down, and wreathed in shadow, before finally, the record ends with "Stalker" (an homage to Tarkovsky maybe?), which is a gently noisy, swirling psychedelic shimmerscape of keening high end, buzzing swells, buried pulsations and strange hissy vocal emanations, a stunning sprawl of harrowing cinematic soundscapery that again, like much of Surveillance, seems to effortlessly blur the line between hushed haunting loveliness, and brooding, blackened sonic intensity.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, pressed on 180 gram vinyl.
Latest blast of black filth from right here in SF, from one man band Palace of Worms, aka Balan, who also does time in Elk, and in Weakling worshipping outfit Dead As Dreams. The first PoW record was a huge hit around aQ land, a killer mix of grim black buzz, and avant post rock weirdness, everything we had read about this new record talked about how all the post rock and other stuff had been ditched in favor of a sound more raw and old school, but to these ears, this is anything but, the weirdness that made The Forgotten so good, still pretty much in full effect.
The opening intro eases us back into PoW's black underworld, a sprawling smoldering melodic drift, all serpentine guitars, minimal tribal drum pound, buried vokills, which leads directly into a lumbering chunk of midtempo dirgery, laced with some serious melody, and finally some raw blasting blackness, and the rest of the tape seems like a push and pull between those two influence, the melody and intricacy, the raw blast and primitive buzz, but it's that constant tension that gives Lifting The Veil its energy, even when songs are in full on blast mode, the sound is still weirdly textured and melodic, check out the first half of "No Exit", appropriately grim and frantic, but the chords are lush, and there seems to be all sorts of melodic shading going on, not taking away from the grimnity of the sound, just adding texture and depth.
"The Scroll Of Kimiris" is similarly crafted, on the surface, a frenzied blackened buzz, but the guitars soar, the melodies epic, the sound weirdly spacious and spare. "Wounded Pride" also begins all mathy and melodic, a doomy trudge, a lurching arrangement that ends up sounding noise rocky and majestic, before eventually crumbling into buzz and blast, but it's "Hellish Journey" that's the record's focal point, easily the heaviest, most sonically dense track, and its longest at nearly 10 minutes, the melodic aspect is downplayed a bit, but still surfaces all over the place, especially in the dreamy clean voiced outro, but those parts are well balanced by the sheer black force of the surrounding sonics.
Packaged with super nice, printed, heavy-stock fold-out full color inserts, and of course, SUPER LIMITED!
New on local label the Flenser, two of SF's best one man black metal bands join forces, Palace of Worms offer up nearly a whole new record, while Mastery (whose insane double disc demo collection was released recently on tUMULt) kicks down an 8 plus minute sprawl of blackened metal insanity.
PoW launch straight into it, starting things off with some surprisingly classic metal riffery, loads of melody, lots of texture, and a cool woozy breakdown, before the second track blackens considerably, erupting right out of the gate with gouts of black buzz and blasting beats, but even here, the sound soon grows blurry and doomy and weirdly psychedelic, PoW's sound seeming to drift between the two, classic black riffery, and tripped out doominess, culminating in the super chuggy black psych dirgery of closer "Temple Of Failure" which weds churning riffage and black buzz, to swoonsome chordal swells, so fucking cool!
Mastery counters with something much more gnarled and frantically gnarled, "Egregorian Synapse" is a warped slab of lighting speed sci-fi blackness, that slips easily from dense blast-buzz to twisted tangles of melodies, the sound never letting up for the whole 8+ minutes, but constantly flitting between different arrangements and sounds, like some warped ADD black metal mutation, the rhythms too, blasting furiously one second, stuttering chaotically the next, the guitars wild warped squalls, the riffs slippery, slithery, warbly and blackly psychedelic, the track fading out mid frenzy, leaving us to imagine that this is only a fragment of the endless epic from which it was so clearly culled.
Some furious buzzing blasting blackened grimnity from right here in SF, the 4 song debut from Pale Chalice, a local black metal band who slay, this is not avant black metal, or post black metal, or experimental black metal, this is total, raw and furious, hateful and brutal old school classic black metal. The vocals are incredible, you might recognize that raspy demonic alien croak - those rotted pipes belong to Ephemeral Domignostika, of one man black metal band Pandiscordian Necrogenesis (who we've raved about on past lists), who's also one man black metal band Mastery (whose complete discography is coming out any day now on Andee's tUMULt label), but the rest of Pale Chalice ain't so shabby either, not sure if any of the others do time in other local outfits, but it hardly matters, this shit is fierce and frenzied and frantic, the sound huge, the guitars buzzing, the riffs gnarled, the bass a buried low end throb, the drums relentless and seriously blasting, the 4 tracks here hovering mostly in full on blast mode, but occasionally slipping into punkish pound, or woozy midtempo lope, even a little acoustic guitar drift near the end, the songs are massive and majestic, four tracks in about 30 minutes, sprawling blackened buzz drenched epics, intricate and intense, the vocals cranked WAY up in the mix, which makes the whole thing sound seriously fucked up and SICK.
Fast and furious, grim and black, one of the best new black metal records we've heard in a while� and yet another group to add to the ever expanding Bay Area black metal pantheon!
Not to be confused with the heavy sludge doom of Pale Horse, local San Francisco duo of Kyle Ranson and Kimberly Pierce channel apocalyptic doom through a completely different sensibility. Using mainly just spare acoustic guitar, tambourine, and beautiful two-part vocal harmonies, The Gospels is a sermon of haunting southern gothic songs filled with death, despair and hard-living. Their sound reminds us at times like early Palace brothers, or a way stripped down Brightblack (before they added the Morning Light to their name), occasionally conjuring up dusty images in our minds of small town buskers singing for their supper and salvation. Thankfully, Pale Hoarse do not play up the vintage Americana card too heavy-handedly, instead using spare arrangements to tread on dark but universal themes. Perfect for Sunday Mornings coming down from the sins of the previous night and you just can't make it to church. Housed in a silk-screened paper bag with hand sewn leather envelope for the cd and insert with lyrics and drawings. So Beautiful and VERY LIMITED!
Follow-up to their stellar debut, The Gospels, this eponymous ep by local folk duo Pale Hoarse gives us five more gorgeous tracks of strung out sorrow. One of them a beautiful cover of Gene Clark's "With Tomorrow". This time the songs seem to be less about sin and salvation and more geared towards a nature-reverent British folk approach. Their dual male/female harmonies reminding us of a more mournful John Doe and Exene Cervenka, but on this ep exuding a more smoldering hopefulness than the dusty haunted doom of their debut. Quite lovely!
Words of Ash, Walls of Smoke, Minds of Glass is the debut solo release by the Bay Area avant-rock denizen Gregory Hagan, whose languid violin and tempestuous guitar work was prominently featured in one of our favorite local outfits Common Eider King Eider. He's also active in the Thomas Carnacki performances / recordings as well as in the post-MX-80 project Grale. But as Pale Reverse, he sets down the strings in favor of analogue electronics and a four-track to build this elegantly creepy piece of nocturnal dronemuzik. A ghostly rumble introduces the 20 minute piece which slowly morphs into radiant, shivering oscillations of guilding tones suspended with hiss, mist, and fog. Subtle melodies flicker with beautifully singing overtones echoing throughout the electronics, eventually amassing into a holy crescendo of interlaced dronescapes snapping back to the industrial pall which opened the proceedings. At loud volumes, the tape detritus from multiple overdubs and erasures become all the more obvious and lend more than a few complimentary comparisons to William Basinski. But fans of the BJ Nilsen / Stilluppsteypa collaborations, the latter day works from The Hafler Trio, and even the Caretaker would be well served to check this out. Limited to 73 copies!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
First things first. SKATERS. 100 COPIES. ALREADY OUT OF PRINT. You know the drill. Anyway, James from the Skaters steps out on his own for this brief blast of free drone loveliness. Under the name Pan Dolphinic Dawn (thus the Dolphin on the cover, although not sure how the swastika on the other side figures into things), James wanders through murky tunnels of muted noise, thick, and dense, with mumbled rumbles and whirs piled up into near melodic waves of sound. Lots of reverb makes the whole thing sound pliable and soft like a pillow dipped in tar, like you could just dunk your head right into the middle of this 7", but the murk is thick and viscous enough that you would most likely be unable to pull yourself free and would end up suffocating, ears full of molten goo. But what a way to go.
The return of thee only one man black metal band in the world!!! But wait you say, what abut Xasthur, and Striborg, and Leviathan, and... And you go on and on naming all the SUPPOSED one man black metal bands, but then we point out, that those bands are indeed populated by a single member, but they record like a band, one instrument at a time, the drums, then while listening to the drums, the guitar, and then the bass, finally the vocals, and they don't play live, because THEY CAN'T. That's what makes Pandiscordian Necrogenesis aka Lord Ephemeral Domignostika (also known as Mastery, the man behind the SF black metal monster of the same name, who have a double cd coming out any day now on tUMULt, and who was also the vocalist and bass player for Horn Of Dagoth), the only truly TROO one man black metal band, cuz he DOES play live, ALL the instruments at once, playing drums with his feet, riffing wildly with his hands, and of course spitting out some hellish vokills, and if that wasn't enough, it's all improvised, these tangled twisted, gnarled black metal blowouts are made up on the spot. Pretty incredible. Granted, some of the magic is lost on a recording, we're thinking a dvd or a VHS tape might be more appropriate, to watch this corpsepainted figure, hunched over his strange drum contraption, a snare with a kick drum pedal, and a bass drum with a DOUBLE kick drum pedal (he only just upgraded to double kick), while his hands flutter wildly over his axe, his contorted face spewing blackened vitriol into the mic.
But hell, even minus the visuals, Cerebral Quasaric Lacerations is some seriously raw and grim blasting blackness, the guitars grinding and superdistorted, the riffing frenzied and frantic, the drumming fast and fucked up, laced with flurries of double kick, the vocals croaked and shrieked, the songs dense twisted serpentine arrangements, this shit is definitely primitive, seriously lo-fi, and way KVLT, and the crazy thing is, even though this stuff is mostly improvised, there's some incredible riffing, some super catchy blackness, some impossibly tight vocal/guitar/drum interplay, the songs slipping from old school classic thrashing blackness, to twisted Black Flag flecked BM gnarl, and back again, spitting out classic sounding black metal off the cuff, the sort of shit most black metallers couldn't come up with after months in a proper practice space.
Gloriously buzzy and black, twisted and demented and about as true and grim as it gets, like the first, long out of print cd-r, another fucked up chunk of bafflingly brilliant outsider blackness.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each one hand numbered and screen printed, the cover a weird snake sword brain intestine thing on a smeared blood red backdrop that actually IS BLOOD. The whole cover is in fact soaked / painted in actual blood! It looks amazing, every one is different, and they all smell a bit odd, not dramatically so, but enough to know this is in fact REAL BLOOD. Doesn't get much more grim than that. We got nearly a quarter of the pressing, but if the last record was anything to go by, these won't be around for long...
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We're actually surprised it's taken this long for Jello and Pansy Division to join forces, as they both have been some of the loudest, proudest and most subversive voices in rock n roll's underground for the last several decades. While of course Jello Biafra of Dead Kennedys fame and head honcho of Alternative Tentacles has been around forever it made us feel a bit old to find out this release is in celebration of Pansy Division's 20th year of being a band. "Average Men" is the track with Biafra on vocals and it's a perfect match as the lyrics have the same kind of sarcastic and smart ass bite as so many of his classics. The song takes aim at those average dudes sitting at the counter of a bar or restaurant whose lives revolve around the junk food they eat, the bad beer they drink and the high class Hooters restaurant they salivate over. The 'b' side is without Jello and it finds Pansy Division covering an early track by their friends and former touring mates Green Day. Here's hoping Jello & Pansy Division crank out some more subversive pop together and continue to agitate those who need it for several more decades to come!
Now available on vinyl!
Musing about the name of this dandy SF one man band, we can't help but feel that he must be referring to the pretty delicate scissor craft and not the annoyingly painful stationery-inflicted wound. The Papercuts' retro-tinged pop is a honey sweet, wistful confection. Released on Devendra Banhart's Gnomonsong label, this new album moves upwards and onwards from 2004's Mockingbird. It's decidedly more mid-fi and more psych folk leaning than those previous lower-fi chamber pop styled recordings. Perhaps a little earthiness has rubbed off on him from the folks with whom he's recently collaborated such as Skygreen Leopards and Vetiver? Or perhaps he's been spending more time out in the wondrous wilderness? Whatever it may be, the results are splendid. Can't Go Back caught us daydreaming about paddling a lil' rowboat down a gentle stream, and peering dreamily over the edge into the sundappled depths. As we gaze at a fallen leaf drifting by, the sparkly glint from an orange-gold carp catches our eye. Aaaah. This album will surely appeal equally to fans of Yo La Tengo, Low, Olivia Tremor Control and the abovementioned Skygreen Leopards. Recommended!
It's been so nice to see Papercuts really mature over the years. There was no doubt at their beginning that they had the ability to craft melt worthy indie rock, but as the years have passed their sound has only gotten more warm, layered and potent. As Papercuts now join their buddy and former label head, Andy Cabic (Vetiver) as the newest recruits for Sub Pop, it feels like just the perfect time for this shift to a higher profile. No doubt these two swoon worthy songs will get compared to Grizzly Bear and Beach House, but what makes us excited about Papercuts these days is that it really is starting to feel like they are discovering how to put their own unique stamp on such a satisfying sound. Can't wait for the Sub Pop full-length about to drop!
Available on vinyl for the very first time, the debut full length from these aQ beloved psych poppers, pressed on blue vinyl AND with a bonus 7" featuring two previously unreleased tracks! We've raved on and on about the various Papercuts records released since, but this was our very first taste of the Papercuts' sweet, dreamy lo-fi indie chamber pop. Singer/songwriter/engineer/band member, Jason Quever conjures up some lovely songs here. Anyone who enjoys The Shins' Beach Boys style retro-pop and other similarly heartfelt jangle and drift, will definitely dig the Papercuts' Mockingbird, big time! Recommended.
So lovely, and soft as pussywillows! Jason Quever's back with his fourth Papercuts full length! His indie psych-tinged pop calls to mind a more cryptic and loosely woven Camera Obscura or Magnetic Fields (when Claudia is singing, mind you!). Everything about You Can Have What You Want is warm and fuzzy and inviting. Generous applications of reverb melt and blur the pop song structures into ear-hugging blankets that glisten and glow. Quever's wheezy '60s vibe vintage organs cozy up to the ultra pretty string arrangements of Beach House's Alex Scally who contributed a good deal to this album. Wistful and slightly melancholic, this really is a terrific end of summer album. So maybe nab it now, and tuck it away for when you really need it come late August? Some might find it to be a gradual grow-on-you kind of album (as we admittedly sort of did!), so the timing might actually work out perfectly that it'll have completely sunken its dreary lil' hooks into your heart by Labor Day! Recommended if you like the abovementioned bands as well as Caribou, Loney, Dear, and/or fellow Bay Area popsters Grand Lake who also have a terrific new album out now.
We've always appreciated the music of the Papercuts, but we still felt like they were capable of more. Not all the elements had come together, something seemed to be missing, something kept it their sounds from achieving greatness. Always lovely and lilting and dreamily folky, but with Fading Parade, they have finally made the record they always seemed capable of creating. Perhaps it was getting signed to Sub Pop, but the Papercuts have elevated their song writing and delivery into an entirely different league. The recording of the album is so perfect in capturing a warmth and seduction in their songs that we had never felt before. Jason Quever's vocals are some of the most smooth and dreamy male vocals we've heard in such a long time.
Not to keep pressing the Sub Pop connection but we can hear sonic and song comparisons to two of the labels best releases of the last decade, Chutes Too Narrow by the Shins and Teen Dream by Beach House. From their touring with Beach House this past year, we can tell that the Papercuts were able to really learn how to incorporate such rich and hypnotizing atmospheres into their songs. We also hear a touch of the elegance of The Clientele. This is an album that's both hazy and woozy, while also being catchy and emotional and immediate. We always love when a band we've been on the fence about, makes that huge leap and delivers a record that makes us all hardcore believers!
Liz Pappademas' debut album is imbued with a hushed parlour elegance quite akin to Brooklyn's Edison Woods, but with strong female vocals reminiscent of Carly Simon. Intimately centered around her piano and voice, 11 Songs is smooth, smoky lounge splendor from start to finish. Assisting her with these eleven songs is Brian Kehew ( of The Moog Cookbook and the astoundingly obsessively comprehensive 'Recording The Beatles' book). Lovely!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Newest installment in the always great and way too limited Latitudes series comes from none other then Jenny Hoyston of Erase Errata fame, with her side-project Paradise Island. The second we put this on we knew we had a new favorite Summer song! "Motions" has this amazing urgency, simplicity, power and passion that has seeped right down into our souls. In fact we're pretty happy to finally put the "repeat" function to use on our cd player's remote control as Irwin and Scott had to get their fix over and over and over! Luckily the rest of this short ep is just as good, definitely some of the best songs that Jenny has ever churned out. We can't even begin to tell you how obsessed we've been with this ep playing it again and again in the store and still more at home. While DJing? On our iPod? Yes yes yes! Four songs of direct action cutting out all fat and leaving us only with the sounds that matter. This is the kind of D.I.Y. punk spirit that still makes our heart go all a flutter. So good! Remember this is part of a limited series so make sure to get one before they are history...!
The overall picture of Rykarda Parasol's music is one of somber, tarnished beauty with a smoky cabaret atmosphere. Ms Rykarda possesses a powerful voice resembling a melding of Siouxsie and P.J. Harvey -- slightly ashen and achingly empassioned. It's presented prominently amid the reeling piano, organ, violin and guitar. Hearts and wounds are laid bare in deeply wrought fashion. Includes a cover of The Gun Club's "She's Like Heroin".
On her second release Our Hearts First Meet, SF chanteuse Rykarda Parasol sounds as though she's weathered a storm or two since her well-received debut cdep a couple of years ago. Her deep, slightly tattered, world-weary vocals bring to mind those of Carla Bozulich and Siouxsie Sioux, but mellowed out in a way that's more along the lines of Cat Power's Chan Marshall. Much rain and tear soaked enchantment is infused in each of her fifteen songs. The shadowy mood is supported by the beautiful cover art and striking, hazy black and white insert photo of Ms Parasol, but it's also unfortunately somewhat undone by the assorted casual band photos that reside on the inner traycard. Alas, but 'tis a minor distraction. Nevertheless, a fine follow-up to 2004's Here She Comes.... Released on the evergrowing SF indie label Three Ring Records.
The guys (and gal) in San Francisco's Parchman Farm are doing their dangest to rekindle the spirit of the city's sixties ballroom era, when righteous psychedelic rock ruled the scene. This five song, 23 minute ep is their recorded debut, and right away you'll realize that there's some serious Blue Cheer worship going on here (which you might guess from the band name and cover graphics). It's like they brought Dickie Peterson into the studio to play the bass line on their song "Say Yeah" -- and that stuff rocks. But Blue Cheer aren't their only influence and they get all melodic as well, not always trying to turn the air into cottage cheese with sheer amped-up umph. Over the course of these five tracks, they go from all heavy to trippy and hippy and always come through with full-on rawk vox and even (of course) cowbell... Ironic and retro it might be, but I think that they're legitmately into this sort of '60s/'70s thing and trying real hard. They definitely have the sound. But do they have the songs? Almost. I mean, nothing here would/should really fool you into thinking it was a lost out-take from Vincebus Eruptum or Tyranny And Mutation or Closer To Home. But they're getting there. A decent debut for sure.
By the way, we think that someone at Parchman Farm's label Jackpine Social Club might need to check into rehab, for writing in the band's press one-sheet such god-awful lines as "their jean-clad legs wrapped around a fleshy column of stoner rock sludge and humpin' it all night long...like a shark riding on top of an elephant, just stomping and chomping everything in sight". What? Ugh. I mean, we've written some clunkers too, but...
The much anticipated return of Paris. A man who's no stranger to controversy, Paris' new album is certainly going to sell a few copies and/or cause some consternation over the cover alone. Most people can remember his debut The Devil Made Me Do It as a kick ass record for its time, and his 1992 track "Bush Killa" certainly garnered him some attention. But his following albums suffered from good intentions coupled with tepid production values. Sadly, if it wasn't for the bold cover and title we honestly probably wouldn't have picked up his newest. Sonic Jihad isn't a complete disappointment though. And depending on one's predilection toward late nineties west coast production values you might get even more mileage. The funky bass low rider optimized rhythms here smack of Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg's hey day. But the worst of it is the background soul vocals of the slow jam variety that do the biggest diservice to the album. On the upside, there's a great cameo appearance from Capelton (Dead Prez, Public Enemy and Kam also make appearances). And lyrically, it's a great album. While everyone else in hip hop seems content to press their street credentials ad naseum, it's about time that someone stepped up and bitch slapped Dubb-yuh. Paris and the Dixie Chicks, what strange bedfellows.
Parker Street Cinema are a slightly unconventional post-rock three piece. How so? Well, while their sound for the most part keeps within the confines of Chicago style post-rock, they do give the conventions a refreshing nudge. On this their first five-song cdep, they've got bass guitar, they've got drums, but 'instead' of guitar they've got piano! Lots of moody dramatics and dynamics. An impressive debut!
People had been coming in the store asking if we had this Part Time record for a while before we were able to get it in and check them out for ourselves, and now we can see what the fuss was all about. This is great bedroom left field pop, equal parts James Pants, Nite Jewel, Ariel Pink, and Washed Out. Every track on What Would You Say? glows with such a nice languid haze. While so much chill wave has started to get obnoxious and heavy handed, Part Time bring back a modesty and subtle touch to this style that we appreciate so much. Songs that make you sway with the slightest ease, and take you somewhere filled with soft lighting, mellow vibes, and washed out desire.
We're stoked to see a fairly priced lp on Mexican Summer too and this one is limited to 750 copies, hand numbered, and comes with a digital download. Don't sleep on this!
Partisan Gallery is a too little known gem in the local San Francisco arts scene despite having killer shows by Liz Harris (Grouper), Emily Prince, Lindsay White, Nate Boyce, and Sean McFarland, among many others. Located in proprietor Chris Fallon's Guerrero Street apartment, the exhibits he puts together take on the feel of social gatherings while at the same time allowing an artist to push more experimental ideas that wouldn't feel as interesting in a regular commercial space. The exhibitions often feature exciting musical performances or a specially created limited edition multiple.
Despite a limited zine Fallon created a couple of years back, this new magazine is the first in what is planned to be a quarterly publishing venture, and the first issue is quite stunning. Modelling the format on vintage artist-produced publications from the seventies like Aspen or Heresies, Partisan Vol. 1 features visual and written contributions from Margaret Tedesco, Devendra Banhart, Will Rogan, Marcella Faustini, Jennifer Locke, Renee Van Trier, Rob Spector of Bronze and Muscle Drum, Tauba Auerbach, and even a cameo by Andy Warhol.
Comes with a cd-r of music from Arp, Glasser, Water Borders, Van Rivers (Henrik Von Sivers of Fever Ray and Glasser), The Best Bits (Andy Cabic of Vetiver Thom Monahan and Zach Cowie), Lloyd Center Mall Trick Or Treat Band (Keegan McHargue), The Same (Jamie Reeder of Helado Negro and Tarantula), Words, Wav Dwgs and Muscle Drum, among others.
Beautifully printed in a tall 17" x 11" format in mostly black and white but with a middle section in full color. If you want to get a vibe of what's really happening art wise in San Francisco, this is a key introduction! Limited to 500 copies!
The Passionistas have been gaining some well deserved attention here in SF with their super catchy and colorful pop hooks, dipping their musical toes into both power pop and glam, providing the missing link between Big Star and Sparks. Speaking of Sparks, Hard Place open their side of this split with a very Sparks influenced and triumphant sounding pop nugget. There's a very early '80s larger-than-life, arena-ready aesthetic to their sound, yet it's delivered with such earnest spirit. We suspect there is some Van Halen, Andrew W.K. and maybe even a Jefferson Starship record in their collections. We lean a little towards The Passionistas on this split, but pop enthusiasts will find lots to like on both sides of this little piece of wax.
Gentle lilting SF roots rock weighted by a heavyheartedness is what this full length by Mr. Danny Pearson is all about. Joining him on one tune "Be Here Now" is Mark Kozelek (Red House Painters/Sun Kil Moon), and you might say that The Oblivion Seeker is very much in the same vein as Kozelek, as well as American Music Club. In fact, Pearson covers the Mark Eitzel penned tune "Vulture And Hyena", and Sun Kil Moon/AMC's Tim Mooney recorded the album. See, it's all connected! And yet, we may also mention how akin to the lush earthy prettiness of The Czars this is too -- particularly on the songs graced by warming strings, Hammond organ, and ghostly harmonium, but even more so on the two which feature some very soft velvety female backing vocals that offer some light in Pearson's world weary atmosphere. Indeed it's this pair of songs along with the Kozelek-accompanied number mentioned above that are the highlights of this album. Very nice!
Kind of indie grime from SF.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Four songs from local favorite "grindpop" band, featuring AQ-staff member Andee Connors, who plays with his usual violent accuracy. The cover is Deco-style and gorgeous.
Full-length from one of San Francisco's best-loved but now defunct bands, Pee, the pop punk quartet who do the dueling-boy-girl vocal thing so well, and whose drummer you may have seen behind our counter. That's peripatetic Andee, full o' charm, good vibes, and impeccable taste. The vinyl is perfectly clear.
Peversely educational epithet? Peculiar entertaining emissions? Particularily egregious error? Puritianical ecstatic episode? Painful enlarged egg? Our own coworker Andee's band has released its second album of fragmented pop. AQ-friend Doug Orleans puts it best when he likens it to all the bridges (not the choruses, not the verses, the BRIDGES) from all your favorite pop songs strung together into a seamless whole. Excellent!
Drummer Aaron Levin and guitarist Eric Murray, both formerly of tongue-in-cheek (but over-the-top awesome) glam rockers Boyjazz, have banded together as a duo since that band's unfortunate dissolution to create another outlet for their "bow down, we're not worthy" level instrumental talents. Pegataur is the result (the name referring to a Pegasus + Centaur hybrid, a winged man-horse, of course). Their debut cd, Eternal Flight, is quite a treat for anyone who digs rippin', all-instrumental heavy metal. Technical and melodic and riffy - basically, imagine The Fucking Champs as a two-piece. If you like the Champs, you'll like this, maybe that's all we need to say!!
Any of you out there who perhaps found Boyjazz too jokey (you shoulda given them a chance anyway, what an entertaining band they were!), should have less of an issue with this, in fact, Pegataur not only shut up and play but really go off the deep end in terms of seriousness if you delve into their, um, mythology. The packaging, a large circular poster that folds up to hold the cd, inside a plastic sleeve, bears mysterious illustrations of supposed significance within the occult sciences, relating to their own research. We've gotta quote what their press release says about it: "Orbiting around the Pegataur seal are 11 sigils for the tracks and a 12th king sigil to bind and rule the album as a whole. Utilizing techniques employed by such famed Renaissance occultists as Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim and Dr. John Dee, each song title and corresponding sigil were generated by custom software (written by guitarist Eric Murray) that correlates the musical structure of each track with the many esoteric traditions in which Pegataur is initiated. It is suggested that the neophyte concentrate on each sigil as the song plays while holding the song title firmly in their mind to further their studies." (Hmm, they don't say how you're supposed to do that whilst headbanging.) So, maybe their joking has just gotten even more nerdy and obscure. Or maybe there's something to all of this. Certainly this duo seriously seem to be channeling an unnatural abundance of heavy metal chops and catchiness through each one of these 11 rockin' songs, as if they've got some direct psychic link to a dimension of metallic wonderment and the devil's music just effortlessly, endlessly flows through the Pegataur boys and their instruments like magic.
Pegataur probably could have scored bagfuls of gold pieces (or weed) from The Sword or High On Fire in exchange for some of the best of these riffs and still had plenty of good ones left over. Likewise, their hella tricky metallic mathrock moments would likely garner applause from folks like Electro Quarterstaff and Girth. We've already compared 'em to the Champs, but you could also try to imagine Zebulon Pike, stripped down to one guitar and forced to condense their usual 20+ minute epics into the 3-minute pop song format.
From the pinch harmonic frenzies and chugging changes of "Lesser Bow Of The Herdsman" and "The Weeping Quiver" to the grinding distorted stoner riffage of "Lord Solomon's Eyes" and "Human Appetite" (among the 11, we could mention 'em all) this kicks ass utterly, with no vocals to get in the way, just tons of guitar shred in an indie Van Halen mode that might make Thee Speaking Canaries jealous. No joke!
Peloton are a new Bay Area band who make fuzzy dreamy pop that cozies right in between bands such as Yo La Tengo and The Sundays. Their self titled debut ep is a perfectly autumnal lil' treat. Check it out!
A delightful local surprise from the Bay Area's ridiculously-talented pool of avant electronicists, Pepito is Jose and Ana, augmented with the production and musicianly talents of Brian (of AQ-staff-and-customer fave Brian & Chris). Pepito play a
There's a seriously thriving noise scene in San Francisco, shows all the time, tons of tapes and cd-r's, performances in warehouses, street corners, micro labels popping up all the time, the one bummer, for us at least, is we're not all that into noise. Well, Allan is into Japanese noise, the rest of us like things that are noisy, but prefer our NOISE to be pretty, or droney, or in some way not all that harsh. Soft noise some folks might call it.
But we're not noise prudes, our ears are made of stern stuff, and there's plenty of thick, buzzing caustic skree we love to cuddle up to. Like this, the debut full length from local duo Perineum, made up of two members of other aQ faves, Ben from local black metal horde Horn Of Dagoth, and Derek from local kraut / drone outfits Horseflesh and Ozmadawn.
Two tracks, appropriately enough titled "The Nail" and "Key". "The Nail" begins with a wall of crumbling caustic distorted heaviness, a swirling buzzing churning swirl of processed tapes, effected vocals, tons of fractured effects, all ground into a roiling black cloud, but something strange happens about three quarters of the way through, the noise abates, leaving a ghostly smear of backwards melodies, delicate crystalline shimmer, soft resonant swells, all layered and fused into a dreamy warm drift that gradually grows quieter and quieter.
"Key" begins as a whispered bit of hiss and whir, like a collage of amp buzz and muted record crackle, smeared into a fuzzy prickly bit of soft white noise, within which is buried subtle rhythmic variations, slowly shifting textures, gradually growing more and more corrosive, the sound decaying and crumbling, bits of feedback beginning to show through, the sound like a Wolf Eyes / Blue Sabbath Black Cheer mashup, eventually within all that hiss and buzz, deep moaning melodies become barely visible, jagged shards of high end surface like chunks of black ice a winter sea, and the sound grows white hot, before fading and gradually disappearing completely.
Packaged in a cool mini dvd style plastic case, with printed and collaged inserts, and the inside of each case hand painted with some mysterious and arcane symbol.
One of the three new and not so new titles just in from the electronic music label Praemedia (Stars Like Fleas and the Praeface compilation are the other two)! On each of the eight monosyllabically titled tracks of Tim Perkis' 1999 album Motive, he assembles trance-y pools of beats and textures. The fourth one simply named "Prick" is perhaps the most airy and atmospheric of the bunch with its static-y crackles and pops. Nice!
Petit Mal is the work of Berkeley musician Jim Kaiser, who improvises through a post-Industrial context to arrive at deep hypnotic ambience marred by vocal samples, broken effects, and metallic scrapings. Dark murky drones dominate "A Sense Of Closure," often recalling the densely processed sounds of Troum or Cranioclast. Yet Kaiser is often much looser in his compositions than either of those references, allowing for distortion, misfirings, and analogue errors to accumulate within the overlapping washes of sound. "A Sense Of Closure" is at its best when Kaiser picks up an acoustic guitar to splutter textured strumming not unlike the groundswell of damaged avant-folk (i.e. Neil Campbell, Avarus, Dead Raven Choir, etc.) within the omnipresent dark ambience.
Absolution is another missive of blackened ambience extracted by Bay Area denizen J.Kaiser (aka Petit Mal), once again mining his trusted electro-acoustic set-up of bicycle wheel, shortwave radio, tape loops, and effects. On the first cut "Passover," Kaiser begins with a subterranean gloom, built out of an excess of reverb applied to the metallic scrapes of his bowed bike wheel and incidental noise elements which grate against this mournful bellow that loops out of his reel-to-reel tape deck. Out of this sour atmosphere, Kaiser builds a menacing slab of noise through a series of concussion bomb blasts, thrumbing static from shortwave radio, and squealing divebombs of pierced feedback. The whole piece drips with leaden reverb that further sinks this malcontent set of noise into a depressive, apocalyptic dirge. The much shorter "Other Fields" is also much prettier, although most anything would be pretty next to the ashen bleakness of "Passover." Somber piano notes hang in space against a clatter of wooden objects being randomly tossed in an abandoned warehouse with some tape manipulation in the distance of undefined captured dialogue. File somewhere between Lethe, Anenzephalia, and The New Blockaders. Super limited.
Ascetics is probably the best thing we've heard from Jim Kaiser's Petit Mal project or any of the various collaborations he's done with like-minded Bay Area improvisers and noise tacticians. There's long been a dourness to his junkyard concoctions, but that attitude really seems to click on this short program 3". An overlapping drone from what could be generated from Kaiser's ever-present bicycle wheel, which he has bowed and banged for many years now. The strategy here seems to be less banging and more bowing, or at least extracting the resonant hues from that commonplace object and working those sounds into a thickened drone. On the first piece, Kaiser couples this with a downtuned acoustic guitar strumming, which harkens back to those few records on which Zoviet France sent acoustic guitar chords through their mottled bank of tape delay mechanics. At the same time, there's something sorrowfully doom-y about this track. The second piece lightens things up, but only a little bit, as the predominant tone is of an oppressive haze congealed out of tape hiss, distant amplifier destruction, and traffic noise. On top of this, Kaiser situates a melancholy slow-motion score for piano for a much grittier re-interpretation of Brian Eno's classic Thursday Afternoon. Fantastic stuff here, and super limited to boot!
