Another awesome slab of wax from San Francisco's Brilliant Colors. A bit more poppy than their full length, this is pretty much perfect post-punk with a distinctly lo-fi vibe and a timeless quality that connects the dots between folks like Black Tambourine, Chin Chin and The Vaselines to the present day. Both these songs find these ladies in absolute top form, in fact we think this may be our favorite release from them yet. Finding a way to a more melodic and even jangly feel yet sounding fuzzier and more free then ever. Cool to see that these songs were recorded by their pal Ty Segall who knows a thing or two about bringing together fuzz and melody. One of those amazing 7"s where you won't be able to decide which side is better, as both these songs are smoking!
Ok, make that not one but two new awesome 7"s from San Francisco's Brilliant Colors. Like the other reviewed BC 45 this week, these two new burners were also recorded with their pal Ty Segall and find the band reaching even higher. The band definitely seem to be coming into their own with their songwriting, finding such a great way to combine their lo-fi post punk sensibilities with such great hooks and incredible melodies. We hope it's just a matter of time before these ladies get the widespread attention and praise they deserve as their songs as just as infectious and raw as folks like Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls and Golden Triangle.
Make-A-Mess releases tend to disappear quickly so best to snag one of these before it's too late!
Man, is it just me (Allan) or is Brocas Helm the best band ever?? Don't answer that...I know the answer. They are. If true old school cult fantasy heavy metal rock and roll is your thing, you might even agree. We listed the reish of their 1984 debut Into Battle last list, now here's further proof of their mastery (or my insanity), 1347's, no, I mean, 1988's Black Death! It's been on cd before, but this new reissue is a superior version, adding five bonus tracks from their 1989 demo Helm's Deep and also a bonus mpeg video clip of "Prepare For Battle" being played live with (extra guitar craziness) at an unspecified date in the early '80s.
They've been described as "Iron Maiden on acid" (by Martin Popoff) and that's a good call. Especially on this album, wherein Brocas Helm's mighty medieval metal is cloaked in a miasma of spaced-out psychedelic effects, a claustrophobic production courtesy of their own home studio "The Caverns Of Doom". Brocas Helm's frantic yet majestic songs claw through the mists, guitarist/vocalist Bobbie Wright's over the top guitar shred and faux-British enunciation always triumphant, forevermore...
I'm serious. Maybe you have to see 'em to really understand. But they one of the best metal bands ever. If you don't believe me, just ask the guys in Slough Feg. Ok, maybe they're biased, since if they'd started 15 years before they did they'd BE Brocas Helm... but Brocas are gods. That is my faith, and Black Death a holy relic.
At long last, two new tracks on wax from these San Francisco metal legends! If you're into '80s metal, you need to know about Brocas Helm. Their first album came out in '84, their second in '88, and we're still waiting for their third! But, despite their glacially slow pace of releases, this new single now exists. Melodic, rough edged vocals, lots and lots of guitar, bass and drums,
You'd half-expect to have to venture to a far off foreign land and besige the walls of a lofty, mist-enshrouded castle in order to obtain metal this "true", but the legendary Brocas Helm hail from here in San Francisco and bring these discs straight to us. It did, however, take them SIXTEEN years to release this, their third album, the long awaited follow-up to 1988's Black Death! That's right. And the wait was indeed worth it, for fans like myself anyway. After all, it's got some of my (Allan's) favorite metal songs *ever* on it, like "Time Of The Dark"! A simply classic galloping metal steed, of which there's a whole herd here. If you're lucky enough to live in SF and smart enough to go see these guys, you'll already be familiar with some of the songs on this disc (like that aforementioned favorite) -- likewise if you're a fan who possesses their last two rare 7" singles or decade-old demo tape. But there's also stuff here too I'd never heard before, all living up to the Brocas Helm standard of questing metal might. Although recorded, as always, in their home studio the Caverns of Thunder, this IS certainly their best sounding release...but being polished and tight and up-to-date is not what these guys are about anyway. They're on their own planet, where '80s metal reigns supreme but someone put drugs in the drinking water.
Speaking of drinking,there's two songs about drinking on here: one's a not very PC, hopefully tongue-in-cheek tune called "Drink and Drive" (one of the lyrics goes: "Drink and drive/drink and drive/got mothers against me/but I'm still alive"). The other is a grandiose metal statement entitled "Drink The Blood Of The Priest"! Silly and/or Satanic, sure, but damn I like 'em. Anyway that should give you an idea of the sort of punkish eccentricity the Brocas Helm troops muster. I probably can't really convey how good these guys are, and how metal...they have years of experience, unconquerable enthusiasm, and basically just know how the heck to ROCK.
This was self-released for reasons known only to the band, as there were no dearth of dedicated cult metal labels in Greece and Germany who'd have loved to put this out...no matter, though the self-release does LOOK self-released too, which perhaps gives it more of an appropriately '80s underground vibe anyway. Y'know, old Manowar, Cirith Ungol, Omen, Manilla Road. So as you might guess, this is probably ESSENTIAL for any fan of The Lord Weird Slough Feg. By some cosmic coincidence, they just happen to live in the same city, and had a lot of the same influences...and are equally insane. Really it's absurd how alike they sound (and though they're fans of one another, they both already sounded the way they did long before having a metal rendezvous here in SF). So any 'Feg fan ought to get this for sure. And here's hoping that we won't have to wait another 16 years for more from these guys (I might be too old for this by then!)...
YES! It's about time this was reissued! A cult metal fave, this debut record from San Francisco underground true metal masters Brocas Helm was originally released on LP by a label called First Strike back in 1984. The only cd edition of this was released in Germany long, long ago and is just as tough to find as the vinyl itself, not to mention that it was a budget release without even a track listing in the cd booklet, just a catalog of other cd reissues by various '80s contemporaries of Brocas Helm like Iron Angel, Trouble, Leatherwolf, Tokyo Blade, and Wendy O. Williams! Now, more than 20 years after its first appearance, here's a much more reverently presented cd reissue complete with five bonus tracks (from their 1983 Into Battle demo) and, better yet, a bonus live mpeg video of the band (with 2 guitar lineup) performing Allan's favorite Brocas Helm track, "Ravenwreck", live at the Old Waldorf in San Francisco in '83, in front of a crowd of raging 'bangers. About the only thing to complain about this reissue is that for some dumb reason they've put some new and not so great cover art on the front, with the album's original (and to be fair, also not so great) art only included inside the booklet, thumbnail sized...why??
But that hardly matters, what's important is that now a new generation of metal fans can hear why this band is mentioned alongside the legendary likes of Cirith Ungol and Manilla Road (if you're wondering who those bands are, well, just think Iron Maiden but way more obscure).
Into Battle is a proud and powerful album of hyperkinetic epicks. It's fantasy metal that pounds beers and gobbles acid and loves to rock and roll, weaving in psychedelic elements as well. The songs are about wizards and warriors, but also with lyrics actually about guitars and amplifiers too! Definitely inspired by the NWOBHM and also '70s hard rock like Thin Lizzy, Van Halen, and Riot, Brocas Helm's debut might have catapulted them to commerical success in the '80s metal world if only more people had ever heard it... though the San Francisco Bay Area was a hotbed of metal activity, with Metallica, Exodus, Testament, and many others breaking big, Brocas was perhaps just too eccentric and medieval to make it. Fortunately they never gave up, so the brave and bold can STILL go see these guys play and slay here in San Francisco now and then. They've released two other albums since Into Battle, those being 1988's Black Death (also just reissued on Eat Metal, to be reviewed here next list) and after a sixteen year wait, 2004's Defender Of The Crown! All are brilliant, with Into Battle being both essential for fans and the obvious place to start if you're new to the band. With their galloping tunes, heroic vocals and guitar shred, Brocas Helm are metal incarnate. If you like their spiritual brothers (nephews?) Slough Feg, you'll like Brocas Helm!!
The local Broker Dealer outfit mines similar sonic territory to such minimalist techno purveyors as the Chain Reaction and Kompakt labels -- think Gas, Thomas Brinkmann, Markus Guentner, Vladislav Delay. Insistently throbbing yet melodic bass overlayed with vintage synth tinklings and an overall freeze-dried disco sheen. No vocals, just ultra cool and unemotional. The last track "To Hear the Fires", though, tugs at the heartstrings -- a surprising remix of local country twangers The Court & Spark. Achingly pretty.
Comes with a video our Macs were unable to play.
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Broker/Dealer play an especially lulling and lovely brand of mellow electronica suffused with melodies and warmth. It's a lot like Boards of Canada, so it's worth the risk. And at 2.99, it's the nice price. 4 song EP recorded on a cd-r.
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For those of you who've been itchin' for some more from SF's mellow, pretty electronicians Broker/Dealer or simply those of you in need of some electronic levity, here's a new and unusual B/D snippet. It's a Hall & Oates-tinged track called "Haulin' Oats". Actually this 12" is a bit silly all the way around as the flipside contains an equally Joe Jackson-flavored cut by Rollmottle that goes by the name "Steppin' Right On Out".
There has been a lot of anticipation hovering around this first full-length from San Francisco's psychedelic darlings Bronze. After a slew of relatively hard-to-find singles, Copper definitely delivers on the promise of those early recordings. No other record in recent memory has created the same conflicting compulsions: both to thrash around like a maniac on the dancefloor and to throw on the headphones while zoning out into outer space. With ultra-minimal instrumentation (at least live), Bronze has managed to mine an untapped vein of post-punk psychedelia. Space-echoed vocals, acoustic drums, and a home-built electronics box the size of a coffee can comprise all of Bronze's (visible) live gear. On Copper, they've flushed out their sound a bit with layers of synths, but not so much that it sounds overproduced or inauthentic. There's so much electronic music saturating record stores (including aQ!) right now, it's extremely refreshing to hear a band that obviously loves and listens to tons of electronic music but still uses acoustic drums. Too many bands that sound dynamic and exciting on record fall flat live because of the lack of an engaging drum sound. Brian Hock is one of the best drummers around when it comes to dance beats. Take a listen to The Vanishing's lp Still Lifes Are Failing if you doubt. Rob Spector, whose voice truly has its own timbre, at times sounds like Perry Ferrell minus the heroin rasp. His clear tone will glide above the music, then, all of a sudden, take a sharp left and dissolve into space-echo debris, creating a transition into the next part of the song. Brilliant. Bronze's electronics mystery man, on this record known as Miles Friction, built his instrument himself. You have to see it to believe it, and even after you've seen Miles play it, you still probably won't understand it. Covered in knobs and a few switches, it looks like a prop from an '80s sci-fi flick, and not a high-budget one.
Bronze's exact sound is difficult to pin down. Try to think somewhere in the range of Silver Apples mixed with Emeralds. Available on vinyl only, there's eight songs in all. One, "The Rouge Became," was available on an earlier 7" in a slightly different form. The vinyl comes with mp3 downloads of the entire record, plus a remix of "Parallels".
The cover has a small piece of actual metal (copper?) glued onto it. It looks super cool, but Copper might be one of those records you can't file in your collection in the normal way because the little metal tab could damage the record next to it. Oh well, guess you'll just have to frame the cover and leave the vinyl forever on your turntable!
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In their short time as a band everything that Bronze has touched has pretty much turned to gold... er, bronze. Without even a full length out yet, they've managed to win us and so many others with their mind melting live shows and the great slabs of wax they have put out (we still have a few of the 10"s left!). This brand new picture disc 7" continues their fiery streak, both songs so driving and infectious fueled by analog synths delivered with a Silver Apples like sensation. What's so cool about Bronze is that they aren't just about nailing a certain sound or style but they seem to be really interested in creating cool songs. The vocals are prominent yet they glide and warp with the textured instrumentation, so it all becomes part of the same swaying sound. It's kind of like if you stripped early Jane's Addiction of its LA rock tendencies and wrapped it around a Sonic Boom/Experimental Audio Research soundscape. Can't wait for the debut full length, but these two songs have been keeping us flipping this chunk of wax over and over as we can't get enough of these psychedelic pop gems. Limited to 500 copies so grab one fast. So damn good!
One of our favorite local groops, the psychedelic electro-acoustic trio Bronze, are back, with a new, lp-only full-length release on the Not Not Fun label, the long-awaited follow up to the lp they put out on RVNG in 2011. World Arena's eight tracks build upon Bronze's unique sound, one that combines propulsive live drums and layers of synth with melodic, mantric vocals and experimental, home-built electronic embellishment.
Influences-wise, they probably start with underground gothy new wave '80s post-punk (we're thinking LA's Red Temple Spirits and all the bands that THEY were inspired by, from England), but also reach back to '60s psychedelic proto-electronica like Silver Apples (whom we've definitely mentioned before in connection to Bronze) and Bruce Haack circa Electric Lucifer. For some more modern references, then perhaps throw in a little Animal Collective or Gang Gang Dance to bring it up to date.
The songs here are dense and percolating, throbbing and moody, with singer Rob's gently out-there vocals (and lyrics) floating over it all.
While for those of us who have seen Bronze live know that they probably can't ever make a record that would quite capture that mind altering experience (just watching Joe 'play' his electronic gizmo is a trip), this is fine document of their unusual electronic raga compositions for at-home enjoyment.
And after we get this week's list done tonight (March 14th 2014 for all you folks in the future readin' this) we're looking forward to seeing these guys live, just down the street at the Elbo Room, opening for none other than the Space Lady!!! Perfect.
Can't think of a Bay Area band at the moment that's been so consistently capable of blowing us away live more than Bronze. Something so damn refreshing and exhilarating about their approach to rhythmic psychedelic post-punk, a sound overflowing with dizzying synths and syncopated rhythms that totally transport us to another dimension. So psyched we were finally able to get our hands on this, their debut recording. A beautifully packaged clear 10" with a bronze tinted embossed cover (there is a crazy limited edition version with an actual bronze cover! that we might get in at some point, but don't hold your breath!) but the classy packaging is just icing on the cake as it's the two wonderful songs in these grooves that dazzle and delight.
The sounds of underground luminaries like Silver Apples, Public Image Ltd., Suicide, and Throbbing Gristle are the launching point for Bronze's mind melting excursions into swirling and sizzling sonic mystery and melody, but they really do take those influences and craft a sound all their own. Not to be missed live, Bronze's stage presence and delivery are so damn action packed and captivating, and this debut recording offers a really nice glimpse of that fiery disposition. This is a band that truly deserves to get some world wide attention. So damn good!
Guitars of the willowy twang and trippy spaced-out kind converge, as do bright programmed beats and acoustic percussion in this new instrumental group from San Francisco. Heavy waves of reverb-drenched post-rock chord progressions crash over slinkily plucked melodies. A soaring and at times quite hypnotic 25 minutes. Nice!
This new Brookhaven album unwinds like a slow waking from a dream. Nine hazy, mesmerizing instrumental beauties. In turn Transitive Verses brings to mind four 'M's -- M83, Mogwai, My Bloody Valentine and Morricone -- but wholly without being imitative. On this, their follow-up to 2001's Everything That Rises Must Rise, they've taken their music to a whole new plane. Some elements have been retained such as their warm shimmery guitar twang and their blend of acoustic drumming and programmed beats plus some lingering shadows of post-rock-ness, while others have been set aside for the time being. For one thing, although there is a heavier synthesizer presence on this album, this is definitely less woozily spacey than their previous work, and much more composed. Whereas much of Everything Rises took a gradual meandering path that drifted in and out of focus seemingly at random, their new material seems more fully realized, with each song following a more defined arch. The results are ultra dynamic, but somehow still thoroughly gentle at the same time. Wonderful!
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A mix of traditional Asian music and traditional jazz - commemorating the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII.
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Rova Saxophone Trio founding member (and former AQ-er) Ackley's debut as leader, with Masada members Greg Cohen and Joey Baron rounding out the trio. "...moves from conceptual improvisations to lovely ballads and straight-ahead swingers, showcasing one of the great soprano saxophone jazz soloists around." Truly.
Jon Brumit's last audio outing was a a sonic tour through the city dump, a dark delirious soundscape of found sounds, rickety malfunctioning equipment, all manner of scratched records and discarded tape decks, broken down computers, all cleverly and gorgeously woven together into one of the coolest weirdest records we've heard. On Vendetta Retreat, the soundtrack to a yet to be released film, Brumit seems to have honed those already impressive organizational and compostitional skills, resulting in a record that had both Allan and Andee running to the front of the store to see what the heck was playing. In fact everytime we play this in the store everyone wants to know what we're playing as well. Vendetta Retreat starts off as a super minimal slab of "skipping cd" style plunderphonia, a super intense and spare soundscape of ultra brief fragments of found record, bursts of electric guitar, the briefest snatch of a vocal line, tiny frgaments of record crackle -- not sure if Brumit's sound source is still the junkyard, but it definitely sounds like maybe it is. These sparse musical fragments create a strange disembodied melody, jagged and compellingly imprecise. Eventually, the empty space behind these bursts and shards fills up with a darkly propulsive electronic framework, minimal and murky, a distant framework for the Brumit's strange Jeck-style broken turntable workout.
The second track takes the rough edit sound collage of the first track and fills it out with wild octopoidal tribal drumming, massive swells of cymbal sizzle and percussive bombast and wave after wave of layered drones, guitars thick with distortion and other effects, hiccupping loops buried beneath, barely audible, adding more texture than anything else, a huge swirl of rumble and whir like a noisier more abstract Growing, or Finnish hypnorockers Circle at their most unhinged and densely ambient. The final track is the logical extension of the track before, taking a dense swath of droney dirge as its fundamental loop, a repeating hypntotic stuttering krautrocky groove, that goes on and on and on (and if we had our way would keep going on and on forever). Imagine your favorite Circle record or some classic Faust track, with a scratch right in the middle, so it skips repeatedly, an unintentional loop, the perfect pulsing hypno riff, the best chunk of hazy repetitive riffing you can imagine, then over the top drape bits of gentle guitar filligree and clouds of disembodied notes. So amazing. One of those tracks that need never stop, we'd be happy to just drift off and bliss out until the end of time. The track evenutally falls apart, the riffs fade and dissipate, the jagged bursts of sound fragments return, this time even more strangely obtrusive, and wreathed in dense halos of echo and delay that send those shards reverberating into the ether, while underneath, the original minimal groove returns, also a bit more affected and damaged, until the whole thing fragments into its constituent parts before finally blinking out with one final blast of disembodied sound. Wow. Can't wait to see the film. And actually the film will be a compilation of clips and shorts collected over the next year, there's information on how to submit footage inside the cd. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!
The local label Out of Round has been laboring quietly in the background, not calling a lot of attention to itself yet turning out record after record that are consistently of similar mood -- due to the fact that they all play on each others recordings. The homegrown label's "sound", then, is one of a grimy circus atmosphere, like Fellini's La Strada if it was set in some dusty corner of an urban American metropolis. There are lots of slowed down polkas and depressed waltz time-signatures, dour vocals, sad accoridans, and dolefully plucked guitars. Great mood music for the Tom Waits fan in all of us who feels like Waits is just too hip for his own good these days.
Check out www.outofroundrecords.com -- we carry all of their releases. For a limited time only, get an out of Round Records label sampler free with purchase of this disc.
Third album from SF's own Rick Buckner, the man with the juicy velvet voice. Previous efforts' dark twang is even less evident here, where he tempers his melancholia with help from Syd Straw, Tortoise's John McEntire, David Grubbs, Dave Schramm, etc.
Tape hiss, simple melodies, mechanical rhythms, dubby reverb... Nice! We're diggin' on the 16 tracks, 33 minutes�of blissful, bedroom-recorded Casio-dub instrumental music here, this cd-r being the second solo joint from Oakland's Adam Bugaj, a Pennsylvania transplant who played "lysergic barn rock" with underground psych acts Peacefeather and Clear Spots back in PA. Rather than rockin' out, though, this is lazy Sunday stoned music from the man, lo-fi DIY mesmerism, like a Jewelled Antler production of home-brewed Kompakt techno, shimmering with hiss and distortion. 'Tis spacey and mellow, sometimes subverted by sudden manual tape edits... Throw in a bit of Fahey folky guitar ramble here or there, and broken electronics that get accidentally cosmic and Cluster-like, with echoey keys, heartbeat drum machine pulses, minimal drones, fractured rhythms... Imagine, maybe, a more outsider version of Pantha Du Prince, recorded on, like, $15 worth of yard sale equipment and cheap cassette tapes. Yes it's pretty nice!
While we wait for the impending full length from local droned out cinematic psychedelic heavies Burial Tree, we've got this two song 'cassingle' teaser to hold us over, and to give us a taste of what's coming. This nice priced tape features one song from the upcoming album, and a live in the studio version of a song from the first album. The new track is a beast, an effects drenched psychedelic space rock blow out, heavy and blissed out, an extended trance-y psych jam that should have fans of the current crop of space-psych warriors wondering why they hadn't heard Burial Tree before. The reworked older track is a more brooding and laid back affair, lo-fi and blissed out, a twang flecked post rock that builds to a churning metallic dirge, before getting all spaced out and slipping tight back into that post rock lope and eventually finishing off with some abstract ambient drift. Can't wait for the new record!
We've said it before, we love when our friends make amazing music. The sort of music that transcends the bonds of friendship, that requires none of the obligation that usually accompanies 'friend rock', the sort of music that had you just discovered it, unaware of its provenance, you wouldn't think twice about proclaiming its virtues, blasting it on your iPod nonstop, or if you're us, raving about it on the New Arrivals list.
Burial Tree is the realization of several years of intense work, and is the project of aQ pal Monte and his wife Lauren, along with a few other contributors, and is a mysterious, drone rock epic, a blissed out and darkly brooding record of haunting heaviness and abstract moodiness. A collection of subtly crafted cinematic soundscapes, equal parts Barn Owl psychedelic drift, Neurosis riff heavy crush, Three Mile Pilot post rock lope, and various stops in between.
The record begins with a haunting solo cello rendition of Hank Williams' "Ramblin' Man', transformed into an achingly mournful lament, the perfect lead in to "Secret Arts", a sprawling stretch of minimal black ambience, a lush, layered expanse of layered low end, and softly pulsing synth swells, laced with bits of melody, and warn swirls of sonic sunlight, a slow shifting scene setter for the sounds to come. "The Mysterious Stranger" is a dark twang flecked bit of Earth-y post rock, the guitars spidery and minor key, the drums busy and intricate, the strings soaring and swirling, all over a bed of subtle synth shimmer, eventually big riffs swoop in, and things get a bit metallic, with some killer stop/start dynamics, rife with synth squiggles and spaced out FX. A driving, hypnotic, subtly proggy, spaced out dirge rock, that shifts from dense distorted crunch to minimal lope and back again. And it's during those loping minimal bits that the sound reminds us of vintage Three Mile Pilot, the thick bass suspended over deep swirling space, paranoid and hauntingly ominous.
"The Bringer Of Light" mirrors the melodies from the song before it, making it feel like a sort of second movement, it's reverby contemplative drift sounding like some nineties slowcore combo via desert rockers Scenic, very evocative, barren landscapes, wide open skies, shadows moving slowly across the ground, here too, the strings do the heavy melodic lifting, while the drums and guitar weave a skeletal framework, sounding like something that wouldn't have been out of place on Thrill Jockey back in the day. The track builds to a swirling psychedelic climax, all pounding drums and swirling synths, before fading into another bit of smoldering dronemusic, a spacey effects heavy stretch of whirring Moogs and looped FX, blurred into gauzy bits of fragmented melody, and thick, softly undulating layers of washed out blackness.
"Conjuring Demons" is another post rocker that takes the spare bass heavy, spidery melodies of 3MP and weds them to some more arid spacious desert rock, another haunting excursion into abstract instrumental meander, the stings here adding color and texture, the main guitar riff memorable enough to stay lodged in your head, the drums eventually dropping off, leaving just the strings over a barely there bit of deep rumbling shimmer. The record finally winds down with the gorgeous title track, the cello played so lyrically, the melodies melancholy and mournful, wrapped around muted chiming melodies, and a strange distant insectoid buzz, a dark, emotional threnody, the sound of the sun disappearing beneath the horizon, the moon vanishing behind the clouds, the fire dying to embers in the hearth, the stars fading into the blackness of space. So nice.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. And each one with a printed cover, and a screen printed insert, printed by a real live WIZARD!
Rituals is the second full-length from these aQ pals, local atmospheric psychedelic heavies Burial Tree, whose last album, Outer Dark, was a big hit around here, and thankfully, Rituals takes up right where Outer Dark left off, in fact if anything, it's a more fully realized disc, a killer concoction equal parts blackened atmospheric ambience, Neurosis like metallic heft, and psychedelic space rock heaviness! It opens with a sprawling expanse of sinister drones, and string laden low end smolder, building to an almost Nitsch like cacophony, shot through with subtle FX, the perfect lead in to "Black Magick Trance", which might be our favorite BT track yet, a driving thunderous psych jam, that's mathy, and proggy and seriously spaced out, and has the group more aligned with outfits like White Hills or the Heads, the same sort of endless shoegazing heart-of-the-sun Hawkwind style zoner jams, the band locked tight into a serious groove, over which the guitars writhe wildly, the song switching gears constantly, a churning math metal workout one second, a killer super dynamic, mathy stuttery start/stop, that leads into a dirgey breakdown, the whole thing laced with strings, and all sorts of swirling effects, the perfect final jam / closing number (which it was when BT played their first ever show recently).
The other three tracks here, while not nearly as bombastic, still offer up everything we've come to dig about these guys, a loping twang flecked Morricone-ish post rock, rife with swoonsome strings, and finished off with a super rocking near metallic outro, a warm washed out atmospheric organ driven dirge that blossoms into a classic almost doom metal heaviness, wreathed in shredding guitars and driven by some serious drum pound and some almost ELO like cello chug, and finally, a gorgeous, malevolent blackdrone combo, cavernous and caustic, a slow shift from soft shimmer to grim buzz, from drifting mesmer to grinding abject blackness. Awesome.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered. Nice packaging too with multiple color cardstock inserts.
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Allan's D&D sensibilities were most pleased with the name and title of this new Jewelled Antler cd-r! Tunnels To Other Chambers is the debut of a new project from the JA camp, featuring the duo of Kerry McLaughlin (Franciscan Hobbies) and the ubiquitous Glenn Donaldson (FH, Thuja, Skygreen Leopards, The Ivytree, Teenage Panzerkorps, etc.). Guesting on a few tracks you'll also find Rob Reger (Thuja) and Christine Boepple (Skygreen Leopards Skyband). These guys do indeed have a knack for titles to match their evocative folk-psych-improv music. No review is really needed if we cite such track names as "Gallery Of Ancient Birds", "Ghosts In The Tunnel", "Moss Banjo" or "Vacation Route For Emperors". I mean, sounds good already, right? And it does for sure sound good if you're attuned to the sort of spacious, abstract sound-delving these folks do so well. It's wonderfully fragile, sleepy, and melodic. Droning harmonium, bowed strings...electronic detritus...plucked acoustic guitar...simple, ritual percussion...tinkling bells...and occasional frail whispery vocals. It's like listening in to some mellow krautrock being played on an Applachian back porch, or to monkish ceremonies from the lost Plateau of Leng, or perhaps a somnolent subterranean hobbit-hole jamboree. In other words, so nice!! Definitely get this is you like Jewelled Anter stuff like The Birdtree and Hala Strana. Also we could reference Espers, Amon Duul, Tower Recordings, Harvester, Algarnas Tradgrad, Siloah...
Finally! A new Burmese record. We've said it before, but it definitely bears repeating. Burmese might just be the best band in San Francisco, and one that not nearly enough folks have heard, or heck even heard OF. And Colony Collapse Disorder might just be their heaviest, tightest, grindiest, most expansive, and weirdly enough catchiest record yet. It's also the first to feature the new lineup, which still includes the two Mikes on bass and vocals, and one of the original Marks on drums, but now adds Weasel Walter and a guy called Tissue to the mix, and HOLEE SHIT. This is pummeling heaviness, grinding chaos, dense crushing metallic brutality, free form noise rock chaos. Hard to know what to call it really, all we know is it rules.
The sound seems to be less Whitehouse and more Crossed Out these days. The long stretches of high end drone and shrieking feedback have now seemingly been all tangled up with blasts of wild octopoidal (literally this time, not literally as in octopus, but literally as in 8 limbed!) drum damage, super distorted bass riffage, layer after layer of grit and grime and crust and filth and buzz, definitely harkening back to their first two tUMULt records, but just WAY, MORE.
Epic abstract sludge grind, blown out blasts of lightning fast crush, lurching stop start arrangements, insane throat shredding vocals that go from shriek to growl to gurgle even stopping briefly at weird croon. Burmese are just the thing for folks into stuff like Discordance Axis, Drop Dead, Melt Banana, the Locust and that sort of sound, who are up for something way more harsh and heavy and fucked up frightening. Baffling and brilliant and noisy and heavy as fuck. WAY recommended as always.
And as always, incredible packaging, released on Rock Is Hell, this is a beautiful full color picture disc, bees and flowers and honeycomb, housed in a spare printed thick sleeve, with a small envelope containing two very mysterious and obtuse inserts. And of course LIMITED TO ONLY 300 COPIES!!!!
We're not sure how these guys (and gal) do it, but somehow, SF's own sludge/dirge/grind/noise mavens Burmese, make record after record, everyone a mind blowing slab of ultra heaviness and absolute head caving pummel, on all sorts of cool labels, tUMULt, Rock Is Hell, Enterruption, Planaria, Load, Not Not Fun, Heart & Crossbone, New Scream Industry, Crucial Blast and now UgExplode, yet they somehow remain for the most part totally under the radar. They've definitely had some bad luck, but this is crazy. If you've ever seen Burmese play, in any of their permutations, they utterly destroy. Their worst shows are better than most band's best shows. In fact, their worst shows might just be their best shows. Two basses, manned by two Mikes, each with a stack of amps piled to the ceiling, two drummers too, at least on this record, spewing out wild octopoidal tangles of beats and rhythms, no guitar, they sure as fuck don't need one of those, and then to top it off Tissue, their diminutive female lead vocalist, who dresses in skirts and sweaters, but then turns into a beast on the mic, with some impossibly throat shredding vokills, the band so impossibly tight, especially considering how insane their songs are slipping from ultra intricate mathy grindprog, to spaced out nearly abstract free noise whatthefuck.
We say this about every record, but this just might be their best yet. And c'mon, that's how it should be with all bands, every record should be better than the last, and considering how goddamn good their first record was about 10 records back, well then guess how good Lun Yurn is. Yep. Exactly.
They're pretty hard to describe actually. Heavy, for sure. Metal, sort of. Punk, absolutely. Noisy. Grindy. But also mathy, proggy, droney, noisy, chaotic. Their songs generally flail from blasting D-beat pound, to doomy lurching plod, to grinding noise drenched blast, to weird super dynamic stop/start breakdown, and back again, the two basses unleashing thick gouts of power violence style riffery, the multiple drummers (one of which is Weasel Walter on this record) anchoring the impossibly chaotic crush, somehow all of these disparate elements, and all of this intense caustic sound, is deftly assembled into the sort of grinding metallic noisepunk jams that actually stick in your head. It's true. Not sure, how, or why, but we never get tired of this band or these songs, or seeing them lay waste live. It'd be pointless to go song by song, listen to the sound samples, if you're not totally bowing before the altar of Burmese, well then there just might be something wrong with you.
Stick around to the very end cuz there's an extra track, a whopping 45 minute jam, that one track 50 percent longer than the whole rest of the record, and it's an impossibly relentless, insanely chaotic, non stop frantic, frenzied, frenetic, blown out grindpsych blowout. Fuck.
From their first release, a chaotic, club destoying blast of downtuned pummel, Burmese have slowly been gravitating, at least sonically, toward what can only be described as a state of Whitehouse. Shedding musical elements one at a time until they were on the verge of becoming pure violent energy. Each song an endless stretch of brutal sound, a barbed bed of uneasy ambience for the ultra distorted ranting and raving vocals. We all though it couldn't get any meaner, any creepier or any heavier. We were so wrong. Burmese's Men is the musical equivalent of the heart stopping pants shitting terror you experience when faced with a spittle spraying, wildly snarling pitbull, hackles raised and teeth bared lunging at you from behind a chainlink fence, you realize that the fence ends a few yards away and there is no gate. This band is fucking scary. On Men, the dual bass, dual drummer lineup manages to compartmentalize, and their Whitehouse obsession becomes just one element in what is a totally devastating doom sludge monstrosity. Shrieked black metal vocals over pounding super distorted downtuned riffs and crushing double drummer pummel. Myabe one of the best band the Bay Area has to offer these days. Certainly the scariest.
Originally released on tUMULt way back in 2000, this primal slab of dual bassed downtuned sonic mayhem, may still rank as one of the heaviest, most vitriolic chunks of sound this city ever produced. A prime slab of chaotic grind, laced with Whitehouse like noise, and bursts of metallic fury, not to mention a black hole entropy that found most songs falling apart into long stretches of broken amp feedback or crushed drum kit clatter.
So this record is finally available on vinyl, BUT, these are not the same recordings. The same songs yes, but recorded in their practice space just before the album proper was recorded, so while it's still heavy and furious and freaked out, it's also even more raw and blown out and most definitely damaged. Also included is a killer cover of Black Flag's "I've Heard It Before', even fiercer and more fucked up than the original (we sacrilegiously proclaim!) originally released on the band's now long out of print Treaties Of Greed And Filth 7".
As with all things Enterruption, the packaging is gorgeous and over the top. The sleeve is silkscreened, with all of the visual elements from the cd packaging represented (the dead elephant, the leafless etc.) The inside of the sleeve is printed with various live band shots, the vinyl is THICK and pressed on red wax, housed in a thick inner sleeve, printed with song titles and liner notes, also included are various show flyers from back in the day, reproduced on nice thick heavy cardstock. LIMITED TO ONLY 500 COPIES!!! Here's our (slightly altered) review of the cd when it first came out in 2000. And while these are different recordings, this description is still pretty apt, just add your own "harsher"s and "noisier"s and "more blown out"s here and there and it'll be perfect.
If you lived in San Francisco, circa 2000 you may have seen these local ne'er do wells playing live (this incarnation at least), with set times ranging from 30 seconds to 15 minutes, often covered in blood, writhing on the floor in a heap of destroyed instruments, charging wildly through the crowd, smashing tables and chairs (and playing with other club destroyers the Black Dice and Arab on Radar). So you'd be forgiven for expecting a messy sloppy record that is nothing without the live show. But boy, would you be wrong. Burmese's debut is a dense, ultra heavy, super low end (they have 2 basses and no guitar after all) crushing and pummeling onslaught.
The opening track is an intense free noise explosion of rumbles, feedback, and spastic drumming. The next 20 tracks take the grind of Drop Dead, drop it a few octaves, and add some seriously fucked arrangements. The last track is an epic drone ala EARTH: waves of subsonics weave in and out of malfunctioning electronics until the whole thing dissolves into a wash of turntables and instrument hum. Somewhere between DROP DEAD and EARTH circa Earth 2, this is some of the craziest, heaviest, noisiest low end grind/sludge we've heard in forever.
Again, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! So get it while you can...
It had to happen. Local sludge/grind combo Burmese, with a maximum-pummel line up of 2 bassists and 2 drummers, and two amazingly brutal records on our very own Andee's tUMULt label, and who spend most of their time channelling the spirit of '80s UK noise-shock pioneers Whitehouse anyway, decided to indulge their peculiar obsession, by recording an entire record of Whitehouse songs, run through the Burmese ringer. The result? An ear shredding, throat slitting, hateful, misanthropic skree, equal parts Merzbow, Drop Dead, Whitehouse and white noise, garbled ultra-distorted inhuman vocals, spewing hate and bile, over a musical bed of shrieking feedback, buzzing instruments, and very little actual 'playing', like a Twilight Zone episode where the musical instruments rebel against their masters by making the most un-musical sounds they can muster. Truly brutal, difficult, warped and wondrous.
We're more and more convinced that Burmese are San Francisco's greatest band. So fucking heavy, and so intensely aggressive, so totally unlike any other bands in the scene. Live they destroy, and somehow on record, their vitreous violence comes through loud and clear. For those new to Burmese, this is grinding low end ultra pummel, sludge and speed mixed into an impossible sonic stew, a little like Whitehouse crossed with Drop Dead, which makes no sense, but which is why Burmese are so fucking awesome. This set of songs was recorded live on WFMU and is so blown out. the recording so hot, that it's essentially just impenetrable walls of bass guitar growl, huge pounding sonic boom drums and inhuman shrieks. Scary stuff.
Teamed up with Burmese are 16 Bitch Pile Up, who traffic in abstract free noise, noxious clouds of ambient murk, with distant feral vocals and percussion that sounds like someone moving filing cabinets. Harsh and creepy, but what would you expect when one of the band members is credited with playing a bag of glass.
Part of Not Not Fun's Bored Fortress series of limited 7"s, packaged in a cool red and metallic gold silkscreened cover complete with little stick on pink leaves!
Never heard Fistula before, but they definitely prove themselves, at least on this here split, to be one of the few bands that can stand up to the ferocity and absolute fucking musical anvil to the skull that is Burmese. After two releases on our own Andee's tUMULt label, Burmese hook up with fellow noisemakers Fistula for an absolute sonic orgy of untold proportions of AQ pal Adam's Crucial Blast label. The ten Burmese tracks show them moving even further away from conventional grind / sludge into a world all their own, Whitehouse collides with Drop Dead, Throbbing Gristle with Masonna on lead vocals and Corrupted as back up band. This is pure fucking noise. Moments of grinding fury do peek through, as do little bursts of rhythmic mayhem and occasional electronic overload, but overall this is just two drummers and two bassists stuffing your head in a blender with a speaker at the bottom. Fistula respond with four slightly longer tracks of metallic crush. The first an abstract dirge with the lead vocals replaced by a hacking cough. Like an underground sludge "Sweet Leaf". But the other three tracks prove Fistula to be masters of the BIG RIFF. Supercharged drone / dirge metal, huge and galloping, pummelling and fucking MASSIVE.
Killer blast of Bay Area garage rock / fuzz pop from two of our favorite groops, on this new split from local label Mt. St. Mtn., the A side a brand new jam from sixties styled, organ driven garage psych troubadours Burnt Ones, who deliver a delirious chunk of baroque-pop styled fuzz, all hazy vocals and jangly guitars, swirling and hypnotic and dreamily psychedelic, while the flipside is a new (old) track from sadly now defunct aQ faves The Mallard, whose track here is all lo-fi lope and reverby jangle, with washed out vocals, swirling soaring psych guitar melodies, crunchy riffs, and loose limbed drumming, with a cool stuttery bridge that pops up throughout, giving it a weirdly mathy vibe in places, and ultimately once again reminding us again how much we miss The Mallard!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES! Housed in a super swank, 4 color debossed sleeve, and pressed on crazy colored swirled vinyl!
Another bizarre project from our favorite local Hello Kitty maniac and metal maven, the one and only (thank god) Steven Schultz. You may know him from such amazing/ridiculous projects as Stalin Claus Superstar! (y'know, the 4cd rock opera box set), or his "I Forgot To Get A Rap Name!" rap album, or the "History Of Vats" disc that started all this genre-splicing home-recording madness way back when. His new effort, monikered Busuchan, is along the lines of "Vats" or much of "Stalin Claus": insanely accomplished musically, insanely retarded humoristically (witness such song titles as "Jesse Jackson Wants His Forehead Back" and "Bitch, I Stole Your Man, Ho!"). Although, like "Vats" (but not the opera), Steve does this all himself -- drums, guitar solos, electronics, vocals, artwork, silly liner notes, everything. Wow. Imagine a one-man Mr. Bungle, but more metal and with (even) more annoying vocals. This cd is graced by a photo of the man himself decked out oh so convincingly as a coy Japanese schoolgirl. (Possibly the most disturbing picture we've seen lately, and we spend a lot of time on the internet!) But we must tip our hats to Mr. Schultz. Dragging in and desecrating everything from doo wop to electronica to black metal, this is completely spazzy, twisted and strange -- and unfortunately catchy enough to get stuck in your head. This made some people laugh, made others roll their eyes, and still others... uncomfortable. Stop looking at my ass, indeed! Steve Schultz fans (ohmigod it's true, he probably does have fans, indeed, deserves 'em) line up now!
In spite of being a 'post-rock' band, this local trio actually knows how to rock. Both live and on this new cd, they're quite impressive, intense and precise...but also not super original. Everything they do sounds kinda like it could be something by Circus Lupus, Shellac, or every other post-rock band on the screamier side of things...maybe a little Bastro, a little Fugazi too. And perhaps the brief Latin hand percussion break halfway through the disc is their nod to Tortoise or Gastr del Sol? So, great if that's your scene and you're not really looking for something new (that is, you want more of what you like, rather than something else). Perhaps these guys should go into temporary retirement for twenty years, and then emerge right about when there's (likely to be) a retro-post-rock revival in 2022, they'd kick everyone's asses then. In the here-and-now, though, they're still really good.
One man folk outfit, The Cairo Gang, gets his solo vinyl debut on local label Empty Cellar and it's quite beautifully melancholic and intimate. We've been familiar with singer songwriter Emmet Kelly's work for awhile now, especially his collaborations with Bonnie Prince Billy where he managed to take Oldham's recent maximal ambitions back to the spare economy of his work as Palace Brothers. Like another Will Oldham release we favor above most of the others, Master and Everyone, The Corner Man is a spare and close set of tracks that has lovely British folk lyrical qualities with guitars, pedal steel and soft thumping drums. Kelly's clear resonant tones lay out wistful moods of impermanence and a weary knowing regret. On the Corner Man, The Cairo Gang's sound has become fully realized, and it's a thing of beauty indeed.
Comes with download card!
These local favorites, that for painfully obvious reasons, have made it big (-ish). The worst song on this cd is the hit on MTV. With embarrassing lyrics, funky, kooky riffs, and gratuitous poppy bullshit, this release was unbearable for me to listen to. Yuck.
As seen on MTV.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Curious what some of those boys from The Rapture were up to prior to hookin' up with the DFA production team and hittin' the dancefloor? Here's your answer! The Calculators' Circuit Breaking Silence cd and Simplicity & Style 10" have both been out of print for a few years now, but have just been reissued together on one disc by uber hip'n'cool SF label Princehouse Records!
Here's what we had to say about them back then... first the cd:
Popular but now sadly defunct SF synth-wave quartet easily recognized by their white belts and ties. Quite frankly this band rocked with a hearty dose of thick Roland Juno 60 and Moog synth lines. Half this album was recorded by Helios Creed at Half Machine Studios.
and as for the 10":
The now-defunct Calculators certainly fired up quite a new wave frenzy in their short life. Thick analog synth lines do battle with distorted guitars. This medium sized piece of vinyl features four prime examples of youthful SF synth rock.
The debut album that's been building this Bay Area group quite a hefty buzz around town. And if plentiful pop pleasures with sunshine-y harmonies are your thing, you'll be buzzing madly as well. Although photos have presented them as sorta Elastica-esque
This new album from Calling All Monsters immediately seemed familiar to us here at AQ, and not just because one of the band members is dear Matthew Troy formerly of the raucous yet sweet Bay Area popsters and AQ pals Trackstar (for whom he was one of the two chief songwriters). Although the album gets things rolling with a surprisingly aggressive number that recalled the fist-pumpin' pop punk of Rancid and NOFX (not a bad thing AT ALL!), that bravado soon gives way to the sounds that seem more characteristic of Troy, leaning more towards early to mid nineties Dinosaur Jr and Sonic Youth. The Traps That Work Best makes for a logical progression and development from the fuzzy, feisty songs he wrote for Trackstar's last album Lion Destroyed The Whole World (2002). So nice.
Dreamless Sleep is the latest from Caminiti, whose day job is as one half of twang flecked drone duo Barn Owl, and like his partner in Barn Owl, Jon Porras, Caminiti's solo records don't always deviate too much from the Barn Owl M.O., offering up variations of the duo's distinctive dusky sound, with the various individual solo records often easily mistaken for proper Barn Owl record, which is not a bad thing at all, Caminiti and Porras have undeniable musical chemistry, and both have proven to be perfectly capable on their own, both experimenting more with keyboards and synthesizers lately, which of course ironically seems to have been influencing their work as a duo as well.
All of that said, Dreamless Sleep definitely finds Caminiti pushing his sounds into uncharted territories, ditching much of the twang, and the droned out mesmer for something way more kosmische and downright new age-y at times. In fact, if it weren't for the fierce guitar tones and muted buzz, the sounds here could easily slip into full on new age bliss out. Thankfully, Caminiti takes that new age drift, and weds it to his dense guitarscapery, letting neither overshadow the other, resulting in tracks that manage to be both dreamy and ethereal, dark and cinematic, wrapping washed out shimmering synths in spidery sinister melodies, and wreathing hushed ethereal ambience in clouds of ominous thrum, the recordings adding even more texture and density, gristly and on the verge of slipping into the red, the sounds blown out and occasionally corrosive, with some of the tracks slipping into near SUNNO)))-like heft, only you have the shimmery swirl hold it back, and conversely, some of the tracks are so airy and ethereal, it's often just a single slab of crumbling, rumbling blackened thrum, that keeps things safely on the darkside. It's like the perfect music for some seriously psychedelic planetarium show, the music evoking massive sprawls of space, and the ever shifting cosmos, dying stars and black holes, planets being born and epic swaths of glimmering starfields.
Latest solo outing from one half of SF dronedoom duo Barn Owl, coming right on the heels of another solo record, that one from the OTHER half of Barn Owl, Jon Porras, a former aQ-er, whose Black Mesa we dug quite a bit. It would be tempting to try some rock nerd math, and imagine that Black Mesa plus Night Dust might simply BE Barn Owl, but strangely enough, the sounds Porras and Caminiti conjure up on their own, while not really deviating sonically too much from the soundworld they've created with their group, do end up being markedly different. And in many case more experimental and abstract than the twang flecked smolder and drift the two conjure up together. Caminiti's new one might be the strangest (and perhaps coolest) of the bunch, although that strangeness definitely creeps up on you, as the opener, "Near Dark" does sound like it could have been plucked right off a Barn owl record, all billowy clouds of warm softly roiling guitar thrum, shot through with streaks of high end melody, and a warm washed out haze, but even hear, Caminiti pushes the sounds, and the sound itself, pegging the needles, and moving WAY into the red, with sound buzzing and distorting in a way that gives the song a strange outsider psych vibe. But it's on the next track "Returning Spirits" where things get really good. A haunting sprawl of ethereal shimmer, peppered with deep pulsations, and dubbed out percussion, the guitars unfurling little tangles of melody, which get super distorted, a gorgeously muted blown out space-psych (those sounds could be synths, hard to tell, but both Porras and Caminiti, have been experimenting with synths, in Barn Owl, and on their own), but those little soft squalls are gorgeous, and haunting, the vibe super cinematic, dark and otherwordly. Then Caminiti lets loose with a glimmering starfield of super high glistening harmonics, that sound almost like chimes, all over a slow building swell of lush chordal thrum, just might be our favorite Caminiti track yet. But don't want to speak too soon. The rest of the record definitely continues to explore less familiar territory, the pulsing glitchy synths that underpin the warm guitar whorls on "A Memory Or A Mirage", the dense, crumbling, super distorted organ like wall of sound, that churns its way through "Star Circle", the brief blast of wild Neil Young like guitars draped over a woozy tranquil low end drift on "Moon Is The Hunter", the almost Nadja like doomgaze of "Last Blue Moments", the haunting blackened kosmische of "Slow Fade Of Stars", that sounds like Loren Mazzacane Connors playing in some massive cave, wreathed in thick, warm reverb, delicate and skeletal, drowsy and dreamlike, and finally, the two part closer "First Light", which stretches out incendiary guitars into keening dronescapes, again laced with glimmering harmonics, and deep mesmerizing tones, before drifting off into the ether with a final few minutes of spare, soft focus drone-psych blues, wreathed in clouds of whir and hiss, a haunting lo-fi soft noise coda.
Gorgeous full color gatefold sleeves with super striking original art by Caminiti. Includes a download coupon.
The first proper cd full length release from Evan Caminiti, who is 1/2 of drone duo Barn Owl, along with Jon Porras, who records solo as Elm. It seems like Elm has been cranking them out, but Caminiti has too, we just haven't been able to get his more limited cd-r releases, but we're so happy to finally get this. A dark and brooding psychedelic drone epic. Four tracks, nearly fifty minutes of heavy smoldering droneguitar bliss.
Long blurred chords, arcing streaks of feedback, slowly unfurling minor key melodies, thick blurry buzz smeared into drifting clouds of gauzy shimmer, layered and textured and expansive, the heavier moments remind us a bit of Skullflower or To Blacken The Pages or Fear Falls Burning, albeit with a folkier vibe, more melody infused into the coruscating buzz, while the prettier more delicate moments recall Steven R. Smith, Six Organs Of Admittance and other folkdrone guitarists.
The record drifts into shimmery contemplative twang here and there, evoking the open road, endless moonlit nights, loneliness and heartbreak, the blur of life moving past, the glimmer of reflections set in the endless black of night, but even those moments soon expand into full blown walls of guitardrone, of sheets of feedback melting into smears of high end glimmer. Elsewhere, deep abstract ambience is laced with minimal guitar twang, moaning distant melodies, sitar like buzz, only again to build into an avalanche of crumbling distortion and heart of the sunn soft focus skree, before slipping into a coda of warm, soft meditative buzz, and dreamlike drones. So gorgeous. So recommended for fans of Earth, Six Organs, Steve R. Smith and like minded dronescapers, and of course, if you love Barn Owl and Elm, then this is pretty much essential as well.
