THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Right now, everything released by these Northwestern dealers of doomdeathdirgedrone, is out of print, EXCEPT for these two cassettes, Prossneck, Germany 1629, and the split with fellow noisemakers Drowner. But these won't last long. These two tapes are both tour only, limited to 100 copies, we got 20 of each, and judging from past Blue Sabbath Black Cheer releases, those won't last long at all, needless to say, one per customer, and even more needless to say, if you want one of these, don't dawdle! Blink and you'll miss 'em.
The BSBC side is another sea of harsh his and caustic buzz, thick waves of distortion and blurred vocal damage, squealing feedback, a million amps with AM radios blasting white noise through busted speakers, strangely beautiful, but that severed limb, horrible car wreck, utter disaster sort of beautiful. A near static expanse of washed out heavy black noise, once again managing to be surprisingly listenable, at least for those who are into that sort of thing!
Drowner offers his own chunk of thick corrosive heaviness, the sound much fuller and seemingly guitar based than BSBC, churning downtuned crumbling black buzz, shot through with shards of feedback, a monstrous low end sludge, peppered with strange buried melodies, bits of electronic shimmer, and various other sonic bits, but at its very black heart, this is a wall of blown out blackened heaviness, oozing glacially, and destroying everything in its path. The two groups make a pretty good match. And while we know we're gonna hear more from BSBC before too long, we definitely want to check out some more Drowner...
Once again, LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!! We have 20, that is it!!
It's definitely weird to call something like this 'pretty', but what can you do? Of all the Blue Sabbath Black Cheer records we've heard, this one is definitely the prettiest. Of course it's all relative, one man's pretty, is another's harsh head caving blacknoise, and perhaps another's ear shredding doombuzz brutality, and weirdly enough, it's sort of all of those things, but in the realms of doombuzz blacknoise, this sidelong sprawl is indeed, a strange shade of tranquil, at least at first.
It's BSBC so the ingredients should no doubt be familiar by now, the sound equal parts blackened crumbling, distorted buzz, and glacial hellish downtuned crawl, but here the crunchy, crumbling surface layer hides a slow shifting sonic interior, a whirling buried shimmer, soft sheets of crackle and whir, everything constantly bombarded by huge heaving industrial booms, like mortar shells, along with strange creaks and distant crashes, like some strange Wolf Eyes / Skinny Puppy hybrid, being broadcast through rusted out Soviet era loudspeakers, as the city literally crumbles all around you. Ambient but abrasive, tranquil but harrowing, a field recording of collapsing tectonic plates, rendered in 'music'. Near the end, the sound takes on a power electronics vibe, due in no small part to the creepy, bellowed guttural processed vocals, but still the sounds behind the demented caterwauling, continue to ooze and crumble and throb and crunch and creep.
BSBC are teamed up with an outfit called Griefer, who use their side of the lp to offer up a strangely cinematic stretch of buzz and glitch, lots of super distorted synth fuzz, peppered with strange machinelike creaks and groans, wrapped around super processed alien vox, all draped over a continuously throbbing synth pulse. Hypnotic and almost soundtracky, Griefer slip from heaving speaker destroying crumble, to whirring spaced out synthscape to blurred electronic crunch, often all three colliding in a thick noise-drenched psychbuzz synthdrone blowout, not so much harsh and brutal as intense and evocative.
Pressed on sick swirled green and brown sewage colored vinyl, housed in hand screened sleeves, with two printed, two sided cardstock inserts. LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!!
We'll keep this short, since we wanted to get 20 or 30 of these, ended up getting 10, and by the time this hits the list, we'll probably have less than that. We have way more copies of the forthcoming BSBC already reserved, but for this one, only the first lucky handful of you will likely score one of these.
Blue Sabbath Black Cheer teams up with a band called Penetration Camp for two sides of crushing abstract low end heaviness (as if you were expecting something else?). The BSBC side is 33rpm, for maximum sloooooooowness, a whirring crackling hissing rumbling drift, like the wash of helicopter rotors, the crackle of burning torches, this almost sounds like some strange field recording, and is definitely the prettiest thing we've heard from these guys. At least at first. Deep swells, warm and weirdly melodic, building to a coda of abrasive crashing chaos, thick and prickly and crunchy, before settling back down into a second movement, which sounds like the first, only the sounds have been doused in extra treble and skree, everything sharper and more jagged, laced with inhuman screams and the hellish sounds of dying electronics.
The flipside is at 45, and no matter what the title or the bastardized insert artwork might lead you to believe, sadly this is NOT a cover of Black Sabbath's "Mob Rules", or if it is, kudos to Penetration Camp for rendering it 100 percent unrecognizable. The perfect match for BSBC, a bleak bit of creeped out black ambient crawl, fucked up stretched out heavily effected vocals wrapped around bit bursts of industrial crunch, thick swaths of sinister buzz, the grinding scrape and crumbling crunch eventually overtaking the deep rumbling drones.
SUPER LIMITED, already out of print, we have less than 10 copies, cool silkscreened paste on covers, two printed inserts, sorry we couldn't get more.
A seriously grim blackened doomdronedirge songsuite from these two outfits, both of which are perfectly capable of kicking up a serious din on their own, so you might be expecting a skull splitting ear piercing onslaught, but the first track at least is downright beautiful, in a bleak and sinister sort of way, lots of space, and texture, some caustic feedback and rumbling low end, some weird demonic voices, and some glitched out electronics, but all laid over a bed of hiss and hum, and eventually morphing into a strange series of moaning chordal swells, all woven together by a barely audible sinewave tone. And the same sort of ethereal abstract ambience extends into the second track, which unfurls like some sort of super minimal abstract rhythmscape, the rhythm in this case a barely there assemblage of murky pulses and concentrated bursts of soft focus static, but it's only the first half of the track, by part two, the sound have splintered into filthy shards of blunted noise, the low end oozing and bleeding into long black streaks, the vocals a FX drenched bellow, all the elements again held together by a strange tangled bit of high end that sounds a bit like air escaping from a balloon.
Track three (they're all untitled) is the first really noisy bit, but even here, it's tempered by some serious dynamics, and some cool abstract production, with the initial onslaught soon dialed back into a strangely rhythmic textural backdrop, before exploding once again, into a churning, rhythmic blackened dirge, the vocals this time around a monstrous growl WAY down in the mix, the shards of feedback strangely melodic, the whole track with a darkly hypnotic looped vibe, super mesmerizing, and the sort of noise that ends up being more tranced out than brutal. After a short stretch of glitched out skeletal doom, which sounds like some sort of experimental death metal run through a bunch of busted FX pedals and spinning at 16rpm, the record finishes off with a nearly 14 minute epic, that spends most of its time all delicate and barely there, lots of processed electronics and strange glitches, but all smeared into the background, some creepy bellowed slowed down vox the only thing that really makes this more noise than some haunting dark dronemusic, it's not until after a long stretch of near silence, that the song finally erupts into some full on crushing and crumbling NOISE, an avalanche of roiling low end crumble, that blossoms into a speaker shredding squall of blown out amp damage and abject sonic decay. Nice!
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When we listed a previous edition of this some years ago, it was back when our reviews were, um, a lot shorter. So all's we said then was that it was a proto-metal essential, from Japan's answer to Black Sabbath. And maybe that's enough, but since we dig this album so much, and it has at long last been reissued again, let's go for something a bit more expansive...
First off, Blues Creation's Demon & Eleven Children, their second and most classic album, dates from 1971. That's right, 1971!!! Of course it does. They'd started off in '69 with a record of all blues covers, but by '71 they'd heavied-up, and were ready with an album of originals, obviously influenced by the likes of Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and Deep Purple's In Rock. And dig that cover art. If you're one of our many proto-metal lovin' customers, you NEED this.
Among early '70s Japanese heavy psych hard rock bands, THESE guys (next to, arguably, Flower Travellin' Band) were indeed the heaviest we've heard. And definitely the most Sabbathy (though FTB did cover Sabbath... and Flied Egg came close too, even putting albums out on Vertigo). But really, just listen to the opening track here, "Atomic Bombs Away". No question. Sounds like a song Sabbath wrote for their first album, but let Blues Creation have instead. Heck if you didn't know better, it really sounds like Iommi's playing the guitar riffs and solos, and Geezer's on the swinging, lumbering bass! Obviously, it's heavy, gotta be when it's called "Atomic Bombs Away" (we wonder if it was was weird for a Japanese band to title a song that, only about 25 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki). The song ain't actually about atomic bombs, actually, like most of the tracks on Demon & Eleven Children, it's about lovin' and leavin' (or being left). Which can be heavy stuff too. Sample lyrics from "Atomic Bombs Away": "First time I lay you in the rusty shack / Black night keep fallin' in your gypsy eyes / Keep on movin' till the end of time / Lord have mercy for my sin / Set me free from my destiny".
The next track is called "Mississippi Mountain Blues", complete with harmonica... but it's urgent and rollicking, and in any case about as conventionally blues rock as they ever get here. We call this proto-METAL for a reason. Just check out the rockin' riff-fest of an instrumental, entitled "Brane Baster" (aka "Brain Buster"), to see what we mean. It's not all about Sabbath emulation, either. They're proto-Priest in parts, too, or at least, they've got tight twin guitar action on here that'll impress the Wishbone Ash and Thin Lizzy fans. Definitely pretty badass for when and where they were from. Tracks like "Sorrow" do the slow and sad thing pretty well too. It's not all heavy - there's the gentle "One Summer Day", as lovely as its title suggests. But if you want heavy, '71 style, this album won't disappoint you at all, indeed, you'll be be freaking out. It concludes with the epic, and ripping, 9+ minute title track, and if you're not bowing down to Blues Creation by then, your name had better be, like, Ritchie Blackmore.
Julian Cope ranked this as #17 in his Japrocksampler top 50, not bad. From a proto-metal point of view, though, it's top ten material, and we're not just talking Japan. Up there with Bang and Dust and Buffalo and Leaf Hound and all the rest.
Reissued in one of those wallet-digi packages, numbered.
Japan's Blues Creation started off as standard late 60's traditional blues-rock band but quickly got all heavy and freaky and proto-metallic and sort of became their country's riffy acid-blues answer to Black Sabbath (well, along with a few others like Flied Egg and of course AQ faves the Flower Travellin' Band who covered Sabbath on their first album). We really wish we could still get a hold of the Japanese import cd version of Blues Creation's classic 1971 album Demon & Eleven Children. But at least, at last, we have a few recently obtained copies of this, a reissue of a live album that originally came out 'round the same time. It's got the title track from Demon & Eleven Children, along with a couple of Blue Creation originals not found on Demon, one called "Nightmare" being as good and metal as anything on that album. Plus there's a few covers -- "Understand" with guest vocalist Carmen Maki, who was kind of a Japanese Janis Joplin/Robert Plant hybrid, and extended-length versions of ol' nuggets like "Rolling Stone" and "Tobacco Road" (a mean version of that song for sure!). This is definitely not for those who hate the blues -- a lot of this is real bluesy -- but it's also pretty much always heavy and/or frantic. And the guitar work is KILLER, Iommi-worthy leads ripping out of yr speakers all the time. A live recording is just perfect for these guys. They have a super electric sound and that early '70s jamming aesthetic like the Sabs themselves.
This is not new, but we only just discovered these guys and holy shit! Blutch are a Belgian trio who specialize in extreme heaviness, crushing downtuned sludge, but not ultradoom like Moss or Bunkur, instead, these guys go the Melvins route, spitting out, weirdly loping, almost groovy slabs of lurching, lumbering heaviness. Think the Melvins, Harvey Milk, even a little Torche. The Melvins comparison is especially apt, as the vocals tend toward that Buzz Osbourne sort of hushed croon, laid over stuttering start/stop chug, the songs loping and meandering, like some huge black wounded beast.
Some of the tracks slow down to a near funereal crawl, the guitars sprawling into clouds of SUNNO)))-like thrum, the drums less propulsive and more abstract, chords ringing out, riffs unfurling in thick black swells, peppered with little squalls of tangled guitar gnarl, or brief bursts of chug and thud, sometimes building to something almost epic and soaring, other times slowing down to a near glacial drone. The band lock into killer slow motion grooves, and the music begins to sound looped, totally hypnotic and mesmerizing, trancelike, the sound slowly, almost imperceptibly shifting, sucking you in, before an avalanche of crumbling distortion and collapsing riffage buries you alive. Here and there the tempo is jacked up and Blutch begin to sound like some classic death metal band playing at 16 rpm, but even then the songs usually morph into some tripped out abstract exercise in mathy metallic tension and release, or explode in a frenzy of almost grind level screamo fury, but always slipping back into some sort of blackened crawl.
The final track, at nearly 10 minutes, is the prettiest, yet least metal of the bunch, a swirling sprawl of blackened guitar buzz, of shimmering thrum and whir, strange reverbed percussion, moaning minimal melodies, all blurred into an epic slow motion crawl, the production muted and muddy and murky, adding even more to the lugubrious subterranean sound.
If this record wasn't 4 years old, we'd probably be screaming 'metal record of the year', but even still, since like us, probably most of you missed out on this entirely, no reason not to dig it like it was brand new, and like it really could/should be metal record of the year, cuz for those of you who aren't sticklers about such things, release dates and year end lists, well, no matter when a record came out, it's new when you hear it for the first time, even years after the fact, and based on how much we've been digging this heaviness, it's giving most of 2010's heavy releases a serious run for their money...
Finally!!! New music from The Body, who at one time, might just have ranked as one of, if not THE, favorite heavy band around these parts. Their self titled debut is incredible (and sadly out of print), a dizzying mix of post rock, ultra doom, and sludge metal, with a penchant for mathy rhythms, lots of space, and some seriously anguished vocals.
They released a super limited cd-r a bit later (which we have more of for a very short time, see elsewhere on this list!) which was more of the same, and included a totally over the top Judas Priest cover, the original totally transformed, which then leads us to this, a brand new tour ep, ALL covers, and not the sort of covers you might expect from a band like the Body, which is precisely why we love these guys so much.
Crass, Danzig, Black Flag and, wait for it, Sinead O'Connor. Yep. Hard to believe but it works, and they don't just turn it into a pointless sludgefest, they have obvious affection for the original. But before we get to "Black Boys On Mopeds", let's run through the other covers first.
Crass's "Do They Owe Us A Living" is all buzzing low end, and tribal drumming. The vocals a processed feral bark, the whole thing lurching and lumbering and seriously harrowingly intense. Makes the original sound like a lullaby. The Danzig track is a loping low slung groove, with a fierce downtuned riff, and hysterical shrieking vocals, the band totally own it, and again, add untold heaviness and harshness to the original. Black Flag's "Police Story" is pulled apart and gutted, before exploding into a punk rock frenzy, who knew a sludge band could rock so hard? It's a muddy, murky free for all, not that far removed from the original other than the downtuned guitars and the insane vox.
And finally, "Black Boys On Mopeds", a gorgeous sprawling dirge, and wisely the band opted to get some help with the vocals, a gorgeous female voice, underpinned by howled shrieked back up vocals way off in the distance, the bulk of the song a single buzzing throbbing note stretched out into a thick undulating drone, the rhythm a metronome like clack buried in the mix, the end gets all trippy and dubbed out, but damn if this isn't creepier and prettier than the original.
The Body is back, and we couldn't be happier. Now someone just needs to sign these guys and give them tons of money so they can finally put out a new full length!!!!!
We've long been fans of burly bearded post doom crushers The Body, their sound like the classic two man pummel of godheadSilo expanded into something even more majestic and sprawling, black hole heavy, infusing their ultra doom glacial sludge with plenty of post and rock mathisms, the cinematic tension of groups like Godspeed, and heck, they even cover songs by folks like Crass, Danzig, Black Flag and Sinead O'Connor! For a two piece, these guys pretty much transcend and obliterate any sort of limitations that lineup would pose to most mere musical mortals, but that said, plenty of two pieces have seen fit to expand, say to a trio or a quartet, maybe just to record, get a few guests, or even permanently, ditching the duo which sometimes gets focused on more than the music. But few bands (dare we say, practically none) expand further than that, say from 2 members to THIRTY TWO! But that's exactly what The Body has done for All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood, their second proper full length in ages, one that marks ten years as a band, and more importantly, marks a serious sonic shift. No longer are they scrappy DIY punk rock noisemakers, setting their sites above and beyond, these guys have gone for it, meticulously crafting an album of extreme heaviness, of sonic mystery, haunting, and epic, metal for sure, even going so far as to include an actual 13 member choir, and not just for little random bits here and there, nearly seven minutes of the ten minute opening track, is just choir, lilting and angelic, lovely and otherworldly, only making the sudden shift from ethereal vocal harmony to crushing downtuned ultra doom all the more jarring. But the coolest part, is that the parts aren't clearly delineated. The choir continues on into the heaviness, so the howling churning crush, is peppered with gorgeous hymn like vocals, creating some sort of strangely liturgical sounding swirly sludge. And it's not just the vocals, there's saxophone, samples, piano, plenty of noise. And that pretty much sets the template for the whole record.
Besides the Assembly Of Light Choir, who are featured on almost every song here, the record also features Robert Lowe of Lichens offering up some additional vocals, not to mention the other 15 or 16 guests who contribute, beyond the core Body duo of drums, guitar, samples and vocals, a pretty crazy array of soundmakers, more vocals, saxophone, sousaphone, guitar, piano, keyboards, Moog, baritone saxophone and more drums. LOTS more drums. In fact, on the final track, "Lathspell I Name You" drummer Lee Buford is joined by EIGHT extra drummers!!! More on that in a moment.
The second track "A Curse" begins with a loping post rock beat, swirling synths, a melancholy melody, soaring chiming guitars, very moody and slow burning, before the band explodes into full doom, the sound shifts too, the crystalline clearness, becomes big and booming, the sound blown out, but more sort of warm and muted than in the red, the drums massive and pounding, while the guitars swirl in little chordal clouds, and the anguished vocals howl and wail, which gives way to "Empty Hearth", which sounds like some abstract experimental Swans style track, looped sample of what sounds like speaking in tongues, lurching mechanical crunch, glitched out electronics, shrieking vox, the whole song occasionally stuttering to a halt, as if the song was being remixed or was gloriously malfunctioning, there's also some awesome guttural throat singing, laced underneath the start stop, sample skitter, and super distorted bass buzz.
"Even The Saints Knew Their Hour Of Failure And Loss" starts with tarpit riffery and blurred hiss, strangely atmospheric, the drums skeletal but subtly mathy, the choir adding their gorgeous harmonies, an epic spiritual doom, tolling bells, everything dropping out, leaving just the booming drums, the shrieked vox, those bells, until a thick layer of low end washes over everything, and the track unwinds as some classic funereal doom.
"Song Of Sarin The Brave" begins all blown out and tangled up, sheets of feedback, huge heaving bursts of titanic metallic crunch, mysterious voices, finally the band launches into the song proper, and things get really weird, the drums stripped way down, the whole track slathered in strange murky blur and melting effects, while underneath, a strange sampled voice drifts, through clouds of other voices and mysterious sounds, totally creepy, and beautiful, and so mesmerizing, it goes on forever, and could have gone on way longer, but instead finishes off in a minute long blaze of shrieking black doom sludge crush.
"Ruiner" is another smoldering slow starter, haunting, downtuned minor key riffs ring out, doomic drums pound out a barely there rhythm, again, all underpinned by a strange staticky cloud of hiss and gauzy atmospheric hum, the track starting out super spare, but gradually growing more and more dense, more and more doomy, gathering momentum, not rhythmically so much as sonically, the progression laced subtly with strings and horns, little streaks of psychedelic guitars, until finally exploding into a lumbering dirge, the instruments blackened and crumbling, less riffy than a throbbing organic black buzz, pounding and pummeling before blinking out abruptly.
Which leads us to the final track, the 14 minute, multiple drummer-ed side long "Lathspell I Name You", a heaving, expansive ultra doom epic, a churning looped riff and some busy drumming start the track off, not doomy at all really, more noise rock or post rock, with some gorgeous folky melodies woven in, the choir offering up their lovely harmonies, but in this context, they sound less angelic and slightly demonic, locked into their own looped pattern mirroring, the motorik metal loop underneath, which gives way to a weirdly records, noise drum blowout, voices and instruments hissing and buzzing while a cacophony of drums pound and crash, mesmerizing and hypnotic, before the glacial chug resurfaces, along with the choir, and the band lock into a seriously slow motion, abrasive cathartic doom sludge crawl, the sound growing more and more blown out until every drum hit pegs the needles and distorts everything, making the sound that much more caustic and emotional and intense.
The roots of The Body's sound may be in doom or sludge, or even simply metal, but All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood has taken that sound so far beyond, transforming sludge and doom into something way more transcendent, way more difficult to immediately categorize, it's melodic, and poppy, and mathy, and drone-y, and electronic, and experimental, epic and majestic and mysterious, while somehow still remaining brutal, and pummeling and heavy as fuck. Fans of the usual suspects will probably dig this big time, Moss, Bunkur, Khanate, Monarch, Nihill, Otesanek (in fact the liner notes read: "All Praise To Otesanek And Man Is The Bastard"), Eyehategod, Habsyll, Fleshpress, but be prepared to look beyond the realms of traditional doom, or of conventional heaviness, because The Body are anything but traditional or conventional, and All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood just might be the coolest, weirdest, most original doom record EVER.
Incredible packaging too, heavy vinyl (3 sided, the 4th side is blank), thick, gatefold sleeve, with some chillingly striking artwork, a printed 12" x 12" insert silver reflective ink printed on black cardstock, liner notes and lineup on one side, lyrics on the other...
We've been huge fans of Rhode Island two piece sludge doom duo The Body for years now, and have raved about every recording we could get our hands on, at one point even lamenting the fact that we were dying for a proper full length, and then BAM. Their self titled full length debut hit, and it DESTROYED. Then a few years later, and the band unleashed their epic, and seemingly universally acclaimed All The Waters Of The Earth Turned To Blood. A chunk of sludgy doom unlike anything we'd heard before, sure there was massive downtuned riffs, and bellowed and shrieked vox, pummeling drums, but there also happened to be a full choir, not to mention multiple drummers, strange electronics, programmed rhythms, strange samples, all wound into a bizarre and brilliant collection of avant heaviness, and finally it seemed the world caught on, and The Body began to get the love they so obviously deserved.
The bummer is, that while All The Waters IS incredible, so are all the weird and super limited cd-r's and singles that came before, so folks who discovered The Body via that record, were missing out on a whole world of heart stopping head caving sound, that is until now. This little collection, compiles pretty much everything the band has ever recorded minus their two full lengths (the older of which is sadly out of print), including split singles, tour cd-r's and even tacks on some unreleased stuff to boot.
Their 2008 tour cd-r might be one of our favorite recordings from these guys, and definitely displayed the band's dizzying mix of post rock, ultra doom, and sludge metal, as well as their penchant for mathy rhythms, lots of space, and seriously anguished vocals.The coolest part was that it was in the context of cover songs, and maybe not the sort of covers you'd expect from a sludge/doom outfit. Crass, Danzig, Black Flag and, wait for it, Sinead O'Connor. Yep. Hard to believe that last one works, but it does, and they don't just turn it into a pointless sludgefest, they have obvious affection for the original. But before we get to "Black Boys On Mopeds", let's run through the other covers first.
Crass's "Do They Owe Us A Living" is all buzzing low end, and tribal drumming. The vocals a processed feral bark, the whole thing lurching and lumbering and seriously harrowingly intense. Makes the original sound like a lullaby. The Danzig track is a loping low slung groove, with a fierce downtuned riff, and hysterical shrieking vocals, the band totally own it, and again, add untold heaviness and harshness to the original. Black Flag's "Police Story" is pulled apart and gutted, before exploding into a punk rock frenzy, who knew a sludge band could rock so hard? It's a muddy, murky free for all, not that far removed from the original other than the downtuned guitars and the insane vox.
And finally, "Black Boys On Mopeds", a gorgeous sprawling dirge, and wisely the band opted to get some help with the vocals, a gorgeous female voice, underpinned by howled shrieked back up vocals way off in the distance, the bulk of the song a single buzzing throbbing note stretched out into a thick undulating drone, the rhythm a metronome like clack buried in the mix, the end gets all trippy and dubbed out, but damn if this isn't creepier and prettier than the original.
Also included in this collection is Even The Saints Knew Their Hour Of Failure And Loss, another killer cd-r of that immediately recognizable Body style abstract sludge doom. Think a more skeletal Khanate, with dubbed out drums, but replace Alan Dubin's vocals with a even more hysterical shriek bordering on Bathtub Shitter territory. Weird but so fucking cool and creepy. Massive sheets of blacktar guitars, sometimes a grinding trudge through a viscous cloud of noxious grime, at others, a slow motion stumble through stark post rock territory, one track features a doom dub breakdown, where the snare sort of careens lazily in a wide open space before eventually being stomped flat by a wall of anvil guitars, another track is peppered with creepy soundbites, adding to the paranoid creepiness. And they tackle another cover, "Here Come The Tears" by Judas Priest, and turn it into a blown out white noise drenched dirge, crumbling and crushing.
These guys love their covers, as is evidenced by their Cop Killer / Dead Cops single also included here, a double dose of dead cops. The Body dump their sludgy doom all over "Cop Killer" by Body Count and "Dead Cops" by M.D.C.! The originals are barely recognizable, the original riffs, transformed into cesspools of filthy sludge. Again, comparisons to Khanate and Moss and are apt, but they definitely twist these jams all up into their very own blackened shapes.
As if that weren't enough, the collection is filled out with their track from a split 7" with Get Killed, and another unreleased track from 2004, as well as their very first demo, originally released as a super limited cassette on Armageddon, which displays the band, even in the early stages, capable of unleashing thick torrents of shrieking, lurching, avant doom, the sound a dizzying mix of slo-mo mathiness, low slung sludge, and blackened post rock, all blurred into epic swaths of black hole heaviness and skull caving crush, without losing their sense of melody or mood. Awesome.
Super striking visuals/packaging as always, spare and austere, with the liner notes printed on a cool white on black mini poster insert.
The Body return with another sprawling epic of avant experimental doom, after having recently relocated from Rhode Island to the Pacific Northwest. While their last release, a sort of stopgap ep called Master, We Perish, found the band mostly ditching all the experimentalism of their debut, All The Waters Of The Earth Turned To Blood, instead offering up something much closer to actually seeing these guys live, as in pure, physical brutality, blown out ultra doom-noise crush. But here, the band continue to push the boundaries of doom, their Assembly Of Light Choir in tow, for a record that is the perfect follow up to All The Waters. Just check out the opener, and you'll be sold. After a brief ambient intro, "To Attempt Openness" unfurls a bit of hazy static, before in come the drums, the churning riffage, and the choir, all blurred into something strangely hymn-like, as if it were the music for some bizarre religious sect, a twisted pagan offshoot of some strange arcane faith, the music blurry and blackened, laced with all manner of noise, industrial buzz and caustic whir, buried melodies, constantly shifting textures, super dynamic, noisy and off kilter, the guitars dropping out at one point, leaving just shrieked vox way back in the mix, and pummeling drum pound over a field of glitch and gristle, before eventually devolving into full on noise.
And of course it doesn't end there, nor does it get any more typically doomy. "Melt Away" drapes samples over lumbering tribal drumming and glimmering shimmer, haunting and ambient, and even when the doom drops, it again is more sort of spectral and chorale-like, the choir way better integrated on this record, less singing intros and outros and now woven into the Body's blackened sonic fabric, the song unwinding as a harrowing dirge. "An Altar Or A Grave" introduces strings, transforming the song into a strange chamber music slow core crawl, that's as lovely and melancholic as it is downtuned and brutal, the sound lurching back and forth between shrieking ultra-doom and that chamber sludge loveliness.
The songs are WAY shorter this time around too, allowing the band to flit from sound to sound, a 3 minute blast of face melting sludge gives way to some female vocal driven blackened ambience, churning feedback drenched industrial doom lumber collides with ultra slow doom-drone-drift dreaminess, all ethereal vox and processed drums, electronics and rumbling whirring synths, fields of hushes static give way to churning psychedelic kraut-doom creep, until finally, "Bearer Of Bad Tidings", one of the two longest songs here at about seven minutes, closes things out with a field of tangled guitar noise, that explodes into a full on blast beat, everything distorted to the point of structural failure, grinding, blown out psych-doom-noise, that splinters into some seriously avant, out there, electro-doom, black noise dirgery, reminding us of Bastard Noise or aQ faves Geronimo. Some seriously next level doooooooooom that we are digging like crazy.
The return of the Body! We've been chomping at the bit, waiting for these sludgelords to come up with record number two, might still be a while, but in the meantime we've got this super limited 20 minute cd-r ep to tide us over. Four tracks of abstract sludge doom. Think a more skeletal Khanate, with dubbed out drums, and replace Alan Dubin's vocals, with a hysterical shriek bordering on Bathtub Shitter territory. Weird but so fucking cool and creepy. Massive sheets of blacktar guitars, sometimes a grinding trudge through a viscous cloud of noxious grime, at others, a slow motion stumble through stark post rock territory, one track features a doom dub breakdown, where the snare sort of carreens lazily in a wide open spce before eventually being stomped flat by a wall of anvil guitars, another track is peppered with creepy soundbites, adding to the paranoid creepiness. The final track, a Judas Priest cover (!) is a blown out white noise drenched dirge, crumbling and crushing. Fuck yeah.
Packaged in a cool hand stamped cardboard sleeve. SUPER LIMITED so act fast!
Seeing this doom duo live is as much a physical experience as it is a sonic one. Standing right in front of the band as they play, the sheer force and volume of the sound, literally blows your clothes and hair back, like they have fans instead of speakers inside their cabinets. The weird horn shaped drums like sonic snowblowers. It's seriously visceral, and pure noise bliss for sure, BUT, it's on record where these guys get to flex their avant doom muscles. Cuz live, it all blurs into a nearly Merzbow-ian onslaught, sheets of ear shredding doomnoise that seems like it would be a room clearer, but instead seems to lull the crowd into a headbanging doom-noise trance.
One their last full length, All The Waters Of The Earth Turned To Blood, the band pulled out all the stops, adding a choir, multiple drummers, fucked up experimental production, some tracks ambient, others nearly electronic, their actual doom balanced by all the other sounds, making for what still ranks as one of the coolest weirdest doom records ever. On this new EP, the band balance both sides of their sonic personality, opening with a churning noise drenched dirge, the sound blown out and crumbly and in-the-red, there may be sirens howling in the background, but this is the sound of the band as a two piece kicking out the jams. The vocals a hysterical shriek, the drums crushing, the guitar a wall of churning white noise. It's not until the last minute or so that things start to get weird, electronic drums (or weirdly processed acoustic ones) lock into a loop, leading into the second track, which definitely sounds like it could have been plucked right off All The Waters, a simple minor key strum, a creepy sampled vocal, an angelic choir, weirdly clipped and effected drums, the vibe mysterious and moody, then those shrieked vox come in, then the sound of a cocking shotgun explodes into more blown out doom dirgery, the band finishing things off with a sprawling blast of dirge noise heaviness.
Finally, the EP closes with the nearly ten minute "Worship", which begins all distorto drums, swirling psych guitars, collaged sampled voices, the band locked into a tranced out tribal drum driven psychedelic noise dirge, sounding like Gnod via the Butthole Surfers, it's not until nearly 6 minutes in when the hammer finally falls, the band slipping back into their monstrously lumbering downtuned trudge, more shrieked vox, the drums WAY blown out, the band lurching wildly, before it all drops out again, leaving an extended outro of rumbling guitar buzz, more buried voices, strange abstract percussion, manipulated effects, the sound shifting in pitch, warbly and woozy, laced with field recordings, a haunting ambient drift, that easily could have stretched out endlessly...
More warped avant doom brilliance from these Portland via Providence heavies, and it definitely has us hankering for the upcoming full length.
A while back we reviewed an amazing record by a band called Tides. What was equally amazing was the circuitous route it took to get to Aquarius. In a nutshell, it was sent to a certain publication who deemed it too punk to review, a friend at said publication grabbed it from the reject box thinking we'd like it. We did. And well you can read that review on the AQ site. And that record ended up being a huge hit around here. The thing is, that record wasn't alone on its perilous journey. No, another record was right there along side the Tides cd making its way to AQ. That record, was this record. The Body. But The Body had a bit farther to go, before making it to the list you have right here in your hands. First, many emails with the label, then much waiting. Then finally a box of cds arrived, but somehow they had all become unglued and ruined in the mail. More emails followed, and still more waiting. FInally we had pretty much just given up. Then just a few days ago, a couple of big bearded guys with tattoos were sort of lurking around the store. You guessed it, they were The Body. Phew. So was it worth it? Hell yeah it was. That is if you like massive, pummeling, downtuned slow motion sludge metal with little bits of ultra doom and lots of post rock in there. And you know we do.
So yeah, The Body. This will definitely hit the spot for all you folks into Conifer, Pelican, Isis, The Ocean, Mouth Of The Architect, Tides and all that metallic post rock doom stuff. The first track is a crusher, a plodding doom riff spread out over eight minutes, with freaky garbled vocal samples and the whole thing building in intensity and slowly becoming more and more blown out until it's a fuzzy slab of white noise doom drone. Woah. The rest of the record trudges alternately between slow motion chugging and poundiing, moody mathy rhythmic workouts, and some truly dense tangles of chaotic riff rhythm mashup. All strung together with some seriously harrowing shrieked black metal style vocals buried WAY down in the mix. The final track is a fifteen minute long, relentless midtempo pipe to the skull, with a main riff that is repeated over and over, almost looped sounding, completely mesmerizing, before it all breaks down into a spacious plodding doom coda. So awesome.
Packaged in hand glued cardstock digipaks. This came out a while ago and was limited to 1000 copies so we can't be entirely sure how long we'll have these.
Rhode Island avant doom duo The Body just swung through town, with their pals in Braveyoung in tow, the two groups touring as a single unit, the increased firepower of this newly formed two headed beast harnessing some serious black energy. And for those who were unable to witness said energy in the flesh, comes this, an audial document of the collaboration, and while we'd never heard Braveyoung before, the resulting sonic onslaught speaks to the two groups' compatibility, the result a sprawling blackened soft cacophony, a series of surprisingly melodic and impossibly lush blackened doomscapes replete with a choir (the very same choir from The Body's epic All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood), and an unlikely cover of a song by sixties voodoo groovers Exuma!!
The opening track explodes with black gouts of crumbling low end, murky blurred riffage, and churning black hole crush, but as the song unfolds, all manner of melodic subtleties blossom, what sounds like soaring strings, muted tangled melodies, moaning low end rumbles, the buzz and crunch peeling way right at the end revealing the swirl of melodies that lurked underneath all along.
The factually titled "Song Two" seems to be the centerpiece, a massive epic clocking in at 15+ minutes, a brooding slow build, long droning tones over a bed of hiss and crackle, the sound quickly growing more melodic, laced with deep throaty cello, tinkling chimes, and lush female vocal harmonies, the sound downright liturgical, hints of Godspeed and other brooding post rockers, eventually the drums kick in, the guitars begin to buzz, and the song is transformed into a fantastic dirge, peppered with long stretches of crumbling low end, keening guitar tones, more ethereal voices, finally building to a massive coda, the drums cranked WAY up in the mix, the guitars too, the sound so in-the-red, you can almost hear all the meters peaking, everything wreathed in clouds of feedback, until finally disappearing in a haze of crumbling buzz.
The title track is the prettiest of the bunch, the two groups laying down a thick fog of blackdrone and hiss drenched rumble, muted streaks of feedback, all blurred into one heaving undulating stretch of corrosive low end, while over the top, Christmas carol like melodies drift and shimmer, the crystalline tones hovering weightless above the black sonic chasm below.
And then finally, the band finish off with their Exuma cover, trading the over-the-top swamp shaman vocals of the original with some gorgeous folky female vox, transforming the sound into a weird sort of dirgey atmospheric doom folk, the sound woozy and warm, washed out and dreamy, the main vox backed up by the lush harmonies of the choir, while The Body and Brave Young, wrap everything in a thick coruscating black haze, a blackened background that more than anything, adds a bit of dreamily sinister texture to the proceedings.
Fantastic stuff, and well worth experiencing live too if you get the chance...
Not a split, but a proper collaboration between these two doom/sludge combos, and strangely enough, the band math sounds exactly how you think it would - dense flurries of double drumming, underpin, thick, viscous, downtuned riffage, there's probably bass in there too, but it's more like a thick undulating slab of low end droned, plenty of squealing feedback, and warped melodies, not to mention dueling vocals, the harsh demonic rasp of Thou, with the inhuman hysterical shriek of The Body, all wound up into churning sprawls of lurching, lumbering noise drenched heaviness, the first three tracks blurred into a sort-of songsuite, epic, and crushing, downtuned heaviness, total head shearing, gut rumbling chug and churn, the best part maybe the clouds of guitarnoise and twisted FX, that seem to swirl in squalls around the song proper, not to mention some bad ass processed drumming, that gives the sound a twisted sort of black doom dub vibe, the whole thing culminating in a cover of Vic Chesnutt's "Coward". Both bands are masters of the cover song, each having transformed some classic jams into their own warped mutations, and this one is no different, starting off all lovely, except for the distant vocal shrieks, and when the hammer falls, instead of exploding into full on metal mode, the two groups unfurl a bed of rumbling, gristly distortion, and drape a blown out disorto-melody over the top, before devolving into a gloriously dirgey and doomy creep, with huge booming drums, thick walls of crumbling distortion, and more harsh vokills, that somehow manages to preserve the melody and vibe of the original, while essentially burying it in gristled murk and thick black buzz!
Gorgeously packaged, fancy heavy weight jackets, letter-pressed inserts, and pressed on 180 gram vinyl. NO download.
Maybe cause they're just a lonely duo, avant doomsters The Body sure like to collaborate with other folks. Not only with the Assembly Of Light choir who have appeared on The Body's albums, but also on records they've done with Braveyoung, Haxan Cloak, and Thou. They must really dig Thou (sludge bros stick together!), though, 'cause this the second team-up of the two bands, following the Released From Love lp on Vinyl Rites last year. As per that release, you can expect another onslaught of blackened noisy downtuned droning crushing heaviness and so forth. Yep!
Sheer peace-destroying sonic ugliness with an undercurrent of majestic desolation is what's on offer here, with the expected elements of wretched vokills, abject blackened atmospheres, shrieks of anguish, occasional ambient interludes, seasick riffage buried under blown out dirge-drone, and industrial-strength tribal rhythmic pummel (particularly on the cover they do of "Terrible Lies" by NIN). Thou and The Body definitely seem like sick soulmates, a match made in heaven, or rather, some bowel of hell.
Note: the compact disc version of this includes the tracks from that previous collaboration of theirs, Released From Love, for this first time available in non-analog format.
We discovered experimental doomlords The Body via their 2004 self titled debut, a crushing slab of slo-mo dirgery, that at the time we compared to other sonically like minded bands like Conifer, The Ocean, Pelican, and Isis. It was all pounding moody mathiness and churning downtuned doom chaos. But it was really on 2010's All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood, where the Body transformed into something way more than doom-dirge knuckle draggers, expanding their sound to include multiple drummers, electronics and samples, and a full female choir. That record definitely set a benchmark for avant-doom, and with each release since, the band seem dead set on continuing that drift into the outer realms, although odds are you won't find a more twisted and sonically abstract corner of the doomworld than I Shall Die Here, which finds the Body submitting to a serious sonic makeover from Haxan Cloak, who transforms the sound into something bleak and abstract, the resulting sound something that seems like it might be more at home on Tri Angle or Blackest Ever Black, so no surprise we're flipping out big time.
The opener sets the template, with fragments of the original sound recast in a whole new context the big crashing drums, super distorted and blown out, laying down a mesmeric tarpit groove, the guitars muted and muddied, and blurred into a soft swirling, distorto churn, at this point, it could still be a proper doom record, the weird shrieked vokills swoop in, howl abjectly in the background, buried in the mix, and then suddenly, a cloud of digital glitchery erupts, the guitar churn peels back, those shrieked vocals become a disembodied loop, in come deep bass pulsations, and the song settles into a super minimal electronic creep, skittery, and glitchy, and staticky, and so heady and hypnotic. It ends way too soon, would have loved to see that final part stretch out for another 10-15 minutes of moody electro-murk, but instead, the process begins again, distorto drums, this time dubbed out a but, more buzzing riff-blur, wailed high pitch screeches, and then right back into another sprawl of electro-doom minimalism, this time eventually erupting into a wild, gristly squall of blown out tribal drumming, and layered drones, sounding a bit like a million copies of Tusk being played at 16 rpm.
And so it goes, some tracks are dirgey stretches of oozing black riffage, spread out into slowly churning landscapes of crumbling distortion, others fuse warped psychedelic techno with grim, gristly buzz, and still others actually sound a bit like the recent Coil / Nine Inch Nails 'collab', heaving industrial weirdness and fractured electronic experimentation, here of course fused to gargantuan black doom crush. The final track spends most of its time drifting moodily, a spare stretch of dreamily divine ambience, peppered with hushed pulsations, before it too eventually explodes into one final burst of pounding, howling, blown out electro-doom pummel. Awesome.
Surprised this one didn't happen sooner. Hell, if it hadn't, we probably would have suggested it. Providence, Rhode Island's two piece doom sludge wrecking crew The Body, and Aussie slow and low heavies Whitehorse. A seemingly perfect match, but the weird thing is, they both offer up something out of the ordinary here.
The Body start things off with what could be their most metal jam yet, sounding like some grim black metal slowed way down, there are even some almost-blasts, the vocals shrieked and maniacal, the song collapsing part way through into a super thick doomed out sprawl, laced with bursts of blown out buzz, the vocals hovering over a thick undulating almost ambient layer of downtuned guitar buzz and dense tribal drum pound, that every once in a while sounds like Lightning Bolt slowed to a crawl.
Whitehorse counter with a booming, echoe-y chunk of churning doom-ed noise rock, about as groovy as these guys get, and we're talking Eyehategod style groove, which is to say, barely a groove at all, occasional blasts of thick low end creep up from below, shrieking feedback and squalls of glitched out noise pepper some surprisingly black metal riffing, the vocals here veering fro, shrieked to cookie monster grunted, a massive, lumbering, lurching sonic slab of doom sludge crush.
SUPER LIMITED. In fact, already mostly out of print. We got some of the last copies direct from Whitehorse before they headed back to Australia. Packaged in super swank screen printed jackets.
We were blown away by this, the most recent issue of this totally DIY travel / music / metal magazine. It's their 8th issue, and it's overflowing with amazing stories and killer interviews and reviews, with plenty of aQ faves. Metalheads will probably want to check this out for the interview with Erik from Watain, or John Gossard from Dispirit / Weakling / The Gault / Asunder, and there's also a bunch of killer in depth reviews of records by Necrite, Dispirit, Barn Owl, Walknut, Horna and others. Which on it's own would probably be enough. But the bulk of the magazine is about travel, specifically of the DIY type, even more specifically, with a focus on train hopping. From Traveling on freight trains in Mexico, to various expeditions throughout China, Mongolia, Finland, Norway and Nepal, there's a history of railroads and railroad operations in Maine, where the author is from, and there's tons of crazy stories, encounters with other travellers, loads of photos, it's pretty incredible, and besides getting a vicarious thrill from reading about all of these amazing places, and the amazing journeys to and through and back, it definitely gives us the bug, to tour, travel, explore, get lost, the sort of thing that the best travel writing does. We've been reading this like crazy, but it's HUGE, so are only partway through, but you'll find yourself riveted, and probably will have trouble putting it down. Also has us hankering to check out past issues as well! Total photocopied, cut and paste old school zine radness, and obviously WAY WAY recommended
"Black Earth" is the dark as night new album from an old AQ fave. Is it the heaviest album on this list? It is if you understand Bohren's concept of "quiet heaviness", using their self-described "horror jazz" instrumentation of subtly-brushed drums, down-tuned double bass, sparse piano, Fender Rhodes, mellotron, and melancholic saxophone to create an atmosphere of heaviness "which is otherwise only achieved using distorted guitars and lots of noise."
Our appetite was whetted for his release by an email from Bjoern Eichstaedt (of Caacrinolas), our German friend who originally introduced us to Bohren. He described a recent Bohren concert in which the band played in a cubic room, the walls painted completely black, on a black stage, without light -- all wearing black suits. Live, they used two basses for maximum bottom end. He spoke to them afterwards and learned that black metal is their main influence, noticing also that they were all wearing t-shirts from such bands as Immortal. Yet Bohren's music is far from loud and fast. Metallic or not, it's certainly DOOM. Creeping, plodding, yet gorgeously, sleepily melodic. Each note played on the piano, each hit of the snare, carries great weight, and beauty. Their music falls like thick drops of liquid into a still, dark, black pool, rippling the surface with unknown echoes. Foreboding, and entrancing. Certainly more than deserving of this disc's black on black, skull embossed packaging.
The sultry, smoky saxophone introduced on their previous album "Sunset Mission" is still in evidence, though not so much as before. When it's present, it only adds to the noir-ish vibe, great for wandering the rainy streets of night-time San Francisco with this playing in your Walkman, let me tell you. And compared to "Sunset Mission", this new album definitely extends Bohren's methods to further extremes: slower, moodier, dronier, lovelier: "heavier". Quite quietly heavy, indeed.
Imagine a blackened, funereal dooooooom band like Skepticism or Nortt morphed into the jazz idiom (after having kissed a frog, or some fairytale scenario like that), playing their slow, sad music in a smoky Berlin jazz club. The sound is jazz (electric piano, organ, vibes, sax, double bass, trap kit...) but the feeling is doom. That's our usual shorthand for describing the unique music made by longtime AQ fave, Germany's Bohren & Der Club Of Gore. Here at last is their eagerly anticipated 5th album, Dolores (not named after the San Francisco street near us, presumably). If you're fans like we are, you know what to expect, it's just as ponderously "heavy" as a "jazz" band can be. No, not loud, not harsh, not noisy. The opposite of all that. Rather, whisper-quiet, glacially slow, and spacious, with sparse snare hits keeping time like a wound-down clock ticking off the eternity between 2 minutes to midnight and the witching hour itself. Doomsday so slowly arrives on a velvety bed of somnolent deep bass notes, and the cool slinky tones of vintage Fender Rhodes. Cymbals shiver in a dark haze of ambient drones near to silence. Several of the songs are infused with the warmth of tenor or baritone sax breathes gorgeous expiring breaths. It's all so sad and woeful and achingly beautiful, Bohren nodding off, their fragile melodies trickling like tears, and by the end you may find you have shed a few too.
This newest Bohren differs mainly from their previous Ipecac outing Geisterfaust by being composed of somewhat shorter, sweeter tracks, ten in all, in about an hour. But it is, again, an-ever-more-perfected example of why Bohren is one of our all time favorite bands, especially at twilight and late at night...
Not metal -- not remotely. So why did they get written up in Terrorizer magazine? Well this German four-piece isn't exactly a jazz band either, even though they utilize such instruments as Fender Rhodes electric piano, vibraphone, double bass, and saxophone. No, they're actually really really heavy though it's always hard to explain how something this quiet and this pretty can be "heavy". But you'll feel it when you hear it. Their special brand of Teutonic, minimalist, noir-jazz influenced "heaviness" is not to be denied. And so it makes sense that they like grim black metal and that people who like grim black metal like them. A very special band, certainly unknowable to some, but very well liked 'round here. So we were pretty excited to hear that the release of this new album Geisterfaust ("Ghostfist") was impending. And it does not disappoint. Five tracks for the five fingers of the Ghostfist (skeletally represented in the cd digipak). Almost one full hour.
Thusly, a Bohren album cannot be properly absorbed in little snippets. The time frame within which their compositions work is not conducive to quick scans or distracting environments -- even the shortest of the five tracks here isn't much less than eight minutes in length, and the opening track "Zeigefinger" is a 20+ minute experience. So, when I got my copy of this (oooh) I took it home and drew the curtains, lit the candles (well, ok I didn't really light any candles, but could have), and assumed a relaxed pose in order to let the music of Geisterfaust infiltrate my conciousness. Which it did. At Bohren's usual glacial pace, which utterly starts to alter one's perception of time. The long songs are endless...then over. Eternity telescoped. So spare and melodious. Like magnified drops of rainwater, falling on the petals of a shivering flower. The vast space of Bohren's music makes the listener concentrate, and gives each and every note (a vibraphone chime, perhaps, surrounded by a nimbus of a gentle cymbal-strike's shimmer) extra weight and meaning. The Bohren aesthetic certainly holds that less is more. Even though there's guests -- a tuba player and a choir, even -- augmenting the basic Bohren quartet on several of these tracks, you're never overwhelmed with sound, but with silence. And the sheer *subsonics* that a band with two bassists can generate. Geisterfaust flows exquisitely, the listener's pulse rate slowing. Calm. Cool. Bliss. Stupor. So gorgeous, soo heavy. There we go again. This IS heavy. You'll see.
Basically it's like some utterly slow crushing doom band (the Melvins at their most monolithic -- Khanate -- Caspar Brotzmann Massaker -- Corrupted -- Gore) with their instrumentation transposed into the "jazz" realm. The snare only brushed. The distorted electric guitar replaced with the tinkle of a Rhodes piano. Notes not riffs. Played like a dirge, with hints of drone, sombre and sad, but beautiful. There's only a smidgen of saxophone (dreaded by some) that is brought in only at the very end of the last very track, one that is almost speedy by Bohren standards, to act as the light at end of the tunnel, the sun's rays just over the horizon...
Our friend Bjoern in Germany (of Caacrinolas), who first turned Allan and thus AQ on to Bohren five or six years ago, emailed excitedly about the release this new album (that's often when we hear from Bjoern, actually!). Here's a quote from his email: "...fucking amazing!!! Better probably than anything they have done before! You need this for AQ!!! It will sell zillions of copies!" Well of course. As a follow up to the Ipecac-released Black Earth, this is an even greater triumph. Brilliant.
Here's an old favorite -- a former AQ Record Of The Week in fact -- that we've been unable to get for a long time now, until just this week that is. So we thought we'd better relist it, especially since when we relisted the Ipecac reissue of Bohren's most recent album Black Earth we sold a whole bunch of copies to folks who'd missed it the first time, and this one is perhaps even more essential not to miss! So here's a portion of our review from the first time we had this:
At last, we've managed to import some copies of this fantastic 1995 album by this mysterious German instrumental band! I (Allan) discovered them via a friend in Germany (an AQ-customer who, like many others, has been so kind as to turn *us* on to stuff: it's a two-way street). I was visiting for the 1999 total solar eclipse (well, among other things; I was also in the land of schnitzel for a metal festival...) and heard a tape of this sprawling double cd set in the context of a late night, post-eclipse, wine-drinking get-together. But when I finally got a hold of the actual album some weeks later (we couldn't even find one in the local record stores, my friend had to special order it and send a copy to me in the States), I was happy to discover that it wasn't merely my memories of the wondrous eclipse that had imbued Midnight Radio with such a gorgeous sense of darkness and dread, but that it really was an amazing album!
After Midnight Radio, Bohren released Sunset Mission (later followed by Black Earth). If the now out of print Sunset Mission album was the ultimate noir-jazz soundtrack to a hypothetical first person shooter video game set in afterdark Berlin, then this aptly-titled previous double cd set, (sans saxophone, an addition to the Sunset lineup) is the perfect accompaniment to a late night autobahn death ride, cruise control on, cigarettes burning. There's even a moment, two hours or so into it, when sun starts to come up over the horizon (you'll hear what we mean when you get to the end of the second disc).
Now, we're always talking about "hypnotic" music here at AQ, but this is music for when you're *already* hypnotized, slumped near bed at home or cruising down that infinite highway at 3am, aware of only your own thoughts and the darkness all around made even more black by your headlights. (Maybe this is what some of those unexplicable people who I saw driving around during the eclipse were listening to...for two very long minutes anyway.) Heavy, heavy bass notes, glacially deployed, crushingly beautiful slow-motion guitar and dark, liquid pools of piano, with a narcotized drummer who must be passing in and out of consciousness to occasionally brush his snare and hi-hat. Midnight Radio enters into the tiny pantheon of somehow similarly intended doomy double cd sets beloved of AQ (Esoteric's Pernicious Enigma and Epistomological Despondency, Corrupted's Llenandose de Gusanos). Of course, Bohren is not at all metallic like those two outfits, but is knowing of the same gloombliss. Slow and low, and highly recommended!
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Like Circle, Earth, Boris, and The Necks, Bohren & Der Club Of Gore is one of those long time fave bands that you can always count on us getting all excited about here at aQuarius, even when it's essentially 'more of the same' - we WANT more of the same, since theirs is a unique, wonderful sound. So, yay, the German "death jazz" greats are now back with their 8th full-length album. Piano Nights features piano, yes, lovely placid piano, and also all the other usual Bohren ingredients: restrained minimal timekeeping on the traps, lots of low end from the double bass and baritone guitars, additional atmosphere and melody from mellotron, organ, and vibraphone, and some smokey noirish saxophone too.
There's nine more gorgeous, soft focus, slow moving tracks here in the Bohren tradition of all-instrumental slowcore jazz noir, gently doom laden twilight moodiness that's practically hauntological, to use a term often used to describe stuff like Demdike Stare and The Caretaker - especially the portions of these tracks wherein an underlying ghostly ambient hum is made evident. Although this is not so much scary-haunting, as it is wistful-haunting. Also almost romantic, as if maybe Rodelius had joined Bohren, especially with the piano playing.
Bohren's previous outing on Ipecac, Beileid, had a bit of a weirdness factor (mainly due to an unexpected cover of an '80s German metal song, with guest vocals from Mike Patton) that Piano Nights perhaps wisely retreats from, instead simply providing the sort of aching, intimate yet cinematic sounds we have enjoyed from them since back when we first discovered the music of Bohren on a trip to Germany so many years ago.
This just came out this week, so it's just sinking in, but what a feeling, this music is all about sinking in. We'll be spinning it a lot, it's the perfect late night relaxing in an armchair with a glass of whiskey sort of record, lights low, eyes half closed... The libation, furniture, time of day, etc. can be purely imagined, but this music sure conjures that vibe. Another classic Borhen opus in other words.
We just got a few copies of this kinda-hard-to-find cd reissue of a much harder to find (only 200 copies pressed!) 1972 lp by a hard rock band from Florida who are kinda legendary for their song "Dead Meat", a over-15-minute opus of proto-doom metal, which appears here as the album closer. Combining sub-Cooper schlock horror stage theatrics and sub-Sabbath riffage, "Dead Meat" was
Alone In The Grave is the 7 song, 18 minute debut lp from this old school punked out death metal crew who hail from Olympia Washington, and whose sound is totally beholden to the old days, classic death metal punked up into something crusty and noisy and filthy, short sharp songs, most of which begin with feedback drenched creepy lurching doomy intros, which inevitably explode into churning downtuned riffage, belched and bellowed demonic vokills, furious caveman drum pound, the whole thing laced with wild leads and tons of oozy blackened atmosphere. A little grind, a little doom, a little classic metal, but a lot of grunting, head banging death metal heaviness. Not to much to say, these guys aren't reinventing the death metal wheel or anything, instead they're paying homage to all who came before, and injecting the sound with a little of their own punkish Northwestern energy. Fans of recent releases by outfits like Howling, Antediluvian, Knelt Rote, Abyssal and others will dig big time.
Primitive black and white cover art by one of the sickos behind the Chips & Beer magazine!
A new double disc of crushing slow motion space doom from UK doomlords BONG, and be warned, this thing is limited to maybe 100 copies, we tried to order half of those and ended up with more like a dozen. So normally we would highlight this, make a huge deal about it, and sell a ton, cuz this is exactly the format required to fully enjoy the epic glacial cosmic drift of Bong, 2 discs, 3 songs, an epic multi part blackened expanse of slowly unfurling low end doomdronesludge, spaced out and druggy, single riffs spread out to forever, meditative, mesmerizing, a sound somewhere between Electric Wizard, Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg and Bohren. Two originals on disc one, and the whole of disc two is filled up with an epic, ultra minimal cover of Pink Floyd's "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun", a surprisingly restrained, deep, dark, smoldering space rock slow jam, total late night chill out come down dream doom for sure.
So we won't make a big deal out of it, but grab one of these while you can, they're probably already out of print which means we most likely won't be able to get more...
The return of Bong! We may have had the amazing Live At Roadburn disc to tide us over, but what we were really hankering for was a brand new full length from these UK psychedelic space doom heavies, and we're not and here it is. Beyond Ancient Space is three loooooong tracks, titled "Onward To Perdondaris", "Across The Timestream" and "In The Shadow Of The Towers" respectively, and described on the cd sleeve as 'unsere kosmischen musik', and after a creepy deeply intoned, reverbed spoken word intro, delivered over a glimmery spacescape of twinkle and shimmer, we are suddenly sucked into the strange world of Bong, as massive guitars come cascading down, a plodding ultra heavy doomic lumber, the drums spare and loose, the churning rumble and thrum laced with some sitar like buzz, which is no doubt the Shahi Baaja, an electrified Indian zither / drone harp with typewriter keys, that figures prominently in Bong's sound.
"Onward To Perdondaris" is a sinister creeping crawl, a nearly 25 minute, tranced out buzzing space doom mediation, the guitars not so much riffing as unfurling sheets of rumbling low end, a sprawling layered expanse of thick blackened thrum, a spaced out dirge, the buzzing Shahi Baaja transforming the sound into something exotic and alien, the vocals too, a monk like chant, long low tones, all very mesmerizing and meditative but still heavy and buzzy and droney, like Hawkwind covering SUNNO))), or Ravi Shankar jamming with Earth, or maybe some blurred confusional mix of the two.
"Across The Timestream" is another 25 minute epic, beginning with a crumbling, rumbling bit of corroded guitar buzz, it's not until nearly 3 minutes in that the drums surface, and even then, they're barely there, a skeletal rhythm underpinning the group's smoldering blackdrone, finally, the Shahi Baaja begins to buzz, and the track locks into a mesmerizing, motorik space psych dirge that will carry us through the whole 25 minutes, this is not headbanging music, this is blissed out drug drone music, a zoner cough syrup space rock soundtrack to some serious innerspace exploration, the track does build gradually, growing more intense, but subtly and slowly, they're called Bong for a reason, it's 25 minutes, but it could be 2500, or 2.5, time does not exist, once you're lost in these sounds, time becomes liquid, it's the perfect sonic tranceout, drifting off, alternate plane, next level, ur-drone ur-dirge bliss out.
Finally, there's the nearly 30 minute final movement, "In The Shadow Of The Towers", which begins with a SUNNO))) like riff, all foghorn moan and blurred slo-mo melody, the drums way more up front here, a slow, meandery lope, pounding away, the rumbling guitar a lush backdrop, the cymbal sizzle spilling over, a slow burning space rock dirge, blurred and bleary, hypnotic and lysergic, druggily monochromatic, it's not until about 20 minutes in that things get seriously intense, the drums wild and chaotic, the sound blown out and in the red, a sonic squall climax, that quickly gives way to a smoldering blackened slow fade outro.
Like all the Bongs that have come before, a heady chunk of krautrocky psychedelic dirge-y doom recommended for fans of SUNNO))), Gnod, The Heads, White Hills, Grails, Sylvester Anfang, Electric Wizard, Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg, Monster Magnet, Black Sabbath, Bohren & Der Club Of Gore and their slow and low doom dirge alchemist brethren
And it's not just us, our customer Glenn was so blown away by the new Bong he felt compelled to send HIS review which is way more succinct than ours:
"Album of the year so far. Absolutely fucking amazing. Imagine if Hawkwind had taken downers rather than acid and you played their albums at 16rpm. A total kosmische trip into another dimension."
Fuck yeah! Bong on!
The last missive from these drugged out UK doomlords, the criminally way-too-limited double cd-r Bethmoora, disappeared before most folks could grab one. Rumors of a repress have been going around, and we'll of course grab as many as we can get when and if that happens, but for now, this new chunk of slow and low space doooooom (on an actual cd) should tide you over if you missed Bethmoora.
Two tracks, recorded live (although you might not know it), one 32 minutes, one 18 minutes, both massive sprawling slow motion doomscapes, minimal spidery guitars, and sitar strum, all laid over a thick miasma of rumbling buzz, a thick low end raga, a black sonic fog threatening to envelop the delicate melodies above. The drums come in slowly, when they do, they're spare and sparse, spread way way out, letting the music continue to drift, it's not until nearly 20 minutes into the first track that things begin to ramp up, still slow, and minimal, but the drums are harder, the guitars more distorted, the melodies congealing into woozy riffage, synths beginning to swirl, adding another layer of buzz and rumble, some space-y swoosh, the guitars get all wah wah'd, the band build and build and build, to the edge of a full on psychedelic space rock blowout, but before anything can happen, they reign it back in, and get all meditative once again before fading out. The second track fades right back up, as if it was the same song, the way they used to split long songs on an lp, part one, flip it over and voila, part two, but THIS part two starts off already revved up, the drums pounding the guitars growling and buzzy, backing up a mournful chiming minor key melody, this part too builds and builds, but the band aren't about loud / soft, aren't about the payoff, or the destination, it's all about the journey, and for 51 minutes, Bong do just that, once again taking us on a blissed out drug fueled space psych kraut doom journey to end all journeys!
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Latest sprawling psychedelic space doom epic from this UK crew, a 40+ minute track split over two sides of an lp. Longtime fans no doubt know what to expect, and won't be disappointed, and there are a few surprises lurking amidst the swirling clouds of sonic bongsmoke. Newbies to the delightfully druggy world of Bong will find this as good a place to start as any. In fact, this time around, the guys in Bong lure you in gently, opening with a hazy, heady bit of psychedelic drift, all Eastern melodies, and droned out softly buzzing raga. Soon, a thick low end swell surfaces, adding some serious sonic heft, pulsing and throbbing beneath the field of hazy psych-drift mesmer, we'd have been perfectly happy if this dreamy creep was all there was, a gorgeously laid back dreamdirge that spread out over two sides of vinyl, would be fantastically soporific, but about 5 minutes in, you'll notice something out of the ordinary: vocals. And not just any vocals - haunting, witchy, female vocals, delivering in a wordless croon, a sort of zoned out incantation, the whole thing hauntingly ritualistic, and remember what we said a few sentences back? Well, by the end of side one we were almost convinced that Idle Days was gonna be just this gorgeously slow smolder. But fear not, the B side fades in mid-jam, as if minutes, or perhaps even hours, of free form freakouts took place in the mere moments it took to flip the record over. The B side much more recognizable as spaced out psychedelia, simple dirge-y drumming, beneath a cloud of swirling tangled melodies and drifting textures, drones and textures, the raga vibe still in full effect, but here woven into a lumbering motorik dirge, laced with what sounds distinctly like piano (!), the sound abstract and constantly shifting, the drums anchoring the rest of the music, but even then, the sound flits from doom-ic crawl, to loping post rock, to almost jazzy shuffles, often dropping out completely, letting the rest of the instruments drift freely, only to swing back into action, and lock right back into another head nodding, droned out zoner-psych groove, the whole thing eventually petering out, the drums sputtering to a halt, the guitars fading into the ether, leaving just reverbed ripples of sound, which also eventually disappear into a final woozy, washed out coda.
LIMITED TO 350 COPIES, on 180 gram black vinyl. Includes a download code.
It wasn't so long ago, that UK heavies Bong were just an amusingly-named band that counted one of our customers as a member. It took a while, but eventually we got 'em to send us some records (you can imagine, a band named Bong isn't the most businesslike and efficient bunch, nice folks though they are). And their brand of stoned, psychedelic, Eastern-tinged doomdrone improv proved to be right up our alley, and appropriate to their moniker.
Now, a couple years later, we've sold many, many Bong lps, cds, and cd-rs - and one of us here even got to see 'em live, last year. That'd be Allan, when he went to the amazing Roadburn festival in Holland (sadly, he missed out on going again this year, darn it). Of course, being a fan, he was excited about seeing Bong in person. And even though they're not the sort of band to move around much on stage, they weren't boring. In fact, they were TERRIFIC. Allan was also told afterwards that their performance was recorded, and would be released on Roadburn's Burning World label. Beyond that, strangely enough, Allan doesn't remember much else specific about the show (there may have been a contact high involved from their music that affected his memory faculties) but now at long last here's Bong's Live At Roadburn 2010 release to remind him! And for the rest of us to enjoy as well, and not have to be so jealous that we didn't go to Roadburn too.
After some enthused hails from the crowd, the first of two loooooong tracks ("Onwards To Perdonaris", 33:24) starts up, or seeps in, eerie and airy and understated, quite lovely really, not at all heavy, but nicely hypnotic...until a few minutes in when one may be rudely startled (depending on how high you have your volume set) by some deep voiced declamations, dunno what the fellow is on about, but that's ok, 'cause it serves to alert you that right about NOW the band is really gonna get LOUD, everything stepping up a big notch, to accommodate a constant drone backing, yeah now it's heavy, but still keeping the hypnotic lovely thing going too, slow rhythmic pulsations punctuated by an exotic zing of the strings (that's the "Shahi Baaja", an electrified Indian zither / drone harp with typewriter keys that one of the Bong-sters plays), once in a while joined again by more near-throat singing... It's rolling, rumbling, atmospheric, Eastern, with something of the quality of a cult ceremony or religious rite, in part due to the those occasional low monkish vocals. At times, "Onwards..." drifts back down into lulling stretches of spacey warbling electronic FX, and hippy-kraut hand drumming, coming across like a sinister Siloah or doomy Amon Duul. Or imagine the Master Musicians Of Bukkake making an ambient album for Miasmah, maybe.
The equally epic second track, "Wizards Of Krull" (previously recorded for the first side of their self-titled lp debut in 2009), continues in this vein, with more powerful percussion, though. It's 24 minutes of ritualistically pounding drums and crashing cymbals, low drone from bass and voice both, gobs of distortion and spooky psychedelic effects, those Shahi Baaja note clusters chiming in with regularity. "Wizards..." gets (slowly) more and more intense as it goes, really ramping up towards the end with rhythmic urgency. Damn this is good!
Bong bring it, all right, quite recommended, definitely for fans of Om, SUNNO))), Grails, Sylvester Anfang... and of course Bong. And bongs! Most if not all Bong releases thus far have been live, and this one is much less of a lo-fi recording than some of those, making for an essential document of Bong's unique trance-inducing potency.
We only got about ten of these, and that's all we'll ever be able to get. Criminally limited to just 250 copies and already out of print, this review is essentially just a sort of sonic starting pistol for all the aQ shopping Bong obsessives to ready-set-go and push add to cart before these are gone for good. Two lengthy live tracks, recorded, as the title helpfully explains, live at an old church AND burial ground, the perfect setting for Bong's sprawling, undulating wash of droned out doom-ed psychedelia. And live is definitely where these guys shine, building up thick clouds of swirling mesmer, all blurred chords and woozy buzz, the sound of voices and the buzz of the unplayed snare drum, adding a strange sort of rattling buzz to the proceedings. The vox here are much more dramatic, and way higher in the mix, delivered like some demonic preacher in a crumbling old cathedral, the guitars build and build, roaring instead of growling, and then finally, the drums kick in, and the band lurches to life, some massive lumbering behemoth, filling the church to the eaves with a noxious sonic black fog, which seems to pour out of the shattered stained glass windows, and drifts along the muddied ground, cloaking the old weather worn tombstones in a grey haze, warped and washed out spectral doom, spaced out and darkly druggy, the sound super lo-fi, but in a way that definitely suits the sound, lots of echo and reverb, and random noise, woven into the bands buzzed out psych doom trance.
Again, EXTREMELY LIMITED, just 250 copies, which are essentially sold out already minus this batch. Like all MIE releases (Gate, Part Wild Horses Mane On Both Sides, Pelt, Chord, etc.), gorgeously packaged, pressed in heavy vinyl, and this one includes a 12"x12" poster of the cover art as well.
NB. we also have another new Bong vinyl release as well this list, the lp version of Mana-Yood-Sushai.
By now, we're pretty sure most regular AQ customers are familiar with Bong. The name rings a bell, right? (Hahaha.) While there's plenty of stoner/sludge type bands with "bong" in their name, and a lot of 'em are pretty good (Bongzilla, Bongripper, and the recent Belzebong, for instance), this Bong, the one true Bong, have deservedly earned the appellation of Bong by itself without any cute suffixes or prefixes. This UK band's sweet sonic smoke does indeed send the listener into an altered state. On this, their latest, recorded by Esoteric's Greg Chandler, they've come from beyond ancient space (the title of their previous album, also released on the aptly named Ritual Productions) to bring us another two looooonnng tracks of their trademark slomo, spaced out, dronedirge dooooom. Dunno though if we should even be calling Bong doom, or dooooom, actually, though we do. What's heralded here is perhaps something more transcendentally wondrous, psychedelically blissful. Tune in, turn on... the first, 27+ minute track is "Dreams Of Mana-Yood-Shushai", its title referencing the poetic, pre-Lovecraft mythology of early 20th century fantasist Lord Dunsany. Mana-Yood-Shushai is the sleeping god, creator of all, the god of "having done", to whom none may pray, for when he wakes the world will end... Bong do a good job of conjuring the gentle, yet ominous mood of such a god's dreams here, as near as we mere mortals can tell. Heaving waves of down-tuned guitar riffage and rolling, rumbling softly thunderous percussion accompany droning monkish vox doing some sort of seemingly ceremonial chant. The deep, Earth-like bass frequencies emanating mountainously from Bong's amps provide a solid foundation also for the exotic East Indian zing of Bong's secret weapon, the Shahi Baaja (an electrified zither / drone harp with typewriter keys) to play its part in the unfolding phantasmagoria of the endless innerspace odyssey that is Bong's gift to you... Massive, meditative. Sinister, somewhat, and sensuous, the Shahi Baaja contributing to the sense of snake-charmer sway.
Next, track two, "Trees Grass And Stones", we must assume is a nod to legendary Swedish psychsters Trad Gras Och Stenar! Certainly not just the name, but the somewhat more pastoral feel of the mesmeric music, supports such an interpretation. If not, then it's a case of great minds... some sort of psychic psychedelic communion between two of our faves. In any event, it's a thick, 19 minute slab of sturdy, stately krautdrone hypnorock, that stirs up a mite more rhythmic umph than what came before.
Once again, highly recommended by all of us here at aQ, especially of course to fans of Bong (or the use of bongs), Megaton Leviathan, OM, Earth, SUNNO))), Hawkwind, and all other bands that could have used the name Bong but didn't, leaving it to this groop to take up the challenge, and succeed. All bow down and pray to Mana-Yood-Shushai! (Whoops!)
It always seems to happen this way, we spend ages and ages trying to track down recordings from an elusive band, hearing rumors about 7"s and cd-r's and tapes, and then suddenly, BOOM. Or in the case of these guys, Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom... the recordings come bursting forth, and again, in this case, the sounds spew from speakers and headphones like some viscous black torrent. Which can only mean one thing, the return of drugged out sludge drone mavens Bong. If ever a band was more appropriately named, Bong are ready to take them on. In fact, the only way a band could prevail monicker-wise, they'd have to be called Bong Blood Hell Froth, or Bladed Bong Skullorb, or something, and even with a name all ready for battle, it's doubtful their pathetic sounds would be any match for Bong's thick, sprawling doomscapes of sitar like buzz, churning bottom heavy crunch, and at least on one of the tracks here some serious drum pummel.
Three discs, five tracks, three hours, recorded in pubs, under bridges and in restaurants, one can only imagine the smoldering ruins these guys left in their lumbering drug-doom wake. Their live sound much more rocking then their doomed out minimal records might lead you to believe.
The opener on its own is worth the price of admission, a relentless buzzy, space-y sludgey groove, with some killer drumming, chaotic, mathy, but locked in pretty tight, the cymbals offering up a layer of warm swirling sizzle, the vocals a haunted demonic chant, the rest of the sonic space taken up by woozy washed out buzzing sitar like strings, a sort of Sleep meets Circle meets SUNNO))), a downtuned krautrock crunch, smeared into an endless drug drenched space rock groove. The second half of disc two offers up more of the same, with the drums even more frantic, the band rocking propulsively, not so sludgey as heavy and fierce, the song slipping into a tranced out sonic tarpit partway through, before exploding into a tangled doom-math outro.
The two tracks on the second disc see the drums pulling back a little, letting the guitars and vocals interlock, the result some sort of ritualistic groove, albeit wrapped around some serious percussive heft, the second of the two tracks blissing out pretty nicely, the band slipping comfortably into something a bit more meditative and slowcore sounding, but still the guitars smoke and smolder, the drums, while restrained, still sound urgent, the track seething with dark intensity, and minimal doomic menace.
The final disc, a nearly 40 minute single song set, is the heaviest and densest of the bunch, somehow fusing the blown out ur-drone of groups like Sunroof! with a fuzzed out garage doom space stomp. Think White Hills, the Heads, Monster Magnet, this is the sort of doom that's bursting with barely restrained psychedelia, like watching some black star explode, swirling red and yellow gouts of sonic fire spilling forth from a heaving black hole of sound. The sound lo-fi, lots of noise and reverb and distortion and ambient noise, the sound crumbles and breaks apart here and there, the band slipping easily from ponderous trudge to blissed out shimmer, often merging the two into some soul shearing psychedelic doom.
A few of these tracks were already released, but as a cd-r in a limited run of 50 or something crazy like that, so odds are, like us, you never even saw 'em. These are proper, real cds (NOT cd-r's), packaged in a dvd style case, with printed inserts. And is also limited, this time to 300 copies!
You know you're a stoner when your band is named Bong. Heck, everybody knows you are, especially if your new album is called, simply, Stoner Rock. Which is, funnily enough, indeed the name of this new disc from UK psych-doom-drone-drug faves Bong. It's a bit like calling your album Heavy Metal. Or Grunge. Or J-Pop. But definitely the sort of thing stoners like Bong would do. Funny too, 'cause while they are of course super stoney, the one thing we don't usually associate Bong with is "rocking". We've said they lumber, we've said they rumble, we've said they "unfurl", but we don't think we've said they rock. Well, ok, we just checked, a few times they've rocked, yes, but that's not the first thing that springs to mind. But apparently they do often get tagged as "stoner rock" (due to their name, natch) and so this is their response, in the words of Bong themselves: "It is a tongue-in-cheek dig at our usual classification as stoner rock and what the term has come to represent. The idea is to create our own definition of 'stoner rock' by creating an album so utterly stoned and repetitive to be a million miles away from the usual definition." Should be no problem at all for 'em, right?!
This new full-length, consisting of two looooong tracks (about 36 minutes apiece) is the utterly hypnotic result. First up, "Polaris", is almost Stoner Ambient more than Stoner Rock, heavy (of course) on the drones, creating a spaced out atmosphere of DOOOOOM that, in usual Bong fashion, is huge and compelling. Closest comparison: a more cosmic sounding version of something off of Earth's seminal 2 album, made even more mesmeric by what sounds like monks moaning along.
Some bands would stop there and leave it at that, utterly spent, but Bong's statement of 'stoner rock' supremacy is not yet complete, so then they unfurl the album's second track, "Out Of The Aeons", still slo-mo and quasi-ambient but a little less soporific, with the massive throb of a doom-dirge riff carrying the song along. There's also some (spoken) lyrics at one point, about some sort of alien contact, trippy stoner stuff of course, in keeping with the drone-zone destination at the outer reaches of space that the song sends you spiraling into. Also excellent is how Bong insinuate plenty of melodic filigree amidst the heads-down slo-mo cosmic grind they're doling out. So good!
Not sure we need to say much more, we know a LOT of you are already big Bong fans and just need to know this is out. Waaaay out.
Compact disc available now, with a vinyl version (doubtless expensive, as it'll be an import) coming in a few months.
By the way, the two biggest stoner rock fans at aQ have never, or almost never, ever smoked pot. But man do we love Bong. Maybe 'cause their unique extreme brand of, uh, 'stoner rock' actually succeeds in making us feel stoned, without inhaling (or so we're guessing).
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Oh Bong. How we have longed for thee. Ever since we first go wind of a stonery slow motion doom sludge outfit called BONG, we knew we had to have it, even the non-bong inclined around these parts became disturbingly obsessed with tracking down the BONG. Finally it's here, so prepare to partake.
Before we get to the music, they're called Bong, two sidelong tracks, one called "Wizards Of Krull", the other called "The Starlit Grotto". The cover is gorgeous a washed out painting in all blacks and browns of some creepy alien landscape, and some strange looking flora or fauna (hard to say with). No info anywhere, except the names of the songs, the last names of the players (one of whom happens to be an aQ mailorder customer!) and the word BONG.
Deep buzzy layered drones, peppered with little bits of banjo-y (?) buzz, creepy and minimal and abstract, cymbals sizzle over the undulating black backdrop, the bass a simple single deep thrum, and then the vocals, deep and ominous and (almost overly) dramatic, which when we first heard them reminded us the Mighty Boosh. The guitars thicken, the drums begin to pound, and suddenly the shapeless miasma begins to take the shape of some seriously drugged out stoner doom sludge. Distorted and downtuned and Sabbathy and sloooooooooooow, that voice begins to chant, the banjo returns only now it's a sitar, and we're neck deep in some primal doomdrone stonersludge ritual and sinking fast!
The second side / track is more of the same, beginning with a smattering of drums before the guitar slither in and the track becomes another plodding chunk of druggy doom, the drums are brief blasts, the riffs so slow they're barely riffs at all, that reverby croon returns, but this track explodes in the second half, the guitars going wild, unfurling swirling clouds of warped and wild wah wah drenched leads, tangled and frenetic, drifting over the churning sludge below, all woven into a dense and drug addled chunk of blown out lysergic and psychedelic dooooooom.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
A split waiting to happen if there ever was one, both by name, and by sound, blissed out ambient soundscapers Gnod, best know for their split with White Hills, and beloved drugged out space rockers form the UK Bong.
The real bummer is that we tried to get a ton of these and only managed to wrangle TEN. Otherwise this would have been up with the highlights and the review would be about 10 times as long. But since odds are we'll probably get more orders for this than copies we actually have, we'll keep it brief.
Gnod offer up a warbly looped pianoscape, peppered with distant percussive rattles, draped over slow deep ambient swells, all building to a dense blackened rumble. Nice. Bong counter with more of that thing they do, rad tripped out FX drenched space rock, replete with sitar like buzz, kosmiche krautrock drumming, incendiary guitar buzz and deep chanted vocals, the sort of song that could, and probably should go on forever, but here fills up the side with gloriously dense hypnotic psychedelic heaviness.
The 7" comes with a cd-r, with over 50 minutes of extra stuff, one massive 30+ minute Bong jam, and three shorter Gnod tracks. Again we have less than ten, we really did try, all but the very quickest on the trigger, prepare to be disappointed.
We've long been fans of these Midwestern instrumental psychedelic drug obsessed doom dirge heavies, their Satan Worshipping Doom record was a huge seller around here, the first time around a couple years back, but we could barely keep the recent reissue of that record in stock either. The doom fans around here went to great lengths to track down every single one of their (mostly self released) cd-r's, and ever since we've done what we could to get enough to review/list, so the rest of you could revel in Bongripper's gloriously tranced out heavily psychedelic drugdoom epics.
Thankfully, it seems as if there's a Bongripper reissue campaign afoot, the aforementioned Satan Worshipping Doom a few weeks back (we're hoping Hate Ashbury and Hippie Killer will be reissued soon too!), and now the even more awesomely titled The Great Barrier Reefer, a sprawling, epic nearly eighty minute psych-doom tripout that most definitely gives Sleep's Jerusalem / Dopesmoker a run for its single-track-stoner-metal money. But unlike the more Sabbath beholden heaviness of Sleep, Bongripper ditch the vox, and spend a lot of time locked into tranced out repetition, just check out the first EIGHT minutes, which is spent drifting along, a muted, cyclical strum, mesmerizing and stripped down, beneath a subtly garbled, effected sample of a preacher, the result is seriously creepy, and it's easy to forget this is in fact a doom record, but eventually, the band kicks in, exploding into a droned out dirge, crumbling downtuned riffage, and blown out drum pound, the band lacing their metallic churn with spidery melodies, loads of texture, streaks of feedback, the guitars deviating from the main riff BIG time, splintering into weird angular fragments, or woozy looped strums, drifting over smears of distorted buzz and slithery basslines, the sound shifting from head caving pummel, to dark droney muted metal mesmer, to intricate tangled mathiness, and we're still only 25 minutes in!
The sound is in constant flux, at times it sounds nearly improvised, the band spiraling into weird stretches of near kosmische drift (albeit, still swaddled in crumbling buzz), or hazy almost classic rock sounding clean guitar dirgery, rife with slippery slide guitar melodies, channeling the Allman Brothers or maybe recent aQ faves Blackwolfgoat, weaving a sort of FX flecked droney riffscape, a little bit twangy, a little bit psychedelic, backwards guitars swooping in the background, beneath a cloud of echo drenched harmonics, fading out to near silence, before bursting into a massively heavy chug-fest, that over the course of the remaining 25 minutes lurches from grinding heaviness, to weirdly melodic poppiness, to tarpit sludge, before finishing off with a stretch of washed out feedback, and detuned slo-mo bass buzz.
Fuck yeah. Super psychedelic eye popping cover art too, much like the crazy cover of Satan Worshipping Doom, although this time featuring some sort of underwater sci-fi tentacled monsterscape!
That's right a double disc live recording from these Satan worshipping, weed obsessed instrumental ultra-doom sludgelords, a live document of their two night stint at 2012's Roadburn Festival. The first night, they performed a sort of greatest hits, including a few even hardcore fans might have missed out. Sure the faves are all here, "Hate Ashbury", "The Great Barrier Reefer", "Reefer Sutherland", etc. But also two songs from a 7" we have yet to track down: "Sex Tape" and "Fisting". Then, the second disc finds the band doing their whole Satan Worshipping Doom record in its entirety! Both nights sound killer, the recordings loud and raw, the band on fire, massive riffs, gut pummeling drum pound, the songs slipping easily from downtuned churn to blasting almost punked out thrash, and lots of long tripped out psychedelia in between, like the segue between "Fisting" and "Hate Ashbury" on the first disc, that weird swirling psych shimmer drifting quite a ways into the next song proper. And the band never let up, no between song banter, no nothing, just pure, relentless, non-stop, sludgey doooooomy dirgey bliss. In fact you might not even know these recordings were live, until the very end of the first disc, when we finally hear the thoroughly pummeled crowd show their appreciation. And the same goes for the second disc. Satan Worshipping Doom is presented essentially as a sprawling single 53 minute 4 part mega-epic songsuite, and like the studio record, it's a seriously epic slab of psychedelic-urdoom that should have metalheads, doomlords and drone obsessives equally entranced. Normally, a live record might be the last place for someone to start, but if you've yet to dip your toes into the lysergic waters of the mighty Bongripper, this is as good a place to start as any.
Comes packaged in a super swank six panel digipak, with lots of live shots of the band tearing it up live at Roadburn.
OK, they're called BONGRIPPER. The record is called Satan Worshipping Doom. The song titles, and there are four of them, are as follows: "Hail", "Satan", "Worship", "Doom". Both the front and back covers are adorned with eye popping Bosch-ian paintings of weird goat headed demons and naked ladies, and flames and birds, and strange plants, and lots of wrong heads on wrong bodies, and flames, and demons, and well, you get the drift.
So one guess as to what this sounds like.
Epic, monstrous, big riff slo-mo satanic sludge doom heaviness from these Midwestern miscreants. We've been fans for a while, having dug their first few hippie hating outings, Hippie Killer, and Hate Ashbury (which featured killer cover art of a big set of hedge clippers about to snip the fingers off a hand making the peace sign), but this is the first one we could get in enough numbers to review / list. Which is a shame, cuz these guys rule. But at least now, with Satan Worshipping Doom, the rest of the world can finally revel in the epic downtuned riffage and filthy crusty pummel of these doomlords. And the best part? NO VOCALS. Yep, all instrumental, so if you hate the sort of hysterical shrieking, or can't stand the howling bellow, or are annoyed by the cookie monster gurgle, well, you're in luck, cuz this is ALL RIFFS, and nothing but, sludgey, doomy, Sabbathy, a little bit of swing, a little stonery, lurching, and lumbering, staggering and stumbling, pounding and pummeling. But the band do mix it up, adding some cool minimal leads, that almost sound more like vocals than guitars, what sounds like synths here and there, even some electronics, the sound and songs super dynamic, slipping from all out assault, to swoonsome droned out dirge, to Sabbathy Swing, to full bore glacial crush, to epic ultra doom trudge, but somehow, even sans vocals, these guys manage to keep it interesting, the songs catchy as hell, heavy and hateful, doomy and moody and sometimes a little melodic, but always fucking crushing and heavy as hell.
You shouldn't even need a list, but just in case, this is totally essential for anyone who digs The Body, Cough, Thou, Electric Wizard, Bong, Sleep, Bongzilla, Cavity, Church Of Misery, Om, Dopethrone, Eternal Elysium, Los Natas, Reverend Bizarre, Ufomammut, and all that sort of stonery, Sabbathy, doomy, sludgey, riffy heaviness...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Another blast of bong ripping Satan worshipping stoner sludge doom, from just one of our many favorite bong-bands (Bongzilla, Belzebong, etc.), and like Great Barrier Reefer and Satan Worshipping Doom before it, Bongripper once again, crank it up and smoke us out with a sprawling sidelong epic, that starts off surprisingly atmospheric, weird voices, sheets of undulating feedback, swirls of hiss and static, and electronic glitch, eventually joined by some super distorted bass buzz, and finally, after about three minutes, the 'Rippers unleash a churning juggernaut of downtuned riffery, and wild tribal drumming, which seems poised to explode into some sort of frenzied freakout, but instead, lumbers into full on doom creep, a tarpit trudge, that's laced with wild tangled of revved up mathiness, which at least at one point explodes into what sounds like a full on death/black metal blast. But fear not, 'cuz even then, the sound seems to melt and ooze into its original shape, a sludgey Sabbathy swing, and so it goes, the song unwinding in an instru-metal bongsmoke stupor, continuously seeming to battle between slow and low, fierce and frenzied, with the black hole gravity of the bands doom dirgery prevailing.
Bongripper are matched up here with Hate, who are the perfect balance for BR's serious sludge, with short sharp blasts of thrashing, grinding metallic power violence, frantic riffing, frenzied blasts, shrieked glass gargling vokills, some seriously bombastic punk-metal chaos, that over the course of close to eight minutes, dips into AmRep style noise rock, chugging old school metal mastery, tangled mathy almost tech metal freakouts, culminating in the 4 minute closer, that is a serious slab of ferocious dirge metal density, the guitars blown out and crumbling beneath the weight of all that distortion, the vokills sick and throat shredding, a definitely Today Is The Day vibe for sure, which has us really wanting to hear more more more from these guys!
Includes a digital download code as well!
Only the biggest stoners or hardiest AQ list readers will even make it to this review. Which is precisely the problem with Bongzilla. Unless you're a pot smoking college student, a stoned metal head, or just an all around dirtbag, Bongzilla is an unbelievably stupid band name. It's the sort of name that would have Beavis And Butthead giggling and saying things like "Um, huh huh, he said bongzilla, huh huh." But let's be honest, Bongzilla is the perfect name for these guys, stoned and druggy and enveloped in a swirl of pot smoke and day old bongwater, at the same time, a crushing, stomping, downtuned metal behemoth. Sludgy and monstrously dirgelike, but with plenty of stoner groove. We'd dare go so far as to say Bongzilla are one of the best stoner sludge bands around. In fact, they manage to take the sound of EYEHATEGOD and all that sort of nihilistic NOLA stoner doom, groovy hip shaking stoner pop, and all manner of drug metal, and mix it with a big old dose of acid drenched space doom a la Hawkwind or Monster Magnet. A crushing dirgelike stoner riff sort repeates over and over eventually sort of splintering apart into slow floating slabs of fuzz guitar, drifting all hazy and mesemerizng, a blown out outer space psych jam of monumental proportions. The 12+ minute "Stonesphere" is the ultimate Bongzilla trip, a groovy tarpit riff, that is eventually smeared into long loping streaks of drug addled space rock / krautrocky bliss out, complete with seventies style talk box vocals buried way down in the mix. So tough it out, make it past the dumb (but WAY appropriate) name, the cover art of a soldier smoking pot in front of an American flag with pot leaves instead of stars, and the goofy Amerijuanican album title, and prepare to sit back and drift off into a goloriously druggy oblivion. If Bongzilla were called Krakow or Ultrablackbuzzhole or Fuckcrush or Strangle Flanger or something appropriately brutal and perplexing, if they were Japanese, if they had songs about serial killers instead of smoking pot, if they had super spiffy retro graphic design, or released super limited picture discs and multiple versions of every record and managed to sell as many records on eBay as they did in stores, but sounded EXACTLY the same, you can bet the rest of the stoner / sludge / doom / drone elite (Corrupted, EYEHATEGOD, Green Machine, Boris, Church Of Misery, Yob, etc.) would be cowering in terror (or at least, watching their backs), and all those crazy stoner-doom-drone collector freaks would be slobbering up a storm!
The last official U.S. release from the now retired label/store Howling Bull America (who we will miss something awful and who leave a void in our dwindling little punk rock community that will undoubtedly be filled by more cellphones/S.U.V.s/restaurants). This is the latest e.p. from Michigan's reefer obsessed, downtuned stoners. Crushing and sloooow and heavy as fuck. Three new tracks (including the wonderfully titled "Grim Reefer") and four live cuts (only on the cd).
Bongzilla: the name says it all, doesn't it? Crushing, HEAVY sludge-metal with a massive pot fixation is what you'll find here. Now, sometimes releases in this genre (yes, it's a genre) are sooooo great, unexplicably transcendent, and weirdly compelling, that we'll recommend 'em to all and sundry (like Electric Wizard, Corrupted, Sleep, Boris). Bongzilla is perhaps too single-minded about the pot thing (and what passes for the musical thing too) to warrant such a general recommendation. But they do this sort of sludge metal quite well, and if you're already quite partial to the heavy stuff -- i.e. you've got some Grief, Sleep, Eyehategod, Bongzilla (duh) etc. in your record collection -- you'll probably want to check this out. Especially if you also smoke pot. The song titles alone provide ample stoner entertainment! I mean, "Keefmaster"? Musically, it's all about massive fat riff (rhymes with spliff) repetition, in a simple, slow, sub-Sabbath mode, littered with the usual sort of drug-related samples we've come to expect. Not a lot here for the attention-span impaired though, or maybe there is, depends on how you use it.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Hey you read Windy's Guardian column on stoner rock, right? Here's one of several exemplary examples, as it were. More weed fueled fury from these Midwestern ne'er do wells. Sludgey stoned thud rock with copious samples warning against the evil of drugs. Includes an awesome Sabbath cover ("Under The Sun").
