[ aquarius records

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Showing results 601 through 650 of 5570.

Aussie technogrind outfit The Berzerker offer up their latest juggernaut of death on Earache, World Of Lies. This third time around they've removed their cool Slipknot-like monster masks but their music is still plenty scary. Peppered with bad-vibes samples, these downtuned tunes are vicious vehicles for The Berserker's indecipherable vocals, with which he spits out personal, angry, emo lyrics. Most striking, though, about this band's music is the absolute blasting speed of the drumbeats. It's insane. Truly berserk indeed. Whew. And no, it's not entirely human. Unfeeling machines are involved... so The Berzerker could be compared to a hyperspeed Godflesh. They are also very much Carcass-inspired. Thus it totally belongs on Earache, reminding us of the classic old days, and should please most fans of "extreme" metal today, pushing as it does at the envelope of velocity and violence.

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Brutal and punishing scary monster drum machine grind from down under. Crushingly heavy, noisy and super complex grind/metal along the lines of Pig Destroyer or Agoraphobic Nosebleed. Techno metal with a Carcass fixation (there's even a cover of "Incarnated

RealAudio clip: Massacre
RealAudio clip: Intro Commentary / Isolated Vocal Tracks For The Song 'Massacre'
RealAudio clip: Reality

A little 7" blast of grim and necro, super raw, thrashing blackness. Old old old old skool brutality. As the sleeve says, Poison Of The Underground. And this is the real underground. On one side, Chilean horde Force of Darkness, on the other black thrashing Swedes Bestial Mockery. And just because this is raw and old school doesn't mean there might not be a few surprises in store. Force Of Darkness, offer up, as the insert proclaims, an "Evil South American Black Thrash Attack", all buzzing riffs and thrashing drums, but what it doesn't tell you, is that the vocals are demented! Ultra fast tongue twisting garbled shddHSshUAHsaoaosa. Like the singer is possessed and speaking in tongues. Pretty far out. Bestial Mockery counter with, again, according to the insert, their won brand of black thrash, "Unpure, Unholy, Untight!" And it is all of those things, especially untight. A wildly thrashing slab of black brutality, wrapped in an ultra necro lo-fi production with some riffs that manage to be surprisingly catchy. Cool, thick black and white sleeves, with printed inserts, complete with lyrics, skulls, bullet belts and more! LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, each sleeve hand numbered.

THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. Non-deluxe, single disc edition of this German BM band's best album. By far. The singer on this record (a session vocalist no less!!) is AMAZING. It sounds like he's being stabbed to death the whole time. As heard on the Gummo soundtrack.

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There's a trend in metalcore these days to mix in super melodic, catchy parts that don't fit at all in some sort of bid to appeal to folks who can't handle their metalcore being ALL metal, or to make it onto MTV, where there's now a glut of bands who, when not pounding away in a loose approximation of death metal, sound like boy bands or super wussy indie pop. While BTBAM do have their 'sensitive' moments, they're not just stuck on as an afterthought, they are as critical to the song as the crushing riffs and howled vocals. For the most part, BTBAM are HEAVY through and through, dense and downtuned, pummellingly intense, and rhythmically super complex with obtuse time signatures, hiccupping and stuttering, stop/starts, with even the most straight ahead rhythms complicated by little off time breeches. There's definitely some Swedish influence here (In Flames etc...) but BTBAM manage to take the sound of Swedish death metal, and infuse it with the mathematic complexity of Dillinger Escape Plan and their own strange idea of songwriting, all convoluted and serpentine, and come up with something pretty original in the process. No mean feat considering metalcore's sound-alike tendencies. Songs flit from buzzing black metal to muffled crunchy brass knuckle chug, ultra low gutteral death metal barks stumble through chaotic and lurching, stuttery breakdowns, blazing double kick underpins dual guitar harmonies that sound more demonic than melodic and everything is tempered by waltzy minor key melodic bridges with soaring harmony vocals. Thanks to AQ pal Metal Dave for turning us on to this!

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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY.

Norway's Beyond Dawn build upon the unique sound they established with their Misanthropy-label classic "Revelry": gothic dirge-pop infused with both electronica and metal. Kind of like Katatonia meets Tarwater, with a healthy dose of the Swans (the vocals are magnificently, uncannily close to those of Michael Gira). Beyond Dawn began as yet another black metal outfit (albeit one that stood out from the pack by their use of the trombone!), and now have evolved into something very different, and very special. But the trombones remain! Highly recommended.

There seems to be a trend over the last few years in Norwegian metal. A serious obsession with techno, that when combined with the distinctly Black metal notion that maturing musically means becoming LESS metal, results in all sort of new permutations, that while definitely pushing the boundaries, tend to disappoint long time fans. Look at Manes, Arcturus, Ulver, etc. So what does this have to do with Beyond Dawn? Well...they started out as a seriously grim black metal band, whose unlikely use of a trombone was the only clue to their future direction. They soon moved in a distinctly dirge-y, melancholy, gloom pop direction, sounding more like Katatonia and even the Swans (due in no small part to the vocalist's uncanny Michael Gira like croon) and less like Darkthrone of Mayhem. At the same time, they began to incorporate all sorts of electronic glitchery: drum machines, weird processing, and studio trickery. On Frysh, their latest and weirdest record to date, things have gone about as far away from metal as humanly (or inhumanly) possible. They've pretty much given up the metal ghost entirely, opting for a melancholy techno-doom-pop. Weird bleeping synth melodies hover over skittish almost-techno rhythms, shimmering washes of synthesizer hum, and even some slide guitar! The sticker on the cd calls them "Norwegian's Loungecore Kings". Not sure how accurate that really is, but this definitely has more in common sonically with Depeche Mode or the Pet Shop Boys that it does with any metal bands I can think of. But don't get the wrong impression. This record RULES! Finally a metal band, that instead of talking about how much they love Depeche Mode or some other gloomy pop bands, and maybe even covering a Depeche Mode song once in a while, actually writes gorgeously catchy and sweetly depressive songs that rival those of any of their influences. To me this sounds like a more electronic Angels Of Light, or a metal flecked Magnetic Fields, or Dntel or the Postal Service covering Katatonia with Michael Gira on vocals. So so good. Took me a while to get over the silly and garish cover and the 'loungecore kings' sticker and the goofy new band member names (Clubshoes, Tore Jazztobakk, Hi-Fi Haavik, and Espen Weltschmertz). I was smelling 'jokeband' for sure. But the more I listen to Frysh, the more it reveals itself as a decidedly rich, multi-layered tapestry of perfectly morose, exquisitely crafted, bewitchingly dreamy techno pop gems. SO recommended!

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Hell yeah! We were just doing a bit of cleaning, and found a little stash of these, an AQ record of the week from WAY back in June of 2000!!! We only found 10 copies, and we're pretty sure this is out of print now, so as soon as these are gone, that's it! This record is sooooo amazing. So dark, and beautiful, creepy and mysterious. So much so that we just had to make it record of the week! Initially, our interest in Beyond Dawn was due mostly to the bizarre fact that they were a trombone-fronted black metal band!! But, in the space of one record (Revelry, the record preceding this one), their sound shifted completely, to something less metal, more experimental, a morose sort of "avant-pop" with a heavy heavy heavy Swans vibe. As well as a bit of Katatonia too. And thankfully, the trombone remained. The mostly acoustic follow-up "In Reverie" also could quite easily be a late period Swans record or an Angels Of Light disc. But for our money, it's even better than most of the later Swans records. The voice is a deep ringing baritone, a dead ringer for Michael Gira's, but the music is way more bizarre. Somehow managing to be both lush and spare, Beyond Dawn create rickety tales of loss and sorrow with plaintive trombone, simple minor key strumming, bizarre percussion, clouds of subtle glistening electronics and warm emotional swells, all wrapped in a creepy atmospheric intensity. Immediately following this disc, they then went on to explore a more electronica-influenced sound on their next record, the completely different but equally amazing Electric Sulking Machine, reviewed elsewhere on the site. Not sure what happened to these guys, they sort of just disappeared, which is an incredible shame as they are just such an amazing band, a perpetual AQ favorite for sure, and this is such a totally breathtaking disc. For everyone who somehow missed out on this 6 years ago, at least ten of you get a second chance. Don't blow it again! So recommended!

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Ahhh, how nice is it to see the name Beyond Dawn again? One of the great unsung heroes of the '90s Norwegian metal scene, Beyond Dawn never quite got the accolades they deserved . Maybe because even in their early heavier days they were a hard band to pin a genre to. Maybe because they were one of the first metal bands in Norway to abandon metal altogether for more experimental territory. Maybe because every record sounded so drastically different than the last. Maybe it's because they almost never played outside of their native country. Or maybe it's just because they had, like, A TON of trombone. Whatever the reason, a band who should have enjoyed a career as illustrious and respected as their countrymates Ulver (who the band played some of their earliest shows with in 1993) instead dissolved over a decade ago with the most cult of followings. But thankfully Duplicate Records has done all fans of heavy downer weirdness a great service in releasing this retrospective. But in classically unpredictable fashion, this isn't a greatest hits package so much as it is a two cd chronological collection of odds & sods: album demos, alternate mixes, outtakes and live recordings. Despite how that may sound, it works surprisingly well as an introduction to this band's surreal shadowy world, touching neatly on everything that made them interesting. Even in their earlier days of brooding gothic doom there was a touch the modern and avant garde, a somber and mournful dirge in the tradition of early Anathema complimented perfectly by Espen Ingierd's vocals, deep and commanding but strangely emotionless and distant, at times a dead ringer for Michael Gira. And like we mentioned earlier there's that trombone, which is never far away, and man, if Beyond Dawn don't make a good argument for the trombone being the saddest sounding instrument of all time (in fact this release inspired this topic of conversation in the store the other day: Why don't more metal bands use trombones???), but at the same time it lends a certain regal timeless quality to their music that really sets it apart. The second disc tackles the 2000's when the band left metal behind entirely, and began flirting with downtempo electronics, nocturnal dub, post punk and melancholy pop. While it's aesthetically a much quieter approach, it was no less emotionally captivating, engrossing and at times devastating. And while the band certainly evolved drastically as they progressed, this collection provides a nice way to follow the threads that ran through the band's sound, especially the general mood they always seemed to conjure up no matter what genres they were experimenting with: a sort of lonely distinguished elegance. Nocturnal and shimmering, depressive yet strangely proud, like putting on your best suit in preparation for the gallows. Highly recommended for fans of Vaura, Swans, Beastmilk, Ulver, and all things strange, sad and loud.

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Not long after we reviewed the recent collaboration between dark ambient drone legends, Nordvargr and Drakh (who started out as partners in the legendary black industrial drone outfit MZ412), we received an email from Drakh, thanking us for the review, and letting us know about his main project Beyond Sensory Experience. What a weird coincidence. Some of us around here were already huge fans of BSE, but had no idea who was behind it. Although sonically it makes perfect sense. Beyond Sensory Experience is an exploration into bleak sonic darkness, vast expanses of suffocating drones and desiccated melodies, haunting disembodied voices and ghostly glimpses into the dark soul. Korrelations is a remix record of sorts. Four original tracks, seven re-interpretations. One from ex-partner Nordvargr, the rest from like minded isolationists Alexxx, Doshaka, P3, Zdan and Alko. While occasionally the new versions introduce Muslimgauze-like tribal percussion, traditional drum kit and electric guitars, the bulk of the record is dark and dreary and rumblingly minimal. Muted pulses underscore streaks of black and grey, distant throbs beat out funereal rhythms beneath huge swaths of thick fuzzy drone, all flecked with bizarre sonic bits of lost dialogue, cracked and creaking flutters, and a completely claustrophobic and creepy ambience.

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MPEG stream: The Two-Trace Problem (Alexxx)
MPEG stream: Tortuna (Henriknordvargrbjorkk)

Metal IS comin' back... that is, if bands like Bible Of The Devil have anything to say about it. And by "metal" we mean real, Priest/Maiden/NWOBHM inspired heavy metal. Glory days metal, like in the early '80s, before the glam MTV hair bands took over, and most of the non-posers forgot about melody and went underground into the cesspits of death and grind metal... And by "back" we mean, um, at least here at Aquarius we know we can sell some of these. We first heard these guys when we brought in their last album, Tight Empire, on the advice of our pals Hammers Of Misfortune, who'd played with 'em in BOTD's hometown of Chicago. We liked it, but that disc was almost as "garage-rock" as it was metal, greasy and axe-kickin' but not, y'know, stuff from the gates of Valhalla. But now, bearing the statement-of-purpose title of Brutality - Majesty - Eternity, Bible Of The Devil have unleashed a true metal masterpiece! Bow down to their twin guitar attack, classic riffing, and sheer heavy metal exuberance. Should appeal to fans of some other bands we've recommended who are also in the business of old school metal revival: 3 Inches Of Blood, Early Man and Slough Feg, fer instance. In fact, BOTD toured with Slough Feg this summer -- I caught the show in Boston and it was a slayfest indeed, those two bands are well matched. True enough, with these twelve tracks, you can play spot the influence all album-long (just like with Early Man)... Thin Lizzy, Iron Maiden, Motley Crue, AC/DC. The guitar harmonies and epic songwriting owe a lot to Maiden and Lizzy (and Slough Feg?) while the vocals remind us of both Lemmy from Motorhead and Udo from Accept's gargle at times... But it's all wrapped up into something that isn't quite like any single one of their forebears. And is pretty darn killer. So if you're into some over the top, denim and leather, flying V action ('specially if you're already a Slough Feg fan) you should definitely check out this new Bible Of The Devil disc!

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We're gonna do this review in 2 entirely separate parts: FIRST, for folks already fans of this kickass Chicago-based old school metal squad (perhaps on account of our previous rave reviews), hell it's a new album from 'em, after four years a fine follow up to 2008's rulin' Freedom Metal - 'nuff said, you know you need it! SECOND, if like a lot of folks, you're not familiar with the inexplicably underrated BOTD... well maybe you're into another band of shredders, from here in SF, The Saviours? They're pretty durn popular, and we love 'em too (their reviews on our site should attest to that), but we've always wondered why BOTD weren't at least as successful, 'cause, not to take anything away from The Saviours, BOTD are even better. Both bands play heavy, riffy '70s/'80s inspired, but sorta punked up metal, with tons o' twin guitar action - and with both bands, the vocals are the weak link. While the singing is superior in BOTD's case, let's say that their gravelly vocals still aren't the greatest, with more attitude than aptitude, but do get the job done. Besides, they sure do come up with catchy choruses, so that YOU can (and will) sing along, and see if you can do better! The backing vox whoah-oh-oh style stuff has become a BOTD hallmark all right, so they're doing the best with what they got. But anyway, it's in the guitar dep't where these boys shine. And shine they do, here, there and everywhere. The guitarwork is jaunty and jubilant, with plenty of nods to what's gotta be one of their biggest influences, Thin Lizzy. Yep, as always, we're hearing a lotta Lizzy... NWOBHM too of course... and also some Led Zeppish funkiness on the track "Raw & Order". BOTD are the heirs to a lot of classic rock and metal moves that few bands today do as well as they do, or even do at all. Mention should also be made of the surprise horn section in the middle of "I Know What Is Right (In The Night)", nice! The rough n' ready production job points up something else you should know about these guys - they're a great live band, go see 'em if you get the chance. Drunken air guitaring will be your fate... very likely too even if you just listen to this at home. Recommended especially, as indicated, to fans of The Saviours and Thin Lizzy, also to fans of the likes of High Spirits, Gypsyhawk, Danava, and occasional partners-in-crime Slough Feg...

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This is pretty much exactly what you'd hope for from a band who has a Flying V guitar as part of their logo! Chicago's Bible Of The Devil are back, all hairy and bearded, with another ripping record of '80s, NWOBHM inspired heavy metal rockin'. It's their fifth album, so along with the guitar, they've got a (Roman numeral) V in the logo on the cover of this, too. V can also stand for victory, and "triumphant" is a word we've used to describe these guys' metallic gallop in the past, a gallop graced with gruff Lemmy-ish vocal gargle and (of course) tons of twin Flying V fret burnin' leads and dual harmonies. Catchy stoner riffage, soaring melodies, singalong choruses, total shred, these guys bring it on Freedom Metal, recorded by their hometown heaviness production guru, Sanford Parker. No wonder they're such good buddies with those epic eccentrics known as Slough Feg. Their rollicking riffs even seemingly share some of the same Celtic/folk influences at times... or Thin Lizzy influence anyway, as on the likes of "Greek Fire", "500 More", and especially the super Lizzyish, upbeat "Ol' Girl" (which we could also describe as sounding like Southern rock with extra Champs-y guitars). Furthermore, while the whole album hews to BOTD's usual raw rock vibe, one foot still in the garage, they mix it up from track-to-track, some more blazingly metallic, and a few more melodically mellow, as with the moody "Heat Feeler" which has moments that make us think of Elvis Costello or something! Basically, Bible Of The Devil just keep gettin' better n' better, and Freedom Metal is a blast. And like a blast from the past that ain't actually from the past. Our only question: why no song called "Turn It Up, Man"? NB. we also have a new BOTD split 7" with Pennsylvania doom metal act Valkyrie, we'll try to list that next time if we still have copies.

MPEG stream: Hijack The Night
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On last year's Brutality - Majesty - Eternity album, Chicago's Bible Of The Devil really turned on the Heavy Metal afterburners, rocketing from being just a hard rockin', gritty garage/punk band who obviously loved their old AC/DC, Motley Crue and Motorhead cassettes, to the next level of metallic majesty, crafting truly epic, twin guitar riffed compositions worthy of eccentric AQ faves The Lord Weird Slough Feg -- who, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, are pals and frequent touring (and recent split 7") partners with BOTD. If, like us, you thought that was a righteous development, then you'll for sure be pleased with their new onslaught, The Diabolic Procession! The sheer metal triumph of Brutality - Majesty - Eternity is recapitulated here, and then some! If anything, these guys have gotten even more Slough Feg-gy, with some hints of Celtic folk seemingly sneaking into their riff-writing. And they're on the same label as Slough Feg, now, in fact. So, as with the Feg, Maidenesque dual guitar action is a big part of this album's appeal, for us -- you've gotta love lots of guitar (twin Flying V's, if you must know) to dig this, that's for sure. But there's more (which is also crucial): strong songwriting, tons of energy, memorable melodies, and cerebral concepts. Regarding that last item -- I guess it's circular logic to say this, but who but a metal band would consider making a whole album all about something like the tragic historical episode of the Children's Crusades of the Middle Ages?? Gotta love it. And despite the history lessons, and folky riffs, and acoustic bits that have found their way into these epic numbers, Bible Of The Devil still has something of their punk roots about 'em, notably in the vocals, which are a lot rougher and tougher than the typical power metal croon. Gruff and gravely yet sorta screechy, we're reminded of Lemmy at times, Blackie Lawless of W.A.S.P. at others... works for us! Goes great with the crunchy chuggy, Maiden/Slough Feg mixed with Metallica tuneage. The Diabolic Possession is another definite triumph for these 'garage rockers gone metal'... very metal!!

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Like Zebulon Pike last list, here's another band recommended to us by our pals Hammers Of Misfortune, who played with 'em when on tour this past summer. Mike from Hammers lent me their new cd, and I agreed with him that it rocked and immediately wanted one and figured a few of you might want one too...so here it is! Chicago's Bible Of The Devil are a ass-kickin' garage-metal outfit, cranking out raw guitar riffage with raucous vocals. Influences probably include AC/DC, Alice Cooper and the NWOBHM. Both really heavy and kinda punk, these greasy long-hairs know what they're doing that's for sure. You don't possess a profanity-laced screech like their singer or engage in the twin axe action with which Bible Of The Devil's guitarists are adept without payin' some dues. Should stoke all the same urges as Motley Crue and Motorhead...we'd also cite the Hellacopters, Turbonegro, the Necros, and SF locals Night After Night and Drunkhorse as like minded acts whose fans ought to do some 'Bible study'.

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Chicago's formation Flying V pilots Bible Of The Devil fight in the skies on this split 7" with another band of metal maniacs, Louisville's Blade Of The Ripper (featuring one of the dudes from Nashville Pussy and The Hookers, letting his Venom fandom come to the fore). The 33 rpm Side A is BOTD's "Hot Deth", and it harks back a bit to their more Hellacopters-ish garagey rawk early stylings while staying as metal as their spelling of "deth" would suggest. On the flip (which is supposed to spin at 45, 'cause they're fucking with you or something), BOTR offer up "Cast Me In The Fire", maybe even more vicious and raw and metallically evil than the A-side, though you do have the option of speeding "Hot Deth" up to 45 if you want to hear something faster (and more ridiculous), to which "Cast Me In The Fire" can't respond unless you've got a turntable that plays at 78 too. We're big BOTD fans already, but this makes us want to check out more BOTR also. Limited edition, Italian import, we have but a fistful.

We listed the latest album of dual Flying V action (Flying VV?) from Chicago's metal masters Bible Of The Devil last list. Here's another, new n' exclusive, kick ass track from them, "The Auld Dirt Road", on one side of this split 7" single they share with Virginia doomsters Valkyrie, who do a song called "False Dreams". Between 'em, BOTD and Valkyrie manage to turn this 7" inch into a shrine to all that's retro, rad, & rockin', with Bible leaning towards Thin Lizzy, and Valkyrie tilting towards Pentagram... It's a limited edition release, naturally, on either red or blue colored vinyl (luck of the draw). We have but a handful.

Fans of the late great beer guzzling, punk rock, riff slinging metalheads Karp must now rejoice, as Big Business are a dead ringer for those metal miscreants, which of course makes plenty of sense as the CEO of this particular Big Business is none other than Karp frontman Jared! So if you loved Karp, you're obviously gonna love this. And if you don't know Jared / Karp / Big Business, think relentless riffing, powerhouse drumming, shouted vocals, goofy but sort of brilliant lyrics, a supercharged AC/DC filtered through a beer soaked haze, a mild obsession with Judas Priest and a desire to kick much ass. Not hard to imagine legions of white belted, tight pants-ed irony-metal bands being rounded up by the true metal police and beaten into submission while protesting the true rock of Big Business which threatens to make their joke metal obsolete, all beneath the towering Marshall stack shapped monolith of Big Business, while Jared and his board of directors sit in their penthouse, twenty stories above hurling riff after riff after motherfucking riff at the cowering crowd below, laughing maniacally and rocking relentlessly!

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Big Business had always sounded a bit like the Melvins, which made perfect sense, as the drums and bass duo also function as 2nd bass and 2nd drums in the Melvins. But they always had their own thing going on, a sound that while still heavy and obtuse, was weirdly melodic, a sort of metallicized fractured pop. We meant to review last year's Here Comes The Waterworks, a totally classic chunk of hooky heaviness, equal parts heaving metallic heft, and twisted melodicism, but somehow it slipped through the review-writing cracks here, whoops. We were mostly expecting more of the same on Mind The Drift, but holy shit, it's even better than Waterworks. Way more epic and sprawling and proggy, showtunes is probably not the best word to use to describe the songs here, but that was definitely our first thought, not cheesy showtunes like your parents made you listen to in the car on long trips, no, BB's tunes could be the soundtrack to to some otherworldly Broadway musical jam packed with twisted carnivalesque epic songsmithery, smoke and streamers and flames and leering demonic faces, twisted shapes, colors psychedelic and kaleidoscopic, but more than anything, the songs are incredibly catchy, the vocals soaring and dramatic, a huge development from the punk rock howl of their earlier recordings, the instrumentation is lush, fleshed out by a guitarist, and the arrangements are impossibly complex, lots of stop / starts, amazing vocal interplay, some of the most incredibly irresistible melodies ever, all woven into super tight, dense mini-epics. It's not metal, it's not punk, it's not post rock, it's bits and pieces of all of those, but cobbled together into something completely jaw droppingly over the top, but not ostentatious, the songs might feel grand and majestic, but it also feels like these guys could just reel off a new song at the drop of a hat and it would sound as good as any of these. The band do get rough and raw, and rock out a bit, but they shine on those aforementioned numbers, where they kick out the sprawling dramatic soundtracky post punk show tune jams, like some impossibly rad mix of the Melvins and Meat Loaf (circa Bat Out Of Hell). Our favorite track is probably "Gold And Final" (although it seems like every time we listen to this we discover a new favorite), with its super tense brooding verse, the little looped effected stutter before a devastating chorus, and an insane hook. We've been humming this song nonstop since we got this. Just listen to the sound sample, totally timeless, like some classic rock jam transported forward in time several decades, but picking up all sorts of detritus in the process and growing gradually slightly more warped and twisted. So good. Could be a contender for record of the year. Really. Incredible packaging too, done up like found vintage postcards, the song titles and credits worked into mysterious missives, all the images washed out, complete with a Big Business post mark and everything.

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Obscure but awesome, ugly yet catchy, crusty underground noiserock here! We gotta thank our pals in Megaton Leviathan for hepping us to this now defunct band (2000-2006). In fact, one of Megaton dudes put this disc out on his own label a while back, and we just got a handful direct from them at a bargain price. Not sure if there was ever any membership connection between the two bands or not, could be, but we do know the Billy Dirt Cult started off in Anchorage, Alaska, eking out a DIY punkrock existence up there in the frozen north for several years before migrating down to the relatively milder climes of Portland, Oregon, and then subsequently morphing into another band called Theda Bara whom we're also now curious to hear, after getting into this document of BDC's particular brooding darkness. With the Megaton Leviathan endorsement, you'd expect Billy Dirt Cult to be heavy, and they are. But while Megaton Leviathan traffic in what might be called "soft doom" or "doomgaze", Billy Dirt Cult is a much nastier beast, though like we said, quite catchy, and in their way quite artful, and political. This disc collects a 2001 demo, their half of a split lp with some fellow Alaskans called Eu Vusahm, and unreleased tracks, 12 cuts in all. Rife with caustic vocals, rumbling guitars, pounding drums, feedback, all that good stuff. Gets more and more distorted and crusty as it goes along, it seems, culminating though in the disc's surprising grand finale, an instrumental epic called "February", kind of a post-rock apocalypse, all shades of light and dark in one gripping, gnarled, blown-out fuzzfest whose only flaw is that it eventually fades out instead of going on forever. Worth the price of admission right there for that one, but we are diggin' on the whole thing, whether BDC be in driving scuzzpunk mode or doing the plodding crashing doomic stuff, or both.

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Holy crap. This band is so completely mindblowing. Ultra technical, downtuned black thrash... power metal? An impossible mix of techgrindthrash a la Meshuggah, Dillinger Escape Plan, Strapping Young Lad and the like, but with plenty of chugcrunchmosh as per Pantera, but most importantly, a huge heaping dose of classic melodic power metal: blazing leads and harmony solos like they were plucked straight from some Iron Maiden b-side, wailing and soaring eighties style Rob Halford like vocals, all plopped smack dab in the middle of a dense sludgy, churning whirpool of brutal pummeling technical thrash metal. Imagine your favorite eighties metal record, Avenger, Obsession, Omen, doesn't matter, now imagine that band going through one of those science fiction transformations, you know like where the dinky little robot is dragged down the conveyor belt, strapped down and then is suddenly awash in a blur of sparking machines, and molten metal, a hundred mechanical arms with all manner of alien tools welding and cutting, sparks spraying everywhere, flames and smoke, until the tiny robot emerges a hulking armored battle machine, all sharp edges and planet crushing firepower. That's basically Biomechanical. Imagine Iron Maiden or especially Queensryche (the singer sounds a hell of a lot like Geoff Tate) with a 21st century makeover. A blurred buzzy blast of totally brutal thrashmetal, technical and convoluted but super catchy. With those wailing vocals that at first sound so completely out of place, but immediately make Biomechanical so much more interesting than their grunting shrieking thrash metal brethren. Plus they smear the proceedings with all sorts of bizarre keyboards which gives the whole record a demented alien vibe. The metalheads around AQ have been rocking this nonstop since we first got it a few months back!

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Bird Sister Blasphemy is the most recent release on Battlecruiser, the outsider metal sublabel of the mighty Celebrate Psi Phenomenon which in the past has birthed such hellish AQ faves as Black Boned Angel, Mirag, Mrtyu, Wardagger, Wings Of Vengeance, Wolfskull, You Should Have Slain Me, Ghoul, Ming, Cicadashrine and The Cops among others. This is the first time a Birchville disc has found its way onto Battlecruiser, but once you hear it you'll understand why. A�sort of a dark side addendum to the also just released (and reviewed elsewhere on this list) full length�Birds Call Home Their Dead. Four songs, twenty six minutes, a no brainer if you're a BCM fan obviously, and especially if you just bought�Birds Call Home Their Dead. The first track begins a dark meandering drone before the band launches into what sounds remarkably like a blown out version of the intro to Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher", and the song just sort of locks into step right there, turning that sort-of-intro, into a looped free-rock space jam, relentless drum pound, swirling clouds of freaked out FX, throbbing rumbling bass, and squiggly guitars and synths all over the place. The second track is like the harshest buzziest black metal record, made somehow even more harsh and buzzy, a relentless blast of blown out white noise fury, with some semblance of rock, buried way way way way down in the mix. Track three is some sort of tribal ur-drone free-skree raga workout, with layers of buzz and drone, what sounds like guitars and bagpipes and clouds of feedback and amp buzz and thick swells of screech and shimmer, all underpinned by a relentless drum corps krautrock rhythm jam. The title track finishes things off, and manages to take all the sounds from the first three songs and blow them to smithereens, whatever color comes after red as in "in-the-red", that's where this track is, pegged WAY beyond the red, a wall of vacuum cleaner guitar and squealing horn skree and some wild tribal drumming, relentless and circular, threatening to shred ear drums and speakers, before drifting off in a soft swirl coda of chants and mumbled percussive flutter. Phew. Maybe not as metallic as many� of the Battlecruiser releases, but in no way is this the softest or the easiest on the ears. Fierce and furious and dense and harsh, but as with most BCM stuff with plenty of melody lurking within the chaos.� Bird Sister Blasphemy definitely holds up on its own, and is as good as anything in the series, but�once you dive in, it's easy to hear the sonic connection to its�Birds Call Home Their Dead big brother, and it's equally easy to see that you probably need both!

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This purports to be BCM's 'rock record', hence the title and the Campbell-Kneale-as-rock-god-in-action blurred cover photo. And while this is certainly BCM's most rock record to date, it's be no means -that- sort of rock record. A groovy seventies rock riff gets looped and repeated FOREVER, while Kneale sprays grinding skree, viscous fuzz and squealing feedback all over. Before a strange purposeful stadium rock drum beat emerges from the chaos, and the sonic deluge eventually abates, skipping and skittering into a spare and abstract rhythmscape. Very reminiscent of the most recent Skullflower, whose Sabbath-hypno-Hawkwind-mantra turned 'the riff' into psychotropic drone rock nirvana.

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After six releases as Monument Of Urns, whose blackened doom has long been a favorite with aQ metalheads, the mysterious man behind Urns returns with a new project, Bird Of Omen, meticulously packaged like the Urns releases in gorgeous hand screened printed vellum oversized sleeves, which led us to believe that Bird Of Omen would be a sonic continuation of the black dirgery of Urns, when in fact, BoO is something else entirely. In fact before we get into it, we'd say that ANYone into Barn Owl, Earth and that sort of Morricone influenced dronefolk desert twang, should definitely check out Bird Of Omen, cuz that's definitely what BoO is all about. Some of the blackness and doominess of Urns is definitely present, but it's much more subtle, more in the ambience, and the vibe, cuz the vibe is definitely brooding and haunting, whipping winds, howling wolves, all over a distant drone, a rumbling low end, and subtly spacey shimmer, over which a guitar unfurls twangy tendrils of minor key guitar, the sound slightly distorted and blown out, so the low notes go into the red, and add a bit of distortion, the background low end droning ominously, and drifting in and our like some mysterious black sonic swell. And in fact, the more we listen to this, the more we can imagine how easy it would be to transform this into a Monument Of Urns record, and which also made us realize that minus the distortion, Bird Of Omen is not that far removed from Urns, the same sort of dismal miserablism, the same sort of brooding trudge, a lumbering slo-mo slither, but where Urns doused that in distorted guitars, here, those sounds are spare and unadorned, maybe wrapped in a bit of echo and delay, and in some weird way, the sound manages to be just as doomy. And the closing track, which might be our favorite, sounds a bit like Barn Owl mixed with Skepticism. The twang dialed way back, letting the murky low end drive the song, a grim black creep, surrounded by field recordings, voices, the sound of rain, and a final coda that hints at the doom that lurks in the background as the sound swells into a squall of detuned buzz and swirling feedback, before finally fading out, truly haunting and harrowing. So great! As mentioned above, gorgeous packaging, a printed vellum outer sleeve over a screen printed inner sleeve, the 3"cd-r affixed to the inside.

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Second release from Bird Of Omen, the new-ish project from the man behind Monument Of Urns, whose gorgeous blackened doom, spread out over six super limited cd-r's, was a huge favorite around here. And as we mentioned in our review of Eulogy, the first Bird Of Omen, the sound, while still ominous and doomy, was well removed from the crumbling distorted sludge of Monument Of Urns, and instead trafficked in something more akin to groups like Barn Owl and Earth - dusky and atmospheric, haunting twang-flecked drone-folk. On What Was Once There Is Now Gone, the sound of Bird Of Omen seems to have bridged the gap between the two groups, taking the more refined melodic sound of Eulogy, and adding some seriously abject atmosphere, the opening track here a hauntingly harrowing creepy crawl, a moody, mournful, melancholy sprawl of distant black metal guitar buzz, blurred into dreamy smears of sounds, laced with delicate piano, and intense minor key chords, beneath which seems to lurk a gristly buzzing low end synth. It's so atmospheric and cinematic, it sounds like it could be the score for some super austere arthouse horror flick, in fact it has a sort of Carpenter credits vibe, especially, when the helicopter synth pulsations surface, and things get a tiny bit kosmische, still within the context of the blackened ambient moodiness. The bridged gap is even more evident on the second track, which explodes immediately into full on doom. Churning, crushing slow motion dirgery, but dragging some of that opening track atmosphere with it, the choppy rhythmic pulsing synth, the blackened shadowy swirls, all draped over a glacial tarpit trudge, that distant black metal buzz slightly more prominent, and endless sonic death march, that eventually sheds much of the crumbling buzz, leaving just the pointillist piano, and atmospheric shimmer of the first track, the outro returning to that funereal creep that started things off, before one more blast of blurred downtuned slo-mo doom-sludge, but again, while it's all churning heaviness, the sounds are muted, and blunted and smeared into something weirdly atmospheric, washed out and a little woozy, shades of Finnish doomlords Skepticism for sure, but BoO's sound is more caustic, building to a fierce noise drenched coda, before winding down into a strange bit of droned out mesmer, replete with weirdly effected twang, and gristled ominous thrum. Once again, fucking amazing stuff. How some big label hasn't swooped in by now we'll never know, both Monument Of Urns and Birds Of Omen and pretty much everything this guy does, definitely deserves much more widespread exposure, but for now, grab this, and anything else you can get your hands on. You won't be sorry. Like all the Urns releases and the other BoO, fantastically elaborate handmade packaging, an oversized full color sleeve, with a printed vellum outer cover, released on the artist's own Hand Hewn Timbre label, and yeah, probably pretty limited...

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Totally silly yet utterly killer grind metal from Sweden, featuring somebody from Nasum. The trio of Achmed Abdulex, Moshbastard, and Smattro Ansjovis (guitar, bass, drums respectively) thrash out ditties with titles like "Night Of The Ultimate Mosh", "Coffinfucker" and "Bowelthrasher", with typical grind-gore themes of blood and violence. Yet when you read the lyrics you'll see they're not entirely serious. And they also do songs that are a bit more unusual, like "Catmouth", which goes: "I pick up my cat, hold it in my arms/I take a smell, of its mouth/it doesn't smell good - CATMOUTH!/it doesn't smell bad - CATMOUTH!" What? There's also a song about having crows in your nose. Huh? Birdflesh also throw in a smattering of violin and clarinet for spice, again not typical of their genre. But on pure grindcore terms they're no slouches either, raging with the best of 'em. Get this and you've got twenty-two mosh-friendly tracks of 100 mph absurdo-grind to enjoy whilst you peruse the lyric sheet for more gems like "Catmouth". Kinda like Agoraphobic Nosebleed or Nasum with the humorous spirit of a Spazztic Blurr.

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Finally! The return of our favorite parrot fronted grind metal outfit, Hatebeak! And as if realizing that a bird squawking along to death metal might be a one trick pony, the band has gone and mixed things up, turning their jokey avian death metal into something way more weird and damaged and in the long run, an even better (and more musically complex) joke. It's still high concept: Waldo the parrot is lead vocalist for the band Hatebeak, a play on the band Hatebreed we can only assume. This time, the cover is some horrible creature (Cthulhu we presume) with a parrot perched on its shoulder. Titled "The Thing That Should Not Beak" coupled with the track "Hellbent For Feathers" (Metallica and Judas Priest jokes respectively for the metallically dim out there) and the Hatebeak logo is done in the style of the Relapse Records logo... it's all very funny, metal nerd inside jokes, but the thing is, as a band, Hatebeak totally shred! The two tracks are bookended by what ends up being a parrot prank call, but in between it's raging, complex, super technical grinding death metal. Another one of those bands that had they ditched the whole bird on vocals angle, could probably be huge! And this time it's not just regular old bird squawks and squeaks, Waldo's 'vocals' are bizarre, obviously overdubbed, they go from strange almost talking, to screeches, to weird guttural almost death metal vocals, all tangled up amidst insanely brutal, super stop start grinding metal mayhem. Awesome! On the B side are Swedish goof grinders Birdflesh, chosen for their monicker as much as their sound we'd assume, but sonically, they are the perfect match, a whole bunch of songs crammed onto their side, fast and furious, technical and brutal, and just a little bit goofy, like their bizarre, costumed band photos on the cover. Pressed on swirled lime green vinyl and as with most things like this, extremely limited!

Birds of Avalon, the name makes us think of some sort of jazz fusion band, or maybe a RenFaire folk outfit, don't it? Nope, neither is the case. So, whatta we got here? Well friends, put pure and simple, we've got some real deal, real catchy CLASSIC rock done really really well, featuring the married (!) guitar duo of Cheetie Kumar and Paul Siler, both formerly of AC/DCish R&B rockers the Cherry Valence from Raleigh, North Carolina. This new band of theirs is equally retro and even more proggily awesome than their old one. It's '70s style, yeah, in the vein of Led Zep, Cheap Trick, Thin Lizzy and Southern stuff like the Allman Brothers. Should therefore also appeal to fans of current acts like Drunk Horse and Queens Of The Stone Age -- and, with the twin guitar harmonies that shine strong throughout this 11-tracker, moments could even be mistaken for the dual guitar heroics of Slough Feg. Though, you wouldn't call 'em metal. Meanwhile, the singer dude's vocals are expressive and melodic, he's possessed of soaring higher register pipes that will remind you at times of Robert Plant -- or even a non-ironic, less over-the-top version of that guy from The Darkness. Thus armed, their songs range from full on riff rockin' heaviness to spacey, keyboard adorned psych -- always with those glorious guitar harmonies, and a more than competent pop component. A track like "Superpower" is typical of their energetic, guitar-driven '70ish verve, while we also dig on the mellower, moodier numbers like "Turn Gold" and "Instant Coma" that remind us of a heavy lidded Sabbath, a la "Planet Caravan". More pop-minded fans of The Fucking Champs (pals of these guys by the way, as the Champs, and Drunk Horse too, always used to play shows with the Cherry Valence) who love it when the usually-instrumental Champs do one of their all-too rare vocal numbers, ought to really dig Birds Of Avalon. Oh, and they bring it live -- we've seen 'em and if they come through on tour, wherever you are, check 'em out. Our prediction: this debut will someday be considered a classic of retro-classic rock!

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Old school death metal, featuring members of Alabama Thunderpussy, Baroness and of course drum god Dave Witte... lotsa raghhh raaghh arghh growlin' vocals and oh so clever song titles, like "The Old Lady Rots (But The Checks Keep Coming)" and others we won't mention 'cause they're so terrible.

We've got pretty much an AQ-fave shoo-in here, this strange Japanese band combining crusty, doooooomy heaviness with wyrd folk ritual, like Corrupted (with whom they have some membership connection) combined with Ghost. This 40 minute album, featuring three tracks (a two minute into and then two much longer pieces), starts by building up the ancient, Asian folky ambience, adorned with mysterious Scooby Doo meets Ol' Dirty Bastard kung fu mumble, all of it very much darkly psychedelic, before it gets HEAVY at about 5 minutes into the 20+ minute track two, Birushanah suddenly kicking out the lurching, kinetic riffs/rhythms along with much more wretched, raspy vokills in the Khanate vein. Tricky tribalistic percussion conspires with sinuous, strangled guitars, stopping and starting and coming down hard, on the bizarre bulk of this creepy and crushing album. One whose eerie eccentricities, rooted in traditional Japanese music, we figure should appeal to a lot of you who dug that Quest For Blood release we made Record Of The Week recently!

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Stoner rock's best known drummer, Mr. Brant Bjork (he's the former sticksman of both Kyuss and Fu Manchu) presents his second solo disc. In spite of the "and the Operators" part of the band name, this really IS a solo record, as Brant sings, drums, plays "Ain't nothing gonna stop the rock tonight...I got rock tonight...feeling good it's so right...I got the rock tonight...ain't nothing gonna stop the rock tonight." It's all knowingly dumb, good fun. I wasn't expecting much from this record, and as a result was pleasantly surprised and captivated by the catchy, summertime stuff Brant came up with here. The album closes with some dentist office funk to mellow you out after all the rock tonight.

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From the twisted mastermind behind outsider weirdo black metal one man band Cloak Of Displacement, comes this debut from the oddly monickered T. Bjorklund Quartet, a CoD offshoot of sorts, oddly named for several reasons, one, it's not a quartet as far as we know, and T. Bjorklund is not his name, but by now we should have come to expect that sort of whatthefuckness from Mr. CoD, which bleeds right over into the music here, which is a sort of abstract free jazz, black noise weirdness, imagine wild squalls of lo-fi super distorted shredding, like a more damaged Mick Barr, that matched by some wildly abstract 'free' drumming way off in the distance, not to mention some blown out, croaked alien vokills, everything wrapped in an insane amount of tape hiss, as if it were recorded on a 1950's dictaphone, the end result being like a Faxed Head jazz record, or some abstract black metal record melting down and going totally haywire. But for all the damaged shred and abstract fuckery, the sounds do become strangely hypnotic, murky and muddy and blurred. There seems to be some bass going on too, that surfaces part way through, but the weird thing is, it doesn't sound played, it almost sounds like another record is playing with just bass on it, and that's where it's coming from. The sound does swing wildly all over the place, from weird electrified ambience to full bore noise, to what sounds -almost- like black metal, our favorite bit maybe being near the end, where that strange bassline, thrums beneath a field of high end sine wave skree, while the vocals howl maniacally, the bass getting louder and louder, as if someone was jamming in another room, and just opened the door. Some seriously weird shit for sure. But if you've dug all the other Cloak records, or alternately are a jazzhead who somehow made it through this whole review, than check this out, we love it, but it's definitely on the 'difficult' side. Packaged in a hand pasted digipak style sleeve, LIMITED TO 20 COPIES, we have 15 of those, all hand numbered, with a hand written 'free jazz' insert.

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add to cart [/images/addtocart.gif]/af4105.html It was only a matter of time. There's been rap metal, and there's been funk metal, but as far as we know, nobody has combined black metal and dub, at least in a way that was at all palatable (we're definitely not counting the Bill Laswell produced Cradle Of Filth remix record or that abominable Tolkien-dub Prince Far Isengard record from a few years back). But now we've got the brilliantly monickered Black Ark Oaken Saw, a grim troupe of ganja smoking, washboard stroking, corpse painted Dandys in tight trousers. Huge swaths of murky buzzsaw guitars, howled demonic David Lee Roth-like vocals, wrapped in loads of reverb and delay, but instead of blast beats, or precise triggered drums, the dark abyss is framed by spare super blissed out, dubbed out echoplexed dub rhythms, snares crack and then repeat endlessly into the blackened void, while shrieks are snipped mid phrase and then recycled into haunting otherworldy echoes of blackened dub. Weird weird weird, it seems like this sort of thing wouldn't work at all, but surprisingly it's an absolutely perfect fit. Imagine Emperor with Sly and Robbie occupying the rhythm section or Lee Perry fronting Lugubrum. And we can't forget the un-named frontman who indeed plays the amplified washboard, but it too is run through a bank of effects and emerges a totally dubbed out barely recognizable version of itself. Hopefully, Hydra Head's interest in the fringes of black metal will continue to unearth more unholy treasures like the mighty Black Ark Oaken Saw!

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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY.

We talk about stuff being heavy all the time. Stuff being crushing. Pummeling. Sludgy. We describe slow heavy music with words like tarpit, and lumbering, and plodding. Deep. Cavernous. Subterranean. We try desperately to evoke the sort of abject brutality that this music makes us feel, lets us hear. But the truth is, while all of those words do describe Black Boned Angel, they barely manage to capture just how slow and low, heavy and completely skullcrushing this new record is. In huge letters, printed on the inside of the sleeve, are the words "Transcendence Can Only Be Reached At Maximum Volume" and truer words were never spoken. Black Boned Angel is the darkside of Mr. Campbell Kneale, better know for his long running blissdrone outfit Birchville Cat Motel. A fascination with metal, and a desire to reach the depths of utter heaviness, led Campbell from the droning path of BCM and into a world of black terror and skull peeling ferocity, a harrowing path of ear shredding, heart stopping, brain melting brutality. And it seems he has acclimated quite well thank you. Bliss And Void Inseparable is the third installment in Kneale's insidious plan to create a record so massive, that it collapses all of time and space, sucking the entire solar system into an alternate universe the size of a pea. And he's almost succeeded. We will perpetually live in fear knowing that the next BBA record could be the one that destroys the world as we know it. For now, we will luxuriate in the massive soul shearing metallic doooooom that is BAVI. The record begins with massive plods, each one the footfall of a beast so large we can barely comprehend its mass, instead, when it steps down, shockwaves roll out in all directions, like a sonic boom caused by a million downtuned guitars, leaving an fifty foot deep impression in the earth, the compacted ground littered with skeletons and corpses, the dirt wet with blood. Over this occasional black hole plod is laid a white hot streak of upper echelon feedback, an endless stretch of high end reverberation. It's like some sort of Moss / Whitehouse mashup. But even then, the guitars grow, feeding off the darkness, the feedback fades and the strange plodding coheres into some sort of prehistoric riff, a groove so slow and low that it's like a black glacier sliding in slow motion across the desiccated earth. But BBA's hellish pit is not with out hope, not without light, or melody, chanting vocals hover right below the surface, barely audible under a gauzy veil of guitar crumble and amp rooooaaaarrr. At about the halfway point, ghostly piano is introduced, offering up minor key, slightly atonal melodies, adding color to BBA's black world. But also adding a creepy ominous edge. Like the soundtrack to thee sort of horror movie that leaves half the audience frightened to death. This funeral plod continues on until very near the end, where the low end drops out, leaving nothing but a snarled tangled web of feedback, a shimmering lattice of high end, which eventually fades into nothingness. It's a bit hard to absorb, best to just lay back and let this snarling black beast have its way with you. You might survive, halo tarnished and soul a bit blackened, and if for some reason you don't this angel will carry you lovingly down into the depths. SO RECOMMENDED!

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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. We've never seen Black Boned Angel Perform live, but judging from the photo on the insert of this disc, the band might owe SUNNO))) some royalties, as the image features one of the Black Boned Angels (yep, now there are three) in a monk like robe, wielding an axe, but also poised to strike a drum! But fuck it, robes were a part of rituals long before SUNNO))), and BBA have their own ritualistic thing going on. Especially considering someone is simultaneously playing guitar AND drums. The trio of BBA, now featuring not only main man Campbell Kneale on guitar, drums and tapes, and James Kirk on guitar and "amprifier worshippo" (?), but also now Jules Desmond on bass guitar, offer up the first recorded evidence we've heard of the three piece BBA on this here super limited TOUR ONLY cd-r, we got all the copies the band had left after their Australian tour, so once these are gone, that's it. One single track, 34 minutes, beginning with nine minutes of washed out staticky buzz. For a minute there (actually for 9 minutes) we thought this might be it. One long buzz. Which would be fine, we love that stuff, but right around the 10 minute mark, the band kick into a slow motion doomy plod, the guitars thick and viscous, the drums a simple occasional plod (dude is also playing guitar!), the trio lurch and lumber, a woozy, spaced out tar pit dirge, the guitars throbbing and crumbling, eventually, blurring into a nearly static whirl of low end sound, an industrial soundscape of muted clatter and textured buzz, smeared into a slowly decaying outro. Again, this is CRAZY LIMITED, pretty sure it's OUT OF PRINT, and thus these are most likely, the last copies ever...

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A while back we got a handful of limited 3" cd-r releases on a label called Battle Cruiser, which just so happened to be a side label of Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, run by the very prolific and very loved around these parts Campbell Kneale. They were super limited, only 30-80 copies of each and we only got 10. The best of the bunch was a little black gem by the name of Black Boned Angel. BBA was Kneale's foray onto massive, pummelling metallic sludge and man was it good. Shame we only ever had ten copies. Well, thanks to our pal Dave at 20 Buck Spin, we all get another chance to pick this up. And the ten of you who got the first version will probably also want to get this because: A. It's not a cd-r, it's a real cd. B. There's a twenty minute bonus track! Fuck yeah! But what does it sound like? Black Boned Angel is a crushing salvo of sub-bass, low end, Earth / Sunn 0))) / Skullflower / Corrupted deathdirgedrone, but filtered through Kneale's Birchville Cat Motel high end ambient, shimmering skree, free noise sensibilities. Guitar tuned so low, the strings droop all the way off the fretboard, amps with the treble controls removed to make room for even more bass knobs, amps dipped in hot tar and pointed at the center of the earth, waves of low end rumble slowly rolling and decimating everything in its path. Hollowed out skulls, pounded mercilessly, beating out a primitive barely-there rhythm from the black abyss. Mysterious incantations, hardly audible from beneath the massive slab of sonic sludge, seem to invoke the very same bass-heavy demons threatening to smother and bury them with this very recording. Totally essential.

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We always sort of assumed Black Boned Angel, the alter ego of Birchville Cat Motel's Campbell Kneale, was just that, an alter ego, a one man exploration of things dark and drone-y and heavy, the sort of stuff that was maybe TOO day for his day gig in BCM. But here, on the latest BBA, Kneale has teamed up with fellow Kiwi noisemaker (and longtime aQ customer) James Kirk for something just a little bit different. One single hour long song, that begins with all manner of barely there ambience, distant resonant rumbles, keening high end, fluttering chimes, super super minimal, tons of space. Eventually, the guitar comes in, but not crashing or exploding, instead, it comes in strumming dolefully, unfurling deep sorrowful chords, that are allowed to ring out, building a spaced out minor key melody that drifts in a melancholy haze. The sound is really quite pretty, some sort of post rock, minimal slowcore, think Dirty 3, or Low, but even slower and more abstract. And this goes on for nearly 30 minutes, lulling the listener into a soporific daze. But c'mon, this is BLACK BONED ANGEL, at about the halfway mark, the hammer falls, and the duo unleash a torrent of digitally processed distortion that buzzes and rumbles, all draped over a throbbing industrial crunch, until what sound like real drums join the fray, splattering out a spider web of disjointed beats beneath the nearly static undulating layer of undulating grinding buzz. When the buzz does shift, the chord change feels massive, the melody locking in tight, before slipping back into a metal-Niblock blur. Eventually, the song ramps down, the guitars fade away leaving high end traces of what came before, keening streaks in the sky, shimmering lowend shadows underpinning coruscating arcs of distorted skree, eventually smoothing out into a soft, warm whirring blur that drifts off until the end. Gorgeously packaged in a black on black digipak. Another winner from Kneale and his (for now) partner Kirk!

MPEG stream: The Endless Coming Into Life

Birchville Cat Motel may be dead, only to be replaced by the quite similar sounding, but much more massive and electronic flecked Our Love Will Destroy The World. But thankfully, Black Boned Angel, the other long running musical project of Campbell Kneale, lives on, with not one, but TWO new releases this list. The other, a second collaboration with like-minded musical heavies Nadja, and this, the latest full length after last year's devastating The Endless Coming Into Life. Verdun, named for the legendary battle presumably, is almost like an Endless Coming part two, dialing back the sheer heaviness and exploring space and dynamics, but in the process, somehow sounding so much heavier. Three long songs, all tracked as a single 52 minute epic, takes ages to get going, which is just fine, in doom as in life, it's not about the destination it's about the journey, and BBA's journey is a death march through burning fields and soot filled skies, but that's a few minutes away. A slow slow slow build, all barely there ambience, before some massive drums kick in, and then it's JUST drums, pounding away, in a spaced out vacuum, spare but punishing, and then THE RIFF, a massive one, the sort of riff, that once written, becomes a part of the writer, and soon after the listener. Sleep has a few, Sabbath has lots, now BBA has one, a slow, slithery crawl, a handful of notes spread way out into a dark descending minor key melody, the drums, just there to drive it home, as this is the sort of riff that needs nothing else, the sort of riff any metalhead could listen to looped over and over and over forever. About 12 minutes in, the tone changes, some high end shimmer sneaks in, sheets of feedback, the riff is pulled apart, various notes left to ring out, the drums a little more active, before everything drops out completely, leaving just a distant keening riff, left to moan and groan, to ring out, mournful and so so doomy, at about the half hour mark, the main riff returns, but this time it's been transformed into something strangely melodic, almost like power metal played at 16rpm, epic, but still so slooooooow, building ever building, eventually crumbling into a swirling bit of noise and crumbled buzz, and a gorgeous classical chorus, a choir of voices just below the churning distorted surface, totally epic and weirdly haunting, the sounds of warfare, guns and planes and explosions, surfacing from below the sprawling low end rumble, eventually taking over completely, the last few minutes a harrowing collage of death and destruction, of bombs and the cries of the dying. Definitely a different beast than many of the older BBA records, which blended the kitchen sink drones of Birchville Cat Motel with a sort of abstract black doom element, Verdun is more of a proper metal record, although to be sure 'proper metal record' is really relative, since as metal as this is, it's also just as much an experimental doomdronedirge record, regardless, it is maybe the most fully realized Black Boned Angel record yet, not sure if it's THAT RIFF, or because Kneale just keeps getting better and better, or because it's a concept record, so it's essentially a suite of interconnected songs. It's actually probably a little of all three, although as you might have guessed, we're definitely leaning toward THAT RIFF.

MPEG stream: Prayer Sodden Holes

Another matchup that had to happen eventually, it was only a matter of time. Campbell Kneale's Black Boned Angel, and Aidan Baker's Nadja. Two modern groups redefining doom metal. Filtering doom through their own dronedirge aesthetics, each with a distinctly unique take on doom, BBA's more of a glacial noise drenched dirge, Nadja's more of a blissed out metalgaze. The two together though churn out what can only be described as epic grandiose doom pop. Or something like that. Soaring vocals, over thick churning crumbling distortion. It almost sounds like a sludge metal Queen, or a bit like recent Record Of The Week honorees Torche, or even Harvey Milk at their most dramatic and over the top. The main riff is a slowed down classic rocker, turned sludgey and lugubrious but not losing any of its might or majesty. Guitars screech and soar and grind all around it, what sounds like a piano plinks along with the vocals, a sunshiney melody, but it's the vocals, that turn this into glorious sludgepop, a minor key lament, delivered in a plaintive wail, way down in the mix as well, but loud enough to totally carry the song, that main melody lodged in your head, forever! Not really sure what else to say. If the math of Nadja + Black Boned Angel = Harvey Milk + Torche + Queen x loads of blown out distortion and sun baked buzz doesn't add up for you, you just might be reading the wrong list� This is an ep teaser for the forthcoming full length from the same team on 20 Buck Spin, but fear not, this song, all 21+ minutes of it, is available only on this disc!!

MPEG stream: Christ Send Light

What might one expect from a Black Cobra, one part sludge metal crushers Cavity and one part doom sludge slayers 16? How about two parts massive fucking metallic destruction. A pummeling two man chain gang, pounding sonic boom drumming and rumbling low slung dowtuned guitar chug and churn and a whole lot of yelling, Black Cobra are like a WAY more metal Karp, and hell, Karp were pretty dang metal to begin with. A thick gooey paste of noise and sludge as heavy as, if not heavier than, these two guy's former groops combined, but there's ONLY TWO OF 'EM!!! How in the hell do two guys make such an unholy racket??! Who cares! This is some glorious heaviness. 16, Cavity, Dove, Torche, Floor, you get the drift. Heavy and drone-y and groovy and sludgy and so goddamn heavy. We often wonder why heavy two piece bands always choose to ditch the bass player when it's ALL about the low end, but fear not, there is no lack of bass here, hell, the guitar is tuned low enough that it might as well be a bass!! This is the shit we love. Massive feedback and utter heaviness. Big fat riffs. Lots of "chunka chunka" "chug chug". Huge ride cymbal smashing caveman-behind-the-kit power drumming. DOOM! NOISE! DIRGE! SLUDGE! HELL YEAH!!

MPEG stream: One Nine
MPEG stream: Thrown From Great Heights

[ aquarius records — Metal ]