Folks went a little crazy for the debut tape from this one man black metal band, enigmatically called Surt, who trafficked not so much in black buzz and a sort of haunting folky ambience, all blackened and mysterious, we could barely keep those tapes in stock, and we were all ready to review this second tape, when he sort of disappeared, and the tapes got harder and harder to restock. But since we were left with FIVE copies of tape #2, we figured we'd list it, so at least a few of you who dug the first tape could get your hands on this one.
And just like the first one, the sound of Surt remains, folky and ritualistic, some sort of subterranean Appalachia, mostly steel string guitar, lots of echo and reverb, the sound rhythmic and cyclical, mesmerizing and repetitive, all over a backdrop of subtle swirl and hushed ambient shimmer, the sound slipping from strident and urgent to hushed and drifty and psychedelic, swaddled in swirling barely there synths, giving it a distinctively kosmische vibe for sure.
These are limited to 100, hand numbered, but as we mentioned above, we have five copies, and not sure if we can ever get more, so grab one while you can...
Super limited split, on local tape label Brotherhood Of Light, featuring one man black ambient alchemist Surt, who we've featured before on the aQ list, and who just so happens to be the man behind the BoL label, here teamed up with Austrian ambient soundscaper Uruk Hai. As might be expected, the packaging is very abstract and minimal, the track listing non existent, so it's hard to figure out which tracks are which, but it hardly matters, the sound a brooding, synth heavy shimmer, a sprawling warm blackness, slowly unfurling minor key melodies, all hazy and gauzy and washed out, sinister and ominous, but with a mysterious warmth, the vibe a little bit medieval too, reminding us in places of aQ fave Dark Ages, with majestic chordal swells, giving way to haunting medieval melodies.
The flipside (again, not to sure which is which), is a much more melodically dense affair, lush tangles of melody, distorted and blown out. grinding low end, heaving swells of crumbling synths and spidery melodies, a churning, dense slow motion wall of sound, that drifts from hushed near shimmer to caustic black ambient crush, the tones pulsing and pulsating, overtones galore, a dizzying swirl of abstract psychedelic ambience, that is ultimately more avant experimental than black ambient. Killer stuff!
LIMITED TO JUST 66 COPIES!! Each one hand numbered.
Ikuus is the full length debut from this one man experimental black metal 'band' from Finland, although calling it black metal might be a stretch, cuz like much of the black metal from Finland, Suruni's sound is beholden to so much more than blast and buzz, in fact, the majority of the record is spent drifting, jangling, creepy, swirling, it's definitely raw and lo-fi, and the vibe is haunting and mysterious, but it's more a sort of stumbling avant gloom rock, with plenty of clean guitars, distorted drumming, and when the buzz does come in, like on the opener, it doesn't so much transform the sound into something blacker, as add more moodiness, the buzz more diffuse and atmospheric, the sound lumbering back and forth between a spidery almost Slint-like lope (right down to the whispered vocals), to something more distorted and blown out, replete with some aching, almost bluesy leads, and the vocals, when they finally do come in, a distant howl, all the sounds blurring and bleeding into a glorious, almost psychedelic and chaotic whole. And that's just the first track. If we had to whip up some band math, we might take Varghkoghargasmal's 'wooden metal' and the slow doomed out experimentation of another Finnish favorite of ours Opium Warlords, but then with some twisted poppy jangle, a la Circle Of Ouroborus, and even some metalgaze, as much of this does have that sort of sun dappled, blissed out vibe, not to mention samples and field recordings.
The second track is another hushed sprawl of mesmerizing minimalism, all simple clean guitar strum, and stumbling skeletal drumming, and again, there's some blackened buzz, but like the first track, all it does is add texture and density, if anything, the sound gets even prettier, laced with more aching leads, and more ethereal atmosphere.
That said, there is some black buzz scattered throughout, but then there's also HARMONICA!!! Some tracks devolved into punky blackened plods, others blossom into hushed heartfelt shimmers, and some, like the twisted "Akana", sound like some sort of harmonica driven sea shanty, albeit one wrapped in sheets of gristly distorted guitars. But it seems always, the sound eventually settles into that haunting, gloomy, almost post rock sound that opened the proceedings, it's easy to imagine lots of these tracks as part of the score for some experimental com in of age indie art film, you can picture Gummo like kids, wandering through forests, or living in run down trailer parks, the sound evocative and emotional, a black metal that seems mostly removed from the tropes of traditional BM, sonic and otherwise, instead, taking some of those elements and using them to craft a sound that's super unique, strangely introspective, and beautifully, beautifully strange.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
One of three recent releases from this Bay Area black metal / black ambient horde, that make up a part of a loose trilogy, which included the recent Monument Of Decay 12" on Black Horizons (reviewed on the last list, and still available) and continues / culminates with the Become lp, which was originally released in an insanely limited edition on aQ beloved label Auris Apothecary, in the form of a lavishly packaged reel to reel tape. Two sprawling fifteen minutes tracks, maybe SH's most abstract work to date, where other records displayed a distinct delineation between the atmospheric movements, and the buzzing black sections, no such separation exists here, with each track/side, existing as a single sonic ritual, the group's black buzz, smeared into blurred squalls of washed out noise, heaving swells of abject industrial thrum, buried vocals, oozing riffage, buried rhythms, according to the band Become was specifically created to inspire madness through repetition, a tranced out minimal/maximal cloud of roiling black sound. Playable at 45 or 33, both deliver a similar experience, although we are of course partial to the slower speed, which causes the sounds to grow even more indistinct and blurred out, a heaving, tarpit doom-drone that oozes from the speakers. But even at 45, this is more noise than black metal, a near psychedelic blacknoise, the A side featuring some seriously rib cage rattling low end, and when the noisiness abates, the sonic clouds part revealing some haunting beauty, tangled melodies and almost shoegazey textures, lurking just below the surface, eventually building back up to a dense death march crawl, more of a ghostly drift actually, the sound shedding low end, gradually growing more and more brittle, until at the finish its nearly Merzbowian white noise. The B side delivers more of the same, shadowed beauty, beneath cloud of demon breath vokills, of keening ur-drone shimmer, crumbling Caretaker-like atmospheres, occasional gouts of face melting howl and crush, but those moments are balanced by brief passages of sublime sonically tarnished beauty, that drifts darkly through the ether, before being obliterated by one final blast of speaker shredding blacknoise crush.
LIMITED TO 351 COPIES!! Packaged in swank Stoughton style tip-on jackets with super striking metallic gold offset printed cover art.
Latest black sonic ritual from this SF trio (formerly duo), and like the last record, Larvae, which came out on Handmade Birds, Behind The Throne continues the group's evolution away from the blacknoise that defined their earlier sound. As we mentioned in our review of Larvae, the band seemed to spend a surprising amount of their time lately not blasting or buzzing, instead, conjuring up some surprisingly lovely ambience, and that's true here too, although the ambience here is less shimmery and abstract, and more like some sort of blackened dronescapery, thick swaths of guitar buzz, and dense swells of processed vocals, creating something that's both haunting and hypnotic, dense and intense, it's not really until about 7 minutes into the first track (which fills up the whole first side of the vinyl), that the band finally do unleash some black metal, but when they do, it's a dense blurred buzz, so blurred and blown out it almost sounds more droney and washed out than grim and heavy, but the crazy thing is, the band haven't even started, as a couple minutes later, they somehow explode again, the sound splintering into a weird almost industrial sounding black chug, a grinding, howling maelstrom of black buzz and churning psychedelia, that quickly fades out leaving just a long stretch of crumbling noise, distant vocals, tolling bells, and crackling staticky ambience.
The second track / B side is another sprawling epic, this time bookended by some creepy industrial ambience, what sounds like jangling chains, plenty of rumbles and creaking high end, all smeared into a blackened ur-drone, soon guitars drift in, but not riffs, more like black chordal clouds, that hover darkly, before finally coalescing into proper riffs, but like the first track, the riffs are so distorted and blown out, the 'black metal' here is more of a blackdrone blur, that even with headphones reveals very little of what's going on in Sutekh's roiling black soundworld, the guitars murky and muddy one second, harsh and caustic the next, the vocals a buried bellow, and if there are drums, they're buried so low they just add to the general cacophony. The track churns and chugs, and at one point sounds almost like a sonic approximation of a locomotive, clattery and industrial, but still wreathed in a swirling blackbuzz fog, before the blackness dissipates, leaving just the strange ritualistic ambience that opened the track.
Super swank packaging, full color photos of some sort of altar ritual, candles and chalices and knives, all wreathed in shadow, with all the texted printed in a clear reflective spot varnish.
Latest blast of blurred blacknoise brutality from this SF duo, whose records seem to disappear in a heartbeat, every one a ridiculously limited microedition, this new 7" no different, already sold out and out of print, we got 20 copies, and will most likely not be able to get more.
Which is a shame, cuz this is maybe SH's most melodic and distinctly black metal record yet. Frantic riffing beneath super distorted vox, a blurred tranced out almost blacknoisedrone, until the drums kick in, but when they do, it's less like a blastbeat, and more like another layer of blurred low end buzz, the guitars churning relentlessly within a cloud of black/white noise, super repetitive and cyclical, but the melodies continue to seep through, mournful and minor key, buried beneath thick swaths of roiling blackness, the sound murky and muddy and surprisingly warm for being as intense and blackened as it is.
The flipside is another surprise, all echoey and industrial, more processed vokills, this time though draped over clean guitar strum and a clattery machine like rhythm, the overall vibe brooding and downright doomy, a sort of creepy black ambient industrial maybe? There's an even more surprising second half, laced with clean, post rock-ish guitars, some death march ultradoom plod and creepy, cinematic piano-like melodies, the oozes and drifts darkly before disappearing in a haze of Merzbow worthy buzz, a thick swirling cloud of roiling blackness.
LIMITED TO 253 COPIES!! We have less than 20, so grab one before they're gone...
Now with an expanded lineup, and several tours under their collective belts, this Bay Area black metal / noise outfit offer up their latest missive, their sound continuing to evolve, their mix of blurred noise drenched black buzz and haunting atmospheric ambience skewing toward the former big time.
The opening track introduces Sutekh Hexen at their noisiest, the initial stretch of washed out buzzing blackness giving way to pure face melting black noise, unrelenting and devastating. Which is a bit of foreshadowing, as this might be the group's noisiest record as a whole, at least since their earliest recordings, which is surprising as the last few records found the band growing more and more melodic.
The rest of the side unwinds in blasts of corrosive noise, this time underpinned by low drones and chant like vox, adding some melody and color, however subtle, to the proceedings, everything burred into a Tim Hecker-ish haze. Side one closes with a blast of extremely harsh black metal, the buzz and any semblance of riffage, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of grinding psychedelic noise.
The B side lets Sutekh Hexen flex those soundscaping muscles, at least briefly, opening with a stretch of droned out thrum, a soft black swirl, drifting ominously, only to disappear in a squall of torrential blackness, a wild roiling black hole of sound, that eventually dissipates, allowing the harsh vokills to slip to the fore, then the buried rhythms, but again, it all bleeds into an extended sprawl of black metal murk, woozy and blown out, blurry and dense, trailing off into a cloud of grim black energy.
Killer cd reissue of the recent singles collection, Empyraisch, from local blacknoise/black metal outfit Sutek Hexen, which includes a bonus 3"cd-r with an exclusive unreleased 20 minute track! More on that in a second, first, here's what we had to say about Empyraisch when we reviewed the lp version:
Empyraisch is a compilation of sorts, gathering up all the tracks from Sutekh Hexen's super insanely limited and long out of print 7"s from the last couple years, as well as a rare compilation track or two. We'd imagine most of you were like us, and were unable to snag any of those rare 7"s, or perhaps only managed to track down one or two, so this should still be of interest to even the most obsessive SH fans, but fair warning to the folks who did manage to get em all. For the rest of is though, this is a godsend (devilsend?)...
This Bay Area black metal / noise outfit dig deep into the crypt for these grim blacknoize rarities, a gloriously dizzying mix of blurred noise drenched black buzz and haunting atmospheric ambience... The opening track introduces Sutekh Hexen at their noisiest, the initial stretch of washed out buzzing blackness giving way to pure face melting black noise, unrelenting and devastating. Which is a bit of foreshadowing, since this collection obviously represents the group at their noisiest and grimmest. The record continues to unwind with blasts of corrosive noise, this time underpinned by low drones and chant like vox, adding some melody and color, however subtle, to the proceedings, everything blurred into a Tim Hecker-ish haze. The first half closes with a blast of extremely harsh black metal, the buzz and any semblance of riffage, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of grinding psychedelic noise.
After that, Sutekh Hexen flex those soundscaping muscles, at least briefly, opening with a stretch of droned out thrum, a soft black swirl, drifting ominously, only to disappear in a squall of torrential blackness, a wild roiling black hole of sound, that eventually dissipates, allowing the harsh vokills to slip to the fore, then the buried rhythms, but again, it all bleeds into an extended sprawl of black metal murk, woozy and blown out, blurry and dense, trailing off into a cloud of grim black energy.
This reissue tacks on the 20 minute "The Power To Condemn", which opens with some seriously ominous abject ambience, swirling winds, some creepy scraping (bones dragged on stone?), creaking, rumbles, all laced with strange sonic shimmer, soon voices drift in, demonic whispers, in the distance keening feedback, we were steeling ourselves for the band to launch into some caustic black buzz, but it never happens, this is all ambient, although about halfway through, some deep low end thrum surfaces, pocked with strange pulsations, and eventually, some proper buzz swoops in, but it's way low in the mix, sounding off in the distance, not black buzz so much as glacial tar pit ooze, downtuned rumbles, slo-mo riffage bleeding into black blurs, a SUNNO)))-like dirge, which soon blossoms into something blacker and noisier, a swirling squall of harrowing, hellish howls and churning blackness, darkly psychedelic and hauntingly harsh, the sounds seem to melt and fade before our ears, gradually settling into a low level feedback drenched thrum, before finally fading out completely.
Swank packaging too, housed in an oversized black matte envelope, sealed with a printed sticker, inside, two printed inserts, and two printed clear plastic transparencies, probably SUPER LIMITED too, so don't dawdle...
The sound of this Bay Area blackmetal / blacknoise duo-turned-trio continues to evolve, and in surprising directions on this, their latest in a flurry of extremely limited releases over the last year. Beginning life as purveyors of dense speaker shredding noise, informed by, but not necessarily sounding much like, black metal, it seemed more a case of black metal riffs buried beneath sheets of white noise and crumbling industrial detritus, and blast beats recorded on a crappy cassette tape and played back through a Walkman, and again, buried beneath a punishing wall of sound. But with every record, the sounds seem more composed, perhaps less antagonizingly harsh, with more time spent creating atmospheres and ambience, than actually buzzing and blasting, which again is the case on Larvae. The opening track, begins with 3+ minutes of shimmery ominous ambience, laced with strange insectoid clicks, the guitars, when they do surface, unfurl soft strummed streaks of chordal whir, beneath which lush swells undulate drowsily, it's at about the 4 minute mark, that the song splinters, and explodes in a dense blurred barrage of furious murky black buzz, that while heavy, is also soft focus enough that it nearly has more in common with Tim Hecker or folks like that, until the group crank up the sound once again, and it becomes full on black metal, that lasts less than a minute, and the band return to the haunting drift that opened the record, before one final time, blasting through the last two minutes, the guitars a black blur, the vocals a fierce monstrous bellow, the drums, if there are any, buried in the mix, a heaving wash of noise drenched heaviness, that manages to be massive, but still weirdly textural.
The relatively brief second track applies the group's corrosive crunch and black atmospheres to something much more dirgey and dismal, a churning industrial tinged creep, the sounds blown out and in-the-red, a tangle of black noise / white noise and industrial crush somehow sculpted into a lumbering black doom, peppered with squalls of blaring FX drenched ear shredding skree, but also underpinned by all manner of layered drones and disembodied voices.
The final track, clocks in at a whopping 15 minutes, and again, finds the band easing into it, unfurling a hushed bit of blackened dronescaping, again flecked with strange clicks and skitterings, the guitars drift in, this time sounding like some sort of Appalachia, draped over streaks of muted crumbling crunch, the song sprawling out into an epic chunk of black folk drift, tangled voices, swirls of hiss and thrum, all wreathing the steel string buzz of the acoustic guitar, until at about the ten minute mark, everything is swallowed up by an avalanche of frenzied black buzz and frantic riffing, so dense and tangled that again, sans headphones the riffs all bleed into one thick roiling cloud of sound, eventually coalescing into an almost classic metal sounding chug, a murky hypnotic dirge that churns malevolently to the record's end.
Both the cd and the lp come in super swank, and gorgeously designed packaging, the artwork abstract in all blacks and greys, with the text printed in clear spot varnish ink, designed by Sutekh Hexen member Kevin Gan Yuen and Dwid Hellion from hardcore legends Integrity. The cd is limited to 500 copies, the lp is already sold out and out of print, so these are the last vinyl copies we'll be able to get...
Finally, the debut full length from this Bay Area black metal / blacknoise duo, who in recent months have garnered a whole lot of hype, based on a flurry of killer (albeit insanely limited) releases, and a recent West Coast tour, which found the duo playing outside of the Bay Area for the first time ever. And while we've raved about everything we could get our hands on from these guys, this is definitely the band's finest moment, albeit, weirdly their least noisy. But noisiness is all relative. Cuz this is still plenty noisy, it's just compared to some of their previous releases, and their blistering liver performances, this stuff is far removed from that black metal Merzbow sonic attack that defined their early days.
Here, the noise takes a backseat to the black metal, which is actually a good thing, the riffing, and prerecorded blast beats, weaving a woozy washed out buzzscape, which on their own, would make the sound a sort of soft focus Wold, all washed out and blackly buzzy, but over this blackened foundation, the duo add heapings of noise, the vocals, processed to oblivion, sound like gouts of white hot buzz, more guitars, extra layers of blackness, it's as if the black metal core is at the center of a swirling cloud of jagged, caustic blacknoise, the two seeming to function independently for the most part, but the band create dramatic dynamics with the twisted mix, which finds, various elements dropping out, only to erupt and explode back into action moments later, or the black metal riffing getting fused to the blacknoise creating a harsh wall of sound, which just as quickly separates leaving the blast and buzz to pound furiously, shadowed by streaks of hiss and hum, the sounds dramatically stereo panned too for further twisted effect.
The stretches of ambience are darkly effective, as are the weirdly mournful clean guitar parts, the band obviously capable of creating mood and mystery, and when the buzz kicks in, none of that mood or mystery is lost, instead, it's absorbed into the frenzied black chaos which transforms the sound into something more than noise, more than black metal, it's a darkly epic, strangely textured assemblage of buzz and blast, howl and pound, the sound a living black entity, sonic chaos given form, this is the real transcendental black metal, all should be worshipping before the altar of the priests of Sutekh Hexen.
LIMITED TO 350 COPIES!!!
The latest from this local black metal / black ambient outfit is part three in an unofficial trilogy of releases, and captures the band in their brief tenure as a four piece, complete with live drummer (they're back to a trio, now drum machine driven), although even live drummer-ed, they group's overall M.O. remains the same, crafting gorgeously lush expanses of grim psychedelic black ambience, and face melting blasts of noise drenched black buzz, that black buzz given a bit more heft here with the live drums. But unlike on past record, where the atmospheric intro would lead to an explosive blast of blackness, the four songs here are each self contained, and display some of the most experimental work from the band yet. Opener "Lastness", is a creepy, organ driven swirl of blackened shimmer and strange demonic vocalizations, the main melody looped maniacally and played on what sounds like an old children's organ, that melody buried under layers of grit and grime, and a chorus of ghostly voices, the whole thing gradually blissing out into a strange bit of abstract drift, processed vox and minimal percussion. Which leads directly into "Of Emanation", which finds SH making a noisy black mess, the live drums blown out, the vocals even more blown out, everything wrapped in thick sheets of in-the-red guitar buzz, the whole track laced with some twisted/warped production, the whole sound becoming muted and murky for a few seconds only to explode again moments later, stretches of almost white noise static, the various instruments drifting in and out, just drums and noise one second, just guitar the next, everything cranked to almost Merzbow-ic proportions the next.
"Dhumavatis Hunger" is all power electronics gristle, underpinned by deep Teutonic rumbles, and wreathed in clouds of swirling static, and blasts of distorted crunch, extremely noisy, with some surprising melodies surfacing beneath all that chaotic noise, the sounds coalescing into something weirdly songlike, albeit still doused in blown out distorted crumble, an epic and majestic slab of blacknoise, that eventually reveals some insectoid guitar buzz lurking beneath the surface, everything gradually getting lost in one final squall of speaker shredding sonic howl. And finally, "Dakhma", begins as a hushed drift, gradually gaining momentum (and volume), but instead of bursting into black metal buzz, the sounds seem to soar, a slow build to something ominously epic, a sort of grim black Godspeed, darkly and harrowingly lovely, building to a seriously noisy coda, before once again fading out, leaving a sky full of blackened sonic contrails.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!! Packaged in super swank full color jackets, printed in metallic ink, and including a full color printed insert.
This local black metal / drone-noise duo have been cranking out recordings like crazy, not that you would ever know it, as all of them were released as lavishly packaged, outrageously limited cassettes (and all in batches of something like 50 copies). Finally, the band seem to be making waves beyond the WAY underground, and a comprehensive reissue campaign is under way, as well as a whole spate of about-to-drop new releases. But THIS, this is the first recording we've been able to get from these guys to list, and fans of noise drenched blackness, and super distorted psychedelic heaviness will be in heaven (hell?). A blasting, blown out, ultraviolent blend of raw, primitive black metal buzz, dense drones, lysergic psychedelic atmosphere and caustic abrasive blacknoise, these two tracks require iron ears, a black soul and preferably some headphones to get lost in SH's bizarre black cacophony.
"Bled Thy Likeness" is a blurred and muted expanse of crackly, staticky black thrum, murky and muddy, a writhing, swirling sprawl of hazy washed out minor key riffage, laced with streaks of soaring guitars woven into a background of distorted black ambience, eventually exploding into a whitenoise drenched blast of heaving, crumbling, ultra distorted blackdrone crush, hellish shrieked vokills smeared into undulating sheets of Merzbowian buzz, all underpinned by a haunting monkish chantlike melody, adding a strange bit of melancholy mystery to the harsh hellish buzz.
"Murmur" is just as intense, a wild frenzied blown out assault of fierce and fucked up blacknoise chaos, the shrieked vox distorted and processed into another layer of furious buzz, tangled up in the frenzied berserker riffing, the whole sound a twisted, gnarled tangle of face melting, ear shredding, soul shearing fury, the song somehow blossoming part way through into something subtly more melodic, the blacknoisebuzz and grim black-blast infused with a strangely lush and warm melodic undercurrent, a deep sonic swell, rife with epic black metal majesty, but nearly suffocated by the caustic clouds of brittle buzz and in-the-red roar overhead.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES. Super striking, thick black and white jackets, and printed on nice heavy vinyl...
This latest batch of tapes from local label Merz Tapes finds the label expanding and rebranding, now known as Merzbild, and no longer limiting themselves to cassettes. It is however this most recent batch of cassettes we're here to discuss. In this case, it's this collaboration between SF black metal / blacknoise outfit Sutekh Hexen, and long time Nurse With Wound collaborator Andrew Liles.
There would be a time when Liles remixing a black metal band would seem crazy, but the fact is that at this point, SH are really only tangentially black metal, as they spend much of their time weaving dense dronescapes, or sculpting bursts of feral ear splitting noise into tense and intense walls of blown out sound, granted, there's still plenty of blast and buzz, but it's often obfuscated and recontextualized. Each side of this tape seems to offer up both the original track, and then Liles' reworking. On the A side, SH unfurl a dense blurred rumble, peppered with muted bombastic thuds, and subterranean pulses, buried voices, and a tranced out sprawl of undulating layers, blacks and greys, haunting and harrowing, a sound that's bleak and abject, the perfect launching point for Liles, who takes that track and stretches it from a little under 6 minutes, to almost 18, making the focal point a haunting, reverbed piano, drifting in soft billowing clouds of what we take to be the original track, letting the occasional drum blat leap out, or spidery tendrils of industrial buzz, gnarled tangles of voices speaking in tongues, and then suddenly, at about 10 minutes in, the song is transformed into what sounds like a sort of industrial rock? Chugging metallic guitars, big drums, all over that churning Sutekh brood, there's even some psychedelic guitar leads, unclear if somehow those sounds were buried in the original track, or if Liles just went nuts and essentially turned SH, at least briefly, into a weird industrial metal band, but then suddenly, it all fades away, leaving the track to slither ominously to the end, trailing a cloud of buzzing detritus in its wake. Wow.
The flipside finds SH exploding right out of the gate with a blurred blast of black buzz, murky and swirling and dizzyingly dense, before settling into another long sprawl of black ambient drift, much more haunting, abstract and serene. And again Liles takes SH's 5 minutes and more than doubles it, the whole thing, a brooding blackened driftscape, the tones oozing and rife with what sounds like some sort of demonic chorale, a blurred black raga, laced with sheets of harsh noise, jagged shards of processed vocal hiss, building to an impossibly dense and noisy, speaker destroying crescendo, that sounds like multiple Herman Nitsch compositions playing at once, atonal, droned out, and weirdly mesmerizing, underpinned by what sounds like organ or calliope, the vibe very cinematic, the sound collapses into a cacophony of smashing bottles, before beginning the slow build again, this time to a blown out, smeary drone, seemingly constructed from the blast and buzz of the original, but here recast as something more Tim Hecker like, massive crumbling distorted swells, and granular sheets of sound rife with melodic murk, gradually collapsing into a strange stuttering digital freakout, and one final burst of smashing glass.
Super sweet packaging, printed silver-on-smoky-clear tapes, reflective silver on swirly green and black J-cards.
For you proggy instro-metal freaks, last list we had the ultra Champsy Hematovore, this time 'round we've got Suzukiton: two guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, and no singer, all hailing from a metalloid stoner robot shitkicker planet called Richmond, Virginia. Their songs are kinda complex constructions of chunky bits that make me think of, not Legos, but whatever that other, more advanced toy construction set is meant for really smart kids who'll grow up to be engineers. These guys probably played with that when they were young, but then picked up guitars and grew long hair and beards and instead of becoming engineers and making big hydroelectric dams and rocket ships and super-computers and stuff they grew up to shred metallically and mathematically (but groovily too) in Suzukitron. Heck, the square root symbol is actually used in one of their song titles. And another song is called "Chugga". I guess when you're instrumental, the best two options are song titles like that that describe the music, or song titles that just make somebody grin. Anyway Suzukiton chugs along nicely thick and sometimes speedily, and should definitely appeal to fans of the likes of the aforementioned Champs, as well as Zebulon Pike and Mastodon and some old faves from nearby to Suzukiton's neck of the woods, Breadwinner and Confessor.
It's definitely way better that these guys channelled their aggression and smarts into this rather than, say, making bombs. And keeping it instrumental means that they don't have to talk about their feelings, either.
More grim-faced black metal from a crew of modern-day Vikings. We'd never heard of them before, but I don't think this disc is their debut. They rock harder than most, and boast a great cold sound (very 'Frosty', one could say...). Energetic AND majestic, good stuff for fans of the genre!
If you were wandering around in the cold Norwegian wilderness and found a dark cave inhabited by a tribe of trollish troglodytes who just happened to have their own black metal band and were in the middle of a really good, raw and evil rehearsal session, with nasty distorted guitars (I guess they have a portable generator) and still-bloody animal bones and skulls for percussion, THAT's the Svartpest experience. Svartpest, a severely anti-Christian crew of two or three some of whom also play in bands like Gorelord and Wurdulak, says their music "is based upon the ancient hymns of the primitive cavemen that once lived on the mountains and fjords of Norway" and certainly the cavernous atmosphere and primal grunt of their third album "Ved Den Drabelige..." gives us no reason to disbelieve 'em. They really do use bones and blocks of wood for percussion, alongside more usual black/Viking metal components like rasping vocals, blasting drums, and buzzsaw guitar riffing. What makes this great is how the metal parts are made even more powerful and majestic by the band's forays into ritualistic creepiness of a more ambient, malevolent hippy nature -- it's like Mayhem crossed with that 60's ESP band Cromagnon at times. (Note to Baphomet label: next time, don't let the cavemen themselves master the cd, 'cause that's probably why there's careless little "digi-farts" left in between the tracks.)
MPEG Download: "I Skapelsen Av Det Kolde..." [/audio/svartpestiskapelsen.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "I Skapelsen Av Det Kolde..." [/audio/svartpestiskapelsen.m3u]
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
For whatever reason, we (and lots of other folks) were convinced one man black metal band Svetovid hailed from the Great White North, when in fact, Svetovid is from right here in SF, and is a member of another local BM horde we dig Lascowiec. For the latest Brotherhood Of Light missive, Svetovid return with another sprawling psychedelic epic, which again begins with a shimmery clean guitar intro, sounding sort of psych folk, before the sound is transformed into something much more black and raw, filthy, muddy and distorted, the buzzing and blasting so washed out, that it almost sounds like some softly undulating dronemusic. The vocals the only concession to proper black metal, and even then it's less a harsh vokill shriek, and more a sinister reverbed whisper, drifting over a swirling, shimmering churn, and that vibe is all over Natures Fury, everything super tranced out and hypnotic, and when the vocals fade out, the sound is downright dreamy, and mesmerizingly blissed out.
Like we mention in our review of the previous Svetovid tape, the sound here (and there) definitely sounds just like the sort of blackened shoegaze you'd find on Starlight Temple Society or Khrysanthoney!
The second track lays down another backdrop of swirling washed out soft black buzz, buried blast beats, and smeared riffage, while over the top, strident bellowed vocals, wreathed in echo and delay, dramatic and almost industrial sounding, at least the vocals, the music remains a sort of blackened tripped out ambience, woozy tangled guitar melodies, warbly synths, hazy and hypnotic, clean guitar, shimmery and crystalline, the sound seasawing between druggy softly psychedelic drift and buzz drenched black crush, the timbre shifting constantly as well, brittle and high end one second, muddy and murky the next, and still super compressed and insectoid the next, those dramatic bellowed vox again surfacing throughout, and so it goes, Svetovid unfurling landscapes of blurred black buzz and abstract space-y drift, over which he delivers his harsh, FX heavy, anguished vokills. As always, cool, weird stuff from the local Brotherhood Of Light label!
We had never heard Canadian black metal horde Svetovid before, but we got this, their debut full length, from the same place we got recent BM cassette faves from Surt, Sunchariot, Gnieu, and Lascowiec, so were pretty excited to check them out, and weren't sure what to expect from the haunting acoustic folk intro, a lilting and slightly stumbling bit of Appalachian sounding fingerpicked melancholia, which lead directly into an avalanche of crumbling blackness, a swirling, whirling wall of sound, infused with a surprising amount of melody, the drums buried in the mix, the vocals a reverbed croak, but the guitars, dense and lush and layered, and while buzzy, almost more soaring and shimmery, the blackbuzz blossoming into something almost shoegazey, that minus the vox, might be something you'd hear on Starlight Temple Society. Blissed out blackened heaviness that is as poppy as it is buzzy, whether it's intentional or not, but we're digging it a LOT. And actually, maybe not all of the record is that poppy or blissed out, once we got done listening to that first track about ten times, the sound gets darker and meaner, chugging and churning, the vocals a sinister monstrous bellow, but somehow, the sound is still melodic, almost as if someone was used to the chordal structure of pop music, and was applying it to black metal, but the result is something grim and black, but warm and fuzzy and washed out, that track, not at all blasting, instead swirling and shimmery, the guitars tranced out and cyclical, the sound nearly psychedelic. We could go on and describe all the tracks here, but the sooner this review is done, the sooner we can strap on our Walkman, get away from this computer and dig in to the rest of this tape.
LIMITED TO 320 COPIES! Each one hand numbered.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The first in a series of ultra limited lathe cut 7"s from obscure black metal bands, this first installment comes from the mysterious Taarma, who hails from the equally mysterious Balochistan (which is in Pakistan), not exactly a hotbed of black metal, which is perhaps what makes Taarma's music so wonderfully strange and unlike most of the other black metal we hear.
Taarma's music is less about buzz and blast, and more about creep and rumble, the sounds warped and warbly, twisted and lugubrious, that sound enhanced by the medium, lathe cuts are inherently noisy, and degrade with every play, so after about 50 plays we can only assume, Taarma will sound even more fucked up and otherworldly.
The A-side begins with a weird, creeping, buzzy ambient intro, that slowly builds to a woozy midtempo lumber, the buzz muted and muddy, the drums distant thud, the whole thing washed out and weirdly melodic, almost like some sort of Jeckian black metal, everything wreathed in a strange echo-y swirl, the riffs gnarled and tangled, the vox a reverb drenched shriek.
The B-side is even creepier and slower and more dismal and depressive, like Striborg crossed with Abruptum, warped melodies, melting in thick black rivulets over a funereal plod, the vocals a swirling black fog, the riffs soporific and blurred, almost like someone spinning a black metal 45 manually with their finger as slow as they possibly can.
Weirdly psychedelic, tripped out, lysergic, a totally abstract chunk of outsider depressive blackness.
LIMITED TO ONLY 45 COPIES!! Each one cut in real time BY HAND on a record lathe, in New Zealand, by Peter King, the master of the lathe cut. And as mentioned above, with every play, the record degrades just a little, so it sounds slightly different every time, and grows more and more noisy and twisted, which is pretty much ideal for already noisy and twisted blackness like this.
Packaged in nice printed thick cardstock sleeves, these are the only copies we'll have, so grab one before they're gone.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Metallic hardcore along the lines of Biohazard. Heavy and chugging, with a vocalist that sounds remarkably like Lemmy from Motorhead.
It's kind of nuts when you realize that Taint have been a band for a dozen years and this is their first actual full length. Sure there've been a bunch of ep's and splits and compilations and demos, but on The Ruin Of Nova Roma the band finally get to flex their musical muscles and let it all hang out. What IT is, is a huge sloppy, sludgy lurching stoner pummel with wild throat shredding caterwaul vocals and killer downtuned grooves. A sort of math rockier Neurosis, with plenty of Motorhead, High On Fire, a whole lot of Fugazi (especially the vocals), some of that classic Amrep buzz and some serious post rockage as well. A quick listen will definitely have your head banging, your juices flowing and have you air guitaring (or drumming) all over the place. Taint are heavy as fuck, and every song is packed with killer riffs, pummeling drums, and lots of hooks. But repeated listens reveal all sorts of subtle stuff going on, strange little melodies, dense melodic clusters, convoluted rhythms, epic keening guitar harmonics, thick layered drones, wailed vocals, blissed out stretches of loping post rock, but at the very heart of it all is one seriously epic, lumbering beast of a metal band. Just listen to those sound samples. Not sure if this stuff makes us want to fuck or fight or rock or all three...
There's something seriously wrong with the world when all the modern metal nerds slobbering all over Mastodon and High On Fire and the rest of the current crop of 'hip' metal aren't blogging their goddamned brains out about these guys or at least lining up in droves to let their pansy asses be musically trampled to death by these brutal metallic behemoths. So good.
Lumbering, blasting, feedbacking, croaking, grunting. Tangorodrim's latest sounds like it was recorded by some unhappy, undead zombies who just crawled from the grave, after having been buried for years with electric guitars and beat up vinyl copies of old Celtic Frost and Mayhem albums packed in their coffins. This is their 4th album, and boy howdy is it a sick sounding unholy din indeed. Super raw, often dirgelike, and weird too -- check out these lyrics: "I am ready to carry that cross/But only if it's made of priest bones/Only if it weighted a ton of holly intestines/Red Magnet draws me near/May my way will not interfere with radiant snow plates". Uh, huh, what? And all this Christ-hating blackness flows from the lands of the Bible -- Tangorodrim are one of the rare Israeli black metal bands. As usual, the Southern Lord stoners know their quality cult black metal.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The first thing you'll probably notice about this record is that it's called Unholy And UNLIMITED, yet it is strangely indeed limited (to 1000, each copy numbered), says so right there on the back of the disc. But okay, so what? So maybe it's not actually unlimited, but it sure as hell is unholy!
Tangorodrim are from Israel and are self professed purveyors of "Antipriest Unholy Black Metal." So not only are they unholy, but they also have a thing against priests, although we just figured that unholy probably covered not being into priests as well. And if the huge Antipriest text on the back cover didn't send all you men of the cloth scurrying for cover, well have a gander at the song titles: "The Six In The Coffin (Not Including The Priest)", "Priestkiller", etc. So yeah, Tangorodrim do not like priests, and are not shy about it.
Unholy And Unlimited is record number three as far as we can tell from these hellhounds and is one seriously blasting buzzing pounding, furious as fuck unholy black racket! Wrest from Leviathan calls this sort of BM goat metal, lots of midtempos, really murky and simple and thrashy, with grunted howled vocals, not so much shrieks or demonic growls, more sort of freaked out wailing and howling. But most importantly, lots of grunts, and "uunnghh"s when the riffs kick in. That's the key to goat metal. Buzzy and thrashy and gloriously evil. We love it! If you're still not sure what it sounds like, just check out the dedication on the inside of the booklet: "In the beginning there was Hellhammer... Without form, and void... and Bathory and Darkthrone were there. And it was black metal - Unholy And Unlimited... And god saw that it was BAD..."
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
AQ's favorite instrumental psychedelic space-rock prog-keyboard crust-metal outfit, San Diego's terrific Tarantula Hawk, has produced two great full-length albums (both of 'em self-titled), one on Life Is Abuse and this year's Neurot labels release. But, of course, fans like us want more. So, thankfully, there's also these two live, not-quite-tour-only cd-r releases, of which we've managed to acquire a few. TH's grind-drone music is a great live experience, dense and dark, and while you'd have to have a IMMENSE stereo system to replicate the loudness and power of their shows, it's still good home listening even at more moderate volume.
"Desert Solitaire" documents a show in August of 2000 at something, a festival I guess, called the One Gathering in San Diego's Madre Grande Sanctuary. 80 minutes, one track! Fuckin' epic and eerie. Godspeed You Black Emperor needs to get schooled by these three guys.
The title of the other cd-r, "Live At KFJC 07.15.01" is rather self-explanatory. Basically, last July the Hawk (space-)rocked the hell out of the studio of one of our favorite Bay Area college radio stations for 32 minutes. Both discs sound great, dynamic and heavy.
AQ's favorite instrumental psychedelic space-rock prog-keyboard crust-metal outfit, San Diego's terrific Tarantula Hawk, has produced two great full-length albums (both of 'em self-titled), one on Life Is Abuse and this year's Neurot labels release. But, of course, fans like us want more. So, thankfully, there's also these two live, not-quite-tour-only cd-r releases, of which we've managed to acquire a few. TH's grind-drone music is a great live experience, dense and dark, and while you'd have to have an IMMENSE stereo system to replicate the loudness and power of their shows, it's still good home listening even at more moderate volume.
"Desert Solitaire" documents a show in August of 2000 at something, a festival I guess, called the One Gathering in San Diego's Madre Grande Sanctuary. 80 minutes, one track! Fuckin' epic and eerie. Godspeed You Black Emperor needs to get schooled by these three guys.
The title of the other cd-r, "Live At KFJC 07.15.01" is rather self-explanatory. Basically, last July the Hawk (space-)rocked the hell out of the studio of one of our favorite Bay Area college radio stations for 32 minutes. Both discs sound great, dynamic and heavy.
San Diego's Tarantula Hawk create a heavy, epic rock soundscape, a bit like a metal version of Godspeed You Black Emperor, with a healthy dose of Hawkwind. The band is a four piece: with not one, but two bassists, a drummer, and a guitarist/keyboardist, and a couple of samplers amongst them. This, their debut recording, consists of one 40-or-so minute long track, all instrumental, that combines metallic math-rock (including the occasional blast-beat) with bombastic prog-rock keyboard sounds of the sort unheard since the early '70s! The keyboards make TH remind me (and perhaps only me) of a malevolent version of the organ-led seventies Italian prog cult-band Le Orme, but mixed with the majestic bass-heavy attack of Japanese prog-punk technicians the Ruins. All these sounds are then eventually subsumed into an experiment in drone science. Ominous stuff indeed! It's like the soundtrack to the military-occupation of a haunted house: martial drum beats, grandiose synth themes, eerie abstract electronics. For fans of Thrones, Neurosis, Magma, The Champs, Old Man Gloom, etc. No wonder they've toured with both California grindcore heroes Dystopia and Texas neo-psych spacerock act Yeti, drawing as they do from both genres. The cd version also includes a gritty cd-rom video of a live show, about the same length as the audio track on the cd, that's if anything heavier and scarier. Highly recommended!
NOW ON VINYL! and still self-titled... this is their second album, the cd that came out on Neurot. But the label that did their first self-titled album just released this vinyl, clear wax in a nice gatefold. Here's what we said about the cd version:
Witness the return of the mighty Tarantula Hawk, the San Diego based psychedelic volume dealers whose immense self-titled debut cd we raved about two years ago. Here's their second album, somewhat confusingly also self-titled (obviously these guys don't work in record store!), which again proves them to be the masters of drone prog metal supreme. Instrumental super heavy ritual music, bass-heavy majestic murk with grinding prog rock keyboards and intense, energizing drumming, spacey stretches of ominous gloom...
Imagine the Omen soundtrack meets Neurosis, or an evil ELP into Eyehategod. Or a crust-metal take on 20th century classical? Or AQ-fave '60s Swedish drone-psych band Parson Sound on a diet of cough syrup and Celtic Frost? Further references: Boris, Corrupted, Old Man Gloom, Thrones, Magma, Ruins, Harvey Milk...you get the picture.
After getting into the first T-hawk album, and seeing them live for the first time (an amazing show at Richmond's Burnt Ramen), I remember thinking, wow, this band really should be playing that Neurosis Beyond The Pale festival, they'd blow everybody away. A year or so later -- lo and behold, the Hawk not only played the 2002 edition of Beyond the Pale, but this is on Neurot Recordings as well. As good as their self-titled debut, or better, and obviously highly recommended!
Krust! Nekkro! Grimm! Kvlt!!! If it's evil-sounding and spelled weirdly then it most certainly applies to this filthy oily mass of lice infested, punk infused black metal that has slithered its way through the front gates of aQ HQ. Hailing from right here in San Francisco, Tare seems to be a totally new proposition, formed just last year, and they name the Finnish orthodox hordes as their primary inspiration (i.e. Horna, Sargeist, Vordr), but their blown out brand of venomous, simplified BM will surely appeal to fans of Bone Awl and Raspberry Bulbs as well (and maybe even worshippers of black metal ultra minimalists Ildjarn!). The guitars are a staticky stab, the drums a relentless minimal caveman plod, the vocals a garbled howl. If you like your black metal dirty, nasty and truly ugly then you don't want to pass this up. Plus it's housed in a swanky oversized case that includes both a cassette and a 3" cd-r (that both feature the same music we presume??).
This underground, Down Under band's first disc, which mostly collected tracks from their cassette EPs, really wowed us last year (landing the number two spot on Allan's 2015 Top Ten, in fact), with their highly enjoyable retro facsimile of early '70s keyboard-driven symphonic proto-metal, a la Deep Purple, Rainbow, and especially the very 'humble, very 'eavy Uriah Heep - what we termed Musty Tasmanian Wizard Rock!
Tarot have now returned with their first proper full-length album, and heaping helpings of Heep are still on the menu, with lots of pomp and majesty, heavy Hammond organ riffing, as well as folky acoustic guitars and mellowed-out choruses. Aside from Heep and the like, we're also reminded of the arcane old school metal of Pagan Altar and Manilla Road - the latter especially due to the nasal delivery of the band's vocalist, who is also the frontman for eccentric sludgy, Sabbathy doom faves The Wizar'd, here taking a much more mystical, rainbow-hued, progtastic path to olde tyme metallic glory!
The wizened seer tentatively flips the last card, her eyes illuminated by the dancing firelight. Her eyes widen as she gasps, before letting out a croaking grotesque cackle. "In your future... I see... MUSTY TASMANIAN WIZARD ROCK!" Well, congratulations! It must be your (Magician's) birthday, because no finer fate can await gods nor men than the prospect of delving into this arcane helping of mystical, mythical, organ-driven heavy folk prog from far off Tasmania. The Warrior's Spell comes hurtling across the astral plane courtesy of Tasmania's Heavy Chains Records (undoubtedly one of our fave new sources for weird & wonderful heavy rock and metal, along with Minotauro, having recently brought us the Outcast ep and latest The Wizar'd album), and conjures all of the torchlit corridor mystery & dusty crumbling aroma of some of our favorite proto-metal, proto-doom & witchy folky proggy rock bands, all swirling Hammond organ, plucked acoustic strums, seriously epic heavy riffing, plaintive flutes & distant nasal vocal prophecies. Uriah Heep is obviously a major touchstone here, the album title and cover clearly paying homage to the technicolor fantasy wonder-realm of Heep's 1972 opus The Magician's Birthday specifically. But just us clearly one can hear the sepia-toned Medieval echoes of Rainbow and the crackly mournful dirge of Pagan Altar. Tarot also shares their vocalist with another one of our favorite obscure quirky heavy acts, The Wizar'd! And while here he sounds significantly less theatrical and maniacal than in his other wilder doomed project, his more restrained approach in Tarot lends the music a much more sombre, majestick, archaic air. Very highly recommended for fans of all of those aforementioned groups as well as anything from early Wishbone Ash to Witchcraft to Comus to The Lamp Of Thoth to the Darkscorch Canticles compilation. Consider us well and truly... under the spell!!!
Tau Cross is the magick-infused, forest-dwelling collaboration between Voivod drummer/conceptualist Away and 'The Baron' of UK crust legends Amebix (plus, the guitarists from neo-crust bands War/Plague and Misery). But if you're expecting some sort of crusty, proggy punk record though, think again. Tau Cross are not interested in rehashing the tropes of their past, instead crafting a pumping, riff-filled heavy metal record that oozes with mythology and power. At once catchy, heavy, and forlorn, Tau Cross' debut is as much Motorhead as it is Moonsorrow. Away trades his thrash-prog pound for a more mid-tempo crush, impressing more with what he doesn't play than what he does. Most noticeable and recognizable on this record are the throaty chants of The Baron, in perhaps his most subtle and least purely aggressive performance. This record isn't the future of metal, there's nary a thing on here that is especially forward looking, but these are expertly crafted tracks from some masters of heavy songwriting. Seriously, just TRY and not get absolutely pumped up during "Hangman's Hyll," the stone-stacking, twig-bundling riff of the year.
Could easily make the year end top ten lists of some of the metalheads around here, though actually in some ways it's not always so metal, in fact some of the tracks, with hushed vocals and acoustic guitar, remind us of Leonard Cohen at times - or a post punk blend of Pink Floyd and Current 93, even.
Most doom metal can be pretty easily classified, categorized or pigeonholed, whether it be stoner doom, funereal doom, sludge, epic doom, doom-folk, death-doom, psych-doom, dooooooooom or whatever other variant folks have cooked up. While plenty of bands do manage to transcend their classification, rare is the doomy beast that defies categorization all together, which is most definitely the case with Northwest duo Taurus, made up of Stevie Floyd (from psychedelic avant doom duo Dark Castle) and Ashley Spungin (of late great mystical metallic garage rockers Purple Rhinestone Eagle). Together they have conjured up a sound we could describe as impressionistic doom, or maybe abstract doom. Right from the outset, the various doomic elements, the usual sonic tropes are recast, filtered through the lives and experiences of these two woman, the result super dynamic, ultra heavy, extremely atmospheric, darkly ritualistic, hauntingly psychedelic, the opening track's main riff sounds like slo-mo Voivod played by Greg Ginn, all woozy and warbly, over churning drum pound, and laced with both deep witchy crooned vox, and more harsh vokills, all wound in a dizzying atonal sonic spiral that's harrowingly hypnotic and utterly mesmeric. But before that even happens, there's a gorgeously terrifying intro assembled from looped riffy churn, pounding percussive bombast, weird sample voices, and more howled shrieked vokills, a tense, and intense push and pull. The sound soon settles into something a bit more traditionally metallic, but only just, the vibe more like slowed down black metal than doom. It's like Deathspell Omega at 16rpm, barring the brief squalls of frenzied blackened freakout, but again, like that first track, the sound is warped and avant, even choice of notes, melody, rhythm, all seem obtuse and OTHER, which gives the whole record a sense of OTHERness, an outsider quality, that infuses even the most orthodox of moments with twisted pathos and deep emotion.
After those two relatively brief tracks, Taurus unfurl an epic psychedelic sprawl with "Set Forth On The Path Of The Infinite", setting the stage with swooping backwards melodies, simple ukulele (!) melody, reverbed samples, dense throbs of crumbling low end, a slow build bit of black ambience that sounds more like some lost arthouse soundtrack, and even when the drums come in, instead of exploding into a metallic onslaught, the track lopes and lumbers. And again, in swoop the guitars, and they're strange and alien, the melodies difficult, obtuse, accompanied by feral vocal howls, the song bursting into action in fits and starts, the sound ebbs and flows, eventually switching gears completely, with soaring angelic vox, over a backdrop of thick drum pound, and a slowly melting tangle of guitar keen and moan, before finishing off with another bit of haunting folkiness.
The tracks here are less riffscapes, and more a sort of ever shifting landscape of doom-ed sound, the riffs that do surface, are often indistinct, not so much riffs, as loose tangles of notes and chords that seem ghostly, and gauzy, occasionally indeed coalescing into proper riffage, but just as often drifting apart into something less distinct, more blurred and smeary, those sounds oozing and bleeding into each other, what in the hands of a more traditional doom outfit, would be more riffy and song-like all howl and pound, here becomes something ethereal and darkly psychedelic, abstract and ephemeral, and yeah, it's still heavy, but that heaviness is only loosely tethered, instead it's allowed to drift and dissipate, like on the other epic track here, "Increase Aloneness", which layers choral vocals over some roiling organ, a sort of blackened disembodied prog, by way of Arvo Part perhaps, here the build is slow, and distinctly non-metallic, samples only adding to the creepiness, to the twisted emotion, until finally, a MASSIVE riff comes cascading in, and the song is transformed into a churning, chugging behemoth, but that riff occasionally flickers and blinks out, leaving just Spungeon's double kick drum bombast, and that swirling psychedelic organ, building tension until the riff returns and so it goes, back and forth, light and shadow, love and hate, a tense/intense blackened majesty, an impossibly epic culmination of it's various constituent parts. The final track features Wrest from Leviathan adding vocals (he plays in a new group with Floyd called Devout), and we were expecting straight up some straight up black buzz brutality, but instead Wrest's croak drifts wraithlike atop a swirling morass of whirring organ, loose almost jazzy drumming, surrounded by dense billows of mysterious murk, and lush, decaying layers of drone and thrum, a sinister sprawl of grim psychedelic ambience, and textured cinematic moodiness, a Cold Meat Industry style sonic brood building to a bleak coda, suffocating and soul shearing, all by way of something infinitely more black and unknowable. No/Thing is harrowing and heavy, dense and demonic, but also spiritual and personal, intimate and introspective, and fucking fantastic.
We have both the lp version and the cd version, and for a very limited time, we also have just a tiny handful of the super limited, ultra deluxe BOXset version of No/Thing, which includes the colored vinyl version of of the lp, the cd version as well, a large silkscreened back patch / tapestry, a double sided lyric sheet / mandala, all housed in a hand screen printed, stained and shellacked wooden box, each one hand numbered and limited to 100 copies, and again, we only have a two or three...
Last time we were in New York, we managed to grab a single by this band, Taylor Bow, named for an infamous online porn site featuring videos posted by a disgruntled and spurned ex boyfriend, we heard it playing in a store, and had to buy it. An insanely furious and frenzied, blown out chunk of metallic punkness, or maybe punked out metal, either way, the speakers seemed to be melting and malfunctioning, spewing red hot daggers of sound, the vocals ultra distorted and in the red, the drums, total practice space boom and crunch, chaotic and unhinged, the guitars slipping from wild feedback soaked squalls, to churning Brainbombs-y sludge. So we of course tried to order a bunch, but it was the LAST copy.
So we waited and waited, and our patience was finally rewarded with this, the first full length from NYC hardcore noise metal weirdos Taylor Bow, fronted, you might not be surprised to discover by Dom Fernow, of Prurient, Vegas Martyrs and Ash Pool among others. Taylor Bow features the same sort of lo-fi metal-punk noise drenched crush, but instead of blasting blackly, or exploding into sheets of white noise, TB slip back and forth between freaked out on-the-verge-of-collapse hardcore and looped sounding sinister dirges, that totally push all our Brainbombs buttons. The sound is red hot, blown out, brittle and brutal, but still thick and heavy, the vocals are super intense, which sometimes makes Taylor Bow sound like a way more rocking Whitehouse, but there are definite nods to the current crop of stripped down raw black metal, Fernow's Ash Pool for sure, but also stuff like Akitsa and Bone Awl. But even with that metal edge, this stuff is way more filthy and punky, and we're loving it. Released on the same label that brought us Ancestors and that Hallow record, which makes perfect sense, just more fucked up freaked out heaviness that we can't seem to get enough of.
SUPER LIMITED of course, we may have the last 20 or so copies, so grab one while you can...
Pummeling, cavernous and, needless to say, HEAVY. Portland's Tecumseh offer up another cathartic dose of slow motion, glacial rust. Dream-doom realizations of soul sucking necromancy. Sprawling, low-end riffs shrouded in warm distortion, drifting feedback and subtle electronics. And like we've said before, with this type of ambient sludge, its all about THE RIFF, and Tecumseh has definitely got it down. So while some of this plays like an homage to Earth 2, Avalanche and Inundation manages to take things a step forward. The gorgeous chord progressions move with a tectonic hugeness that is more marvelous and immersive than most drone-sludge outfits. Towering and fully engulfing, Tecumseh's brand of heavy hypnosis will weigh you down into infinity and leave you there to rot. Usually a three piece consisting of two basses and one guitar, Tecumseh appears as a five piece here with two other dudes on electronics and cymbals (at least that's what we heard, since the liner notes don't mention instrumentation). This cold ripping disc of hollow desolation is highly recommended for your next descent into hell.
This one is for the slow and low crowd. More gorgeous slow motion sludgery, crawling dreamdronedoom, a slow black sprawl, but unlike the current crop of guitar-against-the-amp droners (and no dis, we love that stuff), this disc by the trio Tecumseh, harkens back to the classic Earth 2, the record that spawned a million sludge bands, by reintroducing the riff. And as we must have mentioned before, it's always ALL about THE RIFF.
So all three looooong tracks here, begin with a riff, downtuned of course, nearly to the point of dissolution, and slowed way down, so that 9 or 10 times through the riff might cover half a side of vinyl, and that riff is stretched out as far as it will go, the notes drifting in blackened expanses of buzz, no drums to speak of, it's all about the riff. EXCEPT, for something strange going on in the background. A constant low level hum, the soft swirl of wind like whirs, all manner of subtle buzzing and layered drones, all woven into a constantly, but subtly, shifting background, in front of which, Tecumseh's slow-low grind creeps and crawls. Not so much heavy as it is meditative, it's very dreamy and soothing and mesmerizing, not to take anything away from these guys, cuz I'm sure this sort of band prides itself on it's heaviness, but this is the perfect metallic drifting off music, almost like they've discovered some new genre, sludge-ambient, doom-age, whatever you decide to call it, it's pretty amazing, and fans of all things slow motion, downtuned and yes, heavy will dig this big time.
Packaged in gorgeous thick fold over gatefold sleeve, hand screened, blue metallic on grey, and of course quite limited...
Latest batch of grim drifting blackness from these Portland low end necromancers, two side long tracks, still using Earth's classic 2 album as a template, but taking that churning glacial riffage and stretching it even further out, infusing the sound with more ambience, more subtle electronic flourishes, adding space and strange shifting textures, a glancing listen will still conjure up visions of robed axemen, and fog drenched walls of glowing amplification, but Tecumseh offers up the sort of ritualistic heaviness that rewards total subjugation, each track an immersive world of black buzz and rumbling creep, rife with mysterious melody, and all manner of sonic wonder.
As with past releases, the band strike a perilous balance between suffocating crush, and blackened mesmer. The A-side here is the perfect example, lumbering low end thrum, pulses and throbs, underpinned by wheezing ephemeral synths, a shimmering texture barely audible through the wall of crumbling riffage, but then it gets even heavier, and more dense, as layer after layer are piled on, and the various strands of rumble and buzz, coalesce into a seriously crushing, massive funereal dirge, corrosive, distorted, but still strangely tranquil and hypnotic, the whole track locked into a woozy soporific lop. So minimal, the sounds is more drone than metal, the undulating riffscape warm and liquid, laced with sweeps of muted electronics and buried bits of whir and glitch.
The second side starts off much more eerily, with distant voices, streaks f feedback, the sound of some overheard ritual, wrapped in cavelike acoustics, subterranean and haunting, eventually, peals of lower register buzz begin to surface, and again the track builds gradually, thickening and growing darker and blacker and heavier, slowly slipping into another expanse of rumbling glacial dirgery.
And while this was meant to play at 45, give it a spin at 33, even more abstract and minimal and dronelike, the heaviness and crush transformed into something way more abstract and psychedelic.
LIMITED TO 333 COPIES, housed in super swank, 3 color hand screened jackets, with printed cardstock inserts.
Finally a full length from the mighty Teen Cthulhu. The northwest's answer to Cradle Of Filth, or Neurosis, or Pig Destroyer. Acually more like some Frankensteinian mix of all three. Relentless and pummelling sludge, filtered through some bombasic black metal and peppered with bits of grind. Teen Chtulhu manage to keep everything interesting by incorporating all sorts of non-metal elements (a bit like the new Isis), remnants from their indie/post rock past perhaps? Cool melodic breakdowns, bizarre un-black metal melodies, and just some really weird, interesting and quite unlikely parts.
Completely crushing and gorgeously heavy slab of thick and sludgy metal. Think a little black metal, a little metalcore, a little Neurosis, a little Cradle Of Filth, a little spazzy screamo, and heaps of Black Sabbath, with lots of ambient interludes, tolling bells, creepy samples, howled and shrieked vocals, pounding drums, complex and dynamic arrangements and RIFFS RIFFS RIFFS! Full length coming soon on UK's Rage Of Achilles label.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Long in the works debut from this Oakland co-ed doomdronedirge duo. And we pretty much already knew we were in for something good. C'mon, they're called Teeth Engraved With The Names Of The Dead, the record's called Kosmiche Death Worship, it comes in a cool silver stamped envelope, with a silver ink printed insert, the song titles and label info are physically carved into the cassette itself, and apparently the first few copies included an actual deer tooth. How bad ass is that? Suitably bad ass for the dark sonic rituals housed within, long sprawling droned out landscapes, bleak and barren, guitars, synths and electronics, woven into churning pulsing expanses of black ambient shimmer and droning industrial drift, think Wolf Eyes, Brighter Death Now, Wicked King Wicker, MZ412, this is some serious black ambient terrorism.
Fields of static cloak smoldering low end murk, jagged shards of feedback drift atop filthy pitch black sonic swells, fractured electronics are wrapped around minimal synth thrum and smeared into hazy dirgescapes, that creep and drift and ooze, the melodies buried and tangled in each tracks muted and muddy sonic morass, but definitely present, and infusing these songs with some sort of melodic core, which definitely makes these haunting sonic rituals actually musical, instead of just textural, the various sounds coalescing here and there into ghostly almost rhythms, but just as often slipping into a sort of blurred shimmer. The final track is the most majestic of the bunch, jettisoning most of the noise, and letting the synths and electronics carry the sound, resulting in a sound both epic and majestic, like the coolest black metal intro ever, stretched out into a cinematic creepscape, the sound growing more and more dense and chaotic, before slipping into a weird pulsing almost sci-fi sounding synthdrone outro. Definitely down to hear more from these two...
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES!!!! And as mentioned above, housed in silver ink screened envelopes, with silver ink screened inserts.
- MPEG stream: I
- MPEG stream: II
This one was a long time coming. We reviewed a tape ages ago by a boy/girl duo from Oakland who made a gloriously grim, dense blackened ambience that pushed all our buttons. That tape sold out super quick, and thus we began the wait for more. A wait that kept stretching out longer and longer. The two became disillusioned with the East Bay, and made their way northward, landing in Portland, and still we waited. Until finally, we received word, that there was indeed more, and it comes by way of the mighty Malignant Records, home to much fantastic blackened noisiness and ambient miserablism, a perfect home for these two, and for their Teeth Engraved With The Names Of The Dead. And you think that sort of move would temper their abject grimnity, a new friendlier neighborhood, a new home, might lighten up their shadowy sonics, but if anything, they've dragged some bad Oakland energy with them up North, cast their very own musical pall over this new land, and molded it into this fierce sprawl of hateful, harrowing blackness.
A guttural rumbling haloed in distant feedback opens the proceedings, a sonic representation of a scorched earth, swirling hiss, and dense tectonic low need vibrations, the sky full of strange electronics and muted FX, a sonic calm before the blacknoise storm as it were, the sound slowly mutating into a stretch of undulating grey thrum, over mysterious transmissions and disembodied voices, until helicopter like pulsations, choppy waves of rhythmic throb, churn and chug, blurred into a cascade of gristled, crumbling distortion, under which, mournful melodies drift drowsily, a strangely effective juxtaposition of harsh noise, and tranquil ambience, that builds to a furious hissing frenzy, before fracturing into a finale of sonic shards and decaying sonics. From there on out, sheets of noise wash over chiming tones, and stretched out drones, keening high end filigree buried beneath squalls of chaotic howl, the slow builds strangely mesmeric and almost melodic, processed vocals smeared into the roiling noise, thick gassy swells underpinning skies streaked with soft noise shimmer, and more haunting, buried melodies, the sound epic and majestic and mournful, aching melancholy wreathed in jagged crunch and grinding buzz, eventually erupting into what is essentially black metal, with all the metal sucked out, a heaving throb of grim black fury, the vokills monstrous and harsh as fuck, all tangled up in dense black swirls of sound, tripped out and impossibly psychedelic to boot.
The record culminates in the epic 25+ minute "When Storms Come", which is a bit like their version of Burzum's "Rundtgaing", a sprawling ambient epic, but in this case, Teeth Engraved's ambience is a churning morass of brown noise, blurred and soft focus, heavy and blown out, but muted and murky and blunted, the result more mesmerizing and hypnotic than brutal, a tough feat with what is essentially a half hour of noise, but here, it manages to soothe and entrance, and is the perfect black noise comedown bliss out finale for sure.
Housed in a DVD style case, with a printed insert.
A doom metal super-group (or, to borrow a pun from Julian Cope, a stupor-group) featuring members of Sunn O))), Goatsnake, Khanate, Iron Monkey, Cathedral, Burning Witch, etc... (that is, Stephen O'Malley, Lee Dorian, Greg Anderson, and Justin Greaves).
