Oops, dragged our asses a bit on this one! It came out back in August 2006. Ah well, better late than never. Funny thing is this South London band's second album *sounds* as if it was released much longer ago than that... oh , like maybe over a decade ago! Characterized by angular guitars, distempered male vocals and a boiling cauldron rhythm section, Giddy Motors' churning sound is a familiar one to those of us born before 1977ish. Authentically recalling the angst and aggression of their forefathers Jesus Lizard, Cows, Die Kreuzen and The Fall, Giddy Motors' Do Easy could easily be mistaken for a long lost, late '80s / early '90s release on Amphetamine Reptile or Touch & Go. Pissed, scarred and raw.
Just when you thought all the bad pun band names had already been taken (Cream Abdul Babar, Earl Greyhound, Cerebral Ballzy), along comes the delightfully/ridiculously monikered Giorgio Murderer. Clever! And their name is actually kinda appropriate to their sound: lo-fi garage synth blurt, all distorted electronics, tick tick ticking drum machine beats, and sneering snotty vocals. There's four songs on this 7", including one that's a 'cover / homage / tribute / re-enactment' of the skit "Studio Time" by hiphop group Three 6 Mafia, featuring lots of sampled gunfire and dogs barking. However, our fave track here has gotta be the downer anthem "Nobody Likes You".
Apparently Giorgio Murderer is a side project of New Orleans punks Buck Biloxi and The Fucks, but we'd say quit the day job and concentrate on Giorgio Murderer, both 'cause we like the music AND the name.
We only just started reading this but holy crap is it awesome. An in depth exploration of the UK anarcho punk scene. Which means, for those of you unclear on the concept, groups like Crass, Poison Girls, Flux Of Pink Indians, Rudimentary Peni, Icons Of Filth, Dirt, Subhumans, Conflict, Citizen Fish, Amebix, Chumbawamba (before they sold out!!), Zounds, The Mob, Kukl, Lack Of Knowledge, Disrupters, Flowers In The Dustbin, Antisect, Epileptics, Faction and more more more.
It's a little difficult for us to read this personally, as aQ pal Lance Hahn from J-Church was working on his own Anarcho-crust book when he passed away, but besides that, there's really no reason to not buy this, read up on all these amazing bands, and then buy all their records.
Covering the scene during the years 1980-1984, The Day The Country Died is packed with tons of photos, exclusive interviews, scene histories, discographies, we were 30 pages in when we got to Flux Of Pink Indians, maybe one of our favorite bands from that scene, and we had our Flux records out, reading and listening. And it's not just about the bands, and the records, it's the movement, the politics, pretty inspiring for sure.
Like we said, we only just started it, but we're digging this book BIG TIME, and apparently it's a companion to Glasper's other book, Burning Britain, so we'll probably have to track that one down too!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Two post-post-punk songs (one of them a Screamers cover!) from this new young trio from Portland, OR. Very seething and tense a la Suicide. Dark propulsive music. Fans of the GSL label / art-punk scene should definitely check this out.
Working the kind of style panache that would make Rudi Gernreich beam with pride, it's Glass Candy And The Shattered Theatre from Portland, OR.
With two well-received 7"s under their belt, Ida No, Johnny Jewel and Avalon Kalin offer up a very raw live one-sided 12" of six songs. Includes a highly unstable rendition of Josie Cotton's "Johnny Are You Queer?" as heard in the movie "Valley Girl". Recorded live at Kimo's right here in SF. Please note: the sound quality is pretty blown out, but it does captures the edgy propulsive freak-out that is Glass Candy. As can be expected from a live performance, this is much more flailing and rocked out of control than the dark seething tension of the "Brittle Women" and "Metal God" singles.
Not to be confused with '90s Pathological Records heavies God, THIS God were from Australia, and in the eighties, these teenagers kicked up a serious ruckus, a ramshackle rambunctious grinding guitar heavy punk rock equal parts Stooges, KISS, the Replacements, the Ramones, the riffs crunchy and fuzzy, the drums wild and loose, the vocals a buried bark here, a deep Nick Cave-ish croon there, the songs KILLER, heavy and hooky and melodic, the vibe snarly and snarky and pissed off, just listen to "Gunk" and you'll be sold, a seriously hard and heavy blast of punky pop, churning riffs giving way to some sweet melodies and some bad ass guitar leads, and that's just the first track, from there on out, it's non stop rock. Big riffs, big hooks, fuzzy and distorted, trashy and ramshackle, occasionally dipping into something a bit more restrained, more melodic, but it's never long until the next burst of adrenalized crunch and pound. This is definitely some primal rock energy, essential listening for all worshippers of THE RIFF.
Super nice packaging, their complete recordings on two discs, all remastered, including singles, and rare covers (KISS and the Stooges!), as well as a recording of their final gig in 1989, also includes a big ol' booklet of liner notes and photos.
"The early Manchester scene was anchored by The Fall, Joy Division, a few straight-ahead punks, and the more idiosyncratic denizens of the Manchester Musicians Collective. And Gods Gift out-did them all - in diffidence, darkness, pure feral energy and gleeful musical anarchy. Their successes were epic, but their failures, too, left indelible impressions. Guitarist Steve Murphy put it simply: "If things were going wrong, we'd make them go more wrong." Singer Steven Edwards once shouted out to a baffled London crowd, "Wotcha dancing for? � it's tuneless, you pillock!"Pathology spans GG's career from 1979 to 1984, drawing material from their records, a Manchester Musicians Collective compilation, several demos and two full-length cassette albums. 12-page booklet with photos and extensive bio; 75 minutes of pounding, insistent, magnificent noise"
Second cd from these political punk rockers. Jarring, chunky yet oddly catchy hardcore that takes some weird twists and turns. Sort of early Fugazi/Bad Religion-ish. Includes a cd-rom of video clips and zine stuff. Recorded by Ryan Massey of American Steel.
As we've mentioned before, Australia's Grey Daturas are an amazing live band. And no matter how great their records are (and they are great), they can't compare the the furious improvised heavy-as-fuck spectacle of the live Daturas experience. Bonnie is a seriously formidable axemaster, emitting the unholiest of heaviness from her guitar, pealing washes of coruscating distortion, dreamy swaths of washed out chordal blur, while the two Rob's do their own brand of damage, throbbing pulsing low end bass, and bombastic drum fury...
So any chance to see these guys live, or even hear them live is one to not be passed up. Here we have a document from their 2006 tour, recorded live in Austin at Emo's, 35 minutes or primo Daturas beautiful brutality.
Beginning with a blown out wall of guitar and freaked out feedback, crumbling and distorted, roiling and billowing, the drums kick in around minute 6 and the band launch into some serious sub-Stooges stomp, plowing through dense washes of downtuned buzz, the band plod and pound, the guitar not so much riffing as freaking out, huge clouds of psychedelic skree, the bass holding down the central riff, this is Dead C meets the Brainbombs, furious and heavy and brutal as fuck. But after about 10 minutes the drums peter out, and we're back in abstract free noise guitarscape territory and it's awesome. Glorious and epic. But before too long, the drums gradually return, the guitar slowly transforming into some sort of mid tempo riffage, and before you know it, the band are pounding out another garage-y noise rock psych drone barrage, and again the guitar seems dead set on getting away, squealing and flailing and freaking out over the relentless metallic trudge beneath it. As always, so fucking awesome. Can't wait to see these guys again...
Limited as all get out, just like always, packaged in plain brown sleeves, the artwork a torn scrap of paper with the liner notes, in the style of all the Diagnosis... Don't! releases.
We've said it before and we'll say it again, but oh how are grindcore hearts were broken when Discordance Axis called it a day. Sure there were plenty of grind bands, but few were able to capture the magic, and conjure the sort of grind metal magic those guys could. Even the briefest songs were jammed with intricate rhythms, and incredible melodies, so impossibly fast and furious, but catchy as fuck. Various Disc Ax members went on to do other things, most notably drum god Dave Witte, but even with him behind the kit, none of the post-Disc Ax bands pulled it off in quite the same way. Until recently. Until vocalist Jon Chang joined the living, returning with his insane Japanese hyper metal outfit, Hayaino Daisuki, who melded the techgrind of DA with total over the top power metal. Seems like a bad idea, but au contraire, we hadn't heard anything that fresh, that fucked up and gloriously heavy in forever. So here we are with another of Chang's new bands, one that has been in the works seemingly since the death of DA, seeing as there was a Gridlink track on that posthumous DA collection that came out way back in 2005. Even then we were thrilled at how much Gridlink seemed to channel the sound of DA, they seemed to be THE band poised to carry on Discordance's art-grind torch, but then nothing. For three years. But now. Shit. We feel silly saying it was worth waiting three years for 11 minutes of music, but the more we listen to this the more we're convinced it actually was.�
This is mindblowing. So heavy and insanely fast, so complex and furious, more than 12 minutes would probably kill you. Or maybe not, as we've been listening to this on repeat nonstop. Beyond just being brutal and lightning fast, it's also insanely dynamic, and so catchy, little squalls of grinding metallic mayhem offer up unlikely harmonies, killer hooks, some Maidenish guitar parts, Chang's vocals a hysterical banshee like shriek. And actually, Gridlink does seem to be the sonic link between Discordance and Hayaino, the over power metalisms of Hayaino tempered into something much less over the top, and the obtuse artiness of DA reigned in a bit, both sounds forced into one swirling sparks-spitting white hot ball of mind melting metallic art grind genius. So recommended. As is setting your cd on repeat and listening to this 5 or 6 times at each sitting!
We are SO PSYCHED that this has finally been reissued. Back in the eighties there was an amazing punk/noise rock scene happening in Australia, Lubricated Goat, King Snake Roost, the Kryptonics and of course Grong Grong, and it seems like the Memorandum label has been started up with the sole purpose of rescuing those classic sounds from obscurity. There is a double disc Lubricated Goat reissue coming soon, which will most likely be a Record Of The Week, the catchy Kryptonics record is reviewed elsewhere on this week's list, we've emailed the label asking them to please please please reissue the King Snake Roost records, which brings us to Grong Grong, Australia's answer to Killdozer, or maybe Flipper. Originally released on Alternative Tentacles, the record is fleshed out here with a ton of bonus tracks, live tracks, and even a dvd with amazing archival footage of the band! But you say, why should we care?
Grong Grong was born on a whim, named for a small Australian town, that one of the members just happened to be passing through, when he got home, he decided he had to start a band, and it had to be called Grong Grong. And apparently the simple approach of asking folks "Do you want to be in a band called Grong Grong?" was enough, and soon, Grong Grong were playing shows and making records. Or at least a record, and what a record, filthy, grimey, noisy, raw, primitive, pounding, chaotic, punk as fuck, a little post punk, a little new wave, crunchy angular guitars, throbbing low slung bass, wild drumming, and big bellowed vocals drenched in reverb, the band locking into a single riff, and working it and pounding away, the guitar spiraling off into weird little tangles while the bass and drums stayed locked into their groove, and the vocals swooped all over the place, the delay sending the grunts and growls careening from speaker to speaker. Not sure how these guys ended up on AT (well, Jello was a big fan), seems like they might have been just as at home on AmRep, where most of the other bands from this scene ended up.
Hardly matters, this is some awesome classic Aussie weirdo noise punk, and it sounds as good as it ever did, and listening to this now, it's shocking how many young bands are aping these guys big time, whether they realized it or not. Swampy, bluesy, woozy, psychedelic, lurching, lumbering, sloppy and loose, but so goddamn good, and those vocals, totally pushing all those same Killdozer buttons, but these guys were way more minimal, all about mood and texture and vibe, not parts, not verses and choruses, they sort of just launched into a song and kept going until it ground to a halt, or the band collapsed into a heap only to stumble into the next track, which is evidenced by the bonus DVD which features tons of old recordings, even their very first show, and even back then they were a serious force to be reckoned with. Seems like we already have a contender for reissue of the year and it's only January, only possibility of it getting knocked out of the running, is if those Lubricated Goat or King Snake Roost reissues materialize, and more than likely all three will rank in the top ten, but for now, this is THEE shit.
We made a huge deal about the recent double disc reissue of this gnarled, noiserock classic from these Australian misanthropes, and lucky for you vinyl freaks, one of our distributors discovered a stash of the original lp release in their warehouse. So grab one while you can...
Grong Grong was born on a whim, named for a small Australian town, that one of the members just happened to be passing through, when he got home, he decided he had to start a band, and it had to be called Grong Grong. And apparently the simple approach of asking folks "Do you want to be in a band called Grong Grong?" was enough, and soon, Grong Grong were playing shows and making records. Or at least a record, and what a record, filthy, grimey, noisy, raw, primitive, pounding, chaotic, punk as fuck, a little post punk, a little new wave, crunchy angular guitars, throbbing low slung bass, wild drumming, and big bellowed vocals drenched in reverb, the band locking into a single riff, and working it and pounding away, the guitar spiraling off into weird little tangles while the bass and drums stayed locked into their groove, and the vocals swooped all over the place, the delay sending the grunts and growls careening from speaker to speaker. Not sure how these guys ended up on AT (well, Jello was a big fan), seems like they might have been just as at home on AmRep, where most of the other bands from this scene ended up.
Hardly matters, this is some awesome classic Aussie weirdo noise punk, and it sounds as good as it ever did, and listening to this now, it's shocking how many young bands are aping these guys big time, whether they realized it or not. Swampy, bluesy, woozy, psychedelic, lurching, lumbering, sloppy and loose, but so goddamn good, and those vocals, totally pushing all those same Killdozer buttons, but these guys were way more minimal, all about mood and texture and vibe, not parts, not verses and choruses, they sort of just launched into a song and kept going until it ground to a halt, or the band collapsed into a heap only to stumble into the next track. This is THEE shit.
Low level drones drenched in feedback and synth tones from the Olympia, WA duo known as Growing. Like a lo-fi Popol Vuh or midrange Earth, but with a dreamier edge via ambiguous vocalizations.
We had never heard of these guys, which kinda makes sense seeing as up until now they've flown pretty far under the radar, having released a bunch of cd-r's and only one proper 7", but hell they're called the Guinea Worms, the record is brilliantly titled "Sorcererers Of Madness (4rd Year In A Row!), and yeah, you read that right, SORCERERERS, multiple 'er's, and 4RD, not 4th, plus they came highly recommended by a loyal longtime customer, who besides being a great guy with impeccable taste, also used to play in a certain band of spacelord motherfuckers, which makes any recommendation of his even more worthy of serious consideration. Plus c'mon, they're from Ohio and their first record is a massive 22 song double lp!! Did we mention they totally rule too???
But what do they sound like you're probably wondering by now? Well, sort of like a drunken and damaged, drugged out and demented, super noisy, stumbling, chaotic, metallic, garage rock combo, with awesomely ridiculous lyrics, delivered in a super distorted howl, over blown out fuzz drenched Stooges style riffery, pounding brickbat drumming and some wild psychedelic flourishes, but that's only part of their sound. These fuckers are seriously far out, goofy, ridiculous, and as likely to bust out with some heavy crunch and chug as some silly fuzzed out sing along, or some twisted drugged out blues dirge, the lyrics are totally and brilliantly dumb, reminding us just a bit of Breathilizor, but the sounds here are all over the map, every song totally different, "Drunk In Yr Uggs" is a "Hey Mickey" style call and response, but with a killer woozy bluesy main riff, and some awesome female vocal harmonies on the chorus, "Accidental Space Tourist" is all low slung drunken garage blues, "Lounge Waltz" is angular and twisted, as it lurches and lumbers, "Kick In The Door" is a fuzz drenched garage rockified country hoedown, "Come Here Baby" is a thick slab of psychedelic dirgery, "Afternoon Party" is total Hawkwind worship, but way more damaged and dumb, "Never Giving Up" is a killer slithery jam that gradually erupts into something much heavier and darker, the vocals definitely reminiscent of Nomeansno, but the music much more like some bastard mix of Liquorball and Warlock Pinchers (minus the hip hop), or Bunny Brains crossed with Brainbombs as reimagined by fellow Ohioans Guided By Voices? Tough to describe for sure, but then the coolest weirdest things usually are.
You definitely need to have a pretty high tolerance for goofball dumbshittery, cuz there's lots of that, all over the place, and yeah, normally that stuff might drive us nuts, but it just suits these guys, they're funny as fuck, and can thankfully back up their goofy puerile sense of humor with some serious chops. Our favorite jams are the fuzzy distorted psychedelic numbers, which do make up a pretty good chunk of the tracks here, but somehow, if you took those tracks on their own, it wouldn't be the same, the dumb songs would be more dumb, and the killer songs would be way less killer, but together, it's pretty goddamn perfect. Absolutely recommended. Especially if you dig stuff like Liquorball, Breathilizor, Bunny Brains, Faxed Head, Half Japanese, Happy Flowers and other purveyors of ridiculous and brilliant whatthefuck weirdness.
We're pretty sure we've got the last few copies they had a the label, so when they're gone, they're gone.
Chinese punk!! In folded silkscreened poster packaging that's probably all stuck together...
Superior Viaduct does it again, bringing us much needed reissues of not only one but two classic LA underground records from 1981: The Flesh Eaters' amazing A Minute To Pray, A Second To Die, and The Gun Club's incredible debut, Fire of Love. We're gonna (gotta!) make 'em both Records Of The Week!
Death, drugs, sex, voodoo, evil blues, macabre horror and a sublimely detached southern gothic sensibility pervade the music of these two bands who sat somewhere between the margins of the "death rock" and "cowpunk" or "gothabilly" genres of the LA punk scene of the late seventies and early eighties without fitting neatly into either.
The commanding vocal prowess of Jeffrey Lee Pierce leads the scorched delta blues of The Gun Club, a darkened mixture of Johnny Cash, Charley Patton and Elvis recycled through a furious yowling intensity. The band rotated line-ups often and has featured throughout their existence key players of the LA punk scene such as Kid Congo Powers (The Cramps, The Bad Seeds), Patricia Morrison (Sisters of Mercy, The Damned, The Bags) and Terry Graham and Rob Ritter (The Bags). While the band had a run of great albums, Fire of Love is largely regarded as their most influential, containing an impressive string of punk hits: "Sex Beat", She's Like Heroin To Me", "Fire Spirit" "For The Love of Ivy", "Ghost on The Highway", and "Jack On Fire", many of them produced by Chris D. of The Flesh Eaters.
Such a great album and without it bands like The White Stripes and The Black Keys simply wouldn't exist.
Note: Unlike The Flesh Eaters, Superior Viaduct didn't do a vinyl version of this reissue - but it turns out there was a vinyl reish on Spain's Munster records a few years back that has been recently repressed, so we'll probably get copies in sometime soon...
We made the Superior Viaduct cd reissue of The Gun Club's Fire Of Love one our Records Of The Week last time, and now have the 2014 repress of the Munster lp reissue too! Here is what we said about the cd:
Death, drugs, sex, voodoo, evil blues, macabre horror and a sublimely detached southern gothic sensibility pervade the music of The Gun Club who sat somewhere between the margins of the "death rock" and "cowpunk" or "gothabilly" genres of the LA punk scene of the late seventies and early eighties without fitting neatly into either.
The commanding vocal prowess of Jeffrey Lee Pierce leads the band's scorched delta blues, a darkened mixture of Johnny Cash, Charley Patton and Elvis recycled through a furious yowling intensity. The band rotated line-ups often and has featured throughout their existence key players of the LA punk scene such as Kid Congo Powers (The Cramps, The Bad Seeds), Patricia Morrison (Sisters of Mercy, The Damned, The Bags) and Terry Graham and Rob Ritter (The Bags). While the band had a run of great albums, Fire of Love is largely regarded as their most influential, containing an impressive string of punk hits: "Sex Beat", She's Like Heroin To Me", "Fire Spirit" "For The Love of Ivy", "Ghost on The Highway", and "Jack On Fire", many of them produced by Chris D. of The Flesh Eaters.
Such a great album and without it bands like The White Stripes and The Black Keys simply wouldn't exist.
Woah. What a surprise! See, the German psych/prog/kraut specialists at World In Sound have been responsible for a lot of cool '60s/'70s reissues and comps (Cold Sun, Modulo 1000, Psychedelic Minds Vol.1...) but they also have released some unfortunately not-so-hot cds by a bunch of modern prog and stoner rock bands doing the retro thing, and well, we haven't reviewed any of those based on the old "if you don't have anything nice to say..." principle. Just not worth bothering. BUT, that was until this disc came along. Like we said, a surprise. This Julian Cope approved (Record Of The Month for August '08 on his Head Heritage website) band has come up with a doozy of debut (?) here, a real humdinger from these Gallic guitarslingers. Featuring Matthieu Canaguier on "thunderbass", Antoine Hadhoannou on "prophetic drums", and most importantly, badass-in-chief Gregory Raimo on "guitar & guitar lighter, yaya preach, feedback", this trio's No More Invention sounds something like the French answer to The Heads, or White Hills, or even Mainliner. Utter aggro over the top distortodelic geetar excess. Frickin' savage. SAVAGE.
Nope, not at all what we'd have expected from World In Sound. Not only have they found a current signing that's good, in fact great, said signing are also a lot more punk than we'd have thought. Heck we bet these guys grew up on Metal Urbain, maybe even Soggy! The rabid vocals are somewhere betwixt Johnny Rotten and Mark E. Smith, babbling indecipherably. They also remind us a bit of the guy from The Trashmen (if "Surfin' Bird" was a raving, epick 12:50 long biker/garage meltdown blowout kraut jam called "Lighter Slinger Festival", ferinstance). Some other song titles, just to whet yer sick appetites: "Into The Garage", "The Beheaded Motorbiker's Head", "Black Dwarf Man", "Gigolo Albinos", and (uh-oh) "Auschwitz Boogie". Nothing holy here. Simply full tilt, fucked up, freaking out-out-out. Don't come looking to Gunslingers for songs and melodies and suchlike. Come looking for the blinding white lighting of FX overloaded, speed freak amp-sploitation, and the rhythm section rough-and-tumble of mainlined rock action energy, and you'll find it. Timeless stuff, heck if this WAS a '70s acid-punk reissue we would be less surprised. Gunslingers could do battle with the likes of Gaseneta, based on what we're hearing here. Recommended!
Ultra noisy chaotic hardcore from South Carolina featuring ex members of Initial State and In/Humanity. Blazing fast, frenzied and abrasive, shrieking and furious, with a wry, thoughtful/humorous lyrical bent (ala Dead Kennedys or In/Humanity). Great.
What a Blast from the Past! Probably the weirdest record produced by Giorgio Moroder, Nina Hagen's 1984 release Fearless has some of the craziest new-wave-disco tracks EVER made. Charting with "New York, New York", Hagen's tribute to that city's underground club culture, the rest of the record is a no-holds-barred romp of excess glamour and zany electro-funk, topped with her trademark bi-polar vocal range. There's even a cameo by the Red Hot Chili Peppers (man, they've been around for a while!). If you've been rocking lately to Maurice Fulton and/or his crazy "Paris Hilton" singing wife, Mu, or any of the Tiger Sushi G.D.M. series of past and present club jams, you might want to take an indulgent gander here. Guaranteed that the unique vocal stylings and punk-funk freakiness will have you saying WTF?! pretty darn quick. Glad to have this reissued! Also be sure to check out her Nunsexmonkrock album as well if you're new to Nina.
Are the Lexington, KY group unfortunately named Hair Police attempting to dethrone the Digital Hardcore crew? Sure sounds like it. Cacaphonous art punk angst in a head-on collision with a very DHR sonic barrage. One dozen brief, thick'n'murky tracks of
Hallow is a group of blackened noisemakers loosely related to blacknoise merchants Ancestors (whose new ep is reviewed elsewhere on this list) and their debut double lp is in fact the soundtrack to an art show by Hallow mainman (only man?) Mark McCoy, who is also the mainman of Ancestors, which means the two are probably more than loosely related. Fuck. Who are we kidding, Hallow sound like a meaner, less black metal, more fucked up hardcore Ancestors, and anyone, and we mean ANYone who loves those Ancestors records, absolutely needs this too.
In addition to fronting these to monstrous metallic behemoths, McCoy also creates some super intense artwork, strange assemblages of ruined buildings, of crumbling riggings, collapsing structures suspended in space, intricate to the point of being the work of a madman, these drawings are captivating, incredible, precise and ultra detailed, and in their own way, they are imbued with some sort of fucked up energy, they seem, sad, they seem violent, abandoned, lonely, possessed, EVIL even. And thus, McCoy created Hallow, who recorded a series of songs, of soundtracks, each to accompany one of his pieces. Included is a booklet, oversized, featuring the various drawings, it's up to the listener to determine which song, accompanies which drawing. But again, it hardly matters, on their own, the images are breathtaking, and the music, even minus the art, Hallow create a serious racket.
The A side plays out like an Ancestors records, a bunch of short sharp tracks, furious frenetic post hardcore black metal buzz and pound and blast, super harsh, hellish, hateful, awesomely buzzy riffs, wildly blasting beats, walls of feedback wrapped around lurching anti-grooves, the songs stuttering and lumbering and exploding into jagged freakouts before locking back into some churning rhythm or white hot blast.
The B side is split into two longer tracks, sonically similar to the A side in some ways, but a whole different beast in others, the first a noisy depressive dirge, epic and spacious, definitely doomy, the guitars heavily distorted and processed, effects all over the place, the vocals insane and harsh and noisy draped over the sheets of buzz and blur and the spaced out plod below. While the second track is similarly plodding and depressive, the sound is even more blown out, the guitars blindingly effulgent, all of the sounds on the verge of total collapse, but at the same time strangely melodic and epic.
The second record is split into two sidelong tracks, and for some reason we can only think they accompany the images on the front and back cover. The first is a thick corrosive noisescape equal parts Wolf Eyes and Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, caustic and abject, tangled strands of feedback wound around thick heaving slabs of distorted low end, all melted down into something thick and black and viscous. The flipside is super abstract, all high end, chittering, chirping, stuttering, squeaking shards of upper register squelch and glitch, Morse code beeps, chirping crickets, wheezing creaks, a hauntingly melodic field of fragmented skree, chaotic and abrasive, but also textural and abstract and actually sort of beautiful.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!! Gorgeous packaging, striking McCoy drawings on the front and back, pressed on thick vinyl, inside a thick oversized booklet featuring all of McCoy's drawings and some practically unreadable liner notes.
We had no idea what to expect from this record. It's on Sub Pop, the band's called Happy Birthday, the cover art is a sort of super DIY, bent musical note motif, like some weird eighties power pop demo, the back of the record is all scrawled pen and ink binder art, but what the heck, so we threw it on, and BLAAOW! Holy crap, total lo-fi nineties style power pop bliss out. Jangly guitar, lo-fi production, warbly boy vox and angelic female crooning, hooks galore, reminding us a lot of Nova Scotia pop, think Eric's Trip, Sloan, Super Friendz, Thrush Hermit, Hardship Post, the same sort of earnest, slightly melancholic, ramshackle pop that we never get tired of, and hardly anyone makes anymore (thank goodness for The Memories Attack!).
Every song is a cracked bit of peppy, bouncy, effervescent pop, with some angular guitar, some practice space drumming, warbly basslines, everything super distorted and fuzzed out, slipping from rollicking rocking, to in-the-red on-the-verge-of-collapse chaos, to woozy meandering minimal new wave (one track sounds like Ultravox via the more modern lo fi warped garage rock of the moment), lots of the songs have a distinctly eighties vibe, the vocals are sweet and always about to crack, slipping into a falsetto at every possible opportunity, keyboards wheeze and warble, the melodies are playful and serpentine, the production is hazy and reverby, but the band are constantly slipping in weird bursts of distorted crunch, or stretches of hushed crystalline drift, but always stumbling back into their irresistible fuzz pop. Record opener "Girls FM" is a total hit, a chorus that kills, not to mention an equally catchy verse/bridge combo, super sweet harmonies, a main riff that manages to crunch and jangle at the same time, weird fuzz bass that drops in and out, as well as all sorts of subtly twisted recording weirdness, only adding to the fun fucked up vibe.
The weird thing is that Happy Birthday is the project of Kyle Thomas, whose previous groups we've raved about in the past, Feathers, Witch, and King Tuff, but never did we expect that he might be capable of this kind of kick ass ultra catchy pure pop bliss out. But we're so pleasantly surprised, and damn if Happy Birthday didn't just leap into the running for pop record of the year!!
This is a MEAL! This punk ass band (and pals of ours) from the town of Watsonville, California are a bunch of snotty creeps with twisted visions of landlords on fire and yuppies being run through the wheat thresher! Their sound is part Public Image Limited (with dubbed out guitars, pounding percussion and general bad attitude) and part Big Black (angular, dark and more bad bad attitude). They hate rich people, they hate meansters, and they are annoying as fuck to see live. Happy Meal is fronted by twin brothers, known only as American Cream (guitar and vocals) and Harinjneesh Al Chone (bass and vocals). If you see them live, they will make fun of you!!! They also write amazing songs! The first track, after the rap station skit intro, is "Kathy". Has a catchier more riffradical song ever been written? You will have to buy this record to find out! The rest of the album is equally killer. Jagged but melodious guitar lines, throbbingly fucked up bass patterns and two little twerps screaming about making pipe bombs and selling weed to the cops. Watsonville's Most Wanted! Also, every cd is garnished with a hilarious comic street by bass-man Al Chone. Why? Happy Meal.
Besides being killer (of course), this new tape from Ormalycka has the distinction of being one of the few releases on the label that we could find anything out about online. These Virginia hardcore crushers deliver a demo that's frantic and furious, old school hardcore heaviness, equal parts early eighties UK punk and classic Boston HC, bellowed vox, buzzing riffage, caveman drumming, frenzied punk rock intensity that slips into lurching lumbering doominess, and brooding knuckle dragging swagger here and there. Short sharp bursts of aggro punk fury, tempered by some bass driven dirgery, and some downright poppiness in places. Fans of SS Decontrol, Black Flag, and old school classic hardcore will dig big time...
You get five tracks, seventeen minutes of beer-fueled metal/punk aggression on this ep from Washington state hairies Harkonen, including a totally killer cover Scratch Acid's "Cannibal". Heavy but kinda arty and rockin'ly catchy. You get the idea that this band likes to have fun and party and all that, but they've got a scary, serious side to 'em and it's probably best just to get out of the way and let 'em play. It makes sense they'd be into Scratch Acid, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear 'em cover the Melvins or Black Flag or Today Is The Day someday too. We look forward to this summer's upcoming full-length on Hydrahead...
So it took the rest of the world a while to catch on. Don't be too hard on them. Harvey Milk are one difficult proposition. Don't blame us though. We've been there all along trying to convince everybody just how brilliant this bafflingly bizarre sludge combo really was. Andee even reissued their seminal Courtesy And Good Will Toward Men album on his tUMULt label. And don't blame Henry at Chunklet, the man responsible for this here document. In fact he was right there every step of the way, a one man Harvey Milk archivist and booster club. And of course we don't blame you, loyal AQ list readers, cuz we know you feel the same way we do, you just can't get enough of Harvey Milk's pummeling, crushing, obtuse and confusional heaviness. Well for you, and for us, and for the heavy music lovers of the world who have yet to discover the difficult joy of Harvey Milk, life is is about to get a whole lot sweeter.
Courtesy And Good Will is getting reissued again, on Relapse, any day now, there's a BRAND NEW Harvey Milk record due sometime in the next month or so, there are rumors of a deluxe reissue of the long out of print Harvey Milk debut, a serious holy grail, My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment of What My Love Could Be, maybe with an extra disc, and then there's THIS. Four long years in the making, and it was worth every single second. Most of us who dig Harvey Milk, even those of us who might go so far as to say we are obsessed, never actually got to see the band play live. And this three and a half hour DVD collection of live shows spanning over 12 years is just as much a revelation as we knew it would be.
From super grainy early live footage, when the band was much more of a punk rock, Touch And Go / AmRep sort of beast, you can, out of the corner of your eye, see the sludginess and fuckedupness creep up through the music, slowly and subtly infusing every song and sound with some ineffable something, that helped turn Harvey Milk into a band that sounded unlike any other band, then or now. Theirs was a career trajectory based entirely on getting weirder and sludgier and more obtuse and WAY more difficult and fucked up, a bit like the Melvins, but without the unexpected mainstream success and major label deal. Harvey Milk also unexpectedly shifted gears for a while, letting their ZZ Top obsession take control, and becoming impossibly groovy and rocking, which only lasted a single record before the band returned EVEN MORE damaged and slow and brutal, as if that was even possible.
The band look so unassuming, frontman Creston Spiers just an every day Joe until he opens his mouth and unleashes that impossible low banshee-like howl, bass player Stephen Tanner, with his weird, fey, Doogie Howser look, goofy smile and even goofier sexy hip swivel. And the drums, the drummers... Harvey Milk's songs are so full of space, so slow and stretched out, the drums are often the only thing holding the songs together. Whether they are shuffling in the background, or pounding out a massive slow motion throb, it's the drums that allow the guitars to spin off into space and the songs to unfurl into confusing super spacious epics.
Probably the most amazing part of the disc is when Creston wields a sledgehammer, pounding an anvil in time with the downtuned bass and pounding drums, while howling in that anguished banshee wail of his. Normally it would be weird to see a band set-up like that -- bass, drums and sledgehammer -- but somehow, for Harvey Milk it seems perfect. Creston swaying back and forth, cradling the hammer like it was a guitar, while the band pounds out a sludgy dirge behind him. So good! Woven in to the older material are plenty of long slow drawn out moody post rockisms, with drifting simple mournful melodies, and mumbled crooned vocals that eventually build into the epic whirls of swirling sludge we hold so near and dear to our hearts.
The biggest surprise here is how much footage there is from the band's "ZZ Top period," a stretch that on record only lasted a single album, but live seemed to have spanned several years. A wild and hair twirling, head banging super groovy sort-of-Southern rock with howled and yelped superrock vocals, less obviously sludgy, but still ultra heavy. This was never really a favorite sound for lots of Milk fans (although it is Allan's favorite) but seeing these songs performed live is enough to convince us that maybe we were WAY off and this stuff is some of the best Harvey Milk EVER!!!
It sounds like southern rock filtered through the Melvins. Or Ram Jam played by the Corrupted. It's just so awesome to watch with drummer Kyle Spence's massive Boham-esque kit (complete with Bonham's logo on the bass drum head) a huge gong, just tearing it up Bill Ward style holding the whole thing together... And because of the film stock and the sound and the style, it's almost feels like watching some recently unearthed German television footage of some ultra heavy long lost proto metal band from the seventies, they even whip out a little "Pinball Wizard!" Someone needs to reissue The Pleaser now. C'mon!! Maybe we just weren't in the right frame of mind when it first came out, but we're pretty sure that record would kick our asses now!
After that, the band sort of drifted off and disappeared, before resurfacing in 2005, as a much grungier, hairier looking Milk, all jeans and long hair and Voivod t-shirts, and they sound like it too. A return to the impossibly glacial dirge of Courtesy, but even heavier and somehow more even more fucked up sounding. Like Sabbath at 16rpm, massive lumbering, blown out sludgerock divinity. How many ways can we say it. WE LOVE HARVEY MILK!!! THEY ARE WITHOUT A DOUBT ONE OF THE GREATEST BANDS OF THE LAST 20 YEARS!!
There's also a DVD Easter egg (thanks Jace!): just go to the credits menu and push up until "40 Watt '93" is highlighted, for some footage from an April Fool's show where the band tackle three R.E.M. covers, taken from a show where the band covered R.E.M.'s Reckoning in its entirety. Seriously! (the also once did a whole set of Hank Williams covers, let's pray someone has a tape of that stashed!) It's pretty dang cool to see one generation of Athens rock take on another. And they don't really sludge it up all that much, playing 'em pretty straight, but managing to make them -almost- sound like Harvey Milk originals!
Also included is a four song 3"cd containing previously unreleased, super rare tracks, one of which is their version of R.E.M.'s "South Central Rain"!!!
And of course the packaging is breathtaking. Designed by Stephen O'Malley and Henry Chunklet, it's a gorgeous oversized DVD style, fold over interlocking cardstock sleeve, greenish brown, with O'Malley's instantly recognizable graphic shards in dark brown, the title in embossed reflective silver, inside copious liner notes from Henry printed in metallic silver, the back has an angular H and M diecut, through which you can see the inside sleeve, a black folded cardstock gatefold with silver metallic ink which houses both the DVD and the 3" cd affixed to the inside on little nubs. So awesome!
LIMITED ONE TIME PRESSING OF 1000 COPIES!!!!!!!!
Super limited single from the brand new Harvey Milk album. HOLY SHIT!! Did you hear that? BRAND NEW HARVEY MILK ALBUM!!! See elsewhere on this list for a review of HM's Special Wishes. This single features the killer first track from Special Wishes, "I've Got A Love", but the real reason to pick this up is the exclusive B side, a crushingly downtuned, utterly and breathtakingly beautiful dreamsludge version of Leonard Cohen's "The Old Revolution". HM fans already remember and cherish the heartbreaking version of Cohen's "One of Us Cannot Be Wrong" on Courtesy And Good Will Toward Men and thus know what HM can do with a Leonard Cohen song. Don't blow it. This is limited to 1000 copies and will be gone before you know it.
It's funny, for years, you couldn't find a Harvey Milk record to save your life. Reissues, cd-r's, rumors about the band all trickled out and were lapped up by all of us ravenous doomdrone hounds desperate for more music from this mysterious Southern dirge rock behemoth. Then suddenly, a few years back, things began to change, Courtesy And Good Will Toward Men got reissued on Andee's tUMULt label, a cd compilation of singles came out, and then the Kelly Sessions. We were loving it. But then it all stopped. Nothing. Until we started hearing rumors again about reissues and more excitingly, a reformed HM and a new record!! And you know what? The rumors were true, the band is back together, and just released this here brand new album. Hot on the heels of the amazing DVD we raved about last list, and alongside a double disc reissue of Courtesy (with a bonus live disc!) reviewed elsewhere on this list, Special Wishes makes us want to just lay down and weep. That's how much we love this band. And how long we have been dreaming about this day. Very few bands can inspire such ridiculous loyalty and utter fanboy obsession. But Harvey Milk are pretty much unlike any band ever. When ranking the weirdest heaviest, GREATEST bands of all time in our heads, Harvey Milk are ALWAYS there, and almost always in the top 5, and depending on our mood, often in the number one spot.
With most bands, we tend to recommend older albums, you know, the new one is for fans only, but if you don't already own any records start with this other one. But even if you've never heard Harvey Milk, Special Wishes will undoubtedly convert you to the way of the Milk. And you WILL have a new favorite band.
The record starts with "I've Got A Love" a crushing pounding slow motion jam, with howled anguished vocals (that Allan thought sounded like Eugene from Oxbow) and thick walls of downtuned guitar, and some weird grinding background drone. SO heavy and glacial it makes the Melvins sound like Blink 182. OK, maybe that's not entirely true, but you know what we're getting at. The next two tracks are equally dirgey, and brutal and impossibly, infuriatingly slow and heavy. But then comes "Once In A While" a groovy classic rock / Southern rock jam, that sounds like Paw on 16 rpm, pretty and melodic, but somehow still way too heavy and creepily ominous. Up next is the appropriately titled "Instrumental" which combines HM's pummeling sludge, with some seriously acrobatic prog rock arrangements, like a super heavy Don Cab. Two more tracks of crushing glacial beauty, plodding brutality, pop hooks buried beneath two tons of guitar sludge, completely and mesmerizingly pulverizing. Then it's The One. Our favorite song of the year. A song so completely unlike anything Harvey Milk has ever recorded, but somehow a song that couldn't have come from anyone else. "Old Glory", the tale of a flag, or THE flag, a strangely beautiful pop song, finger picked acoustic guitar, gorgeous melodic crooning, and a sudden burst of lush psychedelic guitar harmonies, eventually the band kicks in, with massive guitars and probably the most kick ass classic rock guitar lead to ever grace an underground rock record. Full on "Freebird" shit. Wow. One of those songs that we listen to over and over and over. A song that sounded so totally out of place on first listen (although we loved it immediately) but became sort of the heart of the record for us. The final track is almost even weirder. "Mother's Day" is a massive and majestic epic, warm warbly organs, dreamy violin playing a mournful melody, with "God Bless America" melodies all over the place, when the band finally kicks in, it's like the underground doomdirgesludge version of that last song all cock rock and classic rock bands play live, huge soaring chords, everyone swaying back and forth, lighters held high, it sounds like a pisstake, but at the same time it sounds so fucking good. Which is pretty much an apt description of Harvey Milk in general. Confusing and confounding, crushing and majestic. But totally fucked up and emotional and brilliant, and still as far as we're concerned quite possibly the greatest band EVER.
The latest in killing technology from our very own Andee's tUMULt label! This is the first (and last) release from Chicago's metal mercenaries Hatewave. Completely crushing math/speed/avant/noise/metal/grind.
Hatewave's musical bloodbath is equal parts death metal, free jazz, grindcore, no-wave and pure noise. Furiously brutal, two guitar and drums (no bass!) attack, whirling riffs, bursts of white noise, calculus-style time changes, frantic blast beats, and a barely-under-the-surface free-jazz obsession all coalesce into some of the most insane, lightning speed, technical black metal/grind bombast ever. Featuring ex-Chicago / current SF scene fixture and metal/jazz obsessive, drummer Weasel Walter (Flying Luttenbachers, Lake of Dracula, To Live and Shave in L.A.). Originally this was a limited LP-only release -- this cd version adds 3 bonus tracks from their 1997 demo! The LP (and at the time, soon to be released cd) was banned by some squeamish distributors for its somewhat gory cover art and controversial lyrics, all of which are still present in their throat hacked, head smashed, blood soaked glory!
The first we heard from these mathy noise rock heavies, was on a 7" split with Minneapolis noise rockers Buildings, and we finished that review by saying: "There's a Hawks full length out there somewhere, and these two songs have us begging for more!!" And here it is, a crushing collection of dense, mathed out heaviness, with bellowed Melvins like vox over churning downtuned riffage and big booming drums (recorded by Harvey Milk's Kyle Spence!), and that Harvey Milk connection can't be a coincidence, they're from the same state, and even though this isn't nearly as slow and low as the 'Milk, it is definitely drawn from the same sludgey well.
Think classic old school AmRep noise rock, Midwest Homestead style pigfuck, and nineties math rock, all wound tight into some serious RAWK action, the bass thick and grimey, super distorted, all tangled up with the wild, intricate drumming, while all around guitars grind and buzz, chime and chug, sometimes everything bleeds into surprisingly melodic and downright poppy shapes, but more often, it's all angular, chaotic crush and knuckle dragging caveman pummel, the finest moments here when it's a little of both.
Fans of current noise rockers like Gay Witch Abortion, Harvey Milk, the Melvins, Buildings, Seawhores, Kowloon Walled City, Hex Machine and the rest will flip for these guys. As will anyone who missed the good ol' AmRep / Homestead days...
Seems like Minneapolis noise rockers Buildings were the big hit from the last list. We sold out of their record immediately, and hell, for good reason, that record was a fierce chunk of old school AmRep style heaviness, beholden to all the bands we grew up with and still love, Buildings paying homage, but making that sound their own.
So here we have a brand new split single from those guys, teaming up with fellow noise rockers Hawks. Buildings offer up more of what we dig, chugging, churning, rhythmic mathy radness, the bass super distorted, the guitars buzzy, the band immediately locking into some serious crush, swaggery and snarly and heavy as fuck, both tracks here laced with squalls of feedback and driven by some seriously kick ass drumming, not to mention some soaring distorto guitar swirl and some blown out bass buzz. Cannot get enough of these guys!
Hawks counter with their own take on mathy, noisy heaviness, starting off with a weird sample, and a slow swell of distorted guitar, before the drums kick in, and the song lurches into a pounding, riffy swagger, the vocals a bearded bellow, it all reminds us of that old classic Sub Pop sound, a bit grungy, a little poppy, but seriously heavy. And when the lead guitar swoops in, it transforms everything, and the song is suddenly catchy as fuck! The second track is a bit busier, with weird chiming guitar harmonics, wild drumming, more bellowed vox, and again, the grunge vibe is huge, which is really the only way we could dig this sort of noise rock sound ANY more. There's a Hawks full length out there somewhere, and these two songs have us begging for more!!
While they last, we have the yellow vinyl version. Includes a download code too!
The easiest way to describe Hayaino Daisuki is like this: they're the band we always wished existed. Imagine classic eighties metal but about 100 times as fast and furious, or maybe a blasting grind version of power metal, or Iron Maiden crossed with Discordance Axis. That last one being particularly appropriate, seeing as Hayaino Daisuki is the new band of former DA screamer Jon Chang, even though the band do everything in their power to disguise who is in fact in the band, the first record purported to be a bunch of teenage metal girls, this one has a huge booklet with comics and interviews and lyrics, but very little actually band info.
But it hardly matters, once you lay ears on this stuff, you'll be totally and utterly obsessed, it may be only 12 minutes, but if you play it ten times in a row it's 120 minutes, and we DARE you to try to just listen to this once. Music this heavy and fast and furious and brutal should not be this catchy. The riffs are incredible, the drumming insane, the vocals of course are untouchable, and the wild leads and constant shredding harmonies is what pushes this over the top. What more do you need to know than 'Iron Maiden meets Discordance Axis'? Absolutely nothing. But if you're looking for something that totally shred and slays, is crazy catchy, you'd be hard pressed to find something more perfect than this. It's either the most melodic and hook filled shredding grind record ever, or the most blasting brutal grinding power metal record ever. Either way, this totally destroys, and is quickly becoming our favorite 12 minutes of music this year. Now 24 minutes. Now 36 minutes. Now 48 minutes...
2006 was most definitely the year of Harvey Milk. A year most of us had been waiting for forever! A live DVD, a double disc reissue of Courtesy And Good Will Toward Men, a brand new fucking album!! Some tours, a bunch of live shows. We've basically been in downtuned sludge rock Nirvana. And as if that weren't enough, now we've got a brand new 7" from the boys, a split with Hayride, a band they shared another split with way back in 1992.
The Harvey Milk track is an oldie, recorded at home way back sometime in the early nineties, a riffy mathy dirgey masterpiece. Very lo-fi, with the vocals buried WAY down in the mix, but it's a killer, roiling and churning, a slow motion groove, like the Melvins covering ZZ Top at 16 rpm. Essential if you're a HM nerd, and if you're not, what the hell is wrong with you?!?
Hayride, we assume are also from Athens, and unlike Harvey Milk, they sound like it. Sort of jangly and mathy, what you might imagine R.E.M. would sound like if they had recorded for Touch And Go. Some June Of '44, even some Interpol with the deep dramatic vocals. But with plenty of jangle and math rock riffage.
But no matter how cool Hayride are, the 'Milk is the reason to pick this up.
Super limited, already out of print it seems. We were one of the only stores to get copies, and while we did get a bunch, they won't last...
We reviewed a cd by these Canadian grinders a long ways back, a furious twisted atonal slab of spazzed out math grind, that reminded us of Drop Dead or Crossed out all tangled up with the Locust and as we said before sounded quite a bit like your head hitting concrete. Well we managed to get a small handful of these tour only singles, and it's more of the same. But here, the sound is even more convoluted, chaotic, spastic, angular off kilter riffing, freaked out drumming, super dense and dizzying arrangements, with long drawn out stretches of droney repetitive chug, peppered with bits of lightning fast blasts, the guitar constantly slippery and slithery, the chords unhinged, the notes seeming to twist and warble, almost like a slide guitar, but this woozy weirdness gives the whole records a super unhinged feel. Reminds us a whole lot of some long lost Gravity band, which is a VERY good thing indeed. (and we just might have a few copies of the HHC cd in stock, check elsewhere on the site). LIMITED TO 200 COPIES.
Can't think of a much better description for Head Hits Concrete than...well...um...your head hitting concrete. This Canadian noise grind juggernaut is a massive metallic sledgehammer, sounding a bit like some unholy union of Drop Dead, Crossed Out and more spastic contemporaries like the Locust or the Daughters. Relentlessly buzzing and thrashing, but with all sorts of squiggly guitar harmonies and weirdly ear twisting atonal melodies and full on blasts of utter chaos as well as the occasional burst of classic metal riffery, albeit dressed in spazz/grind clothing. Then just mix in song titles like "The Anal Cavity Is Coming Up Roses", "I Shit God", "We Love E. Coli", "The Pastor's Cock Is In My Mouth (Hooray!)" and you've got one of the coolest, heaviest, sonically fucked records in recent memory. 47 songs in 60 minutes. Yes.
Found just TWO of these tucked away in the closet, we got em way back in 2005, and for whatever reason, we never got around to reviewing it, which is a shame cuz this is some crazed kick ass stuff. A sort of manic twisted post punk, thrash pop, or something, from back in the nineties, angular, crusty, chaotic, noisy, atonal crunchy buzzy guitars, wild octopoidal drumming, super melodic basslines, unhinged vocals that flit from keening croon, to punk rock yelp to banshee wail, it's really hard to describe these UK weirdos, we'd say if you dig Crass and Rudimentary Peni and that sort of crusty punk rock, but mixed with some over the top, almost proggy aspirations, with the songs devolving into mathy freakouts, or soaring punkprog epics, then these guys are right up your alley. Hard to believe more people haven't freaked out over these guys, cuz this stuff is baffling and brilliant, noisy, dense, loose, epic, twisted and heavy. And way recommended. Sadly we only have 2 copies.
Killer packaging too, a cool cd sized softcover book, with full color covers, and inside pages and pages of lyrics, drawing, photos and collages. The cd contains the group's only LP, their only 7", a demo tape and a bunch of comp and unreleased tracks!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Another record that barely needs a description at all. Essential listening for all psych nerds, space rock freaks, and anyone into shredding, spaced out, druggy, dreamy heaviness, which we would imagine would be most of you!
Two sidelong tracks, one each from aQ faves White Hills, and another aQ fave, UK space rockers The Heads. Both exclusive tracks, both kick ass, gorgeously packaged, super limited, you know the drill, if you haven't already thrown one of these into your shopping cart already, well then heck, here's a quick rundown of each track:
The Heads launch right into it, almost as if someone just randomly pushed the record button mid epic jam, there's nothing, then suddenly the band is crushing! Buzzy and blown out, tons of guitar shredding, wild wah wah, crumbling distortion, tearing up a storm a la Monster Magnet or Acid Mothers Temple, stoned and wasted and wild, until about halfway through, the song shifts, and the group stagger wildly through a lurching start stop freakout, very off kilter, tons of space, the band definitely getting a bit freaky, until finally, the track coalesces again and we're back in full on hear-of-the-sun ur-jam mode. Awesome.
The flipside finds Whitew Hills, in a contemplative mood, or if not contemplative, super drugged out and lysergic, their sound less blasting and wildly shredding and more sort of drifting, a Spacemen 3 vibe runs throughout, woozy, meandering, loping rhythms wreathed in a druggy haze, the guitars all tangled up in swirling clouds of distorted buzz, super effected vocals, drawled and washed out, the whole track tripped out and Loop-ish, baked and sooooo psychedelic, this track definitely had us drifting off into some other WAY more outer space. So good.
Incredible packaging, the thick vinyl housed in a super psychedelic full color die cut sleeve, the record label visible through the hole, and inside a full color 12" by 12" printed insert. Needless to say (but as is our style, we'll say it anyway), ESSENTIAL. Oh, and very very limited...
You would never in a million years guess that this band wasn't Swedish. And you would never guess they weren't a real metal band. I mean, they -are- a real metal band, but listening to this record, you imagine long haired Swedes banging their heads with one
I was in Japan, in a record store and they were playing the most amazing record. I went to the counter to find out what amazing Japanese band I had discovered, and after some struggling with my poor (read: non-existent) Japanese, the clerk handed me a cd, and it ends up we were listening to a German metalcore band called Heaven Shall Burn. It's a bit silly to call this metalcore
