[ aquarius records — Rock Pop Punk Hardcore ]

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MPEG stream: Counterweight
MPEG stream: Tresspassing The Shores Of Your World

The Last Heaven Shall Burn record was one of my favorites of last year. A metalcore band that wasn't just a bunch of punk kids trying to play metal, they kicked out the metal jams better than most 'actual' metal bands. And we wouldn't have known about them Totally essential.

RealAudio clip: Behind A Wall Of Silence
RealAudio clip: The Worlds in Me
RealAudio clip: The Martyrs Blood

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

SORRY.

The precision, nutso drumming of Zach Hill and the frantic, fearless guitar playing of Spencer Seim is something the world needs more of, and they are happy to oblige with this, only their second full-length recording after a few eps and live discs. Yay, Hella! This dynamic duo hold the lease on hectic, headspinning math rock mayhem, tempering their breathless performances with a very eclectic, electric variety of sounds and good sense of what's catchy and what isn't. The Devil Isn't Red is perhaps denser than their debut Hold Your Horse Is, but no less delightful. As almost always, this is all-instrumental, with cryptic art and song titles to add to their aesthetic of controlled chaos. Into indie-prog a la Don Caballero, Lighting Bolt, Ruins, This Heat? Well if you haven't already, now's the time to make room for a Hella section in your record collection. (By the way, did you notice how 'Hella' no longer seems like a dumb band name, it just means Hella the band? You know, just like with the Melvins, for instance. They're good enough and have been around long enough now to make that transition.)

MPEG stream: The Kid The Mother Could Be You
MPEG stream: Welcome To The Jungle Baby, You're Gonna...

The return of everybody's favorite imaginary rock couple, Henry & Glenn, as in Henry Rollins and Glenn Danzig, and more tales of the forbidden love that dare not speak it's name. Yep, just like the first issue, Henry & Glenn imagines a better world, where the forbidden gay love these two don't actually share (or do they?) is real, and they live together in a house with a partially finished sacrificial altar in the front yard, their next door neighbors the Satan worshipping duo Hall & Oates, and we are given a glimpse into H&G's daily lives, where we observe Henry as the responsible one, the one who does the housework and pays the bills, and worries what the city thinks about the above mentioned unfinished altar in the yard, while Glenn is the dreamer, the one always full of crazy ideas, oblivious to poor Henry and his desire for more. It's all pretty irreverent, and pretty gosh dang hilarious. And this time around, original artists Igloo Tornado (which includes aQ pal Tom Neely) bring in some guests, most notably, Ed Luce, who longtime readers of the aQ list will no doubt know as the man behind the awesome Wuvable Oaf comic, who here imagines H&G in couples therapy, which of course includes guest cameos from Kerry King of Slayer, Ian Mackaye of Fugazi and of course a demon kitty. Neel does a cool back cover color comic, which features a striking likeness J Bennett of Decibel (and Ides Of Gemini), who bums out Glenn by showing him the original H&G - which is apparently (maybe) a true story? Benjamin Marra pit our couple against Leta Fjord and Hall And Oates get in on the demonic action. And the opening comic is mostly just a hilarious build up for a distinctly Danzig punchline, and of course there's more more more. One of our favorite comics for sure, and as always, leaves us wanting to know what could happen next in the lives of our heroes, Henry & Glenn...

First there was Henry & Glenn Forever, then the sequel Henry & Glenn Forever & Ever, and now the saga continues! Comix about these two muscular manly man punk rock icons, as a loving gay couple - brilliant, hilarious concept! Some of the major contributors this issue include Tom Neely, Mark Rudolph, and Josh Bayer, their Henry & Glenn strips all getting pretty fantastical - and funny - in illustrating the titular duo's hypothetical romantic dynamic, with probably more of the laughs at Glenn's expense 'cause, y'know, of course - and the real-life Henry has stated that he thinks Glenn "would not be amused", as for Henry, well, we saw an interview where he said he's autographed copies of the comic for people but has never actually looked inside, which seems kinda weird too, doesn't it? Neely's strip continues exploring Glenn's "Mother" issues, Rudolph's shows how Glenn does the household chores (and includes a cameo from Hall & Oates, H&G's uber friendly, Satan worshipping neighbors!!), Bayer's delves into bromantic existential angst in an epic way - and besides being funny, these comix end up being surprisingly sweet and heartwarming, too. Gotta love it!! Color cover, b&w interior, 32 pages.

Besides having an awesomely demented band name (who the hell is Henry Fiat?) Henry Fiat's Open Sore are so smoking hot and so ultra kick ass, it's amazing we're only now discovering them. I was going to describe them as the Hives meet the Mentors, which I still think is pretty apt, although the rest of the AQ staffers hear more straight ahead punk rock a la the Ramones. But if you're into that hypercharged Swedish guitar sound, this will definitely be right up your alley. Dressed in tattered mod suits and heads wrapped in black bandages, they look like the Mummies' scary older brothers. But no retro lo-fi garage rock here. This is fierce and furious, ass kicking 3 chord, bounce up and down punk rock and roll!

MPEG stream: Midlife Riot
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Aaaaaarrrggghh!!! Total grindcore brutality here from these heavy Chicago-area punks. These guys originally formed when the guitarist of fellow Chicago-area power-violence kings Kung Fu Rick decided to give the drums a go, forming this band after playing for only a few months -- fairly mind-blowing once you hear his speed and intensity. This guy is seriously one of the fastest blasting drummers around. The band compliments him with a crushingly heavy sound, especially in the impossibly detuned bass riffs. The same smart-ass sense of humor evident in such neighboring bands as 7000 Dying Rats and Charles Bronson pervades just about every inch of what Hewhocorrupts does as well, from the lay-out to their (often nude) photos to such song titles as "I've Got Two Words for You and They Aren't Happy Birthday" and "I'll Give You a Candy Bar if You Get the Fuck Out of My Face" and "Young Boy Attacked By Bees (Boy Is Allergic To Bees)". This is a nearly complete discography (their self-titled LP on 625 Records is omitted for some reason) of early EPs, including their hilarious full-on assault on Metallica -- the "Master of Profits" EP with songs like "Sell 'Em All", "One Million Dollars", and "Ride the Limo", plus splits with Wilbur Cobb, Third Degree, Tusk (yes, the members-of-Pelican Tusk), Godstomper, Infestation of Ass, Don't Worry About It, comp tracks, live stuff, remixes, their first demo when they were called Optimus Prime and even a surprisingly faithful cover of "Welcome to the Jungle"! All in all, a must hear for fans of Pig Destroyer, Capitalist Casualties, any of the above hardcore bands and people who appreciate short fast funny bursts of controlled chaos.

MPEG stream: Master Of Profits
MPEG stream: Young Boy Gets Cancer (After Smoking Your Ass)

Latest eruption of doom-sludge-drone heaviness from UK kill team Hey Colossus, here teamed up with the awesomely named Dethscalator, but more on them in a second. Hey Colossus continue to expand their epic dirge space rock, with three sprawling slow-jams, that oozes from slow burning drones, to lurching stumbling blackened crush, to metallic krautrock and back again, rumbling drones erupt into looped sounding riff heavy sludge workouts, the vocals a hellish bellow, feedback swirling all over the place, the band a beast, a lumbering sonic juggernaut, downtuned and crushing, but spaced out and psychedelic too. Folks into Shit And Shine might want to give these guys a try, the same sort of noise drenched fucked up mantra like mesmerizing heaviness. Amidst all that heaviness, the band do unwind into hypnotic post/space rock jams, simple and rhythmic, under a haze of murky buzz and jagged skree, but seem to eventually explode into either a squall of melting lysergic effects drenched freakout, or pounding black murk slow motion metal crush. We dig it either way! Which brings us to Dethscalator, who we liked already, cuz, well, they're called Dethscalator, we're like that. Thankfully the sound lives up to the name, a gnarled blend of Gore like repetitive heaviness, and lo-slung Jesus Lizard like noise rock, the vocals especially, a dead ringer for David Yow, all scowly and sort of sung / spoken, and super distorted, with the band swinging all downtuned and seasick, until they lock into bursts of cyclical riffage, that sound almost looped, occasionally lifting off into some serious space rock territory, before falling back into another stretch of woozy metallic noise rock, culminating in the weird brooding noise rock slowjam that ends the record, murky and washed out and gloomy, weirdly melodic and super dark and creepy. Rad rad rad. Definitely need more Dethscalator in our lives, and heck more Hey Colossus while we're at it! Features some awesomely fucked up and garish (and badly photoshopped) cover art, one eyed creep and headless biker anyone??

Finally! This long in the works vinyl version of a long out of print comp gathering up pretty much everything ever recorded by late great SF punks Hickey, is available again, thanks to the folks at 1-2-3-4 Go! In fact, even if you have the cd version, this swanky vinyl version has NINE extra songs, as well as some super extravagant packaging (more on that in a second). For those of you who were around back in the nineties, you no doubt experienced Hickey once or twice (or EVERY time), their live shows wild and loose and ramshackle, frontman Matty Luv (who passed away in 2002), the funniest fucking guy ever, whose onstage banter was brilliant and baffling, drummer Aesop, who would go on to drum for Ludicra, Agalloch and others, an animal behind the kit, never averse to leaping over the kit and into the fray if some sort of confrontation required it, the band generally wasted and fucked up and brilliantly on the verge of collapse, and the songs, punky and a little bit metallic, noisy and hooky and heavy and catchy as fuck, the lyrics hilarious, just check out some of the song titles: "Make Sure There Aren't Any Squares At My Funeral", "Hickey Is About Long Hair And Getting High", "Everything I Know About Sex I Learned From KISS", they even recorded a tribute to El Farolito, thee late night Mission burrito joint, then and now. The recording surprisingly hi-fi all things considered, and sounding better than ever here. Some of the songs pure pop perfection, others feral blasts of punk fury, most of the jams here somewhere right in between, and yeah, the quality definitely varies a bit, seeing as most of these tracks came from different sessions, from comps and singles, but the energy is through the roof, and is a glorious tribute to this awesome band, who really could have/should have been a WAY bigger deal, and it definitely speaks to a vibrant time in SF's music history, when the Mission was a fucking hotbed for weirdo punks and killer DIY rock bands, and pretty much any night of the week you could end up at some wild house party or some crazed club show or just hanging out on a corner drinking beer eating burritos and shooting the shit. RIP MATTY LUV! LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES!! Packaged in a super swank full color gatefold sleeve, adorned with all the various record covers and a bunch of flyers and an old tour diary, inside is a massive booklet jammed with still more old photos and flyers, original record covers, some liner notes, there's even a Hickey patch, and a download coupon.

MPEG stream: Crepe Paper Hearts
MPEG stream: The Naked Cult
MPEG stream: Make Sure There Aren't Any Squares At My Funeral
MPEG stream: Hickey is About Long Hair and Getting High
MPEG stream: Everything I Know About Sex I Learned From KISS

Mother Teacher Destroyer is the second album of spiritually and politically radical heavy rock music to be revealed by The Hidden Hand, a trio lead by veteran guitarist/vocalist Scott "Wino" Weinrich (The Obsessed, Saint Vitus, Spirit Caravan, Place Of Skulls, Probot). Wino's past tends to define him, but with The Hidden Hand there's been a bit of a fresh start. He's no longer treading water, in the moat of the doom castle. The Hidden Hand harks back to Wino's harDCore roots, the band's energetic, complex nature shaking off any residual doom/stoner stupor. Not that this isn't still psychedelic and doomy too (some of it sounds like early The Obsessed meets Pink Floyd), it's just got an aggro edge to it. Wino and crew are angry about the state of our nation, that's for sure -- "The Deprogramming Of Tom Delay" is an actual song title here! And while some of his ideas might be a little far out, his instincts are right-on.

MPEG stream: The Crossing
MPEG stream: The Deprogramming Of Tom Delay

Some time ago we reviewed a double cd featuring (supposedly) everything ever recorded by this obscure, outsider-y late '70s / early '80s UK psychedelic "hippy punk" outfit called, variously, Afflicted, The Afflicted Man, and High Speed and The Afflicted Man. It's been out of print for a while - but now, both of the albums that constituted that set's second and best disc, the one where, as we said, the fuzz really hits the fan, have been reissued again, almost simultaneously, with Permanent putting out 1981's I'm Off Me 'Ead on vinyl (only), and Spanish reissue specialists Guerssen doing 1982's Get Stoned Ezy on cd (with vinyl forthcoming as well). Both are issued under license from The Afflicted Man himself, guitarist/vocalist Steve Hall, unlike that previous collection, apparently. Get Stoned Ezy in particular has been raved about, quite deservedly, as a Holy Grail of wah-fuzz-feedback psych insanity, kind of an unknown precursor to the blown-out speed freak sounds of Japanese heavies like High Rise and Mainliner. Bearing the not entirely hyperbolic warning on the sleeve "This Record Is Very Powerful And Could Give You Earhole Damage", Get Stoned Ezy consists of three lengthy throbbing songs of rollicking fuzzed out guitar splooge with unhinged vocal drawling and pounding repetitive rhythms from this loosey-goosey power trio, total swarming distortion jams to the max. Meanwhile, the slightly earlier I'm Off Me 'Ead is really almost as good, just a bit different, being marginally more song-oriented (well, there's more of 'em here) than Get Stoned Ezy, more shambolic and "Messthetics-y", if you're familiar with that series of UK DIY comps. It's definitely also about the monomaniacal, messed-up distortodelic guitar wrangling, you're in for plenty of that on either album. Charming stuff for fans of Hendrix, Hawkwind, The Stooges, Wicked Lady, Groundhogs... and with the vocals factored in, these albums also oughtta appeal to fans of aQ fave Michael Yonkers, big time! I'm Off Me 'Ead, limited to 500 copies, features remastered sound, and a full color inner sleeve with rare pics, a previously unpublished Steve Hall interview, and more. Get Stoned Ezy is also remastered from an original vinyl copy (cuz the master tapes are long gone), and the cd booklet contains vintage photos of the band in action plus extensive & enthusiastic liner notes newly penned by the editor of Black To Comm 'zine, Chris Stigliano. If you need any more convincing, heed the cover sticker blurb on that release from Ripley of Wooden Shjips, who sez: "Fucking essential". Speaking of Wooden Shjips, yeah if you like them and other current practitioners of "heavy psych", like White Hills and The Heads and Carlton Melton and Mainliner and Gnod and Earthless, then really you need to expose your toughened-up earholes to both Get Stoned Ezy and I'm Off Me 'Ead, pronto.

MPEG stream: Get Stoned Ezy
MPEG stream: Zip 'Ead

Who could possibly be a match for Mick Barr's (Crom-Tech, Orthrelm, Octis, Ocrilm) insane avant sci-fi guitar shredding? We would have thought no one... But it makes sense, that the only true match for Barr's fretboard wiggery would be Zach Hill, a sort of Yngwie Malmsteen of the drum kit. A spastic octopoidal drum freak, who can cram a million more beats into a song than the busiest drummer you can think of. Not sure why no one thought of getting these guys together sooner. Their first meeting took place on last year's Shred Earthship, and now we have ZH/MB Volume 2. And the results, much like on Shred Earthship are just what you would have expected. A mind blowing, ear shredding, speaker melting squiggle and noodle shredfest. Dense squalls of wildly dueling drum splatter and guitar freakout. Often note for note. Is it free jazz? Is it avant metal? Is it outrageous instrumental wankery? Well yeah, it sort of is, ALL of those. Ultra complex, incredibly convoluted, might be a stretch to call these songs, instead they seem to be exercises in instrumental dexterity, each one an over the top psychedelic metal freakout that has the listener panting and about to pass out after only thirty seconds, lord knows how these guys can keep it up for a whole record. The opener is the jazziest, due in no small part to some surprisingly melodic sax, but after that, it's one on one, drums vs. guitar, each wrapped around the other in some sort of insane ultimate fighting chokehold, a non stop barrage of notes and beats... imagine that someone had been collecting every note ever played, and every drum beat, and just piling them up in a huge dumpster, they're tiny, they don't take up that much room, but a trillion, or a million billion trillion, have that dumpster just about full. Now imagine being strapped down to a huge slab of black concrete, with strange metallic implements holding your ears wide open, then imagine that entire dumpster being upended and all of those notes and beats showering down on you like some sort of musical avalanche or metallic hailstorm. Sound good? Well then, my friend, this is indeed the record for you... Packaged in killer white cloud on bright yellow sleeves, most are on black vinyl, a few are on yellow, so you might just get lucky. But don't ask, we said: YOU. MIGHT. GET. LUCKY. Limited to 303 copies!!! We got a handful, and will NOT be able to get more.

The underheralded 1982 album from the most prolific of the post Radio Birdman groups. Includes rare singles, demos and live tracks from the period. A high-energy Sydney rock and roll classic!

Been trying to review this for a while, but everyone kept selling out, the debut full length from these hardcore punks, their sound a furious, grinding frenzy of wild drumming, distorto rigging, and some seriously SICK vokills (and yeah, usually vokills are metal, but this guy could be doing time in a black/death metal band if he wanted), which make this sound seriously fucked up and frantic, the production massive, the guitars monstrous, and those vox, vitriolic and borderline disturbing. There's an intro here (penned by Phamakon!), which is all buzzing rumbles, and weird grinding industrial sounds, coughing and vocal grunts, all swirling and murky and extremely ominous, but once the record proper kicks in, it's a nonstop face melting crush. The sound's a bit sludge-y and crusty too, especially when they slow down into churning, lumbering tarpit dirgery, but i's never long before they explode into another frenzy of blasting pounding ferocity. And did we mention leads? Yep, the occasional burst of shredding lead guitars, angular and atonal, which are generally quickly swallowed up by another onslaught of hardcore pummel. There are some weirdly melodic moments scattered throughout the record, and lots of surprisingly lush textures, some almost Godspeed-y slow builds, but those elements are less 'weird' and 'experimental', than just another facet of their sound, seamlessly woven into what is essentially some seriously crushing, classic metallic hardcore, that KILLS. Punk rock record of the year hands down. Even though it's from last year. But odds are you're not gonna hear a record this brutal and heavy and punk as fuck this year anyway, so there. One of the most elaborately packaged punk rock records in recent memory too. A fold over full color jacket, with a super striking, dude-hanging-from-his-foot-from-a-tree cover image, and inside, SIX, that's right six, HUGE two sided posters!

MPEG stream: Intro
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Record number two from these gloom punk Swedes, and like their self titled debut, which we described as sounding a bit like Interpol via Iceage via the Undertones, Forever is another batch of crazy catchy pop jams in goth rock clothing. Right from the get go, Forever manages to be somehow even poppier than the debut. Opener "A Sacred State" is all dramatically crooned vox, pounding distorted drumming, fuzzed out guitars, and when the chorus hits, holy shit, chiming eighties style guitar shimmer, and a hook any band would kill for. It's the kind of jam that would/could/should have found its way into some arthouse version of a John Hughes coming of age pic. Total teenage moody pathos and mix tape melancholia. And it never really lets up, every song here is super epic, ultra catchy and totally rocking. the production this time around even better than on the first record, managing to be noisy and reverby and psychedelically echoey, but still lush and layered, letting the hooks shine through, and as mentioned before, there are hooks galore, even the noisiest jams here deliver the sort of choruses that sound simultaneously casually tossed off and meticulously crafted. Synths swirl over barrages of tribal drumming, guitars crunch and shimmer, and the vocals, way up in the mix, but right where they should be, dramatic and powerful, a gorgeous gothy croon, that we can only imagine has fans all a swoon. All of that wound up into some of the best songs we've heard in ages, and a record that gets spun in the store all the time, and one that has us constantly dashing up to the front of the store to see what's playing, convinced we know what it is, that it's some old favorite, only to be (pleasantly) surprised to find out it's the new Holograms!

MPEG stream: A Sacred State
MPEG stream: Meditations
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Another out of left field record that just knocked our blocks off. Not sure what we were expecting, something super noisy and fucked up actually, but what we got was some totally irresistible sloppy chaotic garage power pop, that actually sort of ends up sounding a bit like noise rock guys unleashing their inner power pop demons. Before we go any further though, listen to the first sound sample, "Two Steps", we'll wait... Man that song destroys, some of you have probably already added this to your cart, heck, that's what we would have done, there's no resisting that one, easily THE pop jam of the year, we've literally listened to that song about 50 times in the last week, so much that it wasn't until a couple days ago that we finally listened to that whole record, which thankfully revealed a whole 'nother bunch of killer pop chaos, not to mention some even more chaotic off kilter noisiness. Let's talk about that song first, it's definitely the best song on the record, and we would gladly pay $14 for a one sided single with JUST that song, it's pretty much the most perfect pop song we've heard in forever, with wild almost cracking vocals, some incredible riffing, including a weird slippery almost slide part that gives us chills every time, sloppy drumming, and a killer tempo shift part way through that's just fucking perfect. And the hook, that song has been stuck in our head non stop since the first time we heard it. But after you get it out of your system and listen to it 20 or 20 or 50 times, the rest of the record will reveal itself as a pretty much non stop kick ass punky power pop gem, like some eighties pop record transported through time. but on the way it got all tangled up in the slipstream with some random noise and garage rock records and emerged like, well, THIS. "Other Side Of The Street" is a short sharp ultra distorted pop jam, with a punky frame but laced with all sorts of amazing hooky guitar melodies, "Route 18" (after the 3 minutes of near silence that is "Live Outside") is total bubblegum FM radio pop, but all twisted up and tweaked, and just like the other tracks, it's the extra guitar that turns it into something super special, adding some super rad melodic filigree. It's hard to not hear some Guided By Voices and other purveyors of lo-fi pop, but this isn't traditionally lo-fi, it doesn't sound muddy and 4-tracky and much as it just sound ramshackle and haphazard, and if there are hints of those other lo-fi rockers, these guys definitely make it their own, plus there's the weird extra noisy parts which manage to fit perfectly, not disrupting the flow at all, rather highlighting the subtle noisiness in the poppiest tracks, while hiding some serious poppery within the various layers of crunch and howl, the angular no-wave opener "Nest Of Vipers", with its sampled broken glass, fucked-with tape speed, mumbled vocals, super blown out drumming, and dreamy hushed detuned piano backward outro, "A Different Touch" is super in-the-red, the drums so distorted they sound like bursts of radio static, the guitars practically melting, but the whole thing wrapped around some killer hooks, with amazing guitar melodies, an impossibly noise drenched murk-pop blow out, and that's basically the magic of Home Blitz, the practically perfect pop is infused with noise and on the verge of total implosion, while the fucked up noise jams are infused with pop, threatening to shed the noise completely and explode into another burst of wild eyed power pop. If these guys went in a real studio and spent a fortune, it's almost possible to imagine them getting huge, but smooth out the rough edges and it just wouldn't be the same band. Absolutely killer noisepop, and yet another record to add to our year end faves list...

MPEG stream: Two Steps
MPEG stream: Don't Talk To Me
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We'd been meaning to review this for a while. After HB's unanimous fave and aQ Record Of The Week, O.ut O.f P.hase, and a kick ass, and way too short set at our South By Southwest showcase this year, we know we needed more more more. This comp collects all the early out of print material from these short sharp snotty noise poppers, their first two 7"s, a split cassette, a super limited 12", not to mention a couple unreleased track, and while this stuff is WAY more raw and lo-fi, it's easy to hear the ramshackle perfect pop juggernaut these guys would be come. And considering how noisy and unhinged and loose and on the verge of collapse these guys were on their newest record, you can imagine what a looser more fucked up version of THAT might sound like. All the stuff we love about Home Blitz is already firmly in place, sharp angular riffage, jangly guitars, wild drumming, killer hooks and classic melodies, and that voice, an about to crack warbly yelp, that occasionally slips into a falsetto, the recording definitely low fidelity, but super bright and weirdly lush at the same time. And the songs, like total classic power pop / punk pop, but more homebrewed, most 1-2 minutes, rollicking and wild and super rocking, slipping from total chaotic freeforall, to crunchy jangle, to lo-fi bedroom pop, to faux arena rock out, to blasting garage punk, to woozy druggy Velvetsy drone rock, and back to full on blistering trash pop again, sounding like a band that would sound right at home on Siltbreeze, but with many of the songs sounding like they could have been plucked right off one of those lost pop comps like Yellow Pills. There are a few tracks where the band gets more far out, "Bored" is a reverb drenched dirge, clouds of cymbal sizzle float over muted trashcan percussion, big clanging guitar chords, howled vox, or the 9+ minute "Yard", which almost sounds like some sort of Dead C ballad, all splattery percussion, detuned guitar, swaths of crumbling distortion and static, a stumbling chunk of free rock that gives way to a weird piano driven vamp, that sounds almost like Elton John via Sentridoh or something, eventually crumbling into some sort of abstract field recording driven noise rock workout. But then it's back to more loose unhinged noisy power pop bliss, including a killer glammy Slade cover! We love these guys!

MPEG stream: Apocalyptic Grades 2005 A.D.
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On first listen, it's hard to believe that this is the legendary punk artifact that music geeks everywhere speak of in hushed, reverent tones. Not because it's not good, it is. It's great in fact. It's just not all that...weird...or avant garde, really. Recorded in 1978, this stuff sounds like it should've been at the top of the charts. And it probably would have been too were it not for their purposefully provocative monicker. And it seems that this, along with the Homosexuals' willful obscurity is what turned what is essentially an amazingly catchy pop punk band into collector snob fodder. But ultimately that is neither here nor there, we're just glad this got reissued because this record rules! Sonically well in line with their contemporaries, the Buzzocks, the Damned, the Undertones, the Adicts, the Jam and the like, the Homosexuals opted to infuse their bouncy angular punkish pop, with bizarre surreal lyrics, occasional creative production techiniques, some retarded sounding harmonica and wickedly sharp guitar riffing making them stand out, and perhaps causing them to remain on the fringe. But beyond that, the Homosexuals were simply a great band writing great songs, songs that were charged and intense, due in no small part to band tension, and with a wild vocalist with a voice part Feargal Sharkey, part Howard Devoto and part Olga from the Toy Dolls. Don't be intimidated by the hype/legend/collectability of the Homosexuals, or you might just miss out on a really amazing record. Note to consumers: if you're a HUGE Homosexuals fans, be aware that in a few months (exact release date as yet uncertain) there will be a Homosexuals triple cd box set entitled Astral Glamour available, which should include ALL of the material found on this cd, plus plenty of other obscurities and unreleased stuff. However, most people will be perfectly happy with this disc alone, containing as it does all of the crucial Homosexuals tracks.

MPEG stream: Technique Street
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It's a little surprising that we haven't reviewed anything by these knuckle dragging noise rock punk thug weirdos, some of us are big fans, every one of their records, all twisted blasts of fractured, fucked up gnarled distorto stomp 'n crunch. Here's a list of bands, if you dig any or all of them, odds are you already love these guys too, or really seriously should: Harry Pussy, Rusted Shut, Violent Students, Liquorball, Drunkdriver, Twin Stumps, Breathilizor, Dead Meat, Billy Bao, Shit And Shine, White Mice... You get the drift, this is chaotic, noisy, punk as fuck, sub Stooges, garage noise chaos, loose and wild, and unhinged, seriously fractured and frantic, blown out lo-fi and sweat soaked, sludgey and crusty and grimy and filthy and fucking RULING. Plus they're just bizarre, the record opens with what sounds like a long slow stroll to the studio, culminating in a quick piss, before the door opens, the guitars get louder, the band eventually stumbling into action, and what glorious, lumbering and lurching action it is, the bass thick and buzzy, the drums loose and wild, the guitars all Black Flaggy and the vocals, yelped, crooned, mumbled, multiple voices, not really harmonizing, just sort of all doing their own thing. But within all this messy chaotic rocking, these guys rip, the songs killer, the riffs bad ass, the Stooges vibe is huge, but filtered through thick clouds of bongsmoke and heaping helpings of bathtub meth, the sound shifting from warped midtempo creep, all atonal guitars and low slung bass to full bore rocking, in-the-red and on the verge of total collapse. And the weirdness definitely extends well beyond the sound, check out the song titles, all inexplicably with some variation of 'man' in the title: "Beneath The Blackman", "Cannon Fodderman", "In The Basementman", "Nightman", "Noseman", "Sea Wolfman", etc. And what does any of that have to do with the fruit-y title: Strawberry Orange Peach Banana? Or the thrift store oil painting artwork? Who cares? All we know is we love everything about these twisted noise rock psychos, and this record is kicking our asses!

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An offshoot of Teenage Panzerkorps / Der TPK, Horrid Red is described by the band's Glenn "Edmund Xavier" Donaldson as a militant new wave project somewhere near the likes of Death In June circa Nada. A beloved album of Death In June fans for sure, but Nada was a very clumsy attempt at bringing an occult obliqueness and right-wing imagery to the more romantic strains of new wave - Donanldson's recapitulation of '80s stark post-punk is WAY better. The name Horrid Red might also be a play on the peculiar, forgotten new wave iconoclast Snowy Red, who sort of fell between Suicide and Fad Gadget; this was a band that Donaldson once professed considerable admiration for. That said, Horrid Red doesn't fall that far from the TPK sound, especially since Bunker Wolf is very present in delivering his booming Teutonic vocals with megaphone volume and clarity. Donaldson's arrangements are more stripped down than in TPK, but no-less spiky with their propulsive basslines, and also feature these sad, melodic leads that certainly look back to his earlier work in the Knit Separates and early Blithe Sons. But then there are the minor-key, haunted synths that take a page out of the Blessure Grave / Zola Jesus playbook and the minimal wave rhythms that gird almost every song. Released on Holiday Records, who seem to be the Sacred Bones of Italy. A necessary album for all fans of the recent wave of new goth. Limited to 300 copies!

AQ pal and Pink of Pink and Brown Mr. John Dwyer recommended this lovely release to us. Word is, the guy who owns In The Red likes them so much that he not only put this cd out, but roadies for them as well. A raw and raunchy combo from Cedar Rapids, IA who formed three years ago at the tender age of 18. Their self proclaimed influences range from Leadbelly to Black Sabbath to Doo Rag to Dr. Dre to Pussy Galore to Prince. The sound isn't nearly so eclectic, but it is pretty great. Lo-fi, high energy, stripped down, haphazard, kick your dick in the dirt, punk rock garage kicks. Sadie says "Hell yeah!"

RealAudio clip: Every Inch Of My Love
RealAudio clip: I Don't Need A Woman I Need A Nurse
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Here's some crazy keyboard punk rock metalcore blurt from Horse The Band on their second energetic full-length, released last fall (yeah, we're playing catch-up here, been meaning to list this for a while) on the newly revitalized Combat imprint. Looks like Combat's speed/death metal focus back in the '80s has given way to a new breed of blenderized indie-punk kinda-metal. Horse The Band, anyway, is the best thing on the new Combat. With loads of heavy guitars, pummelling drums, honkin' synth, screamo vox, emo melody, and mathy song constructs, all tightly wound and ready to explode, this will appeal to fans of of An Albatross, The Locust, that sort of thing. This also reminds us a bit of Reggie and the Full Effect's take on "Raining Blood" on that I Love Metal covers comp a few years ago...

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We just have a very small handful of these limited split singles, and when they're gone, they're gone... So you probably already know if you want to (quickly try and) get one, if you're a big fan of one or more of the four badass SF rawk groups on here, all throwbacks to sweet times in the heavy, glammy '70s for sure. Of special note, two of the bands do covers: Dirty Fences taking on Blondie, and big aQ faves Hot Lunch covering the obscure yet mighty UK proto-punks Crushed Butler - a perfect choice for 'em!

John Reis and Rick Froberg were responsible for one of the best and most copied rock bands of the '90s, Drive Like Jehu. While Jehu only left the world with two full lengths, Reis continued pouring his soul into Rocket From The Crypt as well as his many side-projects. He also started his own label, Swami, and began doing an amazing radio show in San Diego. Answering the prayers of so many Jehu fans across the globe Reis and Froberg reunited to form a new band together. Hot Snakes are a much more straight ahead affair then the intricate near prog bombast of Jehu but the guts, fire and passion ring just as loud and true. Back when I (Irwin) was living in Southern California my old radio station KSPC put on an amazing concert series. One of the highlights was when the Hot Snakes were to embark on their first tour playing only a handful of shows across the states and ended up playing at a show I helped book! A dream come true. They completely tore apart the basement where the show took place and we all felt so sorry for the other bands that opened since once the Hot Snakes started playing, every trace of the opening band, every memory was blown clear out of everyone's heads before the end of their first song. This release captures Hot Snakes in all of their sweaty and hard rocking live glory, during one of their last shows in Australia, reminding us of what a joy it was to get to see these guys live. Sounding just as perfect, adrenalized, and spot on as they did in the studio. This last incarnation of Hot Snakes was rounded out by the great drumming of Mario Rubalcaba (Clikitat Ikatowi, RFTC) and the so totally underrated guitar stylings of one of San Diego's unsung treasures Gar Wood (Tanner, Beehive & The Barracudas) proving that Hot Snakes were indeed hands down one of the best live bands on the planet.

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Various permutations of this disc have been floating around for a while, each in various states of completeness, but every one we'd heard sounded even better than the last. But this is the one, the final, finished product. The long in the works Human Quena Orchestra, the work of Ryan Unks, formerly of techgrind combo Creation Is Crucifixion, but don't be expecting grind, or even technicality, this all the way on the other side of the spectrum. Abject, filthy, pummeling, slow motion noise drenched doom. A plodding sonic monster, guitars, not just distorted, but treated and twisted into harsh, skin scraping, caustic slabs of sinister sound, a low end so thick, it's like dunking your head in a cement mixer, insane sounding drums, each snare crack like the recording of a million breaking windows, each kick drum the sound of a slowed down car wreck. And beneath it all, thick swells of black ambience, drifting and slithering, pulsing and swelling. A lurching, stumbling blackened doom dirge behemoth.� Think�Swans, Godflesh, Pitchshifter, that sort of machinelike apocalyptic industrial pound, mixed with some funereal ultra doom a la Moss, Bunkur, etc., but filtered through a druggy psychedelia, with a minimal shimmery drone bent, that ends up sounding like a way more�brutal, way more harsh, tripped out, psychedelic, industrial version of Jesu, that sort of blissed out sun baked vibe, but as if played by some misanthropic black metal horde,�harsh blackened vocals, shrieking hysterically and growling demonically over the relentless amp melting metallic trudge. Every track is rife with layer after layer of undulating low end. Like being tossed about on a stormy sea, but instead of water, it's an endless expanse of roiling black sound waves, rumbling drones, and thick snarled streaks of throbbing bass.� The magic Of Unks' Human Quena Orchestra though is that this hellish harshness is balanced with a nearly equal amount of meditative ambience, long stretches of deep shimmer, and even some of the harshest tracks are tempered by the swirling low end drift lurking beneath. So brutally gorgeous. Definitely essential listening for fans of all the above mentioned outfits, as well as Monarch, Nadja, the Angelic Process, Fear Falls Burning, Skullflower, Abruptum, Monument Of Urns, Trollmann, Khanate, The Body and all our favorite purveyors of crumbling downtuned beauty and dreamy damaged doom. Packaged in a gorgeous hand screened multiple panel fold over sleeve with super striking ADD style microscopic super detailed artwork.�

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As hard as we tried, we were never able to get in all the 7" singles that Hunx & His Punx released on labels like Bachelor, Shattered House, True Panther and Bubbledum, since Hunx began recording with his Punx while his other band Gravy Train! was on an indefinite hiatus. So we were so psyched to find that True Panther was compiling all those 7"s on a single lp, and since they're are all pretty much already out of print, so this might be your only chance to get all those tracks. Appropriately titled Gay Singles, the cover features an eye popping close up of a zebra stripe jockey clad crotch. Hot on the heels of a long tour he's just embarked on supporting Jay Reatard, we're so excited that Hunx & His Punx gets to spread his amazingly flamboyant and sexy spirit and pure garage pop and punk perfection to a wider audience. A total student/lover of all things popular culture, Seth Bogart (aka Hunx) has become such a master of infusing his songs with playful and seductive themes, crafting killer pop jams, displaying plenty of tongue in cheek lyrics and a whole lot of skin, yet this is not just some kind of joke rock, as there is a really great understanding of true pop music, girl group sound and power pop and Ramones style punk rock. So damn catchy and loaded with innuendo and sex appeal that's sure to create a party anywhere and anytime these punx perform (or even just get blasted on your boombox!). So damn fun!

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

SORRY.

The much hyped debut from these Danish teenagers finally gets a proper domestic release, and as we've mentioned in lots of reviews, we often find ourselves fighting that knee jerk reaction of hating stuff that just seems way to universally praised, hipster beloved bands gushed over by blogs, Pitchfork, reviewers, and all the rest, but as you've probably already surmised, the main reason for pointing out the above, is that, somehow, DESPITE all the hype, these guys are pretty ruling, a broody buzzy collection of darkly gothicky post punk that is equal parts frenetic crunch and low slung swagger, of murky moody jangle and tense tribal pound, the vocals buried in the mix and doused in echo, the guitars swinging from reverbed chime to gnarled atonal riffage, the drums wild and loose, the songs often veering from lumbering dirge to chaotic blast and back again, loads of strange sounds, twisted production, a sound that's garagey and low fidelity, but still thick and dense, and the songs, slow blossoming gems, that seem to get catchier with every listen. Heavily beholden to Joy Division no doubt, but perhaps equally (and maybe unknowingly, considering their ages) beholden to the darker side of Homestead Records and and the moodier more melodic noise rock side of back-in-the-day Touch And Go.

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Babyfaced Danish dreamboats Iceage return for album number three, and we're happy to report that amidst all of the hype and hyperbole surrounding these dudes that this here is a seriously great record in its own right, not to mention one that's not content to simply sow the same seeds as their records past, but instead marks another leap forward for these Scandinavian scoundrels. Plowing Through The Fields Of Love immediately marks a more dramatic sound for this band. There's a heavier reliance on piano for a start, and there's a sort of looming specter of humid gothic Americana permeating the swaggering barroom (post)punk. Elias Ronnenfelt's off key caterwauling moans seep over the songs like drunken sermons from a derelict pulpit. Plaintive piano stabs drift over clattering stumbling drumming. Slinking serpentine rockabilly rhythms fall in and out of time like some dizzy drunkard's long walk home from the bar. But this record knows how to brood just as much as it knows how to lurch, and amidst the militaristic drum marches, stuttering guitars and clanking dilapidated saloon piano there are moments of gorgeous whiskey-soaked balladeering complete with soaring violins, stretched to their breaking point by stale dry bows. It's a sound that owes a a lot to Tender Prey-era Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to be sure, but would also probably equally appeal to mourners of dearly departed local AQ faves Pleasure Forever. Fine company to be in for sure, and Iceage takes their place amongst these fellow squalid lovable lowlifes with the confidence of a man with an empty bourbon bottle, a three day old seersucker suit and not a thing to lose. Highly recommended!

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Everybody here flipped for the debut release from these Danish jangle punks, 2011's New Brigade, a seriously kick ass record that we described thusly: a broody buzzy collection of darkly gothicky post punk that is equal parts frenetic crunch and low slung swagger, of murky moody jangle and tense tribal pound, the vocals buried in the mix and doused in echo, the guitars swinging from reverbed chime to gnarled atonal riffage, the drums wild and loose, the songs often veering from lumbering dirge to chaotic blast and back again, loads of strange sounds, twisted production, a sound that's garagey and low fidelity, but still thick and dense, and the songs, slow blossoming gems, that seem to get catchier with every listen. And all of that most definitely still applies, but the first thing we thought when we threw this on, and the opener "Ecstasy" kicked off, was, wow, these guys sound super drunk. And they really sort of do, at first, and somehow, even the instruments sound drunk, that track, and the whole record really, unfurls as a gloriously woozy blowout, all melting guitars, stumbling lurching rhythms, drawled slurred vocals, the production murky and muddy, the band launching into brief blasts of punky crunch, but quickly swinging right back into that opening murky lumbering dirginess. And the thing is, it all sounds SO GOOD, and somehow, that fuckedupness, combined with an obvious knack for pop songsmithery, makes it sound just as catchy as that first record. Check out "In Haze" which seems to channel the spirit of Husker Du through something way murkier, with a crazy catchy chorus, that keeps stumbling to a halt part way through, the melody just sort of petering out, before lurching right back into it, it sounds too fucked up and off kilter to be on purpose, but it obviously it is, the weird woozy tempo shift a huge part of what makes it so catchy. And then the follow up, "Morals", displays the other side of Iceage, their secret pop side, here sounding like a more punk Guided By Voices, and that GBV vibe pops up throughout, dramatic and hook heavy, but still fuzzy and murky and punky. We also hear some Arctic Monkeys buried in the mix here and there weirdly enough, almost as if someone were to clean this up, and washed off some of the murk, there just might be come crunchy pop hiding out in there somewhere, which is in fact probably the case. There's also a bit of the Fall, the singer's mumble mouthed vocals draped over churning angular guitars and loose woozy rhythm section. On the surface, it's all post punky swagger, yowled vox, wild drumming, fuzzed out riffs, thick buzzing bass, and lots of these track are just that, seriously fierce blasts of churning punk rock energy, but the more you listen, the more these songs become much more than that, from the jangliest, to the fiercest and most frantic, they all begin to blossom into the sort of effortless poppiness that once woven into the aforementioned janglepunk crunch, is pretty much totally untouchable. A new store fave for sure!!

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This, the 9th-or-so cd from guitarist Gentry Densley's Salt Lake City based musical collective Iceburn, comes packaged in a 6x8 manilla envelope containing the cd and also an eight-part essay discussing the band's evolution from their Victory-label The recording itself documents a two-guitar + saxophone and percussion incarnation of the ever-shifting Iceburn lineup, recorded live to minidisc with "bass ghosts" overdubbed later by guest Adam Lane. Ambient drone and itchy improv clatter collide with some really intense out-guitar demolition on this disc. As the liner notes suggest, fans of Rudolph Grey's Blue Humans (and other like minded heavy guitar skronk) will be pleased. Avant-hardcore-free improv done with passion, sincerity, dedication, and most importantly, inspiration.

RealAudio clip: Formless, monstrous, unconcious
RealAudio clip: I am a rising phoenix

Next best thing to seeing the Stooges back in the day (let's see your hands...anyone...no one?) I guess would be to see 'em now, at one of their rare, raved-about reunion shows like this one in Detroit last year, headlining over Sonic Youth and the Von Bondies. And the next best thing to being at the show, is seeing it on your TV screen. Next best is next best is next best but still, this is Iggy and the Stooges we're talking about! Iggy's still got it, a wiggling wriggling rock star to the end, really more and more of a fascinating grotesque to watch the older he gets, while the Ashton brothers on guitar and drums prove that you don't have to have Iggy's physique to kick ass, even if you're old dudes. And Mike Watt is obviously having the time of his life, subbing for deceased bassist Dave Alexander. Funhouse saxophonist Steve Mackay shows up too. It's not gonna change your life, but it's a good show, you can even forgive them the one new song they play (otherwise it's only songs from the first two albums, nothing from Raw Power, which makes us wonder why this says Iggy & The Stooges on it not just The Stooges?). No fancy stage production or lights or anything, just a band playing songs they wrote 30 years ago and tearing it up. DVD extras include an entire in-store performance, just Iggy and the Ashtons, which demonstrates that even at a low-key show where he's sitting on a chair half the time, Iggy still has to take off his shirt before it's over. And there's Mike Watt's audio diary, and a bunch of Stooges stills from the pages of Creem magazine.

As hard as it is to believe that there can still be a steady stream of amazing reissues of '70s psychedelia from all around the world (but there is!), we're equally amazed that the purveyors of '80s grim synth punk have also been re-emerging with increasing regularity and surprising quality. While the German collector's label Vinyl On Demand have been at the forefront of the '80s resurgence of cold, cold, cold post-punk (mostly of the Germanic variety), Acute has also uncovered some gems, offering us the Metal Urbain reissues as well as a handful of pre-symphonic Glenn Branca projects. Now Acute presents Ike Yard. Hailing from New York back in the early '80s, they were one of the few American bands to sign to Factory Records (the most notable other band being ESG). This collection of tracks from 1980 - 1982 culls all of the material from Ike Yard's one LP on Factory and an EP for Le Disque Du Crespuscule plus the requisite unreleased material. Initially, Ike Yard really does sound like Factory should be their home, easily paralleling the death disco prowess of Public Image Limited or Section 25. Their dour monochrome post-punk enjoys a spectral production quality which haunted all of the Martin Hannett produced Factory recordings. But gradually the Factory overtones disappear in lieu of an claustrophobic electronic sound which reminds us a lot like early Cabaret Voltaire, or rather what we wished CV would sound like given that CV hasn't really weathered all that well up very. Ike Yard though is another matter, as they seemed to really fight over whether to groove on a primal, sexual funk or to alienate their audience with their cold, electro-primitive detachment. Between the metallic synth arppegiations, drum machines struggling to work through the complex patterns, and the angular swatches of screeching guitar, there is Kenny Compton's chilling, zombified vocal delivery that really pushes Ike Yard deeper into the realms of urban malaise. A very cool reissue.

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We found a handful of titles, maybe only 5 or 6 of each, from Aussie label Diagnosis� Don't! We've had these for ages, and odds are these are long gone as they were pretty limited to begin with, but for a few of you, here's your chance to grab one (or all) of these super limited 3" cd-r's. The Impromptulons are an improvising (get it?) free noise collective from Brisbane, who use a confusional mix of instruments to create their sound, from found objects to actual percussion, lots of feedback, very rhythmic and ritualistic, one single extended jam, equal parts Avarus and the Dead C, very tribal, with plenty of click and glitch, rumble and thump, all wrapped in a swirling haze of tape hiss and distant bowed strings, not really noisy so much as much as hypnotic. Strings are plucked, drones shimmer, percussion clanks and clunks, and somehow the result is a gorgeous piece of rhythmic dronemusic. Packaged in thick cardstock mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. And again, we only have a VERY FEW of these....

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

SORRY. This is one of my all time favorite grindcore bands. They combined unbelievably kick ass grinding fastcore with the kind of sense of humour you wish all bands had. This is a posthumous collection of everything they did, including the brilliant 'Nutty Antichrist' lp (that featured a demonic Jerry Lewis on the cover). Pummeling and punsishing, fast and brutal, and funny as fuck. Awesome.

Some of us came to punk in a seriously roundabout way. Seems like most folks we talk to, got into punk rock, then moved toward heavier stuff and got into metal. But we went straight to metal, then gradually discovered punk rock, so we ended up learning about bands like Fear and Black Flag and Die Kreuzen and the Dead Kennedys well after we had been into Slayer and Venom and Motley Crew or whatever. One effect that had on our taste in punk, was that we liked the stuff that was heavier, and more metallic, Cro Mags, Die Kreuzen, Black Flag, and we got super into West Virginia's Th' Inbred, partially for that reason, sure they were punky and fast, and had a vocalist who sometimes sounded like Jello Biafra and sometimes sounded like Lee Ving from Fear, and their lyrics were snarky and political and funny, but musically they had lot more going on than a lot of punk rock bands, super complex guitar playing, very Greg Ginn influenced, bordering on jazzy now and then, but often gnarled and twisted, and the band were pretty noisy too, easily mistaken for some punky AmRep band, but then able to bust out a super complex almost proggy start stop punk jazz groove, and then explode in a frenzy of pounding pure punk energy, plus they had a wicked sense of humor, as evidenced not only by their lyrics, but their album covers as well (the Jerry Lee and Myra Kissin' Cousins cover for example). Listening to this again, it's hard to believe these guys were even as popular as they were, this is some weird shit, every few tracks the band would throw the crowd a bone, with something full on punk, but they definitely spent most of their time trying everything but! Killer reissue, both albums, the first ep, as well as some bonus tracks, all stuff circa '85-'88, a HUGE booklet jam packed with new liner notes, track listings, tons of photos, and some awesome (and awesomely funny) illustrations.

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While we have yet to review any Indian Jewelry records on the aQ list, most of us here are pretty big fans. Their Invasive Exotics record was an awesome chunk of tripped out droniness, that probably would have been a really good fit on the aQ list. We'll have to remedy that soon. But before they were Indian Jewelry, they were called NTX + Electric, and had a pretty dramatically different sound. On We Are The Wild Beast, the soon to be Indian Jewelry sounded less like some wacked Texas free psych dronewave outfit, and more like some NYC no-wave skronk combo, complete with squawking saxophones, thick gristly synth, haunting new wave grooves, lots of electronic bleepery, but also some more modern sounds, some of the melodies sound like they could have been plucked from Interpol songs, there's definitely some garage-y stomp, some shoegazey droneouts, the core sound though is the simple clattery percussion, the huge thick slabs of buzzing synth, and the saxophone, which spends much of its time in the background, unfurling hypnotic snakecharmer grooves. Buried amidst all this skronk and skree and buzz re some fantastic pop songs, and some killer hooks, but they're usually obscured by clouds of FX, or wrapped around spiky angular riffing. The opener is a killer, a modern sounding dancefloor killer, with it's sax refrain and the blown out synth buzz, a total new wave groove that would have the girljean set frugging madly. But then there's songs like "Looking At You", a dreamy krautpop jam, with that same sax refrain from the first song resurfacing, all under thick sheets of crumbling psych guitar. The nearly 14 minute "S-O-S-O-S" begins like some sort of Spacemen 3 bliss out, but soon transforms into some off kilter Unrest style jam, insistent guitar jangle, Beatles-y croon, and simple lo-fi pop hooks, all wrapped up in loads of distortion, and more amp frying FX. It's really not that hard to hear a lot of later Indian Jewelry in the sound of NTX+Electric, but they have more of an old school electro / no-wave thing going on, which means fans of folks like Glass Candy and the like might also dig. Cool, weird, awesome stuff.

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Well, this is a first for the aQ list, at least as far as we remember. We're hitting list #469 so forgive us our senility if it's happened before, but we do believe this is the very first 7" we have made Record Of The Week! And it's not just any 7" but a double 7", one that hasn't seen the light of day since it was first released in 1981 right here in San Francisco by Subterranean Records, containing the sole recordings (five songs) of legendary all female art punk eccentrics, Inflatable Boy Clams. Long sought after by collectors of bizarre music and fetching indecent prices online, it's amazing to have this left-field punk artifact available again. Featuring Carol Detweiler and Judy Gittlesohn of local new wave heroes Pink Section (whose collected recordings were just released as well and reviewed on this list), Jo Jo Planteen and saxophonist Genevieve Boutet de Monvel of Longshoreman and Club Foot Orchestra, Inflatable Boy Clams were not so much a traditional band as they were a performance art collective, rotating instruments and vocal duties for each song. Barebones arrangements with minimal musicianship of carnival organ, saxophone, angular bass riffs and incredibly oft-kilter singing put them in a kinship with bands like Monitor, Flying Lizards, The Art Bears, and The Raincoats, and later with bands like The Double U, Thinking Fellers, and Smack Dab, but the Inflatable Boy Clams were even weirder, funnier and much more cooly deranged. The first 7" features "Skeletons", a Halloweenish children's song made by what sounds like very unhinged children, with the B-side "Snoteleks" being, you guessed it, "Skeletons" played backward making a weird surreal song even more fun-house like and disorientating. The second 7" has three songs, starting with the satirical "Marin", a sort of send-up of richness and comfort of the affluent county north of San Francisco, sung by Gittlesohn in an arch French accent. The next track, "I'm Sorry", was perhaps the Clams most well-known song, often getting airplay on Dr. Demento's radio show. A sort of cover of Walter Donaldson's 1926 hit "What Can I Say After I've Said I'm Sorry" (Donaldson gets a writing credit), a chorus of voices sing a slow refrain of the main lyrics, while Gittlesohn and Planteen trade confessional stories of mutual bad friendship to each other (stealing boyfriends - or maybe girlfriends, electrocuting pets, ruining a dress, destroying beloved cassette tapes), with very disingenuous apology. The final song on the B-side, "Boystown" is a curious martial dirge about boys going back to Boystown with their guns and knives as the gals sing with slow sinister "good-riddance" tra-la-la glee. But really, words and descriptions can't quite quantify what a bizarre, hermetic and wholly contained piece of DIY musical art from content to packaging this is. One whose mystery and unexplainable attraction would likely have been diluted had the group attempted to continue and make more recordings. That shirk of commercial success brand identity and skewering of gender politics is in turn what makes San Francisco punk stand apart and sound so fucking great right now. Thanks to Superior Viaduct for making this and the Pink Section recordings available again! Highly Recommended!

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Long, long awaited final release from this now sadly defunct Philadelphia band, who blazed their own musical trail combining emo punk rock, math-core, electronics, and no-wave...that unique formula, not to mention their kick-ass guitarist and of course their band-defining obsession with vampires, made Ink & Dagger a big AQ favorite. This self-titled album, released after many months delay, sees them incorporating more of a riffy '70s metal influence, while still retaining their moody, complex mix of weirdness. For fans of Circus Lupus, Ruin, Coalesce, Fugazi, and, let's face it, Led Zeppelin! In other words, recommended.

RealAudio clip: The Lines Of Lies
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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY.

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MPEG stream: Chainsaw Justice
MPEG stream: Execution Mania

UK DIY lo-fi avant-punk, with home-made synths and drum machine, utterly distorted guitar n' bass, and some rather clever, sardonic lyrics pertaining to both society at large and their friends in particular -- yup, it's another one from the Messthetics vaults, as it were (see our reviews of Messthetics Greatest Hits and Animals & Men on our last two lists). Lincolnshire's Instant Automatons got their start as a schoolboy band in 1974, with early influences like Hawkwind and Kraftwerk, and suitably futuristic "instruments" sourced from their school's physics lab! The punk rock revolution of '77 came along just as they left school and pretty soon they'd picked their "vaguely self-mocking" name (out of a hat) and started recording in earnest, becoming pioneers of the nascent cassette music scene -- they were one of the first to advertise that if you sent 'em a blank cassette, they'd dub their album onto it and send it back, free of charge... the pre-internet precursor to downloading it seems. They kept at it for a few years, and so here's a sort-of "best of", consisting of 26 tracks, some previously unreleased, others compiled from various rare cassette and vinyl releases circa 1978-1982, including such numbers as "Short Haired Man (In A Long Haired Town", "Violence", "New Muzak", and "Gillian Is Normal". Lots of wise-ass wisdom to be found in the words to these and other songs. The Instant Automatons surely liked to take the piss, which makes for an entertaining listen. For instance, the atonal, spaced-out track "Electronic Music", with lines like "electronic music is the curse of the working classes" and "electronic music makes you unfit" is still pretty amusing today.

MPEG stream: Worcester Ave
MPEG stream: Armchair Politics

To the list of lo-fi noise popping shit gazing garage rockers, Thee Ohsees, Mayyors, Psychedelic Horseshit, Times New Viking, Blank Dogs, Wavves, and the like, you can now add the Intelligence. We've seen some live footage of these guys on YouTube, and they kick up a pretty crazy racket, but on record, they're much more subdued and trippy, crafting dark brooding echoey gloom pop, with muted drumming, soft focus jagged guitar crunch, woozy weary vocals, everything surrounded by a haze of delay and tape hiss and amp buzz, positioning these guys closer to groups like Ariel Pink, Holy Shit, and the like, but then when you think you have 'em pegged, they kick out a surfy, groovy hand clappy jam, that sounds surprisingly like "Walking On The Sun" by Smashmouth (we know, we know, but it's true!) although somehow in their hands it sounds WAY cooler. Crunchy guitars, distorted vox, big booming drums, clanging and chiming chords, warm whirring organ, it's also the closest the Intelligence get to sounding like Thee Ohsees weirdly enough. The rest of the record is a much more twisted lo-fi jangly proposition, with many of the songs sounding like creepy sixties garage rock (Fuzztones?) or skiffle-ly reverbed soft pop, but even then, the songs sound fragmented and twisted, with circusy keyboards adding a definite haunting vibe, and some really odd, but oddly catchy hooks. Acoustic guitars, rubbery basslines, trashy practice space drums, and weary deadpan vocals, all woven into some cool, laid back garage jangle, occasionally exploding into a bit of pounding crunch chug, but usually slipping back into something more washed out and groovy. Not sure what it is, but we just can't stop listening to this. Which is pretty much the best recommendation we can give...

MPEG stream: South Bay Surfers
MPEG stream: Tower
MPEG stream: Fuck Eat Skull

The Iron Dogs are a Stratocaster-wielding power trio playing '80s inspired denim n' leather, punked out speed metal, that sorta sounds like a hybrid of Speedwolf and Slough Feg. They hail from the far northern climes of Ottawa, Canada, where it's not that hard to find husky sled dogs to pose with a naked bloody warrior woman in the snow for the cover photo of your album, apparently! That somewhat cheesy cover pic and the band's fairly generic name (they're on a label whose roster includes at least two other "Iron" bands, Iron Kobra and Iron Curtain, by the way), while piquing our curiosity, had actually kept our expectations low; little did we know that Iron Dogs would become one our our favorite new metal bands once we actually heard 'em - indeed Allan here has become a little bit obsessed, proclaiming this to be his fave metal album of the year thus far, though technically it came out in 2012, but definitely hasn't been widely distributed or reviewed. Seriously, as you can imagine, we listen to so much new music here all the time that if something winds up in actual heavy rotation, garnering repeat play, can't wait to go home and listen to that disc again and AGAIN status, it's something pretty special. Their name provides a few clues. First off, it clearly references two of their biggest influences, namely Iron Maiden and the English Dogs. With Maiden, we're talking first two albums, short haired singer Paul di'Anno era, and English Dogs, they were an '80s punk band who just happened to do a couple of amazing heavy metal albums - so yeah, think NWOBHM at its closest intersect with '77 punk. Also, "Iron Dogs" was a song from the first album by Canadian speed metal pioneers Exciter, so they're named after that too. And they live up to it all, totally back alley punk, totally fist waving metal, plus they possess their own special, undefinable X-factor that just puts this over the top. Vocalist/guitarist Jo Capitalicide is no Paul Di'Anno but his rushed, rough vocals still possess yobbish punk charm and sound both sincere and spirited, and totally works with this music, which is soooooo energetic and catchy, played with sloppy, off-the-rails abandon. The lo-fi garage production is totally PERFECT for this too. The combo of their rollicking riffs and the raw sound is just killer, Iron Dogs rockin' like excited, inspired kids. Lead off cut "Razors Of Doom" gallops into view riding a riff that's straight up Iron Maiden Paul Di'Anno era. Ooooh-yeah. Then the magnificent "Dragon Chord" appears, a song that's somehow a punk rock version of mystical Manilla Road metal. Literally fantastic. Next up, "Wrath Of The Barbarians" has got another one of those classic Maiden-ish riffs to it, it's (again) quite a stormer� but heck we could go on and on talking about each and every one of the nine tracks on here, they're all great, full of hooks and feeling, it was friggin' tough to pick which ones to make sound samples of, or maybe it was easy since we couldn't go wrong with any of 'em. Basically, THIS is metal at both its purest, and punkest. It's practically joyous. Probably not for everyone, but if you "get" this you'll really really love it. By the way, anybody who might be worried that the aforementioned cover or album title is (however quaintly) not that PC, should be comforted by this note from inside the cd: "Iron Dogs is fiercely anti-fascist! Homophobes, sexist idiots & bigots: F.O.A.D.!!" They also proudly state: "Only Fender Stratocasters were used in this recording! Total Strat-metal!" Maybe that's the X-factor?

MPEG stream: Wrath Of The Barbarian
MPEG stream: Dragon Chord
MPEG stream: Death's Driver
MPEG stream: Cold Bitch