If you're like us, you probably never heard of these Boston bashers, a short lived ultra heavy combo from Boston, with just a handful of releases, all collected here, and a sound that makes us wish we had, and one that most definitely puts most other heavy bands to shame, equal parts gnarled Black Flag dirge, mathy sci-fi Voivod-isms, and churning downtuned Swans like pummel, every track here a grim, dense slab of sonic crush, the guitars massive and thick, the riffs fucking fierce, the drums devastating, the band alternatingly locking into hypnorock grooves, or super intricate, churning mathiness, loads of buzz and feedback, total math rock / post rock / noise rock / post punk bliss.
The label describes these guys thusly: "Imagine massive slabs of discordance at earsplitting volume and a terrifyingly intense, tattooed madman working out his personal demons while wearing a too-small Sonic the Hedgehog tee shirt", which sounds pretty amazing (and had us thinking of Oxbow for some reason), and La Gritona, even minus the apparently terrifying live experience, sound pretty goddamn terrifying on record too, with plenty of Jesus Lizard-y swagger, Helmet like metallic chug, and that vocalist, mostly singing in a monstrous bellow, but seemingly constantly slipping into a crazy hysterical shriek, but not like a metal shriek, more like an inhuman high pitched squeal, weirdly haunting, and definitely disturbing, but perfectly suited to LG's pigfuck heaviness. And while they do slow it down every once in a while, those slow songs almost sound even more intense, offering up a sort of mutant blues Birthday Party style onslaught.
Every single track here rules, from tangled atonal metallic dirgery, to doomed out lurching math sludge, old school noise rock crunch to psychedelic fuzzed out harmonic drenched post punk, a sound that at the time was obviously a decade or so to early, but that to these ears would have the current crop of sludge worshippers going nuts, and if Harvey Milk can finally get the love and adoration they so deserved, a full decade late, then why the hell not these guys. And as long as we're mentioning it, Harvey Milk fanatics would do well to check these guys out too. Just sayin'...
Massive double disc, 40 track collection gathering up EVERYTHING these guys ever recorded, which includes loads of unreleased and live tracks, as well as the Steve Albini engineered full length Arrasa Con Todo, which just might be one of the most perfect slabs of skull splitting downtuned heaviness we've ever heard.
All right, this is a relief. Reviewing a freakin' kick ass real ROCK N' ROLL record. Nice to know they still can make 'em. Not that we didn't expect a healthy helping of rockin' from Lima's La Ira De Dios, whose previous album more than lived up to its title, Cosmos Kaos Destruccion (no translation needed, right?). We compared 'em to stonery stuff like Monster Magnet and Hawkwind last time 'round, but on Apus Revolution Rock they've gone even more raw and retro, punking it up '60s garage fuzzmonster style, with nods to surf music and other retro sounds, to the extent of including screaming girls (La Ira De Dios mania!?) in the mix on the blown out opening cut "Revolucion", which has a '50s meets the Stooges vibe that sounds a lot like '70s Japanese jams-kicker-outers Gedo. Good grief! What's not to like about that? And if you like to rock that is. THEY sure do, second track "No Hay Control" not letting up, in fact, cranking it up, it and ALL the dozen tracks on this album delivering nothin' but 110 percent high energy distortodelic rock action.
Need we say more? 'Cause La Ira De Dios really say it all with the slogan on the cd booklet: "Peru Psicodelia Punk". Another one they're fond of: "MAXIMUMVOLUMEROCKANDROLL!!!" If you're looking for catchy amped up anarchistic rawk with tons o' frantic fuzz, and cowbell too, for fans of The Heads, The Hives, Crushed Butler, Mudhoney, Larry Wallis era Pink Fairies, Motorhead, Boris circa Pink, fellow Peruvians / labelmates El Cuy, and other rad rockin' coolness of that ilk then La Ira De Dios have a rekkid for you!! Or if you can, imagine Los Natas on a search and destroy mission to do a Louie Louie and you're close to what La Ira De Dios is dishing out here.
So yeah, reviewing this was a blast, just turned it up and let the rock dictate these words... now the problem is turning it off and trying to put on something else we gotta review, which almost by definition will be less rockin' and thus less worthwhile. Plus somehow, in the process of reviewing this, we had a couple beers...maybe we'll just play this record one more time.
By the way, the vinyl version of this comes with a bonus 7", featuring of all things, a cover of "Shadowplay" by Joy Division (!), whereas the compact disc includes an exclusive bonus video for the track "5000 Anos".
Heck yeah, some more "Peru Psicodelia Punk" from these explosive South American garage-fuzz faves. That means it's time to ROCK, let's go! Lima's La Ira De Dios offer up another energetic dose of their can't-sit-still-listening-to-it distorted wailing grooviness on this, their fifth album. When we first heard these guys some years ago, they played spacey stoner rock, kinda like Kyuss meets Hawkwind, but their interest in freaky fuzz mongering has seemingly sent them on a path into the past, so by now it sounds like they've REALLY studied their '60s proto-punk stuff, with a concentration on Detroit. They even have backup vocals by a "girl group" of sorts, "The Borrachettes". The heavy Hawkwind-y space rock sounds are still there, though, too, along with the "Rumble" of Link Wray and some Nuggets-y jangle - and its a combo that's tough to beat, we love hearing La Ira De Dios bash it out in this style, with their gruff, sandpapery singing (some in Spanish, some in English) sounding sincerely urgent and desperate, contributing to this album's generally dark vibe.
They do take a few breaks from the rawk, allowing for some moody, melodic moments amidst the high energy mayhem, such as on the title track at the end of side A, all windswept acoustic strum and hushed downer vocals, before winding up with a jet engine blast of feedback noise, heralding a return to the uptempo rock action of "Underground" that begins side B. In some ways, this might be this trio's best or at least most multidimensional record yet, one that we'll listen to for their trademark "MAXIMUMVOLUMEROCKNROLL!!!" and much more besides.
As always, recommended! Especially to fans of very early Monster Magnet, as well as the likes of Vee Dee and DMBQ and local boys Hot Lunch. But really there's not too many modern day bands doing this sort of thing so darn well, demonstrating the true power of rock. For sure La Ira De Dios owe a lot to the greats - "Ghost City" reminds us a lot of Radio Birdman, and on "The Unrest" they channel the shake appeal of the Stooges - but nothin' wrong with that, in fact, everything is right about it, especially when you've got this cranked on 10 and wish you could turn it up even louder.
What's weird is we don't remember liking Lake Of Dracula very much back in the day, but listening to this now, it's sort of kicking our ass in a huge way. Pounding sludgy new wavish punk rock, with a serious gothy dark vibe. Sort of like Chrome playing Interpol or something. Big crunchy guitars playing doomy angular riffs, a simple garagerock thud, thick swaths of feedback, occasional squalls of psychedelic freakout, and vocals that rant and rave in a super dramatic croon. Most of this disc is take from a live radio broadcast recorded May 28th, 1997, but there are a handful of extra tracks taken from singles and compilations. This short lived combo ('95-'97) featured Flying Luttenbachers drummer extrordinaire Weasel Walter on the GUITAR, Marlon Magas from Couch and Magas on vocals, Jessica from the Jacks on bass and Heather M. from the Scissor Girls on the drumkit as well as some guest rock action from Al of U.S. Maple fame.
Shit, the more we listen to this, the more we're digging it. An ultra chaotic mix of old school industrial thud, gloomy depressive punk rock, psychedelic garage rock stomp, a hellish sort-of-rockabilly with reverbed guitars and galloping drums, gloomy doom and in-your-face no-wave freakout. Seems like it would be a big ol' mess and it sort of is, but it sounds so impossibly good. Like the Strokes with frontal lobotomies recording for Bulb, or some caveman doom band covering Franz Ferdinand after taking huge handfuls of horse tranquilizers. Getting a jump on the current crop of new wave revivalists by a decade. But their new wave was a whole lot darker, damaged and demented!
Around these parts, Rhode Island artpunk noise rock combo Landed are probably most infamous for featuring soon to be ubiquitous SF rock luminary John Dwyer (Coachwhips, OCS, Ohsees, Dig That Body Up It's Alive) among their ranks. But for those in the know, Landed is the musical repository for most of the dudes who once called Six Finger Satellite home!!! And it sounds like it.
This is almost like a noise rock dance record, with a relentless groove, thick ropy synths, squawked almost black metal vocals, the eventually transform into weird sung/spoken singing, all over a relentless bass throb and buried in tons of space-y effects. There's a definite Six Finger vibe, but a lot darker and damaged than that, but still almost sort of funky. There's even an almost-jungle breakdown at the end of side A!
The flip side begins as a spaced out ambient drift, all warbly synths and sweeping expanses of whir and buzz, eventually though those funky drums kick back in, and the record locks into a krautrocky noise groove, again bordering on totally danceable. They almost sound like a way scarier, way druggier Excepter. Once again, everything is drenched in FX and peppered with fucked up and freaked out sounds. Definitely the heaviest scariest dance record of the year. And features some killer garish cover art that would almost be more at home on a Buzz-Oven record!
The legend on the back of this split seven inch reads "Ugly Providence Boogie Rock". Well it most definitely is ugly and from Providence, but boogie rock might be stretching it a bit...
We're still grooving to that last Landed 12" that found the ever shifting outfit unleashing some alien scuzz rock dancefloor technology, but this track here is a bit of the classic Landed sound, grungy and sludgey, blown out rhythms and buzzing guitars, super thick distorted bass, the whole thing a sort of plodding dirge, but peppered with wild squalls of angular mathiness and freaked out new wave damage. Pretty awesome stuff.
The flip side is by fellow Rhode Island noise makers Snake Apartment, who do their own sludgy dirgey kind of thing. Channeling the Brainbombs through thick sheets of East coast art rock, and dipped in the black tar of classic old school Amrep noiserock, lots of stretched out guitars, strangled vocals, throbbing bass, all tangled up into swaggery Stoogesy grooves, that is surprisingly catchy.
From San Diego comes indie rock's next big thing, Last of the Juanitas. People have been talking about this band for ages. Talking about how amazing their shows are, their records are. And there's definitely something to talk about here. Noisey, sloppy, super heavy indie rock, somewhere between Don Caballero, June of 44, A Minor Forest, Shellac and The Fucking Champs. One of this new breed of indie rock bands that aren't afraid of their metal (but still too scared to just come right out and BE A FUCKING METAL BAND, but that you can discuss at length with Andee or Allan some other time).
The crazed, genre-scrambling grindcore of Germany's Le Scrawl is, as threatened, back! This new 13-song, 16-minute cdep will either bring a big smile to your face or confuse and annoy you utterly. Imagine Napalm Death teamed up with Uz Jsme Doma. That is, political punk metal all fucked up with horns and a weird sense of humor. Keyboards and flugelhorn aren't normally part of an underground grind band's arsenal, but Le Scrawl aren't normal... Metal nerds should note that this was recorded by Harris Johns, whose previous credits include numerous Sodom albums as well as Voivod, Helloween, Coroner, Tankard, Pestilence, Saint Vitus, Therion, S.A.D.O., and more. But this definitely must have been a unique session for Johns! Scrawl are one of the original wacky grind outfits, and they sure know how to mix up the gruff and the smooth. Metal riff one moment, lounge groove the next. And having just seen 'em live on a rare US tour, I have to say I was amazed at their deadpan delivery of their complex and, well, silly material. Oh yeah, if you don't like ska...well just wait 5 seconds...every five seconds.
Ignore the "Le", that's just a silly way to differentiate this Scrawl from the '90s US indie rock girl group. And they are VERY different. "Le" Scrawl is a schizoid grind band straight out of the German peace punk underground, doing the rapid-fire genre-mash thing. They belong in the same record bin with the likes of Naked City, Exit 13, People, Mexican Power Authority, Spazztic Blurr, Alboth!, Boredoms, and Anal Cunt (whose Seth Putnam guests vocalizes on one song here). If you're thinking that's a very '90s list of mostly avantgarde/novelty grind bands well, yes, this Scrawl stuff was recorded between 1990-1999. And we'd all but forgotten this band until the excellent Oakland label Life Is Abuse (purveyors of metallic weirdness like Tarantula Hawk and Ludicra) took it upon themselves to put together this cd, the complete Scrawl discography on one disc, essentially a deluxe, expanded version of Scrawl's "Q" album originally issued in 1995 by Germany's Ecocentric Records. Expanded in that you get the original disc's 24 tracks plus *another* 42 songs (!!) including their self-titled 1993 album, live stuff, singles, demos, and incongrous covers (De La Soul, The Exploited, Terrorizer, Chic, and the Mission Impossible theme!).
Their humorous, herky-jerky musical juxtapositions plus their totally grim punk political lyrix (that you can't understand anyway 'cause they're all gruff and screamy) equals weird, radical, action-oriented artcore. Imagine the quirky European chamber prog of a group like Etron Fou Leloublan colliding with the 20-second blast beat grindcore of a Napalm Death, or Mr. Bungle gone crusty punk, or, when the horn section kicks in, some sort of ADD Fishbone/Uz Jsme Doma hybrid playing in the midst of a Drop Dead practice session. The booklet -- chock full of photos, flyers, and discographical information -- has a 2002 note from main man Mario Anders, promising some new (Le) Scrawl material coming soon! Yikes!
A band that continues to haunt us from the grave, it's the defunct SoCal art-spazz-punk assembly known as Le Shok. The very special feature of this record? Why they've pressed an additional track right onto the sleeve - a cover of the Chosen Few's "No Fun at the Beaches". The record itself contains two suitably hyper-garage-wave short spurts from the days when Le Shok were a
Maybe you had some great bands in your town years ago that were amazing but never really did anything beyond playing parties and maybe making some practice tapes, and no one from anywhere were else ever heard 'em and now they're but (drunken?) memories. I can think of a few from where I'm from, and AQ-pal Glenn Donaldson remembers some too -- one of his faves being Leaf Yard, an outfit from the underbelly of the early '90s Santa Cruz scene who made some bizarre heavy artistic fucked up rock music indeed. Glenn is one of the guys who runs the Jewelled Antler cd-r label (he's a member of Thuja, Blithe Sons, Franciscan Hobbies, The Birdtree, etc.) and Pink Skulls is his newly-formed side label for more "punk" oriented material. Part of the reason he decided to start this new imprint, though, was 'cause he became convinced that Leaf Yard's legacy needed to be rescued from oblivion, and while Pink Skulls is still a pretty obscure entity, and this is a limited run of cd-rs, we'll do our part to help him promote this document of lost Santa Cruz rock weirdness circa 1990-1995.
The stuff on this 52-minute, 18-track cd-r is drawn from Leaf Yard's live recordings and demo tapes -- of course they never released a "real" album -- and the sound can be kinda rough, but that totally doesn't detract from Leaf Yard's music 'cause what they were about was ugly, raw, noisy skronk anyway. If they were around today, they'd probably get lumped in with the current scene of art-damaged punk like Black Dice and the Lowdown, or especially, AQ faves Comets On Fire. Some of this sounds a lot like Comets On Fire (hey aren't they Santa Cruz guys too?). There's a big chaotic psychedelic element, some of this even approaches the intensity/density of Japanese garage-psych feedback overlords Fushitsusha, almost. But then there's lotsa other things going on as well: you'll hear a definite SST influence (Minutemen, Gone, Saccarhine Trust), it's sorta unhinged post-punk hardcore psych. And then there also seems to be a strange, hidden inspiration taken from death metal, with some double kick drumming and evil atmosphere. The distorted-to-hell vocals are punk, ugly, the kind your mom won't like. (They sound kinda French, weirdly enough.) Not bad for some Santa Cruz college kids, eh? This is definitely just as worthy as lots of the "legendary" name-bands that get fancy reissues folks drool over. You can really hear what it was about Leaf Yard that made such an impression on Glenn, if you share certain sensibilities that is. So we're really happy that he, working with the surviving ex-members of the band (drummer Ryan Craiker unfortunately has passed away), compiled this material on disc and packaged it in a plastic sleeve with a stapled, xerox booklet full of photos, lyrics, flyers, and, best of all, pictures of Leaf Yard's cassette tape releases, making for a superb archival release of unknown twisted scuzz for twisted scuzz fans! Limited to 50 copies, fyi.
Debut tape from this Colorado crew, headed up by aQ pal Mike, who runs the Sleeping Giant Glossolalia label (responsible for recent lps from Vaz, Bobb Bruno and Shit & Shine) and who also plays in aQ faves Eptileptinomicon. But where Eptileptinomicon was a weirdly rhythmic experimental noise outfit, who trafficked in murky ritualism and kraut-drone soundscaping, Leather Sky is a much more fierce and feral proposition, an ugly, unhinged, hardcore, that owes more to groups like Black Flag, Infest, Void and the like. Neglected Prayer Rug Abomination is a short sharp series of sonic violations, misanthropic musical fury channeled into brief blurry blasts, the guitars angular, the drums tribal one second, a caveman pound the next, the bass a blurred low end ooze, the vocals a howled caterwaul, all but buried in the murk and mire, the sound here super lo-fi, but still dense and heavy and MEAN, recorded in some grim grey bunker, the production perfectly suiting the sound, that sound a pounding, filthy, crusty, chaotic, angular crush like like some unholy union between eighties DC hardcore and nineties Gravity Records post punk. Fuck yeah.
If you've had trouble tracking down the latest record from Swedish dirge-jazz sludge punks Brainbombs, or just wish there were more bands who shared that aesthetic, well, your wish just came true. LA duo Leather Slave sound so much like Brainbombs, it would be criminal if we didn't love that sound so much. The band lock into loping, lumbering doom-sludge-punk anti-grooves, the guitar blown out and super distorted, a single riff, grinding away, over a simple caveman beat, the vocals distorted, and sung-spoken, and again, a dead ringer for the Brainbombs, with lyrics about cutting off your fingers and then making you try on gloves, or lots of 'stabbing's, so much so that it almost sounds like these guys are taking the piss, especially when the word 'stab' is repeated, and then sort of dubbed out (or the word 'hell' on another track). But then there's something patently absurd about stuff like this anyway, which again, is probably why we dig it so much. Every track here essential a single riff, a single rhythm, with a second guitar adding some psychedelic counterpoint, very subtle though, almost like Neanderthal leads way down in the mix, the whole thing mesmerizing and menacing, like a filthy, crusty, dirgey, serial killing version of Finnish hypno-rockers Circle. Which is probably the highest recommendation we can give.
And disregard the label marking the record as 33 1/3 rpm, unless you want it REALLY sludgy, the vocals an almost death metal gurgle, while we dig that version of Leather Slave too, 45 rpm is the speed for maximum Brain-bombing. Ridiculous over the top cover art and full color insert too.
Remember back when Metallica didn't suck? In fact, they sort of ruled. Kill Em All, Ride The Lightning, Master Of Puppets, And Justice For All. All untouchable. STILL. And remember how they would pull out these obscure covers (at least to some of us), songs by Diamond Head and Blitzkrieg, that somehow sounded LIKE Metallica, but even better. Well Portland heavies Lebanon sound a lot like that. The whole Metallica-covering-classic-NWOBHM sound. Thrashing and heavy, but totally catchy and melodic, think Angel Witch, Diamond Head, Witchfinder General, Motorhead, Venom, but supercharged and modernized, hence the Metallica-covers thing. Born of crusty d-beaters From Ashes Rise (sonic compatriots of PDX outfits Tragedy, Warcry, etc.), Lebanon are all big riffs, and killer leads, throat shredding (but still melodic) vox, lots of pick slides and classic metal sounding licks, a little bit punkish, but more traditional eighties metal, and surprisingly good. So much so that these songs could very well be mistaken for actual jams from back in the day. Tall praise, but holy shit, we just can't stop listening to this. We need a full length SOON.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Putain de merde!! '70s French noisy garage punk rock insanity here, courtesy of France's Born Bad label who know their shit (they brought us some early '60s French rock insanity not too long ago from Les Blousons Noirs, remember). We've been wanting to review this for a while too, finally got a few imports in on both cd and vinyl. It's an offical compilation of most what remains of the recorded legacy of these cult '77 era punks, named after psychiatrist and drug addiction treatment specialist Claude Olivenstein. They were worthy contemporaries of the great Metal Urbain, sounding totally killed by death. The 13 tracks here range from their killer singles to even rawer and wigger demos to live material, some of it previously unissued, rescued from dusty old cassette tapes and so forth. Like their countrymen and early '70s forefathers Rotomagus, they never made a full-length album - or rather, this is it, 30+ years later!
Savage, slashing stuff, the vocals en francias delivered with a snotty sneer, the rhythms chugging and cooking like rock 'n' roll should, guitar jangle mixing it up with some wild lashings of noisy fuzz and distortion. Crazy. Like certain other obscure '70s French faves we can think of (Angelface, Soggy) there's plenty of Stooges-y shake appeal here. Also, if Metal Urbain was in fact the French answer to the Sex Pistols, these guys were ready to back 'em up in a pinch. They also have a cute little doo-wop thing going too with the ironically sunshiney "La Nuit Tragique", while the groovy twang of "Olivenstein Je T'ai Dans Les Veines" (performed here live) reminds us of both Radio Birdman and The Stranglers. Oui oui, recommended! (Compact disc version comes enhanced with a QuickTime video of Les Olivensteins performing "Euthanasie" on TV.)
We were never really all that into Crass. And we have no idea who the heck Jeffrey Lewis is, but shit, this record has totally kicked our asses. Okay, ass kicking might be a little off, considering what a playful, fun, and goofy record this is. And not goofy in a bad way, just goofy in that way that old pop record are, those super naive early K records singles, old They Might Be Giants. You know, clever and cheeky, almost like children's music. In fact this record might be just the thing to get your toddler started early in their nascent desires for anarchy and their just waiting to blossom urge to smash the state. And it won't hurt teaching them some profanities either, maybe baby's first words will be "Fuck off!"
The arrangements are sing songy, strings, piano, simple acoustic guitar, the sing songy aspect is probably due to having to cram so many words in such little spaces. Minus the lyrics, this might be some gorgeous twee bliss pop disc, bits of folk, tinkling piano, moaning strings, stretches of drone, some subtle twang, all woven into a lilting playful pop. The darker songs almost sound like Magnetic Fields, all brooding melancholy misery and muted pop jangle. But it's the lyrics hat make the record, that turn these playful pop songs into off kilter punk rock, indie folk, protest songs. Lewis has a super laid back sung/spoken delivery, that suits the songs and lyrics perfectly. He's also joined by some awesome female vocalists, who sing a handful of the songs, but mostly join in for the choruses, like on "I Ain't Thick, It's Just A Trick", the hook delivered in a strange boy/girl harmony that sticks in your head like crazy.
Some of the tracks sound a bit beatnicky, with bongos, and tongue twisting political manifestos, lots of this sounds like it could be some weird NYC band from back in the nineties with a record or two on Shimmy Disc, a sort of off kilter, fractured anti-folk, some are extra goofy, a couple are intense and dark. But light or dark, goofy or earnest, the lyrics transform each song into something almost sinister, something subtly powerful, the lyrics having to carry much of the anger and bitterness, since in Crass, the music was as vitriolic as the words, and here for the most part, the music is anything but. The result, while still patently poppy and folky, is much more thought provoking and subtly challenging than most pop music.
Huge Crass fans might be distraught at these reinterpretations, but Anarcho dabblers might just dig, and folks into weird pop, and weird folk, who like their tunes with a little weight-of-the-world behind them, should definitely give this a try.
Awesome packaging, a colorful coloring book sleeve, with two die cuts, revealing an inner sleeve decorated with various images which show through the die cuts depending on which way the sleeve is oriented. Also includes a massive comic book rendering of how this record came to be on one side, while on the other, a comic revealing just what those images showing through the cover mean.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
There was a rumor about this group a couple of years ago that went something like this: a small town parade is terrorized by a gang of punks dressed in bunny outfits, they hijack a float and frighten away confused and innocent little children. Word of this gets around and a show is booked at Berkeley's Gilman Street. Our jackass heroes show up with a bunch of stinkbombs, a riot breaks
Well all right! One of the most highly-anticipated releases of the past few years is finally on the shelves at AQ. Kleenex were a Swiss punk band who released one record in 1978 and were soon thereafter forced to change their name to LiLiPUT, the moniker they used for the next four years until they disbanded in 1983. For the five years of their existence, Kleenex / LiLiPUT amassed an astonishingly cohesive (considering they went through three vocalists) body of work that was championed by everyone from John Peel to Rough Trade Records, who were their label for a while. Since their demise, the legend of LiLiPUT has only grown larger and larger. At one point a brief 1993 cd reissue of their work was reportedly going on eBay for over $300! The riot grrl scene, among other punk movements, has been inpsired by and today rightfully acknowledges and champions the influence of Kleenex/LiLiPUT (heads up, fans of Le Tigre, this will kick your ass and you'll thank them and ask for more). Somehow it seems appropriate that stalwart indie-punk label Kill Rock Stars should be releasing this double cd, which contains the entirety of the band's recorded output.
But what do they sound like? Well, no fan of the Slits, Raincoats, or X-Ray Spex should be without this record for a moment longer. Yeah, it's got that much unbelievable energy, choppy melodies, and three-chord majesty... and the band was similarly female fronted (one guy was only briefly a member). The two constants in the band -- the two people who were present throughout all the incarnations of Kleenex/LiLiPUT -- were guitarist Marlene Marder and bassist Klaudia Schiff, so there's driving, relentless, yet thoughtful basslines, coupled with slash 'n burn, jumpy guitar terrorism that at times recalls the band's contemporaries in the scene, like Gang of Four, Joy Division, and Wire. The vocalists ferociously crowed and cackled mostly in sing song English, making for funny and evocative lyrics. Violin and skronkin' saxophone were occasionally used as embellishment to their already full, solid sound. Every song is unique, approachable... every song is good. Kleenex/LiLiPUT's time has come again.
We LOVE Liquorball. Distorted, drugged out, off kilter, noisy, space-y, dirgey, seriously fucked up and freaked out sludgey garage rock genius. Someone needs to do a cd reissue of all the old out of print lps (there have been rumors, tUMULt? Holy Mountain?), but these guys keep plugging away, this latest vinyl-only sonic behemoth finds the newly expanded Liquorball mixing it up with legendary saxophonist Steve Mackay (Stooges' Funhouse!) as well as another horn player and a viola player. Definitely sounds intriguing. And the horns definitely add a strange vibe to the proceedings, but we're not so sure it's for the better.
Where the sound of LB of old was transcendent, fucked up and blown out in a way that was difficult to understand, and hell, why even bother, all we knew was it sounded insane and amazing, the sound on this new record is weirdly tame, partially the horns, but also the recording, lo-fi for sure, but not as scuzzy and BURNT sounding as old recordings, they sound more like a bar band (which granted, they sort of always were, albeit a seriously demented and damaged bar band), the sort of band you might stumble across on a regular Saturday night, in a regular bar. A bit subdued, still space-y and a bit freaky, but not nearly as far out. The B-side though does get a little wilder, the effects nearly taking over, finally melting into an oozing sprawl of lysergic sonic weirdness, easy to get gloriously lost in, until the last couple minutes, where the band slip back into a sort of woozy, last call blues jam, which has us thinking that maybe they're taking the piss, since seconds earlier they were soaring through scorched landscapes of psychedelic space guitar freakery.
It might be that we're a little hard on this record, it's only cuz the other records kicked out asses so utterly and completely, that said, this is still a cool record, and the majority of side 2 should definitely hit the spot for folks looking for some spaced out psychedelia, but it's no Fucks The Sky, but then that was probably too much to hope for. By the way, Julian Cope just picked this as his Record Of The Month, so that's somethin'!
Finally on cd (the 7" got a headstart earlier this year) and with bonus tracks to boot! This ep also includes their songs from the puddle-shaped split 7" they did with Arab On Radar. If you're familiar with this San Diego quartet, you already know that their
A reissue... well, sorta. Two of these early songs from San Diego sonic assault circus The Locust (along with the peculiar 'nose removal' cover art) were formerly available on a split 5" vinyl picture disc with their pals Jenny Piccolo. It was released on Justin Locust's label Three.One.G. back in 1999. The pair o' eardrum blisters now re-emerge with one more song on an odd little roundish square cdep (those boys love their novelty shaped records and cds, don't they?!). Total running time of these three songs? Just over three minutes!
A mysterious release from the Seattle-based fanclub of San Diego sonic assault team The Locust. This lathe-cut 7" is one side sight (a screen-print of The Locust's one-winged logo), and one side sound (six uncharacteristically spartan, yet suitably
Holy shit... New Erections indeed! While in the past The Locust have been frequently typecast as just another obnoxious, bratty, fuck-you band of perpetual malcontents, they've grown to be one of the most tight, virulent units around. This album's first track alone ("Aotkpta") turns the hardcore and metal contingents on their collective ear. Old Locust fans fear not, there's still plenty of splatter and thunder, but there's also a fierce precision that sets them apart from the pack. If there was any question, New Erections confirms that the band's four members have got chops to spare. Unlike many of their contemporaries who equate the punk rock ethos with rushed and raw sloppiness, The Locust slice through your ear cartilage with speed and exacting mathematics, leaving them a bloody heap of complex tatters. Exceptional musicianship at every turn coupled with their consistently concentrated tenacious count-that-shit! fury, not to mention Joey Karam's obvious thorough knowledge of analog synthesis makes for a huge, awesome sounding end result. With regards to the latter, Karam's synthesizers are all analog which means each gnarly sound (of which there are many!) needed to be individually dialed in, honed and crafted. Furthermore, it's not an overstatement to say that at this point Gabe Serbian can go toe to toe with any of today's top drummers. Another new development that was immediately noticeable was that their multi-part vocals have been pitched down from their trademark screech-bark making the nihilistic lyrics somewhat more decipherable.
Still as short-winded as ever, The Locust are the lean mean masters of succinctness, executing all of the above in less than twenty four minutes. Fucking great!
Who would have thought that The Locust and Tom Waits would ever be on the same label? And that that label would be run by the guy from Bad Religion? Certainly not me. But it's true. San Diego's The Locust (the 'the' is mandatory) find their new home on Anti, part of the mighty punk rock label Epitaph, and have thankfully made the always daunting major label leap with their stupid/funny song titles, camoflage bug-boy costumes, and grinding new wave hyperblast pummel intact. Twenty three songs, averaging about 55 seconds each, all with song titles like "Identity Exchange Program Rectum Return Policy", "Earwax Halo Manufactured For The Champion In All Of Us", and "Late For A Double Date With A Pile Of Atoms In The Water Closet." The Locust are a crushing grindcore juggernaut, that somehow ended up with new wave keyboards, that bloop and bleep and fart over everything, turning what could have been run of the mill grind into a wild circus-y funhouse of splattery blast beats, riffs that slither from metal to no wave and back again in the span of seconds, and rumbling, fuzzed out synths that make the whole thing sound like Adult or Fischerspooner having the shit beat out of them by Agoraphobic Nosebleed. If only!!
Not to be confused with The Locust's self-titled 3"cd *album* from 1999, this self-titled 3"cd is classified as an EP... it only has eleven songs after all! It was originally released back in 1997 on 7" vinyl. So all of you that missed out the first time around, and all of you who are new to the spasmodic surging splendor and analog assault of this fierce San Diego foursome (perhaps via their considerably more widely available Plague Soundscapes album on Anti Records), strap your tourniquet around this baby!
Finally on cd! Originally released as a double 12": one record containing less than a minute's worth of the trademark sonic pummelling by San Diego's The Locust plus an ultra stunning etched b-side, and the other record filled with the same song getting all remixed and electronically fucked up by a variety of their friends, from Christoph De Babalon (a 109-second carnivorous nightmare) to Kid 606 (much more Kid than Locust) to Bastard Noise (a truncated 47-second splatter) to I Am Spoonbender (abducting us on an epic 6-minute Locust adventure), and others. The only disappointment with this cd version would have to be the packaging. Let's face it, visually the military green camo cd is no match for the twin toxic lime, etched vinyl attack, but if you need some good morning music...so much better than an alarm clock.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We stocked up on this one, but it'll probably still go real fast 'cause, well, the word for fans of either band is "rabid". You know what I'm talking about if you're one of 'em. And it's on colored vinyl, a nice marbled orange color. The music? Extreme hardcore. 5 songs from San Diego screamo kids The Locust and 2 from Japanese spazzers Melt Banana. With disturbing cover art from Born Against's Sam McPheeters.
Yes, you read that correctly. The title for this two cd set is 1991-1988! Munster Records and Los Bichos are taking a few liberties with chronology and wanna take you back in time. And what a wild ride it is!
We have to admit that we're totally new to this long-lost, mysterious punk band from Spain, but we gather from this release that they clearly had a strange swagger all their own. Hmmm, kind of Birthday Party meets Os Mutantes?! Sure wish we'd witnessed them back in the day. If you happen to be familiar with them, you might find yourself jumpin' for joy at the thought of hearing tunes from not only their albums Bitter Pink, My Deaf Pink Love and Color Hits, but also a heap of previously unreleased material. Thirty six tracks total packaged in a hardcover book-style package. Included is a 76-page book filled with tons of historic notes and photos.
We've are so psyched on this comp, a 'greatest hits' collection of sorts from the late Jay Reatard's pre-solo, post Reatards, garage-rock synth-punk group, Lost Sounds, a band legendary for their insane live shows, whose sound was a supercharged mix of power pop jangle, garage rock crunch and post punk synthbuzz, the songs frantic and frenzied, sweat soaked, bruised and bloodied, even recorded, these songs exude the sort of energy that few bands can muster, even live. Dueling boy/girl vocals over wild chaotic drumming, with some seriously killer songs, which definitely foreshadow Reatard's eventual shift to full on pop, but that pop element here is wreathed in ominous buzz and crusty garage rock creep, the sound is alternatingly wild and loose, brooding and tense, often both at the same time, and while they were definitely loved back in the day, had this band been around today, they would rule the scene for sure, this is the sort of supercharged garage rock synth pretty much every band is shooting for these days, but even the best of them can barely touch the magical mystery of these blown out blasts wild and wooly garage punk bliss. Imagine Blasted Canyons meets Black Bug meets the Fuzztones, and you're getting close, sorta the perfect mix of Reatard's early feral punk rock leanings, and his later power pop proclivities, but the synth really changes everything, transforming already super catchy kick ass garage rock into something almost next level.
We were secretly hoping this would in fact be some sort of complete collection, with everything these guys (and gal) every recorded, but it's still pretty bad ass, a compilation of Lost Sounds' finest moments as chosen by the surviving members of the band. Should definitely inspire you to track down the rest of their records. Pretty much every thing they've released RULES. And anyone who dug Blasted Canyons (last list's Record Of The Week), should definitely check this out.
Killer compilation of unreleased jams, alternate takes and old demos from this garage rock synth punk combo, which was fronted by the late Jay Reatard, and unlike Reatard's solo records, Lost Sounds were a much more intense / aggro proposition, infamous for insane / energetic live shows, Lost Sounds' sound was heavy, and gothy, punky and catchy as fuck, with pounding drums, buzzing synths, chugging guitars, and Reatard's yowled vox. We described Lost Sounds in the past as sounding like Blasted Canyons crossed with Black Bug crossed with the Fuzztones, and that definitely still applies here. Rough and raw, and lo-fi, the sound here is all over the map, and while fans of The Oh Sees, and Ty Segall, and yeah Blasted Canyons, will no doubt dig this stuff, newbies might be better served picking up the recent comp on Fat Possum, Blaq Static, but to be honest, this collection's chaotic all-over-the-place-ness is exactly what makes it such an engaging listen. The opener definitely sounds like the Lost Sounds we know and love, dirgey and dark, synth heavy and hooky, but then there are tracks like "Black Coats / Whitefear", which is essentially acoustic, super stripped down, but somehow seriously fierce, the vocals snarled and swaggery over a minimal backdrop, a sort of Young Pioneers style garage folk punk, then there's the near power pop of "I Cannot Lie", with its fuzzy synth warble, jangly guitar, and whiney keening vox. And that's just the opening salvo, from there on out, the sound flits from raw garage punk, to fuzzy jangle pop, to super melodic drum machine driven crunch, to rad sci-fi synthwave, to blissed out shoegaze, and pretty much every possible combination/permutation, with plenty of short sharp bursts of weird sonic experiments, and sound fragments. And it's weird, the more we listen to this, the better it gets, and while it probably will never be as good as any of the Lost Sounds records proper, it's coming pretty goddamn close!
A little while back, we listed issue #2 of one of our favorite comics, starring the big, hairy, doll making, lovestruck punk rock behemoth better known as Wuvable Oaf! But now for a very limited time, we got a handful of copies of the super limited special edition version of Wuvable Oaf #2. And we're the only store that's got em. So what's so exciting about the special edition you ask? More on that in a second, first a bit about the Oaf...
We've been champions of Luce's crazy creation since the moment we first laid eyes on Oaf and his equally hirsute cadre of pals and lovers and hangers on. Not to mention the kitties! For those new to the Oaf, in a city, suspiciously like San Francisco, lives the Wuvable Oaf, who spends his days making cool little stuffed dollies, filling them with his shaved body hair, living in a house full of kitties, and pining after Eiffel, the diminutive lead singer of the band Ejaculoid, who are constantly battling their arch rival band, Sphincterine, and that's just scratching the surface. There's lots of unrequited love, nightmarish dream monsters, wild punk rock gigs, nightmare dates, aggro-massage, jilted evil ex-boyfriend chefs, blind dates, bands with names like Muff 'N' Top Grrrlz and Wasp Women, a broKENCYDE shirt pops up during a show, so do the bad guys from Superman 2, as does our very own Andee! It's definitely a wild ride, the art is amazing, super detailed, over the top, there's so much hair everywhere, on the big beefy dudes, on the kitties, it's no wonder why it takes Luce ages to finish each issue, but it's well worth the wait, funny, and fun, and sexy and silly, now we're dying for issue 3, especially after the back page teaser, a big hairy, horned, devil tailed man-beast with the legend "Who is Gote Blud?". Well?? WHO IS IT??????????????
So okay, the special edition, what's so great about it? Well howsabout a custom glow in the dark cover, each one signed and hand numbered by the artist? Or what about a set of custom Ejaculoid picks, affixed to a special printed insert? Okay, well if that ain't enough, the special edition comes with a bonus 7" SINGLE, one sided, featuring Ejaculoid's synth punk grind jam "Fearce" on one side (and just so you know, the musical Ejaculoid is made up of members of Limp Wrist, Los Crudos and Needles!), the flipside featuring an awesomely gory etching, that goes along with the super gory eviscerated super model record cover, and it includes a torn ticket stub with info on where you can download a digital version of "Fearce"! All in a plastic bag sealed shut with a kitty sticker (of course). Only 200 in existence, and we're the only store, comic, record or otherwise that has 'em!
If you're already a fan of Lungfish, you're familiar with their style of song-craft: each track is sort of like one super heavy, distorted riff that's explored and repeated through propulsive, psychedelic rhythms. This formula is still in practice on Feral Hymns, their 11th (!) album, though they've reached a definite "moment"... Dare I gush, but to listen to this album is to be FULLY immersed in the depths of Lungfish.
This is their first album (since their very first) to be recorded outside of the Discord-related studio, Inner Ear. And we definitely think it was a good move!! Not only does it sound great for being engineered by Tim Green at his San Francisco-based Louder Studio, but the temporary homelessness of the band during this process gave their collective creative mind the ability to breathe, to see their songs from inside and out and to fully sculpt the album as a whole and turn it into a very tangible, albeit visceral, expression.
The Balitmore foursome completely deconstruct each song/"riff" down to its essential elements. Following this, they gracefully rebuild, creating impressively engaging, hypnotic tracks that share an incredibly powerful depth. Dan Higgs' rich, throaty vocals proudly wade through these tracks with a force we all know and love but that force is especially intense, often riled up into an enigmatic, abstracted fury.
Although we thought Love Is Love was their heaviest album at its release, Feral Hymns weighs in far heavier, not really in the quantity of its sound but quality of it. This is an album that is so pared down to its most essential and amazing elements that repeated listenings keep rewarding in different ways every time.
Now, Andee really loves their record Necrophones, and Love Is Love (their last) had some definite great moments, including the addictive opening title track, but on Feral Hymns, the thorough exploration into the 'guts' of each song and the album overall, and the slow and meticulously elegant sonic sculpting of the band as a whole, works so so well it totally blows us away. Amazing!!
This new release on Ektro, the debut from Lusiferiini Armosta (which means just what exactly??? we forgot to ask, though it sounds like something to do with Lucifer, doesn't it?) is yet another remarkable side project of the already quite prolific Finnish band Circle, featuring featuring Circle leader/bassist Jussi Lehtisalo (here playing guitar and singing) along with a rhythm section comprised of Circle's sound engineer Tuomas Laurila on drums, and Eetu Henttonen on bass. Well as you know we're really into Circle and all the various Circle related bands as well, so the more the merrier we say. And, unlike many recent Circle side projects, such as the Steel Mammoth highlighted last list, this ISN'T another entry in their own burgeoning "NWOFHM" movement (though you might guess otherwise from the t-shirts the trio are wearing in the cd booklet photos: Anvil, Motorhead, and Pharaoh Overlord). Nope, though it's plenty heavy and rockin', this isn't any sort of metal, instead Lusiferiini Armosta are a band inspired by '80s and '90s noise rock and punk, with influences ranging from Flipper to Scratch Acid to Drunks With Guns to the Strangulated Beatoffs to obscure Finnish bands we've never heard of before. They also cite both Pissed Jeans and Polvo, and we can hear those, as well.
The band describe themselves as having "one foot on the throbbing jugular of distorted Finnish rock, the other in the tumble dryer of the noise scene of 1980's New York", that works too. The vocals are all in Finnish (with lyrics printed in the cd booklet we can only puzzle over) and sometimes soar in that monkish chant way that Circle like to do, especially in their earlier days. The first track here, for instance, reminds us of older Circle (circa Meronia) mixed with the more angular attack of something like Lubricated Goat, perhaps. The nine cuts here are all pretty darn catchy, Jussi's singing deep and melodic (when not harsh and guttural), alongside chiming and choppy guitar riffs, poppy but powerful, the whole record heavily infused with feedback whine and chaotic psychedelic guitar soloing, the songs often building into noisy, shoegazing blowouts. We could draw comparisons to both Japan's White Heaven and New York's Television.
Imagine if Circle had somehow moved to NYC, in the '80s, jamming with Sonic Youth, hanging with Unsane, maybe eventually putting out records on AmRep or SST. That's Lusiferiini Armosta. Pretty f'n cool! Jussi & Co. never cease to amaze...
Finally a long overdue, and totally necessary reissue of the first album from quintessential art-punk outfit Magazine. Howard Devoto founded the band in 1977, after parting ways with the Buzzcocks. Less than a year after the Sex Pistols exploded onto the world stage, Devoto recognized the problematic cliches of punk and sought to remedy the trad-rock banalities and the limitations of just being able to play a couple of chords. Real Life applies the energy of the punk rock that's full of piss and vinegar to the glammy dynamics of early Roxy Music and David Bowie. Surrounding Devoto were bassist Barry Adamson (later one of Nick Cave's Bad Seeds and accomplished solo artist in his own right) and John McGeoch (one of the longer serving guitarists for Siouxsie & The Banshees). The opening track "Definitive Gaze" defines what it means to be angular, with its catchy if choppy basslines, spryly jittery snare fills, and sci-fi synth leads punctuated by sneered vocals from Devoto. This track along with the two singles off the album - "Shot By Both Sides" and "The Light Pours Out Of Me" - mark three of the high water marks of what could be defined as post-punk. The album as a whole jerks itself between restless arm-flailing mania, tempestuous emotional outbursts, and melodic croons whose ghosts would eventually haunt the likes of Radiohead, Kaiser Chiefs, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs many many years later...
All right, before we go naming the debut album from San Francisco's The Makes Nice the #1 Pop Album Of The Summer Even Though It's Barely February Already, full disclosure: we do happen to know these guys. An especially good friend of ours is guitarist/vocalist Josh Smith, whom you too probably know from some other bands of his in the past -- he used to play lead guitar in the The Fucking Champs, and also was integral to the legendary SF black metal band Weakling! So after Josh quit the Champs a few years ago, you can imagine our reaction when, eventually, he told us that his next band project was gonna be a power pop, power trio -- with him singing as well as playing guitar! That's pretty far from the instrumental metal of The Champs, or the epic evil of Weakling, eh?? But damn if he didn't pull it off!
Teamed up with Aaron Burnham (of The Mothballs) on bass and vocals, and Jack Matthew (of Harold Ray Live In Concert) on drums, Josh's new band has not only only blown us away with their live shows but now present their killer debut album, the cryptically-titled Candy Wrapper And Twelve Other Songs. The thirteen tracks here run about 31 and a half minutes -- most of 'em not even hitting the 2 minute mark. But each is crammed with so much blazing pop energy in the vein of freakbeat, psych-pop heroes of yesteryear who populate compilations like the Nuggets 2 box set (they'll tell you themselves) that it's got enough head-nodding, foot-tapping hooks for an album twice its length, and could power a full on ballroom blitz to boot.
Hopping on a White Striped bandwagon? No, not at all. What sets The Makes Nice apart from a lot of the current crop of garage rock outfits is their emphasis on Beach Boys/Beatles styled vocal harmonies and sheer songcraft. Yeah, most of these songs are totally raw and rockin' and full of high energy sonics, but also carefully arranged with vocal sweetness that would do Brian Wilson proud. Furthermore, the album is woven throughout with memorable guitar solos. Peeling off licks with tasteful abandon and doses of thick fuzz, Josh's virtuosic playing really gives The Makes Nice their unique signature and vitality. Fucking Champs fans who pick this up just 'cause Josh is on it won't find any metal, but they will hear plenty o' great guitar playing -- and in fact, Josh really lets loose with more soloing here than he ever did in the Champs! So rad guitar + sweet harmonies + utter catchiness = why The Makes Nice totally rule, basically.
And they didn't got to all that work with the vocals without giving some thought to the lyrics as well, so this thing has just got about all the angles covered, top of the pops as far as we're concerned. Definitely this disc should have a lot of appeal to fans of sixties Brits like The Who, Pretty Things, Creation, and Tomorrow up through '70s, '80s, and '90s North American acts like The Raspberries, Cheap Trick, Redd Kross and Sloan! Seriously, the toughest thing about writing this is that we still have to write a bunch of other reviews before this week's New Arrivals list goes out, but from working on this, we've got pretty much this entire record stuck in our heads right now -- and we don't want to make it stop!
Sprawling double disc of self described 'other planetary field drone' from this mysterious Aussie duo featuring members of doomsludge heavies Whitehorse, avant noisemakers Bone Sheriff, and grey metallers Krystoffkrvstoffiston, one disc of collected tracks (hence the title), the other disc a 'collaborative' collage put together by Malakat, and made up entirely of an unreleased collaboration between the now defunct Grey Daturas and the also now defunct Yellow Swans, but more on that in a second.
The collected tracks disc, gathers up various jams from the last few years, all of them hushed and minimal and mysterious, strange dronescapes of abstract ambience and microscopic events, field recordings and performances, long stretches of creak and whir and thrum and rumble, laced with mysterious voices, fragments of melodies, a sound somewhere between the free forest clatter of Avarus, the ritualistic black abstraction of Abruptum and the free sonic exploration of A Handful Of Dust.
Long streaks of feedback, overloaded mics, monstrous howls, low end crumble, whirring layers of glitch and hum, washed out hazy shimmer laid over murky sonar mumbles and muted clatter and clank, doomy crumbling rhythms pulled apart into sprawling industrial blurs, all smeared into creepy hushed black ambient drifts, and groaning, creaking, whispery abstract free noise minimalism.
The second disc, finds Malakat assembling somewhat similar sounds, but using only a recording of the Yellow Swans and Grey Daturas from 2006 as source material, and according to the liner notes: "pots, pipes, a clay skull and a wooden tube". And it sort of sounds like it. Sort of. Ultra minimal, abstract and ambient, stretches of what sound like alien field recordings give way huge heaving swells of crumbling buzz, squalls of roiling blacknoize splinter into full on drum freakouts and blurred drone jams, deep cavernous rumbles explode into jagged shards of hissing static and beastly vocal mewling, gorgeous blown out swells of chordal whir dissipate into chiming metal-buzz minimalism, these lengthy bursts of sonic energy, which actually don't sound all that messed with, more like they're just straight up recordings of GD and YS rocking out,, but those blowouts are all separated by short interludes of barely there shimmer and hazy muted drift. Killer stuff. On bad ass Australian label Sweatlung, and most likely crazy limited...
This flagship political power violence band broke up a while back, but those without some of their best 12" vinyl tracks will be glad of having this newly released cd compilation. Includes the songs from their split ep w/ Capitalist Casualties.
Super furious, metallic hardcore (heavy on the metal) from Germany. Pummelling and complex, noisy and chaotic. For fans of Knut (last AQ list), Botch, old Cave In, Converge and stuff like that. Really Great.
