It's tough to review the records of This Heat separately, knowing that there is a box set, a box set most of us had been waiting for for years! Like imagine if you heard about Christmas, and spent the next decade waking up and rushing out to the living room only to find nothing there. That's what it was like waiting for the long rumored This Heat box. It seems almost self evident that it is honestly one of the few box sets, that is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL. But okay, $100 might be a bit much to drop on a band you're not all the familiar with. And probably some folks already have some of these discs, as they were briefly available in the nineties. But let's be upfront and warn you straight up, we know very few people, who on hearing any music from This Heat, even a single song, weren't immediately compelled to get their hands on every single bit of recorded material they could find. The music of This Heat is most definitely that powerful, that intense, having informed almost all of the music we've loved since. And sounding as fresh and forward thinking today as it did when it was first recorded.
Before we get to reviewing Made Available, a posthumous release of This Heat's Peel Sessions, let's give you some background on (and no small amount of gushing over) one of our all time favorite bands.
Trying to explain why this band is so good is sort of like trying to explain why ice cream is so delicious. Or why Bush is such a terrible president.
Or maybe it's kind of like writing an introduction for the new Pynchon novel. Or telling a few jokes before Richard Pryor comes on stage. Or throwing a couple quick passes before Joe Montana comes on the field. It's that daunting, that overwhelming, that impossible.
The trio of Charles Hayward, Charles Bullen and Gareth Williams known collectively as This Heat were one of the few bands that literally changed people's lives. Changed the way folks thought about music. I (Andee) couldn't believe music like this actually existed. It was everything I wanted to listen to before I knew that THIS was exactly what I wanted to listen to. Hit It Or Quit It publisher / rock critic / indie scenestress Jessica Hopper once wrote that she literally pee'd her pants the first time she heard This Heat. And it's not hard to see why. Without This Heat, modern, alternative, avant-garde music as we know it would be a whole different beast. Post-rock, math-rock, avant rock are hugely indebted to the genre shattering experimentalism of This Heat. Tortoise, You Fantastic, Yona Kit, Brise Glace, Psychic Paramount, Laddio Bollocko, Radian, Village Of Savoonga, Larsen, Starfuckers, Circle, Salvatore, I Am Spoonbender -- none of those bands would even exist if it weren't for This Heat, or if they still did you can bet they would sound a whole lot different. And that's just off the top of our heads, AND that's -just- bands whose sound directly reflects the influence of This Heat. Imagine how many performers and artists were influenced by This Heat but who let that influence manifest itself in not so obvious ways.
We once described This Heat as "Krautrock-ish hyper rhythmic tape-looped prog." Which comes close to succinctly describing the magical musical alchemy of This Heat, but still only scratches the surface. The sound of This Heat is rhythm and texture and dynamics. The recording studio as instrument. Every sound and every song is based on rhythm and texture. There are hooks, and melodies, but they exist to serve the rhythm and are often born from the deft manipulation of sound and tempo. Even the most static and repetitive parts manage to sound -musical-. There are vocals, but they are minimal and otherworldly, weary and sing songy and completely mesmerizing. A droning musical accompaniment to the haunting whirs and clanging percussion in the background.
Their entire catalog has gone in and out of print over the years, mostly out, with all of their records pretty much completely unavailable for the last 7 or 8 years. Rumors of a complete box set and reissue campaign began to circulate a few years back and it has finally happened and it's everything we could have hoped for and more. Every single release, remastered and repackaged in swank digipaks. We're almost jealous of folks who have never even heard This Heat. The thought of entering into this music completely blind, is almost frightening, as the world of This Heat is so singular, so powerful, it will be difficult to ever listen to music the same way again. Trust us.
In 1996, This Heat's 1977 Peel Sessions were finally released and demonstrated once again that This Heat were untouchable, effortlessly unfurling a sound equal parts avant pop, krautrock, progrock, musique concrete and a handful of parts that defied easy classification. Every track here a jaw dropping, mind blowing performance. Especially the new version of "Horizontal Hold", one of This Heat's finest moments already, played here with much more verve and vigor and with a sound quality so much clearer, a recording so incredibly hot, that the song is reborn and completely confounds and amazes. The whole session is rhythmically dense, rife with bastardized pop, incredibly complex arrangements all rendered again in such a way that they are emotional and moving, instead of just intellectual musical exercises. And the sound is so crystal clear, that you can hear a band at the top of their game, taking over the BBC studio and using it like they would a second guitar or another drummer. The Peel Sessions also include a handful of songs that never made it onto records proper. All as good as anything on their official releases.
It's tough to review the records of This Heat separately, knowing that there is a box set, a box set most of us had been waiting for for years! Like imagine if you heard about Christmas, and spent the next decade waking up and rushing out to the living room only to find nothing there. That's what it was like waiting for the long rumored This Heat box. It seems almost self evident that it is honestly one of the few box sets, that is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL. But okay, $100 might be a bit much to drop on a band you're not all the familiar with. And probably some folks already have some of these discs, as they were briefly available in the nineties. But let's be upfront and warn you straight up, we know very few people, who on hearing any music from This Heat, even a single song, weren't immediately compelled to get their hands on every single bit of recorded material they could find. The music of This Heat is most definitely that powerful, that intense, having informed almost all of the music we've loved since. And sounding as fresh and forward thinking today as it did when it was first recorded.
Before we get to reviewing Repeat, a posthumous release of This Heat's tape loop experiments and various bits of studio exploration, let's give you some background on (and no small amount of gushing over) one of our all time favorite bands.
Trying to explain why this band is so good is sort of like trying to explain why ice cream is so delicious. Or why Bush is such a terrible president.
Or maybe it's kind of like writing an introduction for the new Pynchon novel. Or telling a few jokes before Richard Pryor comes on stage. Or throwing a couple quick passes before Joe Montana comes on the field. It's that daunting, that overwhelming, that impossible.
The trio of Charles Hayward, Charles Bullen and Gareth Williams known collectively as This Heat were one of the few bands that literally changed people's lives. Changed the way folks thought about music. I (Andee) couldn't believe music like this actually existed. It was everything I wanted to listen to before I knew that THIS was exactly what I wanted to listen to. Hit It Or Quit It publisher / rock critic / indie scenestress Jessica Hopper once wrote that she literally pee'd her pants the first time she heard This Heat. And it's not hard to see why. Without This Heat, modern, alternative, avant-garde music as we know it would be a whole different beast. Post-rock, math-rock, avant rock are hugely indebted to the genre shattering experimentalism of This Heat. Tortoise, You Fantastic, Yona Kit, Brise Glace, Psychic Paramount, Laddio Bollocko, Radian, Village Of Savoonga, Larsen, Starfuckers, Circle, Salvatore, I Am Spoonbender -- none of those bands would even exist if it weren't for This Heat, or if they still did you can bet they would sound a whole lot different. And that's just off the top of our heads, AND that's -just- bands whose sound directly reflects the influence of This Heat. Imagine how many performers and artists were influenced by This Heat but who let that influence manifest itself in not so obvious ways.
We once described This Heat as "Krautrock-ish hyper rhythmic tape-looped prog." Which comes close to succinctly describing the magical musical alchemy of This Heat, but still only scratches the surface. The sound of This Heat is rhythm and texture and dynamics. The recording studio as instrument. Every sound and every song is based on rhythm and texture. There are hooks, and melodies, but they exist to serve the rhythm and are often born from the deft manipulation of sound and tempo. Even the most static and repetitive parts manage to sound -musical-. There are vocals, but they are minimal and otherworldly, weary and sing songy and completely mesmerizing. A droning musical accompaniment to the haunting whirs and clanging percussion in the background.
Their entire catalog has gone in and out of print over the years, mostly out, with all of their records pretty much completely unavailable for the last 7 or 8 years. Rumors of a complete box set and reissue campaign began to circulate a few years back and it has finally happened and it's everything we could have hoped for and more. Every single release, remastered and repackaged in swank digipaks. We're almost jealous of folks who have never even heard This Heat. The thought of entering into this music completely blind, is almost frightening, as the world of This Heat is so singular, so powerful, it will be difficult to ever listen to music the same way again. Trust us.
In 1993, a disc of unearthed This Heat recordings was released and consisted of three lengthy tracks of tape loop experiments and random rhythmic explorations. Repeat has come to be This Heat's defining work even though it is essentially a record of outtakes and pieces meant to be incorporated into other songs. But it's hard to argue with the 20 minute title track, and endless, almost funky groove, punctuated by weird electronic swells, sprinkles of woodblock percussion and occasional handclaps but held together by one of the most amazing drum parts ever. A relentless pound and shuffle, drenched in effects, sound very dubby, but also very krautrock, a tripped out blissed out drone drenched rhythmic space jam never matched to this day. Every time this is played for a friend, musician or not, the listener is inevitably confused, perplexed and then quickly obsessed with hearing more. The second track, appropriately titled "Metal" is an abstract soundscape of, well, metal, clanging, clinking, like some ancient junkyard gamelan, almost like the previous piece transcribed for sheet metal, garbage can, metal pipe and dumpster. The metallic symphony shifts and sways, melodies surface, rhythms twist and turn, all very hypnotic and quite lovely. The final track revisits a song on Health and Efficiency, but slows it down a bit to become "Graphic/Varispeed (45rpm)", the same sort of slow, murky drone, just made even slower, so more tonal colors surface, and the subtle shit is much more noticeable, a gloriously dreamlike warm warbly whir.
Girl-sung garage punk pop from back in the day -- yeah, we're talkin' late seventies/early eighties trashy fun! Nothing fancy, just straight-up, low-slung three chord rockers with raw electric guitars, primal drumming and rudimentary bass. The vocals sound like the Thrills' singer Barb Kitson muscled Joey Ramone off the mic, and we'd guess the two bands of miscreants probably crossed paths at some point. No frills Thrills on the always stellar garage rawk haven Dionysus Records!
We may indulge in some hyperbole now and then, but it's usually just because we're so excited by some new record. That's why there can be so many 'best ever's and 'greatest of all time's. But we're serious now. This is, without a doubt, and with nary a trace of hyperbole, the greatest and weirdest packaging we have ever seen. Really.
So before we get to the music (whatever... music... pshhh) let's talk about the case this disc is housed in. It was at one time, a regular old DVD case, but it has been coated in molded rubber, looking like the Necronomicon from Evil Dead, only the cover is a unicorn, all molded in 3-D complete with an actual glass eye, with various vines and flowers molded in along side the unicorn head and EYE!!! The back has the band name and more vines molded in. It smells like old tires and feels all soft and rubbery. It's got a little Gwar to it. But holy shit!!! It's so amazing to look at and to hold and to smell. Inside is an oversized screen printed booklet, with glittery eye animals, typewriter style liner notes affixed to the inside. Wow! It almost wouldn't matter what the music sounded like but the music is just as amazing. A freaked out furious grinding metallic onslaught, most songs clocking in around 30 seconds with one or two coming in around 9 minutes. 32 songs in 38 minutes. Buzzing guitars, blasting drum splatter and some seriously awesome fucked up vocals, squealing impossibly high, doused in FX, it sounds like a woman, or a guy with an impossibly high falsetto, it's almost like a grind metal Melt Banana, but with super fuzzy lo-fi fucked up production and some seriously damaged sounding guitars. Actually the vocals sort of sound like the little girl from Kiss' "God Of Thunder" all grown up and seriously hysterical. But that's not all, there's the album, a series of fucked up blasts of brilliant black metal grind fury, then a a few noise tracks, a live set, and then THE WHOLE RECORD IN REVERSE, as in backwards, fucking awesome! Everything sounds better backwards and Throne Of Blood is no exception. Then there's a few more noise tracks, then the second to last track, the record's nine minute epic, one riff repeated over and over and over and over and over. Minimal math metal genius. And then the final four minute number which sounds like it could be a whole 'nother record, with about a million tracks compressed into one 4 minute chunk, with more outrageously over the top insane vocals. Actually, it's a whole live set!!!
What more to say? The record is completely nuts, the packaging even more so. It's just too bad it's so limited. This cloud has a distinctly black lining.
LIMITED TO 125 COPIES!!! We tried to order lots more than we got, which ended up being about 20 copies, and once these are gone, this is gone for good...
From the same label that brough us the amazing September Songs tape from Souvenir's Young America comes another blast of furious rock, this time, not epic metallic post rock, instead, Virginia's Tigershark traffic in old school post punk noiserock with a bit of a metal bent. AmRep, Jehu, Dazzling Killmen, you know, grinding angular guitars, big riffs, convoluted rhythms and crushing drumming, howled vocals, tons of lurching breakdowns, stop start arrangements. Not a lot of bands do this sort of stuff any more and it's a real shame, cuz listening to this band totally hit the spot, it had us fighting the urge to head bang and air guitar like it was 1995 all over again. The label mentions bands like The�Melvins, His Hero Is Gone, Akimbo, Baroness, and sure, we hear some of that, but it's much more classic sounding, heavy and catchy, intense and brutal, weird enough to keep it interesting, but not so much 'experimental' as creative and original. A fresh new take on an old sound that we had been missing like crazy.�
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. On blood red cassettes with super pro full color artwork.
We went a little nuts for the is Richmond, VA outfit a while back, when we reviewed their demo tape. So now they're back, and they still totally kick our ass, with their modern take on sludgy chaotic Amrep style mathy noise rock. Everything we loved on the tape is here in full effect, heavy, crushing drumming, huge chugging bass, ultra tangled riffery, with grooves buried amidst the murk and crush, lots of distortion, howled vocals, crumbling downtuned guitars, it's a sound we miss a lot and so few bands are able to pull it off, but these guys can, BIG TIME. Amrep, Dazzling Killmen, Drive Like Jehu, if that stuff pushes your buttons, you gotta get this (and the tape while you're at it).
On the flipside, Brooklyn comb Apeshit also channel some retro sounds, but their sound is yet another one we've been missing like crazy, and hardly any bands can manage anymore. That super spastic, over the top Gravity style screamo, think Heroin, Orchid, Mohinder.... short furious bursts of damaged thrash chaos, loads of feedback, thick swaths of scrape and grind, super lo-fi but still crazy heavy, tons of tempo changes, super dynamic with killer bits of epic drama and speaker shredding blasts of white hot howl and buzz.
Together these two bands sound like they must destroy live, the sort of show you crawl from, bruised and bloody, deaf and drenched in sweat, and dying for more. The ultimate noise-rock / screamo tagteam matchup...
Gorgeous full color cover, printed insert with liner notes and lyrics, pressed on transparent lavender vinyl. And as all things like this, crazy limited!
Sophomore album from Oakland '70s style punkers The Time Flys, which leads off with the title track of their 'tween albums single, "Reality (Is A Rock Band)". Like their debut, this retro-rockin' disc is appropriately snotty and undoubtedly well-schooled in their chosen genre, with lotsa energy, not a lotta chords, and some handclaps, but this time 'round we're not feeling it as much... something here (the lyrics, maybe) just seems a bit forced. It's like, they're trying too hard. If you're gonna emulate the likes of the Ramones, you've gotta make it seem easy, c'mon! On the other hand, maybe we just weren't in the mood for the 'tude when we first put this on, and it's just gonna take a few more spins (and a few more PBRs?) for us to 'get'... we'll see.
This looks and sounds like it's gotta be a reissue, a lost '70s punk vinyl classic dug up by a devoted record collector and at long last put out on cd. But actually The Time Flys are a band from the here (Oakland, specifically) and now, so if you live 'round these parts you can not only spin this disc but also go see 'em play, which is a good show I'm telling you. The Flys are three guys and one girl, the girl playing drums, all of 'em rock-star skinny, one of the guys being Andy from The Cuts. And I'm sure none of 'em are teenagers but they're all about the teenage angst and energy. Just check the song titles here: "Smokin' Dope", "Jailbait", "In My Skool", "Teenage Is The Stone-age" (which comes right after another song called "Teenage Tears"). There's 12 songs in 27 minutes 32 seconds, total '70s wasteoid punk stylings in the vein of thee MC5, New York Dolls, Heartbreakers, and (to mention another current band similarly retro-fitted) Chicago's Vee Dee. With snotty vocals, distorted guitar jangle and primal drum clatter that altogether does the shimmy, not to mention the packaging -- b&w pics and typewritten lyrics -- in a blindfold test this would probably fool even some not-so-casual old skool punk rawk collector types. Produced by Greg Ashley of the Gris Gris, another great Oakland garage band with a way-back machine (though theirs is dialed more to the '60s). Very kool.
Sophomore album from Oakland '70s style punkers The Time Flys, which leads off with the title track of their 'tween albums single, "Reality (Is A Rock Band)". Like their debut, this retro-rockin' disc is appropriately snotty and undoubtedly well-schooled in their chosen genre, with lotsa energy, not a lotta chords, and some handclaps, but this time 'round we're not feeling it as much... something here (the lyrics, maybe) just seems a bit forced. It's like, they're trying too hard. If you're gonna emulate the likes of the Ramones, you've gotta make it seem easy, c'mon! On the other hand, maybe we just weren't in the mood for the 'tude when we first put this on, and it's just gonna take a few more spins (and a few more PBRs?) for us to 'get'... we'll see.
We only just reviewed the -last- Times New Viking on the most recent list, even though it had been out for a while. And now here we are two weeks later, with a brand new TNV, and it's more of the glorious blown-out in-the-red chaotic ultra catchy pop same.
As it says on the back of the record "Times New Viking play pop songs with guitar keyboards drums." Which is definitely simplifying it a bit. Since they also incorporate a huge amount of NOISE, and feedback, and buzz, and tape hiss, and all manner of distorted blur and skree and howl. That said, this new one is even poppier and catchier than Present The Paisley Reich, and even more buried under thick slabs of crumbling sonic chaos.
But even with all the noise, at it's heart, TNV is definitely a pop band through and through, the dueling boy/girl vocals, the warbly keyboard, the bouncy indie guitar jangle, sometimes it sounds like Superchunk, but if they were on Siltbreeze and recorded all their songs on a microcassette recorder and mastered it with a tin can and twine. They also sound a bit like Mates Of State, but way less polished, way more punishing, thick bolts of high end and dense clouds of hiss bombarding the lilting sweet pop, the bouncy keyboards and crooning earnest vocals. Here and there, the noise drops off a bit, revealing the pure sweet sunshine underneath, but it's quickly swallowed up again, by another wash of speaker shredding buzz and soaring hyperdistorted melodies.
We just can't get enough of this stuff. Pop record of the year contender? Absolutely, and it's still January. If there was ever a band who deserved the sobriquet of 'noise pop' it's definitely Times New Viking. And it certainly doesn't get any noisier or poppier than this. Certainly not at the same time!
Every once in a while, we find ourselves missing the sound of classic math rock. The sound of late nineties post rock. Oh hell, who are we kidding, we're ALWAYS missing that stuff. Slint, Rodan, Bastro, Bitch Magnet, Breadwinner, Dazzling Killmen, Hurl, Crain, heck, even Andee's old band A Minor Forest. Mathy, convoluted, serpentine, minor key, weirdly catchy, strangely structured, lots of starts and stops. As much as we're loving the new breed of metal bands gone post rock or math rock. They definitely tend to lean toward the post side of the equation, preferring to bliss out rather than math out. But for any one who finds themselves getting a little chill when reading the above list of bands, Tiny Hawks are the band to give you everything you've been missing. Tiny Hawks are a duo from Rhode Island, but don't be expecting tangled Lightning Bolt spazz, or stripped down guitar and drums duo rock, this is a huge sprawling explosion of gorgeously melodic and deftly complicated math rock. You'd never know this was a duo (the drummer plays bass on the record) as these guys create a huge sound, thick and textured, dense and dreamy. Some tracks are spastic freakouts, all chaotic drum splatter and manic riffing, others are shimmery expanses of muted strum and dreamlike shuffle. There's definitely an early nineties Dischord element to their sound as well. Intricate, erratic, experimental, bits of jazz and metal twisted into post rock shapes and then set in a dizzyingly mathy framework. Convoluted minor key workouts peppered by sudden bursts of jagged aggro crunch and pound, and plenty of loping blissed out mellowness, drifting harmonics, clanging guitars, all drifting in a jangly haze. This is ALL the shit we love about the genre, all tangled up in a hugely fresh sounding kick ass blast of super aggressive, sweetly melodic, math rock anvil to the head. So goddamn good. Like your favorite band from 1996, got in a time machine, got a practice space down the hall from yours, and invited you over to stand around a sweaty, stinky practice space, get drunk, bounce around and have your mind and ears fucking blown!
You would most definitely be forgiven for not expecting big things from a band called Todd. And you sure as shit would probably wouldn't expect something this fierce and heavy and fucked up. But once you realize these guys are on Riot Season, and that they count as members (or did at one time) guys from long time aQ faves Shit And Shine, then it all begins to make a bit more sense. Right down to the taking-the-piss monicker.
And Todd most definitely have plenty in common with their way more tweaked and druggy countrymen S+S, but where S+S do their multiple drummered post Buttholes freak out thing, Todd are a bit more riffy and raw, still rhythmic and heavy and blown out and in the red, but more pounding and relentless, maybe more akin to Brainbombs and Rusted Shut and Twin Stumps and White Mice and the Mayyors, you get the drift, howled marble mouthed vox, riffs crumbling with distortion, so much so that half the time they just sound like a wall of fuzz, the bass a wash of bowel rattling rumble, the drums pounding and frantic, the band swing from unhinged Scratch Acid / Jesus Lizard noise rock, to seasick post rock groove, to lurching sludge-y doom, to full on filthy space rock trip outs, to repetitive, looped sounding dirge-y drug rock, there's even some warped twang flecked almost slowcore sounding drift, but even then, the vocals are unhinged, and the amps sound like they're gradually turning to some sort of black goo, and the band eventually stumble back into a filthy field of sonic broken glass and ear shredding pound and howl.
Needless to say, if you dig Shit And Shine, Brainbombs, No Balls, Twin Stumps, Butthole Surfers, Rusted Shut, Oxbow, Hey Colossus, the Anals, Billy Bao, any of that sort of crusty, metallic, noise drenched filth, then these guys will definitely hit the spot.
Our favorite funky sleaze merchant is back with a whopping double lp (plus 2cds of the same material included!), and while we were shocked enough to think that there could be more than one volume of Tonetta's inflammatory outsider dance rock, we're practically, um... gagging on the abundance of grooves this time around. And it's not only the revelling in sexual deviance that make up the subject matter here (though there's plenty of it: assplay, scat play, gloryholes, four-ways, prostitution, bare-backing, basically, the works!), there is a lot of skewed political diatribes ("Obama's Prize", "Saddam", "This Old World"), and a questionably racist song using the N-word (though it could be viewed as anti-skin-head too maybe). But the most shocking of all perhaps, are the love songs which are some of the sweetest and most heartfelt tracks on here. Not sure if some of these tracks are old recordings or just shittily recorded, but this collection overall has the most range musically, with Tonetta's vocal style sounding at times like a crooning Roy Orbison, a bleating Captain Beefheart, or a seductive Leonard Cohen with lots of distorted circular guitar rhythms, lo-fi pans, tweeked-out synths and relentless predatory dungeon sex beats. Freaky!
Torus is Adam MacGregor, formerly of technical grind outfit Creation Is Crucifixion. Recorded in 1998 and 2001, 'phlogistics' is a collection of noises ranging from metallic tinkerings to guitar-based feedback excursions.
An utterly punishing onslaught of hateful hardcore and feedback drenched punknoise from this Texas outfit, 27 songs in 39 minutes, opening with what sounds like an unholy union between the Dead C, Harry Pussy and the Brainbombs, a full on, downtuned, stumbling, free noise, avant punk crush, and fuck, we would have been happy if that track stretched out past it's already sprawling 3:51 and filled up the whole record, but as the title suggests, this is just the "Introduction". From there on out it's a full on Black Flag / Void style blowout, blistering hardcore fury, vitriolic vocals, frantic riffing, fuzzed out bass, a wild, unhinged, bloody knuckled, sweat soaked hybrid of eighties thrash punk, grind, powerviolence, classic hardcore and new/no wave heaviness, all blurred into a monster blast of skull crushing punk rock pummel.
This cd collects the self titled record proper and tacks on 15 bonus tracks (!) from their Sex Pig 7" and demo!
This head spinning psychedelic collaged freakoutscape is by none other than Total Life, aka Kevin Doria, aka a member of aQ fave dronerockers Growing, but on Ken Bradshaw, Total Life veers well away from the drone and drift of Growing, crafting a totally trippy pulsing sonic barrage assembled entirely from clipped and looped and recontextualized samples of Pet Shop Boys songs. Sounds like it could be a mess, or a play-it-one-time novelty, and it is maybe a little bit of both, but it's also a totally mesmerizing barrage of loops and drones and rhythms, hypnotic and cyclical and repetitive and totally mesmerizing, the sounds swirling and whirling, but always the main beat pounds on and on, some twisted alien dancemusic, the little bits of vocal becomes a strange refrain, the pulsing synths, blur and refocus, wash in and out, the whole sound slowing down and speeding up, blissing out and then snapping right back into a propulsive pound.
It takes a few minutes to let yourself get lost, but once you do, it's pretty fantastic. And the best part, is the sound continues to expand and develop and sprawl and become more noisy and more distorted, until it sometimes sounds like some fucked up noise rock band lock grooving their way through a field of pound and chug, all blown out and freaked out and pretty goddamn great.
Available on both tape and vinyl, the tapes are red and blue polka dot cassettes, and packaged in super thick, silkscreened blue and red J-cards, the lps are housed in eye popping blue and red almost 3D looking jackets. Both are ULTRA LIMITED. And unfortunately, the lps sleeves are all a bit dinged up, mostly bent corners, so be warned, vinyl nerds and condition obsessives steer clear, or just grab the tape!
Total Shutdown. If you live in San Francisco and you've been following the contemporary music scene with even a smattering of interest, you've no doubt encountered this post-emo / screamo hardcore 'art' rock noise band. And it seems that Total Shutdown has been amassing a sizeable audience of ardent followers. And while we weren't all that impressed in the beginning, they have
But TS -are- one of the few local bands trying to kick up a shitstorm of some kind, and for that we salute them. You can't take it lightly since our once vibrant scene is slowly being whittled away to nothing (fewer bands that don't suck, fewer clubs period, jaded show go-ers, etc.) So keep your eye on these kids, 'cause one of these days everything's gonna hit at once, and maybe then we'll be singing their praises, but for now, recommended only for those with iron ear drums, bowels of steel and a not too discerning taste for skronk, chaos and noise.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Totalitar's functionally titled Wallbreaker: 1986 - 1989 is a 30 track long glimpse into this d-beat legend's early output. That's right, more crusty, political Discharge and Motorhead worship from Sweden's finest. If you need a two minute catharsis, this is it. Oh, and interestingly, Totalitar shared some members with AQ-favorite Brainbombs!
These guys have been the talk of the town lately. Folks can't tell if they're serious or a total pisstake, or if it even matters. The music is a wild raucous glammy punk rock, simple and catchy, snotty and repetitive, funny and rocking as all get out. Lots of sing along parts, lots of super simple guitar leads, the vocals delivered in a thick Cockney sneer with plenty of attitude. Their look is total eighties glam punk, skin tight trousers, ripped t-shirts, Doc Martens or Converse All Stars, leather jackets, sun glasses, and BIG teased glam rock hair. We're not sure what all the fuss is about. They look awesome. They sound awesome. What more do you need to know? Who cares if it's a joke? They're like some sloppy collision of the Sex Pistols, Hanoi Rocks, G.B.H., the Damned, the New York Dolls and Andrew W.K. which sounds pretty good to us. If you're a punk purist you'll probably immediately want to beat the shit out of these guys, but if you dig the Darkness, love the above mentioned bands, and are in the market for some big, fun, wild, dumb, air guitar worthy glampunk rock and roll, you can't really do much better than the Towers Of London.
We're pretty picky when it comes to garage rock/punk, it's really got to be raw, impassioned and at least a little fucked to truly catch our full attention. Traditional Fools blast out the kind of reckless garage rock jams we can totally get behind. Should be no surprise as one of the members of the band is Ty Segall whose solo debut last year was one of our favorite records of the year! Traditional Fools are a bit more on the traditional side of punk/garage rock, but still way blown out, lo-fi and way fun. They cover Red Kross and Billy Childish which gives you a pretty good idea where they're coming from, and this full length really is full of drunken garage rock delights that could have been at home on Crypt or Rip-Off Records back in the hey day of classic garage. Fun and irreverent and totally raw and rocked out.
A co-release by two great San Francisco labels Make A Mess (home to Nodzz, Brilliant Colors) and Wizard Mountain who put out Ty Segall's first cassette. Comes on nice white vinyl and for so cheap. It's a no brainer!
Tragedy are the reigning kings of (underground) U.S. hardcore. Without even a website or a label behind them, they have managed to become an infamous live proposition, a band whose records sell in the thousands, with no publicity other than their devastating live shows, and with a die-hard cult of followers who are absolutely rabid about the band.
Nerve Damage is the third release from this Portland-via-Memphis outfit, whose members have formerly done time in such legendary acts as Deathreat, His Hero Is Gone, Union of Uranus & Copout so you know this is gonna be punishing stuff.
While Tragedy is known for its powerful "D-Beat" (think Discharge via Motorhead) approach to hardcore, on this record they infuse their fat chugging riffs with plenty of melody, but don't think for a second that means they've gotten soft.
The ever present feeling of despair and their furious "will to fight back" is still in full effect, in fact, it's like they've finally learned the art of "the dynamic" and are proving it over and over and over. While in the past their songs relentlessly bludgeoned the listener square in the face with a scream and a riff, Tragedy have mastered the art of subtlety, with sweeping guitars, gorgeous harmonics, and even a bit of piano here and there.
Now if only all punk rock circa 2006 was this good...
Trap Them are another band that seems to have slipped through the cracks for whatever, maybe it's inevitable with SO many bands and SO many records, but these guys are seriously kick ass, and definitely deserve some aQ love.
These New Hampshire heavies are a glorious grimy mix of grindcore, crust punk, death metal and dirgey Swans like crush, all woven into a blown out, in-the-red, sledgehammer to the skull. Folks constantly compare these guys to Entombed, Cursed, Converge (whose Kurt Ballou recorded this, and it sounds MASSIVE, impossibly heavy, maybe the heaviest record since that Dragged Into Sunlight we reviewed a few lists back), all of which make perfect sense, the sound here is vicious, punishing, brutal, relentless, a definite D-beat vibe going on, the guitars dense and gnarled, the drums pounding, the vocals a glass gargling howl, the songs slipping easily from frantic punkish blast, to twisted proggy weirdness, to doomy plod and back again, makes us actually think of a supercharged Tragedy or His Hero Is Gone, that sort of metallic punk but cranked way up, with a sound SO heavy and distorted, all the sounds seem a hair's breadth away from clipping, which helps make this stuff sound so fucking fierce. One of our new favorite metal records for sure...
Features some of our favorite Justin Bartlett art yet, not to mention a big booklet filled with solid black pages (!), the jewel case housed in a fancy slipcover, also adorned with some serious Bartlett visual sickness...
Trash Talk are PUNK ROCK. And we mean punk rock like some howling feral mix of Fucked Up / Converge / Coalesce, that sort of churning almost metallic punk, the guitars MASSIVE and so heavy, the drums pummeling, and TT have killer dueling vox, one a frenzied almost shriek, the other a more melodic bellow, bit together they make the sound super distinctive. And did we mention CRAZY hooky, this is the sort of punk rock no one really makes anymore, the songs clocking in at around 90 seconds, the sort of stuff that would whip up a pit in seconds, but totally sing-along-able, the sound is epic, the production is kind of weird, but crazy LOUD, and the songs are all over the place, sort of proggy actually, some parts just popping up for a few seconds, others grinding away, the sound occasionally metal, sometimes total D-beat, but again, always impossibly hooky, relentless riffing, feedback everywhere, there's a reason folks are flipping out over these guys, we sort of are too, and odds are even though this single is on the short side, you'll find yourself spinning it over and over and over.
Packaged in super thick nice black and white sleeves, with a printed fold out poster / lyric sheet!
7"=2 songs, cd single=4 songs.
A savage proggytrippypunkasfuck megablast in the form of Triclops!' Cafeteria Brutalia ep. This four song rager is the perfect blend of post-Jesus Lizardy mathy fucked up punk and spacey effects-riddled shreddyness. Hailing from right here in the bay area, Triclops! featuring John Geek From local punk heros The Fleshies on vocals, piece together a super interesting combination of weird rock elements. One moment angular and furious, while another blissy and tripped the hell out, and still at another just plain super rocking! The vocals are processed and effected, the guitar is furious and fierce, and the rythym section is just about as tight as can be, churrning out an ever-changing, multi-metric pummelfest of pure rock brutality. All the songs on this way too short document are great, to be sure, but the ONE for us is definetly the 10 plus minute epic, "Bug Bomb". Within this track, all the disparate elements that makes this band awesome perfectly coalesce. Super proggy acid-punk to begin with, breaking down into some suprisingly melodic pop, before getting heavy and crazy to round it out. Excellent! Triclops! are also one of the best local live acts we have here in SF, and they seem to play all the rad shows around these parts. In fact, most of us discovered them earlier this month at the killer Circle show at Bottom Of The Hill, which they opened. All in all, a really great ep! For anyone thats been missing that old 90's Touch and Go / Amrep sound, or people that just love proggy flipped out PUNK RAWK, this is definetly recommended!
Wonders never cease. About four or five years ago, the Secretly Canadian label did a big favor to obscure music lovers everywhere and brought out deluxe, at long last legit reissues of the two rare private press albums that obscure DIY psych pop genius Bobb Trimble released in the early '80s. We love those two so much, we made both reissues Records Of The Week. Trimble's Iron Curtain Innocence (1980) and Harvest Of Dreams (1982) are timeless, cult artifacts, of which we said: "...you have just been handed the key to a secret realm, an alternate rock n' roll universe of dark despair, fragile hope, and gossamer beauty, a haunting personal soundworld that will always stay with you, within you...", and favorably compared to everyone from Lennon/McCartney to Pink Floyd to Roy Harper to Marc Bolan to Richard Youngs to Ariel Pink.
Well, we had no idea that those two albums weren't the entirely of Trimble's discography. But now, happily we learn that there was a THIRD even rarer Trimble lp, and it's just been reissued as well!!! And it too is a doozy.
Turns out that a year or two after Harvest Of Dreams was released into an uncaring world, the 20-something Trimble teamed up with a local Worcester, Massachusetts gang of teenagers (some of whom we think had been in the even younger group, The Kidds, who are heard on some songs on a song or two on Harvest Of Dreams) called The Crippled Dog Band, named after the three-legged dog seen on the cover of this album, presumably. Who doesn't love a three-legged dog? Together, they played shows - and, better yet, for us today - made an album, this one, in '84, which captures the outsider psych-pop brilliance of Trimble's songwriting in exuberant collision/collusion with youthful rock n' roll energy.
Yeah, compared to Trimble's two "solo" albums, this could be considered to be more rockin', more "punk", more band-like. And more '80s as well, if only 'cause of the sci-fi video arcade game sounds that appear here on the intro and outro tracks! The songs, while typically Trimble-poppy (and graced with his delicate, high and whispy vox) are also often loud and raucous and awash in feedback and FX. At times we're kinda reminded of The Dickies.
Most are in the 2-3 minute range, though they do a version of one of our favorite Trimble songs, "Armour Of The Shroud", that stretches out for over six minutes, as per the epic original that appeared on Harvest Of Dreams. They also do "Galilean Boy", a demo of which appeared as a bonus track on SC's reissue of HoD. The other "cover" here is a reinterpretation of The Beatles' "All Together Now", which Trimble and The Crippled Dog Band really make their own, converting it into a theme song of sorts, near the beginning of the album: "Singin' the Crippled Dog anthem / ruff ruff / ruff ruff!"
There's something so wonderfully charming about that, eh? And the teenage spark of Trimble's cohorts here is infectious, the band tearing it up, gritty garagey psych stomp style across much of this disc. Ferinstance, there's the distortodelic Eastern vibe of "Camel Song", and "Angel Eyes" is another that offers up some pretty heavy-duty, driving psych gunk for your earholes. And those are only a few of the punked up Pepperisms to be found on this delightful disc. Some songs are darker ("Undercovers Man"), others, pure fun ("Poker Game Of Life").
Apparently, the story goes, The Crippled Dog Band came to an end shortly after this was recorded, for whatever reason, and with no hope of selling 'em, almost all of original pressing of 500 lps was unceremoniously disposed of by Bobb in a dumpster! Good grief. Thankfully, the actual recordings weren't lost, and this reissue has finally arrived to allow The Crippled Dog Band to be heard again - it's certainly getting a lot of play here at AQ! Recommended, ruff ruff!!
On last week's list we reviewed What's The Hubub Bub from Tronics, a lost classic from this early eighties post punk / protest folk / art rock one man band, and described said record as a "twistedly brilliant DIY post punk holy grail", which if you've been into the store recently, you've no doubt heard more than once, cuz it gets played like crazy, a head spinning mix of minimal punk folk, catchy as fuck post punk anthems and weirdo collages and experimental electronics. Seriously ahead of its time, and honestly, every time we play it in the store, someone comes up to see what we're playing, and more often then not ends up buying a copy. Say! What Is This? is a sort of companion, a collection of odds and sods, most of which have never been heard before, and while it has much in common with Hubub, it's much more straight ahead punk rock / post punk. Opener "Punk People" sets the mood, with a main riff, that sounds like it could be some Toy Dolls B-side, bouncy bass, crunchy, jangly guitars, and a killer hook, a little bit glammy, catchy as all get out, it ranks right up there with "Shark Fucks" on Hubub as a song we get stuck in our heads constantly.
The rest of Say! What Is This? ain't too shabby either, the lo-fi, reverb drenched pop punk blowout "Do You Hear Me", the angular punk folk dirge "Squiddly Diddly", which sounds like it could have ended up on Hubub, the live garage rock jam "Wild Cat Rock", the fifties rock sounding doo wop-ish "Tonight", the short sharp burst of bass driven punk freakout of "Punk Noise", the almost new wave power poppy sounding "Luna Love", which almost sounds like a Replacements song, and the closer, a fuzzy garage stomp called appropriately "Goodbye", and peppered throughout, still more punky poppy gems, that while not nearly as weird as anything on Hubub, are still so goddamn great! Recommended for sure!
What's The Hubub Bub is a twistedly brilliant DIY post punk holy grail from a group known simply as Tronics, not so much a group as the work of one man, Ziro Baby, and his peculiar brand of post-punk / folk-punk /art-rock / protest music sounds relevatory even today. Originally released at the beginning of the eighties, this record must have really blown minds back then. Equal parts singer/songwriter punk folk songsmithery, minimalist punk primitivism, and ahead of its time tape experiments and sound collage, What's The Hubub Bub has been floating around the underground for 30 years now, with just a track or two popping up on obscure comps, which is hard to believe considering how fucking great this whole record is.
The first half tends more toward proper songs, although the record begins with the sounds of sirens, before in swoop brittle and angular guitars, languid and psychedelic, simply strummed and darkly jangly, accompanied by simple hand percussion, opener "How Do You Do Again" is crazy catchy, repetitive and mantra like, stream of consciousness lyrics, sort of sung/spoken, it's easy to hear the sort of influence this band has had on contemporary groups like Sic Alps (SA's Mike Donovan is a HUGE fan!), and that song sets the template, mostly one or two parts, looped and repeated, minimal lyrics, also repeated over and over, some songs have a distinctly fifties / sixties style pop sound, "Helsinki" is like some classic Beatles or Kinks song arranged for tinny guitar and hand drums. But it's right around "Space Message" that things start to get really weird, a brief blast of static, and garbled FX, with Tronics mainman (only man?) Ziro transmitting from the ether, his voice becoming equally garbled, very Conet Project sounding, and really, that signals a sort of seismic sonic shift, cuz the rest of the record, while rife with more punk-folk ditties, is also peppered with strange sonic experiments and collaged tape loops. There's the old timey rock and roll of "The Other Man" and then the murky droned out balladry of "Alone", that sounds like the saddest, warbliest Joe Meek outtake ever, but if any record was back loaded it's this one. Cuz then there's "Intro", which is in fact a sprawling bit of early sampledelia, bird song, weird voices, tape hiss, and strange effects, echo drenched samples of a sobbing woman, maudlin piano, snippets taped off the radio, bursts of jagged distorto guitar, little bits of orchestra, and symphonies, and what sounds like TV theme songs, all layered into a fantastic bit of psychedelic avant sound collage, and that leads right into what might be the greatest Tronics song EVER, "Shark Fucks", catchy, and anthemic, ridiculous lyrics, a main hook that KILLS, a wicked chorus, still just guitar and distorted drum (just one drum), with laid back, drawled vox, it will instantly get lodged in your brain, and you'll want to play it over and over and over, we have been, probably driving people insane, but we LOVE it! We're actually kind of amazed this song hasn't been covered a million times, it's SOOOOO good. Totally worth the price of admission, especially when he slips into some weird garbled underwater vocals, presumably just made with his mouth and not any actual FX.
Once you make it past "Shark Fucks", if you ever do, there's the primitive minimal fuzz-guitar punk of "I'm A Diver", also crazy catchy, and then things finish off with another sound experiment, the two part "Piece For A Galaxy Bar Jukebox", the first part, all pulsing sci-fi electronics, a dark shadowy kosmische, that gets people coming up to see what we're playing, every time it comes on in the store, moody and minimal and haunting, it's only three minutes, but it's the kind of thing we could listen to forEVER. The second part is still more sci-fi electro weirdness, this one less shimmery and droney, and more percussive and rhythmic, percolating bloops, that explode into jagged shards of distorted synth, and again, we would have loved if it stretched out for 10 or 15 minutes instead of just two...
So completely bafflingly brilliant, and utterly essential. A new unanimous favorite for sure. We also got another Tronics reissue, Say! What Is This?, which we'll review next time, but if you want that one too, just ask!
Finally, now you can not only proclaim your love for Andee's record label and all the killer bands who have released records on tUMULt: Weakling, Leviathan, Iran, Hammers Of Misfortune, Harvey Milk, Bathtub Shitter, Souled American, but also your disdain for all other bands! Or maybe just ALL bands...
This two button set features one button with the ubiquitous tUMULt upside down cross logo, a logo so heavy it seems to have slid down the button, to settle near the bottom, the other featuring the ever popular "I hate your band" legend printed all by its lonesome. Perfect as a non verbal response to the age old query "So, what did you think of my band" or even "How did you like the cd I gave you". Just point, and problem solved! So c'mon, represent!!
Both buttons are extra big too, not tiny band button sized, but also not huge weird soccer mom button size either, just a little bit bigger than your typical 1" button (they're 1.5" just so you know), so they're small enough to decorate your favorite denim vest or trucker hat or tube top, but big enough to make the rest of your buttons cower in terror! ----* ----* Selected New Arrivals : ----*
These Norwegian bad boys are back, after a several year hiatus, with a new album (and a tour with Queens Of The Stone Age!). We love Turbonegro -- doesn't everyone? -- but we have heard some negative comments about this new album. And we have to agree to some degree, that "Scandinavian Leather" is just not nearly as dark as we've come to expect from these denim demons. Some of it could pass for MTV pop-punk until you pay attention to the deviant/innuendo-filled lyrics -- actually, maybe this *will* get on MTV, in which case it's wonderfully subversive. Now, Turbonegro's never been a metal band, but their Alice Cooper influence has led them down some darker alleys in the past than what you get here. But, dammit, it IS damn catchy and (of course) campy and also boasts excellent cover art from ex-Plastic Ono Band drummer Klaus Voormann... And what they really sound like is KISS. So, no complaints. And more power to 'em that they apparently got a Levi's sponsorship -- that denim cape the singer's wearing is sweet!
MPEG Download: "Sell Your Body (To The Night)" [/audio/turbonegrosell.mp3]
You know a record is gonna rule when even the amp buzz that precedes the record proper, sounds bad ass, but that's exactly how this heaving slab of noise rock begins, with a thick squelch of muddy glitchy buzz, which is soon joined by some caveman pounding, blurred and distorted, the sort of hypno thud sludge we could listen to FOREVER. But then more drums stumble into action, and we're in some sort of Cop Shoot Cop junkyard noise punk / Crash Worship tribal freakout territory, until the song kicks in proper, with super distorted howled vox, tangled detuned guitar crunch, squealing feedback, the whole song a lurching tangled of woozy off kilter riffage, crumbling distortion, constantly shifting recording quality, glitch and hiss and dropouts galore, a grinding monstrous slab of Neanderthal sludges that totally RULES.
As we mentioned in our review of TS's self titled debut, these guys seem to have a keen pop sense, one they seem dead set on obscuring behind walls of ugly, head caving, amp shredding noise. But thankfully that pop sense seems to leech into everything they do, the result sounding more like Jesus Lizard or Halo Of Flies, but does with some seriously bad acid, and let loose in a room full of busted amps, broken guitars and falling to pieces drum kits. Recorded on handheld tape recorded, broadcast by holding it up to a megaphone, holding the megaphone up to a cell phone, and then plugging the phone on the other end into a fucking MASSIVE amp, hooked up to a bunch of distortion pedals, all with batteries in various stages of running out of juice. A lurching noise rock, that not only seems on the verge of collapse, but seems to gradually melt and crumble and collapse before your very ears, as if every song is a desperate attempt to keep it going, before collapsing in a heap, only to explode into the next song and try again. And while this all does sound punishing and pummeling and brutal and chaotic and harsh, which it most definitely is, it's also weirdly catchy, and sorta groovy, repetitive and hypnotic, maybe like a pop flecked, slightly shoegazey, blurred and blackened, noise rock Butthole Surfers. Or something like that. Needless to say, this is some fucking crushing catchy, ruling shit, but only for those of you who have worked up a tolerance for stuff this bad ass and brutal, past exposure to Brainbombs, Whitehouse, Burmese, Rusted Shut, Billy Bao, Shit And Shine, Clockcleaner, Ancestors, White Mice, Liquorball, Strangulated Beatoffs, Violent Students perhaps not required, but definitely suggested...
We love how in the last several years the walls between the punk rockers and DJ culture have come crashing down. So many of us grew up on punk rock but have grown to love the sounds of DJ'd dance floor delights. JD Twitch exemplifies this evolution so perfectly. He is someone with a deep love of punk rock, and whose roots are definitely in punk, but who has gone on to create some of the most smart and satisfying dance floor jams with his project Optimo.
With 10 Inches Of Fear, he revisits the raw punk sounds that were so influential in his musical development. This 10" features re-edits of Flux Of Pink Indians, Honey Bane, Zounds, and The Mob. Smartly he does very little to the tracks and lets their raw and urgent sounds rise to the surface. As a spectacular bonus the 10 inch comes with a cd comp packed with some of his favorite punk tracks of all time, in their original form. It truly is like being given the ultimate punk mix by a friend in 1986 or tuning in to the best college punk rock radio show ever. Classic songs by the Butthole Surfers, Sun City Girls (back when they were more of a bratty punk band), Big Black, Husker Du, Savage Republic, Crass, The Screamers, The Pop Group, etc. This has been making many of us so nostalgic for our early punk filled years that no matter how many different kinds of music in which we now revel, punk will always be such a strong part of our musical spirit. For those about to punk out we salute you!
We were only able to get a small handful of these so act fast, once they are gone that may be all she wrote.
The latest in Noiseville's Outer Bounds Of Sound series (past installments have come from Wicked King Wicker, Burnt Hills, Kleistwahr) comes from Ultrabunny, aka the trio that was borne from the demise of legendary noiserock freaks the Bunnybrains.
Ultrabunny are heavy and minimal, repetitive and super rocking, a bit like a krautrock Harry Pussy, after a slow build, the band lock into a super repetetive single riff groove, solid and mesmerizing, the sort of sound you wouldn't mind filling up the entire side, soon the vocals come in, a feral caterwaul, the band lurching and pummeling, a sort of looped sounding drug rock, that pounds away, those cracks in your skull slowly spiderwebbing, your grey matter dribbling from your ears.
All the tracks here were improvised and recorded live, most are a single riff, maybe two if you're lucky, the vocals yelp and howl, sometimes moan, on one track they just sort of hold a single note, adding another layer of drone to the proceedings, it might be a guitar too, but either way, the track just churns and pounds, the various elements subtly shifting and tangling, creating a sound that seems slightly warped, as if some greater power was holding his finger down on the band, as if they were a record, altering the speed, making everything seems woozy and melty and tripped out and WAY psychedelic.
The B-side is a lot heavier and more distorted, wild and on the verge of collapse, channeling some of that classic Japanese psych noise, but still filtered through a cracked lo-fi dirt rock vibe.
Killer noise drenched spaced out psychedelic hypnorock, which tells you all you need to know, us, we're digging this big time, especially the B-side.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!!
Back in stock! Got a very limited number of these from the label, at a way cheaper price. Bunnybrains 88 are now called Ultrabunny, but the sound is still as Bunnybrained as ever. Read on...
You know how much we love the Bunnybrains around here. Their chaotic retarded garage rock chaos gets us everytime. We were blown away by the recent Box The Bunny release, that collected all their old recordings and included a dvd of insane and ridiculous footage. So you can imagine how psyched we were to learn that there was a brand new Bunnybrains record! So why the 88 you ask? Well, apparently there were two separate bands that joined forces in 1988 and became the Bunny brains we know and love. After 17 years or so, rock and roll took its toll and the Bunnybrains split back into two separate units. Both bands are 100% Bunnybrains (or at least 98%) and both bands kick ass! This new 10" from Bunnybrains 88, now ULTRABUNNY is ULTRA limited, to only 333 copies, the first 88 of which came in super fancy boxes and were $50 or more and are now out of print. But do not fear, the other 245 copies are nearly as cool, gorgeously packaged in custom letterpressed Bruce Licher sleeves, an elaborate cardstock interlocking foldover, with lovely maroon and white text and filigree. The vinyl is breathtaking as well, half clear, half opaque red, and the sleeve has a nifty sparkly pink stick affixed to the front. One track on one side, and two simultaneous tracks on the other! Includes a bunch of inserts including a sticker and FAQ that goes into greater depth about the whole multiple Bunnybrains thing. Each copy is also hand numbered! WOW!
There's a lot of talk about intensity in music -- hot guitar licks, fast drumming, empassioned vocals. But then you hear something like the entire recorded output of the mighty Umlaut and from then on you realize that everything you thought you knew about limits of musical ferocity was bullshit. There is no aural equivalent to this raging onslaught of blasting, anthemic hardcore/grind.
Mostly unknown outside of their Scandinavian hinterlands, Umlaut is a secretive outlaw collective of hard-drinking hard-riding anarchist Finnish biker punks who pause only long enough on their ceaselessly marauding cross-tundra doom rides to destroy squats with a typically brief 10-minute set of their incendiary brand of hardcore-crust-grind. Suspiciously evasive in interviews as to the nature of their identity, they espouse their violently radical political beliefs with a vehemence matched only by their loathing of customs agents (on the song "Denied at Customs" sung to the tune of S.O.D.'s "United Forces") and a certain American metalcore band coming to their native land and expecting everyone to speak English.
Most tracks here sound like first-take recordings, and I mean that in a good way -- there's a raw unbridled natural live feel to the songs that make them sound like they're about to disintegrate into chaos at any moment. It is a work of no small heroism on the part of the drummer to keep these songs contained into concrete, if not surprisingly tight, structures. The vocals are positively seething, the guitars the perfect blend of heaviness and rawness, the drums near-death-metal fast and the songs are surprisingly catchy even in their rarely-over-30-seconds length. You could play this on the lowest volume setting and the Finnish motorcycling death squad that is Umlaut will still sound like they're positively charging out of your speakers, ready to run you down and grind your guts into the spokes of their burning wheels.
The real question though is how could a band this amazing actually exist? Seems to good to be true!! I mean, c'mon, Finnish, bikers, metal, hardcore, it's almost like someone deliberately designed the coolest band ever. Weird.
The first release on Grindfreaks Records, the record label affiliated with the Grave record store in Osaka Japan, run by Takaho from Unholy Grave (but often manned by Chew, the drummer from Corrupted!) Grave only sells grind, grind and more grind (oh, and ok, a little hardcore and black metal), so what better way to launch the label than with the latest release from one of the longest running and most infamous Japanese grind bands of all time (and most prolific with nearly 70 releases, nearly all of them splits!!).
Unholy Grave are going on nearly 15 years of grinding destruction, and they still sound as fierce, and fucked up as ever. And even though it's 2007, in the world of Unholy Grave, it still sounds like it's 1987. Falling somewhere between Napalm Death's Scum and Carcass's Reek Of Putrefaction, but filtered through their own Japanese grind filter, the sound of Unholy Grave is gloriously guttural, furiously fast, and ultra distorted, with some of the most bad ass riffs EVER, and everything sooooooooo completely in the red, occasionally the band blasts into full on Japanoise territory. At their fiercest, it's like sticking your head in a dryer full of rusty nails, a relentless barrage of crusty sludge and blown out brutal blasts. But the band does slow down here and there, into weird moshy grooves, super intense doomy stomps and tangled mathy breakdowns, but never for long, always returning to a super fierce, face melting white hot rrrrroooooaaaar. The vocals are all over the shop too, from hysterical shriek, to growling gurgle, nimbly balancing on a musical bed of jagged glass, everything battered and bloodied and so gloriously kick ass and heavy. Some of us have been listening to this NONSTOP since we got it...
The booklet is awesome too, a full on old school punk rock collage of lyrics and slogans and clip art (including an obi of course!) and some seriously awesome art inside the tray card, a Russian leaflet, of which supposedly a million copies were distributed in 1941, with the legend: "GRINDCORE Against Terrorism" along side a Hitler moustachioed monkey behind bars, wearing an iron cross and a swastika armband... and in the corner the words "Gorilla Adolf", and in German: "Caution! Rabid!"�
Moog-enabled synth punk subversion straight outta San Francisco in the late '70s/early '80s, entertaining n' agitating electronic New Wave action excavated and reissued! And it's totally timely considering how many bands in today's scene would so love to sound like this.
We won't pretend we were familiar with The Units before this fantastic anthology album showed up. Perhaps we'd heard the name before (or maybe we were confusing 'em with ol' Jandek's 1978 debut album, also under the name The Units), but we knew nothing about this band 'til we heard this disc a few weeks ago. And as soon as we did, it went into heavy rotation here at the store. These Units were definitely a important piece of San Francisco punk/new wave history, but just a bit before our time. Well, not Aquarius's time, just us folks who work here now! Actually, a close reading of the thanks list in the cd booklet will find a shout out to Aquarius, 'cause (if you didn't know) Aquarius was THEE punk/new wave record store in San Francisco in the '70s... (Which reminds us, we've got to get more of our history up on the AQ website.) And, in fact, The Units' debut lp Digital Stimulation was the very first release on seminal SF indie 415 Records (who had their biggest hit with Romeo Void), a label run in part by Aquarius' owners at the time. So this most certainly isn't the first time that The Units music has been blasting regularly in the Aquarius shop, it's just been a few years, is all.
Putting things in proper place/time/scene perspective, this archival disc starts off with an audio snippet of the late SF punk "godfather" Dirk Dirksen on stage at Mabuhay Gardens, good-naturedly mocking both The Units (accidentally referring to them by the name of another band, the Zeros) and their cheering fans (with the sardonic comment "obviously, people with as little taste as yourself would become ecstatic over such average talent"). Then, making us ecstatic, twenty tracks of prime Units music follows, The History Of The Units containing most all of the tracks from their 1980 415 Records album Digital Stimulation as well as a handful of stuff taken from early 7"s and demo tapes, as well as more experimental pieces recorded for film soundtracks and art happenings and other ephemera.
Not unlike Devo, The Units had a concept thing going, all about a critique of alienated modern industrial society, dehumanizing conformity, and corporate culture, with songs like "Cannibals" and "Work". Perhaps perversely choosing to use machines to make their point, The Units tried to take the human element out of the rock band equation, preferring for instance to project their own propaganda films rather than allow the audience to focus on a frontperson. And yes, they do also sound quite bit like Devo at times, which is way okay by us!
Their synth-obsession was also in part an anti-guitar thing, a reaction to the mainstream. In fact, they took their anti-guitar philosophy to the extreme of not only having a "stamp out guitars" logo, but also making fake guitars out of plywood to smash on stage, while letting their synths play on "cruise control". So definitely The Units were highly conceptual, art schoolish, but not academic - the liner notes are clear that the idea was to be an all-synth band that "kicks ass" (the full quote being: ""I wanted an all synthesizer band... and not some fucking polite, socially acceptable electronic experiment in academia. I didn't want a doctorate in electronic doodling. No, I'm talking about a synth band that kicks ass!") and according to what we're hearing here, they succeeded. And they were not without contemporaries. There were The Screamers, Nervous Gender, and of course Devo; all of whom wanted to take the synthesizer into punk. For many of the Units tracks, it would very easy to replace the lead synth lines with guitars and have an equally kick ass rock song, but the fact is that these are Moog-powered cuts which do oscillate between a quirky sensibility with angular chops and a full-throttle punk car-crash. If you would think the former finds the Units sounding like Devo and the latter like the Screamers, you'd be right!
Yes indeed, the songs on this disc range from urgent Devo-esque pop punk and Screamers-y rants to moody proto-'80s dance tracks to more abstract, instrumental, rhythmic/textural electronic pieces like "Tight Fit" and "East West". There's loads of electric energy, some goofy humor, and certainly serious intent. So many gems here, incorporating buzzing droning distorted synths, propulsively skittering drum beats, and monotone vocals (both male and female).
Their incredible singles "Cannibals" (a tempestuous, driving song that was pure '70s punk), "High Pressure Days", and "Warm Moving Bodies," are prominently featured here, all of which were impressively catchy. Their ability to write these hooks earned them a deal with Epic, who released two seminal 12" singles (which couldn't be licensed for this compilation) and has been sitting on another collection of recordings since 1983. But beyond the hook, the Units were plenty weird, as seen in their peculiar lullaby melodies on "Red" which almost comes across like a Rodd Keith song-poem with a very sparse arrangement. Despite the band's curses toward academic music, a few choice intertwining moments of the Units minimalist grooves come awfully close to sounding like a punked out Terry Riley! Hardly polite music!
Other selections here include the cold wave weird science of "Digital Stimulation", the gloriously grinding downer melody of "Contemporary Emotion" (apparently a cover, a song by some contemporaneous hard rock band we've never heard of called Trakstod Station), and there's even an ode to our very neighborhood, "The Mission Is Bitchin", with lyrics about burritos and marijuana!
Of course it's all a bit dated, of its era, and that's part of the charm... but like we said, a lot of this also sounds like it could be put out by a band today, since everything old is new again and the '80s New Wave / synth thing is a current retro craze. Definitely this is a good time for The Units to be reissued!
And Community Library have done a really nice job of it, the gatefold cd sleeve containing a thick 32 page cd booklet with elaborate colorful collage style liner notes by bandleader Scott "Dr. Tex Nology" Ryser, a Units manifesto of sorts, he also talks about the wild and crazy San Francisco of the '70s/early '80s era, and also there's several pages of old fliers for Units gigs at the Fab Mab and other SF punk venues... we noticed one for the Warfield too, with The Units opening for OMD and Gary Numan. Also shows with Romeo Void, Dead Boys, Soft Cell, Psychedelic Furs, Dead Kennedys, Crime, Screamers, Iggy Pop, the Police, Tuxedomoon... Definitely makes us young 'uns wish we'd been around in SF back then. (Another note about the packaging, it says copyright 2007 on the back but that that's a mistake, it's when the artwork was initially prepared, this is indeed a brand new 2009 release, with also a vinyl version upcoming as well, not sure when, though.)
It's hard to believe it's been more than 20 years since we first heard NYC noise rockers Unsane, but maybe even harder to believe that their sound, even after 25+ releases, remains relatively unchanged. Wreck offers up another collection of blood splattered, knuckle dragging heaviosity, that sounds just as good as the first time we heard them, via their crushing Sub Pop single, and their still tough to beat self titled debut full length. The math remains the same for the most part, the drums a muscled pummel, the guitars distorted and HEAVY, the bass holding it all together, and Chris Spencer's vox a feral wail. The songs mostly one or two parts, chugging and churning and pounding hypnotically. An exercise in metallic minimalism, a sort of hypno-noiserock. The one change we do notice, is a lot more melody going on, and Spencer's vox a bit softer, and also more melodic. While opener "Rat" is a dead ringer for the Unsane of old, the second track "Decay" ends up sounding almost like Mudhoney, Spencer's vox definitely drifting into Mark Arm territory, with the song offering up some surprisingly melodic broody moodiness. But it suits them. And it's been a while since we've listened to the last few records (we STILL listen to those first few) so those changes may have been creeping up gradually, but they definitely seem more prominent on Wreck. Fear not, Unsane has most definitely NOT gotten soft, the record for the most part is heavy on the headbanging noise rock crush, and any extra melody only makes it go down a little bit easier, but even so, there's plenty of jagged heaviness and head caving noisiness to get stuck in your craw, and do a lot of bloody damage in the process. And be sure and stick around for the closer "Ha Ha Ha", which features Spencer's demonic cackle as the chorus, mirroring Dan Higgs' much less malevolent laughing song, and beyond that, it might be the heaviest, and best of the bunch.
Relapse's latest grindcore wunderkinds, California's Uphill Battle manage to hold their own along side of Relapse heavyweights Origin, Burnt By The Sun, Human Remains, Nasum, et al. Chugging, grinding fury, with tense and ridiculously complex song structures, blurry blast beats, blazing downtuned riffs, crushing drums and weird melodic harmonies, while a demented madman howls above the whole thing! Listen to the sound clips, you know if you need this. God knows I do.
