Yeah, the novelty factor with this band wore off long ago, hence they wisely ditched their Donna aliases, but the good times keep on rollin'! While their major label stint on Atlantic might've alienated a few of their devotees with its abundant mainstream slickness, The Donnas just might win 'em all back with the shiny-assed Bitchin'. These gals have proven that they're no slouches in the rock anthem riff department, and they definitely show their stuff here. The only place where they're still a bit lacking is in their tendency to always sing-right-along-with-the-riff. Nevertheless a super fun album that comes pretty close to the breathless exuberance of their early Lookout! albums.
Here's The Donnas' follow-up to their kick-ass 2002 album Spend The Night (the second on a major label). Perhaps to further reinforce the impression that they mean business (i.e. record industry business), the ladies have cast aside the gimmick of their individual Donna aliases. It's true, this is the first Donnas album on which they're going by their real names! Unfortunately their music has never seemed so much in the hands of others. Clearly much of their defining bad girl attitude and freewheeling raw rawk sound (which formerly seemed sincerely of their own making) has been swept away by big budget slick production and stylists. Indeed, Gold Metal has nowhere near the wild teen reckless abandon of their first couple of records. It's still a good time, but a pretty coiffed version of their former deliciously devil-may-care selves. Granted they're not treading any new ground... this is rock'n'roll for chrissakes!... but they're hitting some predictable, cliched riffs and lyrics that without their Donna personas makes their music less distinct and engaging (think Veruca Salt). This certainly should bring them broader mainstream appeal, but it distances them farther and farther away from that which previously made the Donnas so beloved.
The girls are all grown up. This is their 5th release and first for a major label. And they just keep getting tighter and slicker and more rocking with each progressive record. Still sassy and sexy, the Donnas take their AC/DC and Kiss obsessions, mix in a little Runaways and a little Redd Kross and come up with some of the best punky poppy garage-y rock ever! Super heavy and '70s, fun and cute and tough, with perfect back up vocals and simple / funny lyrics sung in a way that's feminine and growly but not whiny or screechy. The lyrics cover all the perfect subjects: getting a boy to crawl with her to her Chevrolet, getting her girls to key your Mercedes, wanting you to take it off so she can have you on the floor, the popular guy wanting to get her high, etc. Just boys and cars and getting laid and never looking back. I know it's so slick and obvious, it could bug a lot of you, and I know there's really no surprises here, and its really cutey pie, but I'm all for it! Sexy, mean girls taking charge! Woo Hoo! The second disc is a DVD, which features the animated video for 'Do You Wanna Hit It' featuring lots and lots of pot smoking and hallucinating ensuring ZERO play on MTV, a documentary/behind the scenes look at the making of the record, and a bizarre segment with comedian Andy Dick interviewing the Donnas. Weird.
Easily the best Donnas record yet. Fans of Redd Kross, Kiss, pop punk and especially fans of all the new GARAGE-MANIA bands (i.e. Stokes, Vines, White Stripes and especially the Sahara Hot Nights) will dig this!
We've had a bright lil' burst of Throwing Muses related releases lately including a reissue of their excellent University album and an imminent solo album from Kristin Hersh. This one somehow slipped by our radar a few months back, and we're sincerely sorry it did because it is terrific! It's Tanya Donelly's fourth solo outing. This Hungry Life was recorded live over the course of two nights in an old hotel in Bellows Falls, Vermont. Apparently those two evenings were during a heatwave which appears to have compounded the dreamy delirium usually associated with both Donelly and Hersh's off kilter pop music. Much more feisty and energetic than her last solo release, 2004's stark, hushed Whiskey Tango Ghost. This maybe partly due to he's backed by an impressive lot -- her husband Dean Fisher (guitarist for The Juliana Hatfield Three), Rich Gilbert (guitar and pedal steel player for Frank Black & The Catholics), drummer Arthur Johnson (also of Come), violinist Joan Wasser (who's also played with Lou Reed and Antony & The Johnsons) and vocalist Bill Janowitz (of Buffalo Tom). As always, top notch, unmistakably Donelly, dizzying goodness.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen! For tonight's entertainment we regret to inform you that Tori Amos couldn't make it... however Tanya Donelly has kindly agreed to take her place and sing a few numbers for us!... Alright, all kiddin' aside, but Ms Donelly's new solo album Whiskey Range Ghost does bear an uncanny resemblance to those of Ms Amos (maybe easing up slightly on the trademark Amos dramatic side of things). Barebones vocals accompanied by equally spartan piano, acoustic guitar and pedal steel. It's all very intimate and pretty balladry. Oh so different from her past Belly, Breeders, Throwing Muses and solo efforts, but oddly following a parallel path as her former bandmate Kirstin Hersh's recent solo album The Grotto.
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Finally a reissue of the long lost lps from San francisco's unsung pop heroes, the Donner Party. Boasting future members of Quasi and the S.F. Seals, the Donner party, crafted perfect and absurdist little ditties, silly and fun, full of wide eyed innocence and mundane platitudes, and with hooks that could stop a train.
Championing that 80's college radio sound (R.E.M., Homestead Records, etc.) the Donners never seemed to get the attention afforded their peers. This two cd set compiles the first two lps, as well as an unreleased third lp, plus some live tracks to boot.
Some of the best jangley pop ever, for fans of Quasi, Built to Spill, Halo Benders, They Might Be giants. Worth it just for the song 'Boxfull of Bones', one of the most beautiful and heart breaking pop songs ever.
Wot is the first proper solo record from Mike Donovan, aka Sic Alps, and as is often the case with bands that are really essentially one man shows, at first it's not entirely clear what exactly made this set of songs a Donovan solo record, and not just a new Sic Alps record, cuz really, on the surface, and with the first few listens, the songs really does sound like Sic Alps, how could they not, and had it been presented as such, we probably wouldn't have batted an eye. But it IS different, the songs themselves are actually much more stripped down and folky, channeling the classic sixties psychedelia that no doubt informs Sic Alps, but here that sound is much more straight ahead, no fucked up recording, no lo-fi his, no tripped out WTF weirdness, in fact barring a few moments, nothing on Wot is at all as overtly psychedelic, freaky and fractured as Sic Alps. In fact, this could totally be some lost sixties rarity reissues, it's got that same sort of vibe, sunshiney, California hippie, dope smoking grooviness, think Moby Grape, Have A Nice Day, those sorts of Sixties Fillmore bands, there's harmonica, trumpet, bongos, lap steel, the songs are laid back and dreamy, Donovan's vocals sound as good as they ever have, the songs too are pretty, and softly psychedelic. The typically fucked up song titles ("Baroque Ass", "Sexual Reassignment Surgery Blues", "MP3 Farm", "New Fieldhand Bop") and occasional twisted lyrics are really the only things that point to Donovan's more warped sonic past in Sic Alps, with most of Wot sounding like Donovan seemingly strapped on an acoustic guitar, and pulled songs from some lost American songbook, some of the songs swampy and bluesy, reminding us of Railroad Jerk or even the Rock*A*Teens, others remind us alternately of Dylan or Skip Spence, we hear a little Kinks here and there, some seriously dreamy, and darkly delicate ballads, some lush horn flecked Appalachia, some garage-y folk, and some slithery blooze. Sic Alps fans will definitely dig, but so will folks who maybe found that group a little too far out. And who knows, this could be the sort of record that lures those folks over to the musical dark side. Here's hoping...
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Don't get too excited all you doom metallers out there. You know who we're talking about, those of you who salivate at the mere mention of the word doom. This is not doom in that sense, no slow motion stoner riffing, no wailing seventies vocals, no Sabbath worship here. This is the grind band that started it all. Twenty plus years ago! DOOM! Doom in the sense of how fucked the world is and how the pigs have it in for us and there's no future and we don't want to grow up and our parents generation have fucked everything up and fuck war and fuck you, that sort of doom. Buzzing, blasting grind reminisicent of early Earache records like Napalm Death's Scum, or Carcass's Symphonies Of Sickness, but sonically much closer to Discharge and Broken Bones and G.B.H. and Flux Of Pink Indians and the like. Two of Doom's early eighties lps on one cd! 37 tracks, averaging about 90 seconds each, of thrashing metallic punk rock chaos with ultra pissed lyrics and grunted/shouted vocals over a prickly bed of razor sharp riffing and pounding blast beats. So fucking good!
Holy shit, were these guys seemingly made just for aQ. They're called Doomhawk for one, but more importantly, they play self described "Fantasy Calliope Metal with a heavy love for late night techno radio", and what it really sounds like is epic lo-fi power metal, meshed with a sort of Morricone-ish twang, like a more cinematic Slough Feg, mixed with some Finntroll, but way more DIY and punk, recorded on a 4-track, with wild prog keyboards all over the place. Oh and did we mention flute? How about tuba? Yep, these ladies and gents are like psychedelic space metal troubadours, their songs have a distinctly gypsy / folk vibe, but all tangled up with "Final Countdown" synthesizers and ridiculous fantasy lyrics. Wild chaotic drumming, soaring majestic arrangements, growled, howled, shrieked vocals, acoustic guitars, long stretched out ambient drones, super convoluted rock opera like arrangements...
Not to mention, the members are named Castropho, Sleet, Aumbleplex and Space-Time, and the drummer plays flute!!! Not sure it Doomhawk are still a band, if so, it seems like they'd probably be fucking awesome live, but for the time being, let these lengthy epic prog metal folk drone gypsy jams transport you to whatever bizarre otherworld these weirdos call home.
Even cooler is that every record is hand painted, the clawed Doomhawk logo, spray painted on thrift store records, with not only the Doomhawk record inside, but also the original lp that goes with the old sleeve (the one we grabbed is Chubby Plays Polkas!), includes a printed insert with liner notes, and most importantly lyrics!!! Totally recommended!
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These Baltimore noise rock weirdos have always been super difficult to describe, and this new record doesn't make it any easier. The opening 1-2-3 punch though might be some of the best stuff we've heard from them. The intro explodes with a wild barrage of drum damage, like some drum corps gone haywire, an opening that sounds like a Buddy Rich solo by way of the Boredoms, before the guitars swoop in, all grungy and noisy, a little bit sludgy, but laced with plenty of melody, sounding not unlike a less bass heavy Lightning Bolt, the same sort of frantic, spastic sonic energy, a wild squall of distorto rhythmic churn. That bleeds right into "Repo Man", which sounds like Dope Body doing their best Nirvana / Wipers, all hushed minimal verses, and heavy, chugging bridge, the vocals world weary and laid back, with a killer, crushing, drum heavy, chorus, that reminds us of Karp or Unwound, the classic indie rock soft/loud soft/loud and repeat, but somehow, through Dope Body's twisted sonic lens it's ultra catchy, noise rock bliss. And then "Hired Gun" harkens back to past records with the band unleashing dizzying fields of distorted harmonics that end up sounding like a metallized Konono No.1, mixed with the hypercharged Weezer worshipping metallic pop crunch of Jeff The Brotherhood, all wound up in some spiky AmRep noise rockiness. Sounds good so far. And it IS.
And from there on out, it stays good, and continues to hopscotch from genre to genre with very little regard for the listener, but it's sort of what makes this stuff so appealing, the stripped down blooze swagger of "Echo", the frenetic, fizzed out pop flecked grinding punkiness of "AOL", the almost groovy, Primus channeling (???) noise-funk of "Rare Air", the furious, wiry, metallic post punk crunch of "Day By Day", the downtuned noise rock dirgery of "Toy", and so it goes. Furious freaked out heaviness rife with seemingly out of place poppiness, the sort of band math that rarely works, but that in the case of Dope Body makes pretty much perfect (non)sense.
Another party hardy block rocking big beat Baltimore underground warehouse sweaty noise dude good time to be had here from Dope Body, now signed to Drag City, which we heartily approve of 'cause their previous label, Hoss, never even managed to get it together to supply us with cds of last year's Nupping album to list. We did however give a big thumbs up the the lp version of Nupping, and this new album is equally enjoyable!
Once again, Dope Body bash out a wild melange of quasi funk-punk, noise-damaged weirdness. But this time, Dope Body has cleaned up their act a little bit, gotten more nuanced, and added a bigger dose of pure POPPINESS to the proceedings. Don't worry, Natural History is still chock full of crunching distorted grooves, rubbery bass, vocal bro bellow, and all of Dope Body's other catchy/confusional hallmarks. But, ferinstance, track two, "Road Dog", which begins with a chicka-chicka-chicka rhythmic guitar part that reminds us of aQ faves Cave, eventually blossoms into full-on crooned, new wave garage pop hit single from some alternate universe. Hot damn. And there's plenty more such hits on offer as the rest of the album spins. Chunky, catchy, heavy, mathy, dumb, fun, dancey, brutish, melodic, Dope Body deliver in ways that not too many other indie acts these days dare, channelling fave '90s influences (and sometimes guilty pleasures) like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rocket From The Crypt, Cop Shoot Cop, and a host of AmRep noisemongers.
Great music to play at your next house party, but (as we alluded to in our review of Nupping), don't be surprised if some of your furniture gets broken...
With a name like Dope Body, at first we kinda expected this Baltimore band to be some kind of sludge metal thing. But as we learned a while back from their split lp with NYC's Orphan, they're something else entirely. A very hard to define, WTF?, but totally enjoyable, something else indeed, that reminds us of everything from the mathy spazzcore of Lightning Bolt and USAisamonster to the DIY electronic ethno grooves of freakin' Konono No.1, wow. While some of this, their debut studio full-length, is stoner rock heavy (and one song is called "The Shape Of Grunge To Come"), it's more of a crazy melange of all sorts of wild, loud, uber-distorted, rhythmic good times! Quite catchy too.
One thing that we can't help but notice is that part of the Dope Body equation, beneath the noise-rock chaos, is a good dose of punk-funk. We get a whiff, in a good way, of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, somehow (the rubbery bassline of "Bangers & Yos", c'mon). And heck, the band in fact claim Rage Against The Machine as an influence... but we think that Dope Body themselves would appeal more to fans of Cave, Melt Banana, Health, old Boredoms, Geronimo, Shit & Shine, and Rusted Shut. Not that any of those bands sound like Dope Body either exactly, but they might if they all jammed together. Though, that would be a mess, while Nupping isn't actually as messy as it might initially sound, 'cause what Dope Body manage to do is turn all their crunching looping riffs, damaged breakbeats, skronky guitar noise, R-rollin' vocal holler, and weird dude energy, into songs - songs you could dance to! Songs you WILL dance to, furniture and small breakable objects be damned.
Bringing a sweaty warehouse party to your stereo, Dope Body deliver. We loved 'em on that split, and this full-length does not disappoint. Crank it!!
FYI, we were shorted on our order of cds, so we're listing just the vinyl now, the cd hopefully next time, though we might have a couple cds in stock now.
Doralice is a local chamber music duo specializing in instrumental acoustic music, their sound touching on Americana, gypsy folk, Flamenco and tangos, inspired by film and world music, the interesting thing being that the two members of Doralice, hail from another band recently featured on the aQ list, Ventid, whom we described as sounding like classic nineties math/post rock a la Rodan, Shellac, June Of 44, A Minor Forest, Rumah Sakit. One half of Doralice also plays in the Pickpocket Ensemble, which makes Doralice not seem like such an unlikely musical vehicle, treading some of the same sonic ground, but definitely doing their own thing, utilizing guitar, violin, banjo and toy piano, and joined by a handful of guests, creating the sort of sounds that fans of Tin Hat Trio, Calexico, Ennio Morricone, Nino Tora, Astor Piazolla, Rachel's and similar outfits will no doubt dig. Quite lovely!
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Female trio from New Zealand.
From the man who runs the amazing God Is Myth label, responsible for recent AQ faves like Godheadscope, Caina and Procer Veneficus, and who used to record as Uvall, comes the new 'group' Dormant, which takes the more traditional black metal sound of Uvall and abandons it almost entirely, focusing more on mood and melancholia, texture and timbre, songs as much as sonics, a sort of orchestral dark doom pop sound, run through with streaks of buzzing blackness, and plenty of dark dark ambience.
With some help from folks like Caina and Celestiial, Dormant weaves an unlikely blackened sonic brew, gloomy and dark, but strangely pretty and poppy, epic and almost orchestral at points, there are brief moments of grim buzz and blasting black fury, but they are relatively few and far between, instead most of the record drifts delicately, mournful strummed steel string guitars, moaning drones off in the distance, deep baritone, near spoken vocals. Sounding very much like Swans or Angels of Light. Even the heavier songs spend much of their time moping mournfully, shimmery clean guitar twang, reverbed soft focus riffage, sometimes eventually transforming into midtempo black metal, but still suffused with that distinctly pop element, occasionally even turning pitchblack and offering up some buzzing riffs and harsh vocals, but only briefly, usually slipping back into a lilting dreamy dark folk, or a strange loping industrial dirge, or a haunting expanse of barely there drone.
Definitely for the super adventurous blackmetalheads out there, or for darkfolk freaks who don't mind bits of buzz and blast peppering their spacey jangle, moody gothic miserablism and abstract late night drift.
The first 200 copies of this cd come housed in a hand screened digipak with an insert and a sticker. We have about a dozen of those. Once we run out, we'll have copies from the rest of the pressing, a version that comes in a DVD case instead.
Another odd Ormolycka tape here, one of the more mysterious in their current crazy batch of releases. This band we know is from Japan, and that's about it. Could be new, or from the '80s or '90s, we don't know. Ok, wait, we think we found a Japanese-language Tumblr page for them. Hmm, looks like they're a currently active band, from the photos we saw consisting of young dudes with colorful hair, wearing baseball caps, who like to jump up and down and drop their pants. Maybe sorta Boredoms-y.
And listening to the tape, what do we hear? Chaotic, trash-can-clattering industrial-noise-punk jams and lo-fi confusional sound collage. With gobs of distortion, violently shouted chanting, random voices, and an overall very agitated vibe, like the perpetrators were into breaking things and trying to arouse their audience to do the same. Some fairly WTF? shit, noisy and nifty and all over the place. One song will sound sorta like skanking ska, the next a parody (?) of cheesy synth-pop. At one point, they do a completely over-the-top, distortodelic destruction of "Tequila"!
Weird that Ormolycka provides NO info about them (or any other release, really) on their website, how do they expect to sell their tapes? Oh, maybe 'cause every Ormolyka tape so far has been great, maybe that's it. This one too!
Catsup Plate has been the label to watch these days unleashing all sorts of amazing sonic weirdness, from the Destroyer, to Campfire Songs, to Daniel Padden and more. Now comes this crazy record from the Double. Ostensibly it's a pop record, but it is so bizarre sounding and sonically all over the place that it's hard to know just what it is. The first track is like a more glitched out, fucked up Magnetic Fields, but with Stephen Merrit's vocals all roughed up and raspier. Very deadpan delivery, in a throaty baritone, over a shimmery electronic soundscape with blooping basslines, the whole while things getting glitchier and more damaged. Weird and really cool. Things sort of just get more abstract from there on out. Rumbling superdistorted washes of rumble guitar and stuttery drums, with spastic octopoidal drumming, free jazz splatter, reverbed guitar, space echo, keening melodies, and lightning storm guitars with very mournful sad boy vocals, warbly and heartfelt. Occasional squalls of all-out noise drift by, obscuring the pop sunshine and leaving chaotic ramshackle deconstructed pop in its wake. A very bizarre and unlikely blend of Morrissey, Jandek, Throbbing Gristle, Oval, Wolf Eyes, Pere Ubu and Magnetic Fields!
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Record number two from these post noise rockers, hot on the heels of their More disc which we loved. No guitars, just bass and drums, these guys lay down a killer din that's equal parts indie jangle, math rock tangle and pounding noise rock, the basses thick and distorted and buzzy and crunchy, unleashing grinding riffage, loping grooves, and everything in between, while the drums pound maniacally, actually as we're writing this, we realize we described these guys pretty much perfectly in the review for More, so maybe we should revisit that description for a second:
A chaotic, heady mix of all the things we love about math rock, post rock, noise rock, emo and screamo, equal parts Fugazi, Pavement and Fucked Up, a churning juggernaut of thick super distorted bass, pounding mathy rhythms and yowled vocals that definitely sound like the perfect mix of Ian Mackaye and Stephen Malkumus.
Which still holds true, but if anything, this go around is even more poppy, with some of the songs stretching out into chugging, slow building Fugazi style burners, with some rad bass harmonics, and squealing feedback, plenty of Jesus Lizard going on too, a little Shellac too, but the double bass attack definitely makes the sound all their own. Definitely reminiscent of some of our nineties favorites, but revved up and reinvigorated, and the songs are catchy as fuck, which pretty much trumps everything else. The fact that this is mathy and heavy and hypnotic is just icing on the post rock cake.
Cool diecut packaging, hand drawn monster masks with the eyes cut out, which change color depending on whether the disc or the insert is showing through.
We've definitely said it before, but it bears repeating. As much as we love endless squalls of black buzz, long drawn out low end drones, noise of every stripe, and music that is less music and more SOUND, we do love SONGS. And bands who write songs. Kick ass super rocking songs. When we step back and observe objectively, it's strange how few 'rock bands' there are. Guitars, bass, drums, verses, choruses, and yeah, we know that's not nearly enough, but when a band like that has the chops and more importantly THE SONGS to back it up, then holy shit, look out.
We heard Double Dagger for the first time on Thrill Jockey's Record Store Day release Records Toreism (of which we have a very few copies left!), we described their song as "kick ass, super distorted, howly, drum heavy, bass heavy, arty, angular, crunchy, almost a bit metal post punk", which we're happy to report is still the case on this, their debut full length.
A chaotic, heady mix of all the things we love about math rock, post rock, noise rock, emo and screamo, equal parts Fugazi, Pavement and Fucked Up, a churning juggernaut of thick super distorted bass, pounding mathy rhythms and yowled vocals that definitely sound like the perfect mix of Ian Mackaye and Stephen Malkumus, and yeah, NO guitars, not that you'd ever notice, the bass is massive, thick and undulating, sometimes dripping with crumbling distortion, other times as clear as a bell, definitely reminiscent of Lightning Bolt's Brian Gibson, but way more indie rock. And the songs, awesome, super mathy and complex, weirdly dense and convoluted, but with hooks galore, totally takes us back to the nineties glory days of this sort of sound, and reminds us how awesome music can be when it IS more than just cool sounds. And these songs have been lodged in our heads like crazy since we first got this in, and it's obvious from listening to these guys rock, how amazing they must be live, wild and sweaty and blown out and fun as fuck. Which pretty much perfectly describes More.
The Double Leopards have become more and more prolific of late, amazingly so considering there was a time where all we could track down by these cats was a cd-r and maybe an lp. An alluring mystery for sure. The mystery is not gone though, not nearly, in fact if anything it's just being deepened by the recent spate of new recordings, each a blurry buzzy smear of abstract sound, all lovingly swaddled in that Double Leopards haze and grit. A Hole Is True, is three lengthy tracks, totaling about 40 minutes, rough, raw, fuzzy, almost industrial soundscapes, buzzing guitars, grinding distortion, throbbing feedback, all stretched into pulsing, squirming, slow shifting drones. A seemingly endless haze, dense and swirly, tangly and prickly, thick and viscous. Definitely falls square within the sonic world of Skullflower, Total, and of course the Hototogisu (Leopards' member Marcia Bassett's other band, a duo with Skullflower's Matthew Bower)!
Massive double lp opus from this mysterious drone rock ensemble. Maybe drone rock is a bit misleading as there is very little rock to be found. So let's just say drone, shall we? After numerous cd-r's and limited lps the Double Leopards return with this gorgeous and expansive low end exploration. Rumbles and hums, shimmers and thrums, this is as perfect a piece of meditative, mesmeric drone as you're ever going to find. Like all great drone records, Halve Maen is a dense, thick nebula made up of layers and layers of sound slowly shifting and unravelling, revealing new sonic details on each listen. Murky wisps of rhythm, shimmering piano, distant chimes, warm reeds, and fuzzy static all surface occasionally. As the record progresses, the minimal spaciness intensifies, gets darker and gets louder, as the misty spectral instrumentation gathers steam and takes form, with propulsive rhythms and ghostly vocals emerging from the haze. So nice. Limited to 1000 copies. On nice thick vinyl in a gorgeous gatefold sleeve.
Over the past couple of years, the Double Leopards have emerged as one of the premier psychedelic drone ensembles alongside such pre-cognitive / cosmic communicators as the Vibracathedral Orchestra and Skullflower (whose Matthew Bower records with Double Leopards' Marcia Bassett as the Hototogisu); yet they've only released a couple of records that never seem to stay around long enough for us to write all that much about them. Out Of One, Through One, And To One is their latest opus of murky atmospheres channelled through the aftermath of a potent drug coctail prescribed for a blood chilling, delusional numbness. The Double Leopards excel in their eternal-music mantras spiralling out of densely layered buzzsaw dronings, continuously bowed strings, corroded amplifier distortion, the perpetual odor of spilt bongs, and an ocean of fluttering delay patterns. These medicated abstractions in deep heavy monotone equal those found on their universally acclaimed debut album Halve Maen. Considering this is limited to a 1000 copies, Out Of One is not expected to be around for terribly wrong. As former AQ owner Windy was wont to say, buy now or cry later.
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Won't go into too much detail since by the time you read this these will be pretty much gone, sadly. SUPER LIMITED to 350 copies, picture disc artwork by Graham Lambkin from the Shadow Ring. Two massive sides of groaning, creeping ambience and muted industrial soundscapes of rumble and drone. Quite beautiful actually. Sounds a bit like you might imagine Wolf Eyes would sound if when they first woke up in the morning (or middle of the night), a little groggy and hung over, and just rolled over, plugged in, turned on, and let loose a thick washed out, lazy, fuzzy, gritty dronescape.
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Super fucked-up, bass-heavy "post-rock" from France--if such creepy electric thud can be considered "rock" at all. At times, the vocals sound like PJ Harvey with a traechotomy. Dark, sinister, and highly unique. They really don't sound like any other band I can think of, from France or elsewhere.
Until (if?) the Thinking Fellers record another album, there's the fellow San Franciscan quartet Double U filling in for them. Purposefully wacked indie-melodies with plenty of nods to the ethnomusicological damage of the Sun City Girls and recalling the golden age of San Franisco art rock (Residents, Snakefinger, and the rest of Ralph Records).
I like this record so much but I can't for the life of me think of how to describe them. Of course they sound A LOT like The Thinking Fellers, as every review will tell you, but I doubt they would deny that. It's when I go to describe the music I'm at a loss. It's rich and creepy, sounds like demented nursery rhymes. The vocals are unique to say the least. Ranging from little girl eeriness, whispering in your ear to booming and indecipherable. Most of the songs are groovy meandering numbers, with odd scraping, sliding, creeping sounds. and there are some carnivalesqe songs that give you the chills like a good horror movie. Odd instrumentation recorded with expertise by Tim Green at Louder Studios. Art rock that will scare you.
Originally conceived as a hyper intricate math rock duo a few years back, the Double decided to simplify and focus on songs and sounds, then a drummer injury forced the band to yet again rethink their sound and approach, which resulted in the modern sound of the Double, a weird glitched out, quirky pop, thick with super distorted keyboards, winsome melodies, bursts of manic rocking demarcating long stretches of dreampop and new wave warble. Now they've incorporated some of that NY hipster swagger, a la Interpol or the Strokes, but filtered it through the Double's warped musical lens, a bouncy, brooding pop, with angular spaced out guitars and deadpan vocals that sound uncannily like Stephen Malkmus from Pavement, although here they swoop wildly into a falsetto as often as they drawl laconically. Each song is a dizzying blast of kaleidoscopic post-pop, crashing and chaotic, lilting and lovely, stumbling and ramshackle assemblages of bizarre song structures and strange melodies that don't sound catchy until at least the third or fourth time you hear them, but the first two or three times they definitely sound interesting, and intriguing, and make you want to keep listening, to find that unlikely hook, buried in there somewhere. And those are always the kind of songs that stick the most in the long run.
Ms Dougher is one busy lady, playing previously in the Lookers, and currently in the Crabs and Cadallaca as well as writing for a number of publications, and co-writing a book with Nikki McClure. This is her debut solo full length. "But wait!" you say, "didn't
Sarah Dougher possess a voice which bears an eerily striking resemblance to that of a young Carly Simon. Almost creepily so. This is her second solo album of folk inflected melodies. Quite nice and low-key.
We raved about Floor's Dove album last list, so it only makes sense that we would move on to the new album from Dove, the band that followed Floor and just happens to also feature a fellow from another AQ favorite, Cavity! Equal parts the Melvins, High On Fire and Sleep, which means huge, thundering riffs, planet splitting percussion, and black hole bass, but with the unlikely addition of sweet acoustic parts, weird almost-folky clean guitar and occasional minor key post rock breakdowns. This is much more 'punk' than the Floor record. Where Floor was channelling the Beatles via Nirvana via Eyehategod, Dove takes that end result, roughs it up a bit, rolls it in broken glass and barbed wire and sends it careening down a punk rock mountain with no brakes. Occasionally Dove slow down into Floor / Cavity dirge territory, but more often than not, things quickly pick up or take some weird unpredictable turn before resuming their thrashingly hooky onsalught. Awesome.
Alright, we were caught snoozin' on this one (it came out late last year!)! You can't totally blame us though 'cause it's such a solemn, mellow, warm blanket of an album. It doesn't wallop you over the head, but sinks in and envelopes you slowly. Glacially paced and beautifully crafted, With My Left Hand I Raised The Dead is the ultra hushed yet powerful debut of New York's Doveman (aka 25 year old keyboardist Thomas Bartlett who has played with the likes of Antony & The Johnsons, Laurie Anderson, Yoko Ono and David Byrne), and what an entrancing entrance it is! His instrumentals possess a frosty flair and atmospheres along the lines of Mum and Sigur Ros, but his wistful folksy singing recalls Cat Power or Nick Drake. The vocals songs alternate with the untitled instrumental numbers. The third song "Tender Mercies" is absolutely breathtakingly delicate. The understated intimacy and elegance of that song and in fact the album as a whole are deceptively potent! Yes, better late than never, sooooo recommended!
Hurrah! This is Doves' follow-up to their splendid 2002 sophomore album, The Last Broadcast. While there aren't any single songs here that pack as much of the heartstring-pullin, toe-tappin' wallop as that album's ninth tune "Pounding" (which I, Cup, was... oh who am I kidding?... *am* still totally addicted to!), Some Cities does not disappoint. In fact, come to think of it, has the trio of Jimi Goodwin, Jez and Andy Williams ever disappointed? I think not. Once again, this album will do little to stop them from being lumped together with their more famous Brit brethren Coldplay, but that's not a bad thing -- they're both pretty fabulous bands. And once again, their finely detailed, lush, earthy instrument arrangements provide the soaring grandeur while Goodwin's vocals provide the intimate closeness. That said, moody groovy songs such as the fifth "The Storm" are perfect for late night wind-downs which may also appeal to fans of such groups as Air or Massive Attack. Great!
Only the second album from Manchester trio Doves (not to be confused with The Doves), but what a beauty it is! An ultra lush production of mellow, earthy British pop. Often quite akin to fellow Brits Coldplay especially on their slower songs with their lilting, emotive male vocals, warm piano and combined acoustic and electric guitars. The trio's compositions swell to gorgeously grand proportions with some very tastefully applied strings (as arranged by Sean O'Hagan of High Llamas), horns and woodwinds (check out "Friday's Dust", oooh!). And glistening glockenspiel too! Truly soaring and dramatic, but never excessively so. However, these fellows show they're more than capable of also kicking things up a notch or two on tracks like the solid pop of "Pounding", a super catchy number propelled by drums that certainly get their share of thumpin'. Sorta made me think "I'd like the Strokes' if they sounded more like this and less detached and indifferent." Near the close of the album, the songs - particularly the title track and "The Sulphur Man" - shift in tone subtly into something that strongly reminded us of American Music Club, in part due to the striking vocal resemblance between Mark Eitzel and Jimi Goodwin on these tracks. Also includes a bonus limited edition EP of four more gentle songs. Very very nice!
The local label Out of Round has been laboring quietly in the background, not calling a lot of attention to itself yet turning out record after record that are consistently of similar mood -- due to the fact that they all play on each others recordings. The homegrown label's "sound", then, is one of a grimy circus atmosphere, like Fellini's La Strada if it was set in some dusty corner of an urban American metropolis. There are lots of slowed down polkas and depressed waltz time-signatures, dour vocals, sad accoridans, and dolefully plucked guitars. Great mood music for the Tom Waits fan in all of us who feels like Waits is just too hip for his own good these days.
Check out www.outofroundrecords.com -- we carry all of their releases. For a limited time only, get an out of Round Records label sampler free with purchase of this disc.
Ah, the Verlaines. One of my favorite New Zealand bands of all time. In the early nineties they made music filled with intense Wedding Present-style strumming, and wailing minor key melodies that sounded so urgent and vital. This is the solo debut of the
Dr. D is a New York DJ best known to us for mashing up obscure '60 psych with current, crunken hiphop hitz. This limited edition cd-r mix, however, is pretty much all '60s and '70s grooves as far as we know -- no hiphop anyway. And it's got our number, 'cause so much of what he's spinning is that Turkish psych stuff we love, mixed in with some old and new Afrofunk a la Ethiopiques and Tinariwen, along with some further exotic flavors that fit. Some names we know/tracks we recognize: Selda, Bunalim, Edip Akbayram, Les Mogol, Erkin Koray, Baris Manco... and of course there's a bunch more we don't, all of it pretty cool though. It's a bit like that Trap Door mix, in a romantic mood. Plus this is a true turntablist mix, featuring 31 short selections (mostly 1-2 minute edits), flowing quite nicely, occasionally enhanced with some scratchy-scratch whip-whip-whap. The discs we have are from the first numbered 250 copy edition, in screenprinted cardboard sleeves.
Awesome noisy drum-machine, shredding-guitar, gurgling/howling-vocal spazz rock. Or something like that. Having done time on Finland's mighty Bad Vugum label along with AQ faves Circle, Dr. Gunni is a far more demented affair. Lo-fi Stooge-y ditties
The best of '80s Oxnard metalli-punks Dr. Know collected on one handy disc. Maybe you've heard Slayer's version of "Mr. Freeze"?
Whoa...what a great find this is! Being a big fan of early seventies/heavy folk rock and of course the Incredible String band (who Dr. Strangely Strange most resembles upon first listen), we just can't get enough of this strangely strange record! There's the surrealistic multi-instrumentalism similar to that of ISB (and whimsy not unlike Bonzo Dog Band) but Dr. SS offers something moodier, too. With layered acoustic and electric guitar and lots of harmonized vocals, some songs sound almost like the Velvet Underground's Loaded record (which, incidentally, came out the same year). And with a young Gary Moore (who went onto Thin Lizzy fame) there's lots of solid guitar soloing going on. A nice bonus is the elaborate die-cut packaging made to look like the original LP artwork. Very recommended!
