We love how far and wide across the globe Dark Entries have been traveling to find us some of the best and most overlooked synth sounds of the early '80s. This time out they take us to Valencia, Spain in 1980 for the bright, DIY inspired synth pop of Europa. Originally released as a cassette, these songs now get their proper place on wax and goddamn is this a set of irresistible electro-pop perfection. Just goes to show that the UK wasn't the only place turning out amazing, catchy, synth pop bands, as this really stands at the same level of excellence as records by folks like Depeche Mode, OMD, and The Human League that were released around this time.
While most bands that surrounded them in Valencia were still trapped in over the top prog rock conventions, Europa took inspiration from punk and the burgeoning electronic scene and proved that you didn't need fancy, expensive equipment to make an awesome sounding record. They built their synths from scratch, and recorded this on a 4-track reel-to-reel, and it pretty much blows away what so many folks these days with so many more resources and endless plug-in's use when trying to capture this sort of sound. Some reissues are cooler in theory than in actual listening pleasure, but this one is all about pleasure! Anyone who loves great early synth-pop will want to jump on this right away. Viva Europa!
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Few can express utter gut wrenching, hand wringing torment while still embracing a melodic beauty like Carla Bozulich. Diamanda Galas and P.J. Harvey are the only others who immediately come to mind. Evangelista is her new project which also features members of A Silver Mt. Zion whose presence is definitely felt throughout. Their debut full length Hello, Voyager threaten to drown the listener in the overwhelming current of despairing bleakness and broken beauty. Some songs swagger in bluesy defiance, some plod on in a saturnine somnabulism, some assault with gritty dissonance ("Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space" which recalls the untethered drama of bands such as the sadly defunct Pleasure Forever), some sweep you up in a lush stringed devastation ("The Blue Room"). No sunlight reaches the deep recesses of this music, you get the sense that the voyager in the title will never come up for air. No happy endings here, Evangelista haunts long after the final gloomy notes have faded... awesome.
Prince of Truth, the follow-up to 2008's Hello, Voyager, walks a beautiful, cacophonous path. Carla Bozulich, the force behind Evangelista, is definitely one of a kind, or at least one of a very, very select few. She has assembled a group of excellent musicians that weave equal doses of melody and chaos around loose structures of songs without having them dissolve into utter randomness or pretentious noodling. Dominic Cramp on keys knows when to really take it up a notch and when to compliment others by adding just that little extra something; Tara Barnes, Carla's longtime low-end collaborator, is a rock on which to cling in choppy waters; Nels Cline on guitar needs no introduction; and the incomparable Ches Smith (of Xiu Xiu / Good for Cows / John Zorn) on drums... these are just a few of the amazing musicians on Prince of Truth.
The record opens with "The Slayer": two and a half minutes of noise introduce the listener to what is to come before Carla's vocals and a few cymbal washes add solidity to the mix. Cellos and what sounds like tape loops start off the second track, "Tremble Dragonfly," before they fade into a slow dirge held together by Carla's voice, some sleigh bells and strings. "Dragonfly" sounds like a really, really drugged out B-side off Tom Waits' Black Rider. What could be better?
Though the chaos is prepared to perfection, when the album gets a bit stripped down you can really tell that Evangelista is a rare gem indeed. "I Lay There in Front of Me Covered in Ice" is possibly the most melodic song on the record. Multiple vocal tracks ride high over an electric organ and minimal percussion, combining into something that makes us want to cry everytime we listen to it.
Carla Bozulich has been a staple of the underground music scene for a long time, and we have loved everything from the Geraldine Fibbers to Ethyl Meatplow to her latest incarnation as Evangelista. If you haven't discovered her genius yet, Prince of Truth is a perfect introduction.
Brand new single from the most recent record by Evans The Death, which we reviewed a little while back. The A side is obviously to be found on that record, so if you already have that, it's the bizarre B side that's the reason to pick this up. More on that in a sec. For everyone else, who may not yet have heard this noise pop combo, who are a bit heavier and crunchier than most outfits on Slumberland, low slung basslines, some serious distorted jangle, the A side here complete with a killer chorus and of course the super distinctive vocals, which you sort of have to hear. Definitely makes EtD a unique proposition. But yeah, check out the sample, and you might be as smitten as we were.
For folks who are already hip to EtD, the B side is a weird experiment, that sounds a bit like a sea shanty, super bass driven, but weirdly sing songy, with super bizarre vox, a strangled mewling for most of the track, but a second voice joins in and sounds a bit like a mumbling moaning pirate. Weird and pretty cool.
Super swank packaging with embossed / silver foil lettering.
Most Slumberland releases tend toward the washed out and dreamily jangly, sort of ethereal and dream poppy, so when we threw this on, we were kind of thrown for a loop by the opening track "Bo Diddley", with its serious crunch and punkish pound, and were immediately smitten by the oddly named Evans The Death. Noisy pop, a little bit heavy and rocking, gloriously distorted and fuzzed out, that surprise though was immediately trumped once the vocalist opened her mouth, and let loose with one of the coolest, strangest, most distinctive voices we've heard in ages. A sonorous croon that soars and wails flitting into an impossible falsetto at the drop of a hat, and somehow, once you get settled into EtD's sound, it's impossible to imagine any other vocalist fitting in. The cool thing, is even sans the vocals, the music is pretty epic, flitting from churning Pixies-ish pound, to bleary eyed shoegaze trip out, to garage-y fuzz pop, to classic power pop crunch, the arrangements are a little mathy, the melodies epic and catchy like crazy, the sound lush and layered and loud, and then the vocals come in, and it's impossible to resist. Heck, they even have a song called "A Small Child Punched Me In The Face", which might just be the catchiest song with the weirdest title EVER. Quickly becoming a new pop fave, and "Bo Diddley", definite contender for pop jam of the year...
This super limited tape was released by the new Room 40 cassette imprint A Guide To Saints. It's already out of print at the source, and we've only got a small amount so we won't dwell too much on this. Grant Evans, of course, is one of the proprietors of the incredible Hooker Vision label out of Georgia, and he's also responsible for the druggy, dreamy dronemuzik under the guises Nova Scotia Arms, Crippling, and Quiet Evenings (this being in collaboration with his wife Rachel aka Motion Sickness Of Time Travel). The A side sports contemplative synth lines with innervision pursuits that are buried through thick pedal effects of phase-shifted oscillations and low-pass distortion, giving a decidedly lo-fi spell of rural psychedelia. The B-side is a more gnarled affair with scabrous drones swarming with tight flanges and corrosive textures. The cosmic synths do reemerge through these thickets of noise, with Evans still conjuring the darker facets of Maeror Tri. Thirty-eight minutes in length. Too bad we couldn't get more.
For those who love rhythm, attention! Is it Fire?, Jessie Evans' first solo record, has enough percussion to satisfy even the most energetic dancefloor junkie. Latin- and African-inspired beats programmed by Jessie are masterfully enhanced with live percussion performed by Toby Dammit (of Iggy Pop fame) and, on a few tracks, none other than Budgie (of the Banshees/Creatures). For the most part, the instrumentation is kept to a minimum, letting the rhythm drive the songs. Saxophone and bass played by Jessie add melody, and the occasional trumpet and other horns (played by Martin Wenk of Calexico) enhance the Latin air. A couple of songs are even sung in Spanish. Synths pop up every once in a while, and, except on a track or three, are left buried in the mix, serving only to add a little flavor. Sometimes, as on the last Vanishing LP, the vocals are fuzzed out into incomprehension, more of a washy layer than a narrative, opting to let the drums tell the story. And what a story they tell!
Don't misunderstand: there's a lot going on within every track. Jessie had been bringing us great music for years, now: The Subtonix, The Vanishing, Autonervous. Is it Fire? is a strong notch on the belt of an artist who will hopefully continue to bring us great music for a long time.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Nardwuar the Human Serviette whomps us with a double whammy this fine December day! Not only do we have his new double dvd Welcome To My Castle! (the prequel to last year's Doot Doola Doot Doo... Doot Doo! 2dvd), but also his band's new album! Over the years, Thee Evaporators have become quite the well-oiled garage rawk hotrod featuring members of venerable Vancouver bands The New Pornographers, The Smugglers, and Slow.
They're at the top of their game here. Guitarist David Carswell's riffage is particularly tasty. Those that know and love Nardwuar are well familiar with his often atonal off-key squawking style of singing. This time around he's almost tuneful! Much like the probing questions he asks his interview subjects, Nardwuar's lyrics have a habit of being hilarious, educational and topical -- often all at the same time! On these fourteen songs he sings about a butterknife, social housing for the needy, a dance move called the 'eggbeater', Sasquatch, and bacon among other things. Need we say, super fun and super silly! The cd ends with an ancient interview clip with Courtney Love which sorta harshed out our good times. In closing, we wish to add that we don't want to keep on belabor the point, but we have to ask once again, what is it with Canadians and unfortunate nicknames (and bandnames)?! Apparently it's not just a recent phenomenon either. There was a historic Vancouver figure called Gassy Jack! Yikes!
Ba-booom! This a Nardwuar The Human Serviette alert! A short dose is contained on this here record - a split 7" between Nardwuar's band The Evaporators and a certain Andrew W.K.
Yeah, we were sort of braced when this showed up. Can you say "Gung ho!"? Two irrepressible individuals and their respective cohorts go toe to toe, wreaking some good ol' garage rock havoc. Mr. W.K. covers two awesome songs by two awesome Canadian bands, punk rock legends Vancouver's Subhumans and the mighty Toronto duo The Leather Uppers. It's a relatively stripped down W.K. compared to his stadium rock persona of yore, but it's no less bombastic. Nardwuar and co. tackle a tune by obscure Montrealers Les Hou-Lops as well as deliver one of their own, the sillily juvenilely titled "The Bombs In My Pants". If you're seeking a ridiculous fun listen and some extremely obscure pop trivia, this is for you! Bonus "treats": a brief clip of Nardwuar interviewing W.K. as well as a printed insert that verges on old school obsessive zine-ish-ness documenting among other things the coming together of the two. Actually, attempting to read the tiny solidly packed text will probably take longer than listening to these five songs!
Who are Thee Evaporators? And who is this Nardwuar The Human Serviette who leads their charge?! To most in the college radio / indie music scene he needs no introduction... and his legions of admirers / worshippers continues to grow by the minute. Man of many hats (preferably knit or tartan): tenacious interviewer, loose cannon tv and radio host, obsessive Canadian historian (and not just about music, check out the mining story behind the title track!), and irrepressible band leader of Thee Evaporators. He cannot be stopped -- not even by a mysterious brain hemorrhage a few years back! -- and unlike many other recent seemingly similar guerrilla interviewers, he's not out to simply fuck with people. His enthusiasm is genuine. His research can be fascinating and unbelievably thorough. Who's been placed under the Nardwuar microscope/microphone? The list is mind-blowing. Here's just a sampling: Politicians Mikhael Gorbachev, Gerald Ford, former Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien and ahem, Dan Quayle, self-help impressarios Tony Robbins and Tom Vu, hard rockers Gene Simmons, Thor, Sebastian Bach, Alice Cooper, Kevin Dubrow and Slayer, hip hop artists Snoop Dogg and Busta Rhymes, alt-gods the Strokes, Blur, Beck, Bright Eyes, White Stripes and Sonic Youth, punk legends D.O.A., The Damned, Sex Pistols' Paul Cook, TV personalities Jimmie Walker, Mickey Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Bob Denver (aka Gilligan), TV evangelist Earnest Angley, child stars Jerry Mathers, Eve Plumb, and Corey Feldman... the list goes on and on!
His band's music is by no means as eclectic, however it can be just as entertaining and educational. On the surface it comes across as pretty straightforward garage pop/rock, but you just might discover a little nugget in each song that sets it apart from the rest. It certainly helps heaps that he's got a solid band backing him up to boot. They are longtime friends bassist John Collins from the New Pornographers, his JC/DC recording studio partner and kickass guitarist Dave Carswell (also of Vancouver garage rawk vets The Smugglers as well as a former touring member of Zumpano) and drummer/grpahic artist Scott Livingstone. Infectious hooks and uplifting choruses grace such tunes as the cryptically titled "I.D.N.M.F.T.T.M.W.M.F.A." (translation: I Don't Need My Friends To Tell Me Who My Friends Are!). However, please be forewarned, the vocals may be an acquired taste. They often sound as though he's been hitting the helium tank... hard, but they do make a perfect foil for the occasional noodly '60s Farfisa organ. As well, The Evaps song titles and lyrics frequently tend to lean heavily on the silly button. You might be put off by titles such as "Addicted To Cheese" and "Shittin' Party", but the songs themselves are mighty hard to resist... particularly if you're a garage pop fan.
A side note: It's notable that this album finds itself on Jello Biafra's label (albeit licensed from longtime Nardwuar supporters Mint) for Mr. Biafra has been a worthy interview combatant for over a decade.
Extras: Interspersed with the music are a couple of interview snippits with Snoop Doggy Dogg and Rahzel (for more you'll just have to visit his humungous website). Plus you also get a handful of bonus tracks by Thee Dublins (the alter ego of the Evaporators' alter ego Thee Goblins).
The 6-song debut from these SF dark, seething rockers is a drugged-out and writhing affair. Shades of Sonic Youth and Radiohead. Their use of sexy boy vocal harmonies and lovely melodies are quite alluring. I can't wait to see what they go on to become. Very
Ian Mackaye threw us all for an unexpected but delightful loop a couple years ago with the debut offering from his new project with longtime Dischord cohort Amy Farina (ex-Warmers). Fugazi and Minor Threat fans weren't met with loud guitars and screaming vocals but instead really insightful and melodic pop songs that proved turning down didn't mean losing spirit. In fact it once again demonstrates the sensitivity and awareness that was always one of Fugazi's best attributes too. Get Evens is the second album from The Evens and while the debut seemed to focus more on personal topics this time out politics rise right to the surface. But really if we're going to hear protest songs at a time like this we'll gladly listen to Mackaye's. Living In DC for as long as they have it would be impossible not to be reminded on a daily basis of your neighbors in the White House and on Capitol Hill. Ian and Amy would like many of those neighbors to go far, far away and it's certainly not hard to understand why. While we find ourselves a little more drawn to their debut, this is still a strong offering. With the future of Fugazi quite unclear we're happy that Ian's found a new outlet for his passion. And by all means go see the Evens live the next time they play an all-ages show in your town for six bucks. Their show a couple years back here in SF at the Swedish American Hall was such an uplifting and inspiring night that it still holds a special place in our hearts.
For those of you wonderin' what Ian MacKaye's been up to lately... here's your answer! Hearing this self-titled debut from The Evens is like hopping into a time machine heading back a decade or so, but oddly it's a sound from the past that's very different from what we know was MacKaye's musical past (Fugazi, Minor Threat). No, although The Evens are clearly a no-frills duo, this is soft-around-the-edges indie pop much like what was coming out of Olympia, Washington / Washington, DC circa '95 (for example Tsunami, Spinanes, and Lois) but with a little of the darker, brooding boy/girl rock a la Versus from around the same time. Check out MacKaye's surprisingly boyish vocals! They're a great match with Amy Farina's sweet voice.
More metalcore. We just can't get enough. And this is most definitely the next contender for best metalcore record ever. So heavy and weird and catchy. And by now you know we especially love the metalcore when it's generously dappled with huge chunks of goopy, heart-on-your-sleeve, mix-tape, lonely-boy, bittersweet and broken-hearted E M O! There's plenty of downtuned chugging, and blazing blast beats, half-time, moshed out breakdowns, wickedly complex, stop-on-a-dime metallic crunch, pummelling percussive tumult and squealing feedback drenched harmonies. And Evergreen Terrace do completely destroy. This is seriously one of the best metalcore records EVER. But where they really prove their mettle is in the melodic breakdowns... the EMO. They're just so catchy and bittersweet, tiny pockets of perfect pop, like a little bit of Sunny Day Real Estate dropped in the thick of an At The Gates record. So fucking great. Make sure and stick it out until after the final song, 'cause there's a hidden track, a wickedly metallized Depeche Mode cover. Which is so good it just makes me long for a metal band that could actually write songs like that instead of covering em. Until then, who wants to start a crushingly heavy metal band called Violator, that just plays Depeche Mode's Violater album start to finish. Get in touch.
These Everlasting Arms embrace (sorry for the pun, we couldn't resist) the moody angularities of post punk. Some of the more shadowy, dramatic, tumultuous moments brings to mind the awesome but dearly departed SF band Pleasure Forever, while others project a more straightforward rock-ness. Propulsive, occasionally explosive and mathy with angstful male vocals that you would guess comes from SoCal (think: ThreeOneG or Gold Standard Labs). Pressed on vinyl the color of popcorn Jelly Bellys (pale swirly yellow) with sleeves hand-silkscreened by the band themselves.
We'd been hearing about this band for ages. But had no real idea what to expect. This was most definitely not it.
Everlovely Lightningheart are a 3 piece (or 14 piece if you count all the contributors) ensemble, whose debut has somehow found its way to Hydra Head imprint Double H Noise Industries. That distinction is most definitely important in this case, so all you Hydra Head geeks expecting more Isis / Pelican / Old Man Gloom can relax, sit back, throw on the headphones and prepare for a distinctly unheavy, but beautifully fucked up sonic experience.
It's one slow growing 40 minute track, that is all over the map sonically, never getting heavy, in fact there are no RIFFS here, this is abstract free noise, but most of the noise is of the subtle subdued variety. ELLH would most certainly be at home on Kranky, Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, PseudoArcana, or any one of a hundred microlabels who have been unfurling gentle abstract soundscapes.
Everlovely cover a lot of ground in 40 minutes, most of the time is spent drifting lazily through slow shifting fields of ethereal sound, ever lovely indeed. A reverb drenched piano plays some sort of dirgey ballad before dissipating into chimes and tinkling bells, which are quickly smoothed out into an abstract lowercase drift. Soon buzzing steel strings and squealing sine waves join the fray, becoming some sort of otherworldly Appalachia. The rest of the record is like strolling through little sonic vignettes, from clattery percussive workouts, to lilting dreamlike melodies, to some fuzzy muted metallic guitar, to soundscapes of keening strings and delicate chimes, it's all quite beautiful, an incredibly compelling listen, but definitely the kind of soundwork that requires the listener to -really- listen to truly appreciate everything that is going on. Sometime it's foolish to list all the instruments used on a record, but with music like this, it's as much about the instruments as it is the players: accordion, various metals, a creosote bush, exhaust pipe, receivers, bass, acoustic guitar, microphone, metal bucket, blood, wood, piano, rivers, springs, sheet metal, distortion pedals, cymbals, hand made harp, drums, skin, jars full of liquid, broken glass, bells, a boot, tin cans, frying pan, record player, broken clarinet, harmonica, megaphone firecrackers, xylophone, as well as objects and IDEAS like a feather, ghosts, gasping for life, jars full of memories, breathing, dragon's blood, bat wing, icicles, monsoons, scars, bullets, thoughts, trains and more. Phew. Recorded in a monastery's barn, the dead end of a tunnel, a train station, various abandoned rooms, hallways and basements and the desert. Sounds like it too!
Packaged in a striking gatefold with a dense animal collage cover, each disc comes with a hand sewn booklet.
Heads up! Better late than never, Every Move A Picture have arrived with their V2 debut album. Their pouty boy vocals, '80s synths, crunchy guitars and butt-shakin' beat are all primed and ready to out-Faint The Faint, out-Killers The Killers and... aw, you get the picture, doncha? They do a mighty fine job of it too. Nothing you haven't heard before, but well-written and slickly executed, and pretty much guaranteed to get the kids on the dancefloor.
Combine equal doses of Brit pop (Pulp, Supergrass and Blur) and danse-punque (The Faint, Franz Ferdinand) and maybe a dash of Iggy Pop's "Lust For Life" for good measure, and what do you get? Well, not quite a mojito, but more like the debut EP from this new SF band! Five sleek, stylishly coiffed, appealingly infectious songs composed of all the ingredients for a good time -- lanky electric guitars, arpeggiated bleep-blops and synth strings, cocky (we assume faux?) Britboy vocals and an omnipresent thumpin' beat. Sure to fit very nicely alongside those bands mentioned above as well as current hip bands like Kaiser Chiefs and Bloc Party. After just one listen, I could already tell this'll make for some great dancin' and drivin' music (and I don't even drive!).
More amazing New York metalcore. Every Time I die play ultra heavy metal (very little 'core to be found here) with weird time signatures and off kilter rhythms. While their sound is similar to their contemporaries (Deadguy, Kiss It Goodbye, Coalesce) they
Ben Watt and Tracey Thorn of EBTG reveal their "chillout" mix as their contribution to the Back To Mine series. Stuff they play includes cuts from DJ Cam, Carl Craig, Beth Orton, and The Roots.
Ben Watt isn't looking too healthy on the cover. Hmm. Mixes from Todd Terry, Springheel Jack, and others. Whether you think the 'jungle' beats are (a) cool, subtle & mellow or (b) irreparably watered-down in deference to the so-called mainstream's palate (I would say -b- but Cathy thinks it's great record = -a-, so here we are), should EBTG be commended for recognizing the beauty of the new beats?
Sometime in the late eighties, John McBain, member of mighty space rockers Monster Magnet, frontman of psychedelic groovers Wellwater Conspiracy, and (not so) secret weapon of local space-psych explorers Carlton Melton, birthed this brilliant, sonic abomination. A dizzyingly tripped out sprawl of oozing, churning, abstract drone-noise-psych, In The Name Of All That Is Unholy sounds like classic psych rock, slowly unravelling, revealing all manner of crumbling sonic detritus within. The multiple movements shifting from plodding doomy creep, to tranced out pulsating dronemusic, to wild, blurred space shred, with sounds in constant flux, pitch shifts and tonal warbles, everything off kilter but somehow hanging together as some sort of drug addled, heart-of-the-sun, damaged cosmic epic.
To us, the heavier moments sound a bit like Philip Jeck or John Oswald constructing a Greyfolded style collaged megamix from old Butthole Surfers records, all smeared into hazy indistinct lopes and lumbers, the melodies distorted and processed, almost like some sort of acid fueled fever dream, the music melting before your very ears. The opening track in particular is reminiscent of the Butthole's "Jimi" (from Hairway To Steven), albeit slowed way down and stretched out into even more twisted brainmelt dirgery. But the deeper you get into the record, the more abstract and weirdly blissed out it becomes. Moments of extremely mesmerizing tranquility coexist alongside murky power electronics, and full on kosmische shimmer, the whole middle section is basically some sort of WTF? soundtrack for an alien planetarium show. You can almost hear the bizarre shapes and prismatic colors warping and curdling, before blossoming into a hyper-delirious barrage of flickering, fluttering, fractured melodies, all tangled up into a thick, layered stretch of hypnotic, undulating sonic mesmer.
But those sounds eventually rupture, and splinter, and lock into stuttering looped hiccups, all wrapped in more of those super distorted psychedelic leads, and underpinned by what sounds like growling beasts, locked into a skipping-record style riffage, delivered as some sort of mind-control metallic mantra. A mantra that quickly (d)evolves into more Jeck-like repletion, albeit a distorto-psych variant, the chug and churn slipping beneath a murky industrial pulse, before exploding again even more blown out, growly and buzzy, before a blast of uber-distorted, FX drenched guitarnoise, and some robotic/alien/monster vocals dissolve into a final squall of crumbling crunch and decaying distortion.
Truly some next level outsider, sampler-damaged psychedelia, that should of course appeal to fans of McBain's other groups, as well as like minded psychedelic noise makers, but also folks into wilder strains of electronic psych-noise weirdness (Our Love Will Destroy The World, Astral Social Club, etc.) will find much to dig here as well.
Originally released on cassette, now the full Evil Acidhead experience is available again, thanks to Agitated, on both on cd and swank double lp. The vinyl version comes on colored wax and also includes both a cd copy of the record and an 'eye-searing' poster!
To begin with, there's already something special about bands from New Zealand, whether they're making eccentric indie pop or droned-out experimental noise, we like ourselves a lot of NZ music! So this band Evil Ocean, from Auckland, already has that going for them. But then add in the fact that they're flat-out obsessed with music from another of our favorite locales, Finland, specifically what our friends in Circle like to call NWOFHM, and what do you get? A really, really awesome and unclassifiable album indeed. Krauty confusional garagey distorted DIY doom metal new wave soundtrack music? Maybe we can call it NWONZHM??
Apart from several interludes of eerie, abstract weirdness, the disc mostly consists of some fairly blown-out, rockin' songs, which are ALSO weird as all heck though. These tracks are full of thick fuzz guitar, churning riffage riding the rinky-dink ticky-tock of the manic, machine-sounding percussion. Other ingredients include dramatic female vocals and gnarlier, sneering male vox (rising into a falsetto at times), plenty of effects and sci-fi synth sounds everywhere, tons o' fuzz (we mentioned that already), spooky suspenseful bits, metallic gallop, industrial clank, seasick keyboards, and more... There's ritualistic stuff that sounds like Sylvester Anfang, propulsive parts a la Circle, and heads-down Hawkwindy hypno-rock. The mood can get genuinely intense and disturbing, yet Evil Oceans also obviously display a bizarre, even nerdy sense of humor, heck there's a track here called "Rise Of The Administration Daleks", complete with hysterical Dalek voices... but also Spaghetti Western whistling... what does it all mean?? It's art, or arty (several of the members are apparently successful painters) but most importantly it rocks in a quite entertaining WTF? fashion.
Recommended to anyone into so-called NWOFHM stuff (Circle, Pharaoh Overlord, Steel Mammoth, etc.), also White Hills, Brain Donor, and other gritty post-Stooges space rockers and post-punk derelicts. Released on pro-printed cd-r, packaged in a in a full-color ecopak with photos and artwork celebrating both the epic New Zealand landscape, and Charles Darwin.
When we first heard this in the store, Harry was upfront manning the stereo, and we were actually convinced he was spinning some old glam rock record, so we were pretty surprised to discover it was actually Mary Timony from Helium's new band (named after a solo album of hers from a while back), and as much as we love(d) Helium, we never would have expected Timony to make a record that sounds so much like The Sweet. But she did, and it's awesome! At this point, we imagine most reviews will riff on the record title, but how can you resist, this record rips for sure, the sound super retro, but somehow modern and supercharged, the guitars fuzzy and reverbed, the songs swaggery and glammy, power pop stomps overflowing with crazy catchy hooks and amazing guitar melodies, and Timony's vocals seal the deal, the whole package sounding like some obscure seventies glam pop combo. We're immediately reminded of Matthew Melton's Bare Wires - Melton and Timony are most definitely kindred sonic souls, both mining a similar vein of retro psych/garage/glam rock, and both nailing it. We definitely hear hints of Timony's ex-Autoclave bandmate Christina Billotte's nineties indie rock outfits Slant 6 and Quix*o*tic too, and of course the Runaways. Really though, Timony has always been a master, with Helium, and solo too, but this might be our favorite record of hers since Helium's 1997 masterpiece The Magic City, but imagine that sound reworked and recast as something way more retro and glam poppy, and you'll get an idea of what this sounds like. A new unanimous store fave, and one that will likely end up on more than one year end top ten...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We've got just a *single copy* of this hard-to-find video documenting The Ex, stalwarts of the underground avant rock scene since they began in 1979 -- that's over 20 years ago! Contains lots of footage documenting their famously intense live shows, conversations with all of the band members, rehearsals, much insight into their view of punk as DIY way of living, which they apply in activities such as self-releasing records, etc. A nice glimpse into the world of a band that has inspired cultish devotion amongst many (including some here at AQ) not to mention Tortoise, Sonic Youth, Dutch avant jazz pioneer Han Bennink, Tom Cora, etc. 52 minutes. Color. Made by Swedish filmmakers, subtitled. First come...
The Ex, maybe the Netherlands' most famous punk export, return with a new record of their unique churning, sinewy brand of punk angularity, but with a sound even more subdued than their previous release on Touch & Go, "Starters Alternators". If you're looking for the fury and rage of The Ex, definitely look to their earlier works. Much like their fellow hardcore vets Fugazi and
With a career that has spanned three decades, The Ex have been stalwart antagonists from the far left, in fusing an uncompromising political agenda to a steady stylistic development of their own interpretation of punk. While their hometown of Amsterdam has long been associated with the left thanks to their liberal (and legal) attitudes towards drug use and prostitution, The Ex emerged as pissed off and utterly hostile towards mainstream Dutch culture as any band from far more puritanical lands. But like any punk band worth anything, The Ex began with little or no musical training, merely the desire to express their political dissent and make a hell of lot of noise doing it. This compilation of the singles they made through the '80s surveys their growth from an enegetic pogo punk band into a far more musically mature post-punk band with brittle-as-glass guitars, throbbing PiL / Killing Joke inspired basslines, and a willingness to take plenty of risks, as heard in the industrial rhythmic slab on "Rara Rap" and the clunky militant-folk number "Lied der Steinklopfer." The Ex have always been an amazing band, and sadly the politics are as prescient as they were two decades ago.
The latest recordings by The Ex have found their way onto Touch & Go. It should be noted that this is NOT a reissue of older material. Time has mellowed out the legendary punk agitators from Holland, yet they still deliver a powerful album of angular punk rage. A few tracks take on almost folk harmonics in their praise of the proletariat.
Some select words for this new release and the people who created it: Fervent and focused. Vital and valid. Now well into their third defiant decade (they did post-punk before it was post!), this band's potent message and razor-sharp musicianship will kick your ass around the block... twice. Yes indeed, Turn is the very welcome return of socio-political ensemble known as The Ex. Two solidly packed cds with no filler whatsoever. Awesome.
** MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT **
** MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT **
** MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT **
Okay, as always, that's just for the Mississippi obsessed out there, which we know, is a LOT of you, so you need not read further, just add one of these to your cart, and move on, but for the rest of us, please read on, we're so psyched to finally write up and list what is probably our favorite Ex record ever.
For Scrabbling At The Lock, Dutch aggro punks The Ex teamed up with NY cellist Tom Cora, a downtown scene veteran, who played with John Zorn and the usual suspects, and sadly passed away in 1998 at the age of 44.
The Ex, as much as we always wanted to dig them, were often a little to frantic and spiky for our tastes, a relentless barrage of bristly cacophony and tangled manic melodies, but somehow, teamed with Cora, the mix was magical, his fluid melodies, perfectly complimented the Ex's excesses, often taking a back seat, locking into propulsive laid back rhythms, and letting Cora's cello sing. It's been years since we've heard this (the cd now goes for crazy $$), but it sounds as amazing, as vibrant and emotional and dramatic as it ever did.
The Ex, for those who have not heard them, play a sort of wild punk rock gypsy folk, angular and sinewy, wild and free, very rhythmic, shouted vocals, intense percussion, one of the longest running DIY musical outfits still going, always pushing boundaries, most recently collaborating with Ethiopian musicians, bringing many of them to Europe to perform outside of Ethiopia for the first time ever. They have tons of records, and people love them, and we've definitely dug a few of them, but this is the one, it's magical and timeless and transcendent, super rocking, heavy, groovy, angular, but the sharpest edges, the ones that often poked us in the wrong way, are perfectly dulled by Cora's cello, often transforming the Ex's agit punk into something almost Klezmer. Some of our favorite include the gorgeous "Hidegen Fujnak a Szelek" a reinterpretation of a Hungarian folk song, with soaring female vocals perfectly complimenting the chugging percussive cello. And "State Of Shock" which is probably the heaviest track on the record, starting out all haunting and gypsy, before the band explodes in a squall of howling guitars, and pounding percussion, the cello anchoring the track letting the other instruments go wild.
So goddamn good. As powerful and emotional as ever. If you've resisted the Ex in the past, this might be the ONE Ex record you need, and it's of course an incredible tribute to the memory of Cora and his musical legacy.
From the liner notes: "Konkurrent invited Tortoise from Chicago to contribute some of their hypnotic, catchy instrumental pieces to our series. They gladly accepted and asked The Ex to join them. Both bands began from very different points when constructing songs. The Ex work with dynamics and tension building while Tortoise work at a more introspective and subdued level, adding layers and texture to their sound. Where they meet is in how they work with repetition and introduce very specific atmospheres into their songs." Recorded in Holland, this collaboration reveals much more of The Ex than of Tortoise. In faact, you may not even be aware of Tortoise's presence except for subtle hints here and there.
Wow, there's a surprisingly punchy new arrival making its presence felt on the Absolutely Kosher roster. They are retro-edged power popsters Ex-Boyfriends, and their debut album is a shot of adrenaline amid the predominantly wistful indie rock/pop (Sparrow, Dudley Corporation, Get Him Eat Him, Jim Yoshii Pile-Up) and gloomy fevered dramatics (Dead Science, Frog Eyes) of the label's recent releases. When we've played it in the store, Dear John has already drawn comparisons to Generation X, Misfits and more recent upstarts Maximo Park. As well, their male vocals teeter between Robert Smith and Andy Partridge. Sound good? Lots of snap in the drumming, not to mention some well placed handclaps keep the joint jumpin'.
Ex-Boyfriends' latest full length kicks off in full college rock fashion. Yeah, it's the infectiously hook laden kind that immediately gives you the warm nostalgic fuzzies for '90s indie bands like Tree People, Velocity Girl or Tsunami... but with Robert Smith style dour singing and post-punky edged guitar crunch! The first three songs on In With in particular have 'highschool movie soundtrack' written all over it, and you know that's a good thing in our books! A terrific spring-summer pop album!
A dense slab of mysterious druggy psych rock from Missoula Montana courtesy of the always reliable Siltbreeze. Some impossible mash up of Crazy Horse, the Dead C and No Neck Blues Band. The opening track is a lengthy damaged drum jam, with plenty of trash can lid clatter, a sprawling lo-fi free jazz noiserock spasm that quickly segues into some gorgeously lilting folk strum, wrapped in an ultra murky production, with deep warm vocals, hippy, druggy, spacey, classic sounding folk filtered though the cracked Siltbreeze lens, jangly guitars and tribal hand drums, all beneath a strangely traditional sounding pop song. Moments later, the band has transformed into a free noise rock beast, emitting a stream of plodding rock crumble, super distorted ambience dripping all over jagged guitars and growling grumbling murk.
Most of side 2 is taken up by a wild, slow burning Crazy Horse like jam, that eventually builds into an epic psych rock blow out, a dense cloud of pot smoke, noise rock and psychedelic skree.
Vinyl only and of course super limited!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Is it even necessary to point out that Noise nerds and Free Jazz freaks tend to keep the sort of the same company? Probably not, but if it were, then we would just play you this record and say goodnight. Those of you who don't like jazz, don't get scared off! The sensibility coloring this record with that spirit is really just one of genuinely free improvisation, so don't expect Coltrane or anything like that, this is still largely a Noise affair. Ex-Cocaine starts off with a loose instrumental guitar piece, accompanied by various drum sounds. The second track follows a similar trajectory, with the addition of vocals. If Aztec Camera were a lo-fi art rock band, this is what it might sound like. Side two features none other than the prolific -- and soon to be extinct -- Yellow Swans. Yes, it's true, after 7 years or so of trying to destroy both your ears and your speakers, Gabriel Saloman and Pete Swanson are calling it quits. They're not exactly going to disappear though, just saying goodbye to the Swans and starting some new things. If you saw our last list, then you probably noticed Mr. Saloman's collaborative effort with Aja Rose of In Flux. As for Pete Swanson, he's got a new label called Freedom to Spend -- check our review of it's first release, the album "Light Ships" by Axolotl off-shoot Bulbs. Okay, you're all caught up, now: the second side of the record. From mindfuck analog meltdown to blissful psych incantations, YS have certainly changed over the years, and, perhaps for the best, their final days have drifted into a more melodic, psychedelic direction. This track could not possibly better demonstrate that trend. In fact, if you didn't know who this actually was, it would be pretty dang impressive if you could guess. Meandering guitars, buried vocals, and a final showdown that dissolves into beautiful sheets of noise. Recommended!
Even though Ex-Cult (formerly Sex Cult) hail from Memphis, the sound of their debut owes the Bay Area big time. Not only is it produced by SF garage pop wunderkind and repeat aQ Record Of The Weeker Ty Segall, sonically, it definitely sounds like these guys were born from the same fertile fields that gave us lots of favorites, Thee Oh Sees, Blasted Canyons, Bare Wires, The Mallard, Mikal Cronin. Sure the sound is a bit more raw and urgent, and a bit punkier, but then these guys did actually start out as a proper punk band. But with a clutch of new songs, and Segall behind the mixing board, their sound has transformed into something distinctly garagey poppy, urgent and swaggery, definitely Stooges-y (but then really what garage rock isn't), but without losing any punk energy. Close listening reveals lots of stuff that will sound familiar to the SF scene, and Segall in particular, check out the back up vox on "Don't Feel Anything" for instance, but Ex-Cult definitely channel classic punk into their garage pop sound, we hear lots of old SST, even some Orange County HC, but deftly woven into some crazy catchy jams, that have been sticking in our heads like crazy, and getting tons of play around aQ.
For the last several years Excepter have been creating super fucked up, seriously pleasurable waves on outsider dancefloors everywhere, with an onslaught of ep's, 12"s, and split releases. Now it's finally time for their debut full length, and it does not disappoint! Herky-jerky rhythms, beat up electronics, drugged out rumblings, late night salvation. The album really does work like a full record should. The first half has some almost catchy pop moments (this is all relative of course) including quite possibly their most infectious song to date "Rock Stepper", while the second half of the album features longer tracks that melt and burst with the unique flavor we've come to love from these guys. They seem to be taking some of the more melodic moments of Throbbing Gristle's legacy (a friend even suggested one might throw one of these songs on a mix right next to TG's "Hot On The Heels Of Love!") Excepter makes sounds that are the perfect conglomeration of the now and hip with a eyes toward the future and a knowing nod to the past. And while their music sounds nothing like Ariel Pink, we can totally imagine the sort of craziness that might result if those wonderfully warped melody makers got together. Since they both approach music making from a damaged and drugged out, Technicolor drenched angle unlike almost any other bands we've heard. Until then, we'll just be content to soak up this super kick ass full length.
Haunted and humorous, Excepter's Debt Dept. opens with a Sabbath like riff, looped and fuzzed to create the platform for the vocals of not 1, nor 2, but 3 vocalists' unhinged ramblings.
Excepter's cast flood the track with faithless and caustically delivered lyrics, half sung, half spoken. The effect is oddly chilling, considering the tone is ultimately that of Excepter's tried and true mix of futurist-dub, narcotic fuzz and drone, and mellow yet schizophrenic vocals; a pastiche sometimes too dynamic, ridiculous, or slapdash to take "seriously." Nonetheless, on Debt Dept., Excepter's sardonic wit and notedly more focused approach gives them a winning hand. Their most recent efforts have been less oriented towards vocals and lyrics, but the addition of two new vocalists, Clare Amory and Lala Harrison, has changed that. The vocals by committee approach is made a dominant fixture through the diverse array of effects their digressions are filtered through. The rhythmic collision course is more spacious than previous efforts giving time for grooves to develop, and even a few hooks to set in. Beyond the half-sung/postpunk/almost-rap like vocal delivery, there are also spectral vocal interludes, resulting in blanketed and billowing textures that soften the harsh and incisive beats and guttural, expulsive, and erotic moaning.
Those who love Excepter will find themselves well satisfied with Dept Debt., as it embellishes and improves upon their developing style of droney, dubby eclecticism. On this, their full length Paw Tracks debut, the band offers a near staggering swirl of most of the styles and sounds the label already offers, with heavy ladle-fulls of Black Dice, Rings, and Ariel Pink added to the already potent brew. Lest this hint at a lack originality, it must be stressed that the way in which the band incorporates and stirs these qualities is wholly original. Rhythmically, the album is a little tighter and more committed than previous efforts, with a greater apprenticeship to hip hop and dub, and some wacked notion of post-industrial dance. It could work well as the soundtrack to some alchemists in a satellite factory processing dark matter into... well... dark pop. Or perhaps like watching a disco ball shatter in slow motion, its shards reflecting a disparate collection of cultural references as they fly past you. Whichever the more operative metaphor, the band has invited you lovingly to their fucked-up, post-everything party, and if we were you, we'd be joining them in the festivities.
