[ aquarius records — Rock Pop ]

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Originally released back in 1971, "Tanz Der Lemminge" was the third album from the second incarnation of Amon Duul. Where the first incarnations of Amon Duul (along with Amon Duul I, there was supposedly an Amon Duul 0 from the mid-'60s) had much more of a

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Soon after Munich's hippie commune krautrockers Amon Duul formed in the late '60s, some of the more musically inclined formed Amon Duul II whose early releases include the masterpieces Yeti (1970), Tanz der Lemminge (1971), etc. Wolf City is just their fifth album, recorded in 1972, and it's fucking fantastic and I can't believe I never heard it before. It's a little bit less experimental than earlier projects, a little more song oriented, but that may be a good thing if prog-flavored German psychedelia is a new cuppa tea for ya. (My co-worker Byram, in fact, found Wolf City a little too Yes-y for his taste -- so listen to the soundclips before buying.) There are seven tracks here, and each one shifts mood slightly -- from the epic masterpiece opener to a single gentle instrumental to spacerock jams, all the arrangements totally unpredictable and interesting. There's heavy prog-style guitar, pleasantly jangly (what sounds like 12-string?) guitar, screeching violin, deep declamatory bass, sweetly macabre piano and organ, plus all manner of weird chuckles, grunts and choir-like ahhhhs. So good! Wolf City is as epic, hummably memorable, kickass, and heavy as Pink Floyd & Genesis, more chaotic and messy than Can, more accessible and full-sounding than Cluster. If you've never heard Amon Duul II before, this is a fine place to start, as are any of the abovementioned albums. Strongly recommended! Windy's new favorite album. In a tie with Goblin's equally prog-gy Il Viaggio del Bagarazzo Mark for hands down Best Reissue in my 2002 year end tops list.

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The absolute hardest albums to write about are those we hold in the highest esteem and though we have an aversion to the general notion of a "desert island selection", this Amon Duul II disc is one of those albums that we could see as an definite inclusion on

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Last Rites is the debut full length from this moody instrumental post rock combo from San Jose, and it's awesome. The band dropped off copies ages ago, and we're kicking ourselves for taking so long to listen, cuz it's pretty much everything we love about this kind of stuff, soaring and majestic, epic and moody and emotional. Definitely beholden to another time, their sound reminiscent of the nineties, and the whole instrumental math/post rock scene that flourished then, it was an era of music we love and miss, and we wish there were more bands today doing something similar. Amonie take that nineties post rock, and give it a modern makeover, fusing it to a more brooding slow build Godspeed style, and definitely adding their own twist, the opener here "King Of Prussia" is a near pitch perfect 8+ minutes of brooding, smoldering, epic post rock heaviness, slipping easily from intricate loping melodic mesmer, to churning, stormy noisy heaviness, rife with explosive climaxes, soaring tangled guitar melodies, powerful drumming, super intense and cinematic, peppered with hushed expanses of muted minimal thrum, and string laced melancholic shimmer, all leading up to an explosive finale. That first track definitely lays out the template for the rest of the record, a classic sort of epic post rock arrangement, but Amonie mix things up, especially on the shorter tracks, some dense and mathy and proggy, others, glistening and almost cosmic sounding, foregoing the blown out coda, at least until the very last minute or two, still others, chiming and minimal, bookended by fierce heaviness. The record closed with two longform epics, the first, maybe the most hushed and delicate of the bunch, a woozy, dreamy drift of glistening guitar shimmer, and lush layered tones, with a near metallic final movement, and the closer, 13+ minutes, the first 5 of which sound almost like some sort of modern minimal chamber music, until the drums kick in, and the band lurch into a woozy washed out lope, before a brief bit of distorted crunch, only to unfurl in a dreamily palindromic drift for the remainder of the song. Awesome stuff. Fans of Godspeed, Mogwai, Explosions In The Sky and other epic post rockers will flip for these guys. Includes a download coupon as well!

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Kicking things off with a bizarrely animated turn into what might be described as a Man Or Astro-man? surfy motif that almost had me lighting up my tiki torch, is... hmmm, I think this is Amor Belhom Duo. Ah yes, the second track - an early version of

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The Amor Belhom Duo are "avant-french pop from Paris, France via Tucson, AZ" -- so sayeth their press kit -- however that tag may prove to be far too limiting for their sonic endeavours. They've collaborated with such artists as Valerie Leulliot of Autour De Lucie, French filmmaker Marianne Dissard (who pens a great deal of their lyrics) and the very likeminded Calexico. Wonderfully

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Ms Tori embarks on another immersive concept album, this time embodying five starkly contrasted female personas over the course of twenty three songs. The music is just as startlingly varied in style as her satiny fashion choices for the cover photos. She has (or her team of stylists have) radically transformed herself in appearance with wigs and wardrobe. However, it's not to the degree of, say, Cindy Sherman or Laurie Anderson. No, Tori knows the market value of a flawless pretty face and doesn't sully hers to become anything unconventionally beautiful. No fat, no zits, no wrinkles. Amos addresses her current concerns and critiques via Greek mythological references, rock star bombast, diva swoonings, earth mother embraces and battle cries. Of course, when you get right down to it, this kind of social and political criticism can be more than a little sticky, maybe even hypocritical at times -- lambasting the same systems (corporate, psychological, etc) in which she is profiting from the sales of her wares. Hence, our feelings about this album vacillate between thinking it preachy and long winded versus it being amazingly ambitious and her most spirited work to date. Seriously, there are moments on this album that are absolutely breathtaking (yes, some of them being her glorious, elaborate piano dramatics!), while others teeter into head-scratcher territory. Brace yourself.

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Tori's music circa 1996 is very full and heavy, yet at times clear and light, as bent as PJ Harvey though of course imbued with Tori's own crotch-grabbing attitudinal eccentricities. Featured instrumentation: harpsichord, flugelhorn, bagpipes, harmonium, clavichord, and the very soft sound of her fingers depressing the piano keys.

None of us here are huge Tori Amos fans, but part of me really wants to be. She is such a rock star. Bizarre and perplexing in interviews, aloof but good to her fans, and sort of political (as much as a rock star can be these days). In the past she's

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Attention all Tori lovers! Aw heck, you probably already know this but... she's just released a brand new full length and this version comes with a dvd! Taking a slightly different approach this time around, the ever enigmatic Ms Amos' eighth album The Beekeeper is a conceptual work. The cd is comprised of nineteen songs which, as the liner notes tell, have bloomed from a half dozen "gardens" such as "the orchard", "rock garden", "the greenhouse", etc (although rather puzzlingly this is not at all reflected in the songs' running order on the album). Such a beautiful sentiment! This version even comes with a wildflower seed packet for your own garden. To boot, the dvd includes an interview and one exclusive song. This audio and visual release coincides with the publishing of her written autobiography, Piece By Piece which she co-wrote with music writer Ann Powers. This much Amos goodness is sure to delight her legions of fans!

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Well over a decade ago, Bristol was the birthplace of a community of psychedelically inclined art-rockers. At first, there seemed to be an open door policy to the projects that emerged, with members rotating between Flying Saucer Attack, Third Eye Foundation, Crescent, and AMP. Eventually, all of these projects settled into their own particular aesthetic with Flying Saucer Attack continuing an overblown 'rural psychedelia,' Third Eye Foundation completing the project that Kevin Shields never finished of bridging darkcore drum 'n' bass with snarling guitar distortion, and Crescent sinking into an abject grit of narcolepsy. AMP had been the most elusive of the four, shifting between luminously smeared space rock and ungrounded electronics-plus-guitar noodling. When AMP were focused on their somber tunes, the smoldering washes of distortion and fuzz worked very well (i.e. their debut album Sirenes and their two proper albums on Kranky); but the exploration of guitar drone and post-Eno ambience proved to be less successful for AMP. This triple cd collection of singles, compilation tracks, and rare material from AMP showcases the highs and lows of their career. Fortunately, the less than inspired ambient noodling merely drifts into the background of this collection. It's never offensive, but just lulls and drifts, waiting for one of AMP's exceptional, slow burning crescendos balancing between Bardo Pond at their druggiest and the early '90s shoegazing contingent.

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Once closely affiliated with the Bristol post-rock crowd alongside Flying Saucer Attack, Movietone, Third Eye Foundation and the underappreciated Crescent, Amp has all but completely dissolved the post-MBV guitar luminescence found on their first records. Nevertheless, the core duo of Richard Walker and Karine Charff has held onto strains of that scene's sleepy miserablism in the form of languid, vaguely trip-hopped rhythms swathed in hazy atmospheres, distant guitar delicacy, and Charff's pleasantly downer voice. Strange as it may seem, Amp has slowly been turning into a rougher version of Coldplay or Doves.

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Amp's Richard Walker and Karine Charff were once members of a loose Bristol collective of "rural psychedelic" outfits featuring bands like Flying Saucer Attack, Movietone, Crescent, and Third Eye Foundation, all having sort of interchangeable members. Over time, each of those individual groups took on more distinct aesthetics and lost their member swappin' interconnectivity. While

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I had begun to wonder if Richard and Karine would do anything worth while again, as their debut Sirenes clearly stands above everything they have done... until Stenorette. Working with producer Robert Hampson (Main, Loop), Amp has traded in their four track fuzziness for the crystal clear digital purity of Hampson's studio. In doing so, they have written a beautiful album of gossamer electronica / pop songs that nonetheless maintains their ghostly sadness.

The debut release from this SF pop combo. Eight highly hummable songs of pretty jangle and boy/girl vocals. Fans of the Swirlies, Marine Research, Go Sailor or Wedding Present, take note!

Kim Deal's new band (all boys).

First full length in seven years from former Man Is The Bastard noisemaker Henry Barnes, who since leaving the Bastard fold, has been crafting a strange mix of Xtian home brewed psychedelic folk, and avant experimental noise, a worshipful hybrid of spaced out ragas and lilting pastoral avant Appalachia. An instrument builder as well as a musician, much of Amps' music is created on home built kitchen-sink contraptions of Barnes creation, which helps give AfC its strange, haunting, otherworldly sound. If you ever saw MITB back in the day, you know doubt saw Barnes huddled in the corner in front of a huge pile of weird electronics, and amplifiers built from plywood, all adorned with primitive drawings of trees and winged guitars, that spirit eventually blossomed into Amps For Christ. On Canyons Cars And Crows, it seems very little has changed, opening with a lilting bit of devotional psych folk flutter, with Barnes' plaintive vocals, draped over simple strum and fuzzy soft psych filigree, which leads directly into "Miss You Mother", which finds a harmonium like drone buzzing beneath a washed out and woozy guitar melody, dreamily sundappled and drifty. In fact if anything, on this new record, the whole vibe is a lot more laid back and blissed out, it's not really until the fifth track, "Hills Of Padua", that we hear that twisted Amps For Christ electronic bagpipe avant jig that peppers much of the Amps back catalog, a buzzing analog melody, crumblingly distorted, but weirdly and noisily lovely, and then it's right back into more dreamy psychedelic strum. Fans of the Woods will definitely find much to love here, like the Woods more eccentric older brother, the one that lives in the basement, and spends all day and all night 'tinkering' with weird machinery, we always just assumed he was building a time machine or a weapon, but in fact, he was making strange musical instruments, and using them to create beautifully twisted music like this!

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The newest release from this mostly one man folk/noise project. Barnes, the man responsible for the 'noise' in Man is The Bastard and Bastard Noise, returns with a surprisingly beautiful record of soothing songs his mum used to sing him played on a variety of homemade instruments that sound a bit like saws, harpsichords, and bagpipes, and sung by lovely voiced Tara. Like a impossible cross between His Name Is Alive, the Sun City Girls, and (at points) even the Ruins! Really a genius band.

More bizarre ethno-renaissance punk folk skree (performed mostly on homemade and invented instruments) from ex-Man Is The Bastard noisemaker Barnes. Sounds like an odd collection of electronically malfunctioing zithers and bagpipes and kazoos, all playing turn of the century traditionals from some other world. Beautiful and baffling.

DIY instrument-builder Barnes and friends are back with another Amps For Christ opus. And y'know, an Amps for Christ record is just a bit like a box of chocolates...well, you know in general that you're gonna get their unique brand of electronics-laden folk music but there's always the odd track out with punk rock mayhem or (bastard) noise or whatnot. Because of this, compared to Terrascopian favorites like Six Organs of Admittance, there's something about Amps For Christ that's just so much more "authentic" in terms of psych-freakery. No slight against Six Organs, who are great, but Amps seems more like actual outsider folk music. Of course, it's some of their idiosyncracies that we don't always like, such as their recent prediliction for including spoken word beat poetry on couple tracks. But this naive hippy eccentricity is part of their charm, too. Who else would do Aud Lang Syne (twice!) on their record? Anyway, if you liked their last cd, The Oak And The Ashes, you'll definitely like this one too. As with TOATA, you might want to use the programming function on your cd player when listening to this. Not 'cause any of the 23 tracks here are bad (well, the spoken word ones kinda are) but 'cause even though I like the noisy/rock stuff, I'd rather hear their lo-fi drone, electric folk ragas uninterrupted.

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Solo noise (and folk guitar!) project from an ex-member of California political "power-violence" heroes Man Is The Bastard, in which various new forms of electronic amplification are built and abused. Diagrams included.

A fine medley of acoustic & electric strings, tabla, piano. Barnes (ex-Man Is The Bastard) seems to be the mastermind here, with his own homemade instruments taking a lead role, but this disc develops a much more entrancing, subtle folk-noise than MITB's harsh "power violence". Recommended.

Long-haired guitar rawk from the obscure Midwestern band known as Amulet, circa 1980. Reissued for your hessian pleasure by Monster Records, alongside the likes of Ultra, Full Moon, and Truth And Janey (all of whom we've previously listed). Amulet started off in '78 as a cover band doing stuff by ZZ Top, Van Halen, Hendrix, UFO and suchlike. Though a popular local concert draw, they still barely managed to save enough dough to record and self-release this album in 1980. No money for overdubs, so it's got that live feel, appropriate for their party hardy high power hard rock format. How much you're gonna like this kinda depends how you feel about lines like: "She was seventeen / young love machine" (from "Just Like A Woman"). Good times badass boogie rock wank fer shure. Actually, they had a heavier, more serious side too, with religious/philosophical themes ("Do You Live Again", "Life Is Living"). But don't look for a lot of sophistication and deep thoughts -- this mostly about groovy stuff like the unintentionally funny "Funk 'n' Punk" or "Radar Love" re-write "Person To Person". Fun and authentic.

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The Pitchfork blurb on the sticker proclaims this record to be "the trippiest record in the history of the world". While that might be a wee bit of an exaggeration, this most certainly is one of the weirdest wildest psychedelic spazz prog grind pop records EVER (C'mon, Pitchfork, at least when we spew some ridiculous hyperbole, it's absolutely true!! Haha)!! Not that there have been a whole lot of psychedelic spazz prog grind pop records, but there's a reason for that. This shit is NUTS. So freaked out and dense and complex and hard to pull of. Anyone can crank their keyboards and channel an inferior version of the Locust, but An Albatross seem to have some real link to classic prog, although it's filtered through some impossibly skewed, cracked and demented postpunk, grindcore sensibility. 18 songs, 26 minutes. One's even a three part epic clocking in at a whopping 4 minutes. Keyboards wiggle and slither, whipping wildly like a garden hose turned on full blast and let loose to swing like a mad cobra dosed with angel dust, striking at everyone within reach, drums are spastic, and hyperkinetic, like BB's fired from a cannon, a dizzying splatter, guitars grind and churn, melodic one second, harsh and screeching the next. ALl of these elements tangled up into hyper complex, ultra obtuse knots of super complicated, multi part mini grindprog epics, stop / starts, blazing bursts of hyper blast, brief stretches of serene acoustic dreaminess, warm washes of thick synth whir, blissed out drones and crunchy bouncy blasts of new wave, even some horns find their way into the chaos. Above it all, the vocalist screeches and growls, diving and twisting and turning, dodging and ducking, offering shrieked unintelligible platitudes tucked between jagged shards of post punk stutter and epic convoluted prog. This is like a spazzy, grindy, confusional 21st century Magma, mixed up with bits of Locusts and Lightning Bolts maybe, but with a truly unique sound, due perhaps to their prog rock heart of gold. One of our favorite new records. Furious and freaked out, fast and fucked up but still so goddamn catchy and listenable. And so so so great!!!

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A little over 8 minutes total, 11 songs, each clocking in at WELL under a minute. That's all you need to hear to know that the curiously monickered An Albatross have sent The Locust to the back of the new-wave-metallic-skronk line. All of the elements that make us love The Locust, AA have in spades, but they also have some chops that The Locust don't, mixing in some seriously damaged, ultra complex prog, impossible math rock, and some almost black metal bursts. Think The Locust battling Melt Banana to the death, but with the guys from Orthrelm blasting Italian prog on their boombox and throwing rocks from a safe distance. Insanely chaotic, ultra precise, massively heavy, brutally noisy, and pretty fun n' catchy too. It's over before you know it, but you'll still feel like you got your $10 worth. Especially if you listen to it 6 times in a row like I just did!

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Ohhhh so dreamy! Here's the sophomore album from Anagram aka Mr. Eric Holland (formerly of AQ faves Milk Cult) and Ms Jessica Congdon (formerly of Vervein). Anagram splendidly marry the strengths of their old bands; the textured, atmospheric layers of the former and the pop prettiness of the latter. The follow-up to 2005's Songs From Far Away features a baker's dozen of the Bay Area duo's lushly composed pop songs. Swirling effected guitars and heavenly sweetheart vocals take centerstage amid an assortment of mood-deepening electronic and synthesizer embellishments. They strike an ear pleasing balance of shoe-gazin' and star-gazin' that alternately brings to mind The Cranberries, Lush, The Breeders and The Organ. Actually many tunes struck us as being remarkably feature film and tv soundtrack ready, and wouldn't you know it? Anagram's already had a bunch of songs featured in movies, tv and radio programs. There's guests a-plenty too: Faith No More's Bill Gould, Mike Morasky of Steel Pole Bathtub, The Enablers' Joe Goldring, and Nathan Petty of Rogue Wave among others. Keep your ears peeled!

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It's been refreshing to see a new wave of female experimentalists emerge over the last few years. Grouper, Inca Ore, Avocet, there's something sweetly sinister about these female vocalists, like a siren's call from a distant sea. And thankfully Important records has answered this call, and brings forth a truly incredible new release from the female duo Anahita, the divine collaboration between Helena Espvall, distinguished cellist and member of the widely known Espers, and Tara Burke, also known as Fursaxa. Anahita, named after the Iranian goddess of fertility and water, together sculpt an absolutely gorgeous post-apocalyptic soundtrack, Eastern melodies bowed over layers of flute and secret hymns, deep drones emerging from cracks in the earth, the desert is still and bleak, but the air is filled with somber melody. Recorded straight to 4-track, Matrkaria was recorded between 2005 and 2008. Quiet, organic percussion sets the pace for desert dirges, and distant mirages appear and vanish all at once. Super beautiful and super bleak, Matrkaria is one of the most compelling and magical debuts we've heard in awhile. Think of a darker, dronier and more mystical Suarasma, not as rhythmic and much more transcendental and free-form. Take our advice and don't miss out on this incredible release from these two drone-folk priestesses!

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Anaksimandros features members of Finland's wonderful Kemialliset Ystavat. Although the sound here is a bit removed from the gorgeous folk of KY. The title had us expecting some sort of noisy cross between Merzbow and Skullflower...and it's not all that far from being spot on. Although add in a little No Neck Blues Band hippie jam and some Dead C ambient roar and you'll be even Anyone into the No Neck Blues Band, the Dead C, Birchville Cat Motel, Skullflower and anyone who bought those recent Sunroof! / Vibracathedral Orchestra cd-rs will lose their shit over this. Vinyl only and extremely limited.

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More grinding noise and bad taste from the best worst band in the land. Furiously blurry grind bordering on Merzbow-style noise and the most ridiculous/offensive (read:really offensive) song titles ever (odd, since in the early days, they didn't even bother with song titles): 'Your Kid Killed Himself 'Cause You Suck' originally titled (pre-lawsuit) 'Connor Clapton Killed Himself 'Cause His Dad Sucks', 'Rancid Sucks (and the Clash Sucked Too)', 'Being Ignorant Is Awesome', 'I Gave NAMBLA Pictures of Your Kid', and a bunch of others we can't even print.

Notorious grindcore jokers A.C. change tack entirely and record an album of sensitive acoustic love songs--really they do. They've pulled a Ween on us.

Last list we raved about UK crust / noisecore combo Sore Throat, and in that review, we mentioned that perhaps, besides making some of the most amazing and brilliantly brutal music EVER, they were also most likely directly responsible for these guys, the late great Anal Cunt, who over the years have been equally beloved and reviled, maybe better known to most for their ridiculous and often hilarious and even more often offensive song titles, not to mention their violent and brief live performances, but fans of extreme music, have know for ages, that these guys also made some seriously kick ass noise. And yeah, we mean noise, cuz while they are often classified as metal, in the early days, their sound was more like short, sharp concentrated bursts of Merzbowian white noise, each 'song' a burst of feedback drenched chaos, all tangled riffage, amp buzz and drums-down-the-stairs anti-rhythms, peppered with the occasional stumbling melody, or buzzy guitar grind, these tracks are fierce and feral and furious and easily some of the most face meltingly kick ass grind/noise you'll ever hear. Not for the faint of ear, the tracks gathered on these two disc are the band's earliest, and thus most raw and unpolished (if anything they ever did could be considered polished), with most of the songs lasting mere seconds, and so many tracks that on cd, and even on record, there were clumped together as whole records, here the tracks are whole record, whether it be the "47 Song Demo", "The 88 Song EP", or various splits with other noisemakers like the Meat Shits or Seven Minutes Of Nausea. Probably the most remarkable track here is the "5,643 Song E.P.", which besides featuring a little piano intro(!), also happens to be what is essentially 16 Anal Cunt tracks playing at once, over three hours of music, crammed onto a 7", and onto two track here, those 16 AxCx jams on top of each other, blasting and stumbling simultaneously, and other than sounding way more dense and thick and HEAVY, it still sounds like pure AxCx sonic chaos. Fans will definitely want this, tons of rarities, lots of stuff on cd for the first time, loads of pix in the liner notes, as well as detailed notes on each song from AxCx mainman Seth Putnam from before he died earlier this year (R.I.P.). And while many metalheads will fail to see the appeal, anyone into noise and grind and pure sonic punishment, no doubt already understands. Andee AND Allan approved, and wholeheartedly RECOMMENDED!!

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Previously released as two seperate, hard to find cds ("Old Stuff Part 1" and "Old Stuff Part II") on two different labels. Now some crazy person at NG Records has gone and released this new version, compiling (as it says) the early works (i.e. demos, singles, and compilation appearances) of this notorious blurr-core, noise-metal, very un-pc band from Boston. Over 7000 "songs" to be found here, spread over two cds. That's mainly thanks to the presence here of the tracks from the infamous "5,643 Song EP"... Now for most reviews of A.C. discs, we'd simply pick the best song titles and leave it at that, 'cause offensive & funny song titles are what A.C. does best. But the material on here dates from back when A.C. didn't supply titles (or lyrics for that matter) for their "compositions". So that leaves us to make a case for the musical rather than humorous value (or musically humorous value) of these tracks. Oh boy...well for all you experimental jokers out there, the aforementioned "5,643 Song EP" features the songs playing at the same time! There's actually three hours of material compressed onto the original 7", and it took twenty hours for them to record it! Compares favorably to the Francisco Lopez disc we made record of the week last list... Then there's the "Unplugged EP" tracks, where A.C. takes their screaming metal chaos into the acoustic realm for some unique results. And, any fan of John Zorn or Masonna should really check out A.C. as well, on general principles... truly a classic band, American outsider improv "genius". If not musical genius, then comedy genius. Sure, you or I could have recorded more or less the same stuff on your parents' stereo much like these guys did for their first demo (disc one, track one), but you have to admit that you'd never record so much of it, for so many years, or play such crazy shows. We (Allan and Andee anyway--in fact, A.C. was the first interview Allan ever did for his old 'zine) love this band. For you collectors, note that there's material on these cds not found on the original singles and such. And for novices, we also recommend A.C.'s "Morbid Florist" ep and "Everyone Must Be Killed" album to start with... The cd booklet includes detailed liner notes about each track/release written by A.C. mastermind Seth Putnam. All hail!

Ah, France. Home to the sugary pop sounds of Phoenix and the stately elegance of Air... But scratch the surface to the French underground, and you're faced with the harsh realization that things may be way more fucked than you ever imagined. Festering like an open sore is the Anals, a nihilistic duo from Metz capable of whipping up an ungodly racket with only drums, synthesizers at their most basic functioning level, occasional guitars, anguished Frenchman vocals sung in English, and a whole FUCKLOAD of sheer, agonizing noise. After listening to these hateful miscreants, it makes total sense that they were shat forth from the same land that brought us the Marquis de Sade, Celine, and Gerard Depardieu. Looking at the lyric sheet to Total Anal may be the deciding factor for just how much you can take from these guys. Those into pushing the limits of decency and comfort with bands like the Brainbombs or the Country Teasers, however, will probably find much to love with this one. The album begins with "Commando Of Love," a little ditty musing poetic on a love triangle set in a concentration camp. The song is comprised of a creepy, tense synth whir that is eventually met with pounding cave man drums and vocals that sound more exasperated than enraged. Like many of the other songs on the record, the melodies are almost perceived, as the songs are pretty much made up of earsplitting noise, carried forward by a relentless thump and cacophonous vocals. Other parts of the record sound like This Heat being beaten up and reinterpreted by a couple of French street thugs armed with sound generators and Six Finger Satellite records. The incessant drumming and unrestrained feedback make it feel like your heart might blow at any moment. Strangest of all, however, is on songs like "Vaginal Death Tunnel," where you realize that though this is noise rock with an emphasis on both the "noise" and the "rock," the Anals are creating music that somehow manages to fall within the approximation of a pop song structure, in the same way a group like the Dead C was able to achieve on some of their earlier records. Not that this would ever be mistaken for pop music... Coming to us from the killer Chicago store/label Permanent Records, who introduced many of us to the glorious sounds of Cave, Total Anal also comes with a free download in a nod to the turntable deprived. Highly recommended listening for those who like things on the dirty side, in every imaginable way.

MPEG stream: Commando Of Love
MPEG stream: Vaginal Death Tunnel
MPEG stream: Love Lives In The Street

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

SORRY.

We listed a split record between these guys, Anapparatus, and a band called Llange a while back, both bands doing their own version of the metallic post rock thing. Llange were definitely more of that sort of Godspeed / Explosions thing, but Anapparatus took their post metal whatever and injected some serious screamo into the mix, which definitely hit the spot. When we got that split, they also sent us a handful of an older ep, and boy what a difference a year or two makes, the Anapparatus of old shows no sign of post rock, or post metal, or whatever you want to call it, instead they are full on mathy post punk screamo metal grind. Furious tempos, insane drumming, incredible riffing, buzz and blast, howled vocals, every song a lurching, sweat soaked, basement destroying, ultra dense math metal workout. Sure they bliss out here and there, get all moody and doomy now and again, and there are melodies and hooks everywhere, and the recording is so good, the band sound loud and heavy and like you're right there in the pit about to get crushed by a volley of stage divers, but even in the frenzied fury of these short sweet songs, they also manage to inject a little Drive Like Jehu into the proceedings, making for some serious dense, complex post punk heaviness. No idea why these guys aren't HUGE, but we've practically been listening to nothing else since we first got these in. Packaged in a full color sleeve, pressed onto one of those 3 inch cds embedded in a 5" plastic disc, super striking looking, and a killer bargain, eight songs, 22 minutes, 6 bucks. WAY recommended.

MPEG stream: Scars Of Separation
MPEG stream: Within Nightmares
MPEG stream: The Inner Workings Of Jelousy

You know, you think by now we'd be sick of the metallic post rock thing, the slow builds, the epic crescendos, the mathy drumming, the explosive metallic blow outs, the spidery riffage, the Godspeed like ambience, but fuck it, we're not, we LOVE that shit, especially when someone does it right. Or does it differently. Mixes it up a little while retaining the bits that made us dig that sound in the first place. Thanks to aQ pal Dave S. for the heads up on these two bands, both of the math rock post metal whateveryoucallit variety, but each with a distinctly different take on the sound. Anapparatus is the band that lured us in, their sound is sharp and hard, heavy and metallic, but with a total screamo edge. Howled vocals over churning minor key riffage, super powerful drumming, all locked into a loosely post-metal framework, lots of long stretches of tribal understated rhythms, chiming guitar harmonics, soft sheets of feedback, but then when the heavy parts kick in, and the vocalist shrieks, it's magic, like if Godspeed or Explosions In The Sky recorded for Gravity Records in the nineties. Some of the riffs are SO catchy, and the band unwind terse super tight mini-epics, that manage to sound super controlled but sprawl wildly at the same time. But it's definitely the vocals that seal the deal, transforming what was already a killer mathrock band following in the well worn footprints of Isis and Pelican and the like, into something intense and passionate and angry and aggro and fuck it EMO. Way mathier than any of the above mentioned bands, and so much more impassioned, this is post metal punk rock for sure. All three tracks destroy. We'll definitely do our best to track down more from these guys. But Llange aren't too shabby either, although right off the bat, their take on the sound is a bit more traditional, but like we said, it's a sound we love, and Llange do it well, wrapping guitars in soft billowy reverb, the drums weaving a dense framework for the soaring guitars, the arrangements flowing organically from slow brood, to heavy moody dirge, to full on blown out psych jam to shimmery near balladic drift. The band does get almost metal at times, but chooses to remain just this side of full on downtuned crush, which suits them just fine. The closer adds gorgeous crooned vocals to the warm whirring synths and tight mathy drumming, the melodies sweetly melancholy, building to a seriously heavy finale that would most definitely give Conifer a run for their math rock post metal money...

MPEG stream: Labyrinth
MPEG stream: Far Above Us And Way Below

There was a zine produced by power electronic antagonist Mark Solotroff, back in the mid-'90s, called Rape Of The Angels. In one issue, he wrote rather poignantly about two new projects which then were mostly unknown - Brainbombs and Bodychoke, describing them as two sides of the same abject-rock coin with one side aligned with the bacchanalia of the Stooges and the other the melancholy of Joy Division. At the time, Solotroff's principal outlet for his power electronics was Intrinsic Action, which was shameless in appropriating Whitehouse's ultra-violent posturing and searing noise. But since, Solotroff has ventured into a whole host of projects with various aesthetic differences, but all of which maintain an axis of grime, sleaze, transgression, and violence. Anatomy Of Habit is Solotroff's first venture into an outright 'rock' context, after the punishing electronics of Bloodyminded and the bleak coldwave of A Vague Disquiet; and here, it all comes back around to Brainbombs and Bodychoke (although more Bodychoke than Brainbombs) with Anatomy Of Habit. Formed around Solotroff, drummer Dylan Posa (Brise-Glase, Cheer Accident), Greg Ratjczak (Winters In Osaka), Kenny Rasmusen, and Blake Edwards (Vertonen), the band is a steamroller of huge Swans / Neurosis riffs chugging out of crawling rhythms, and lots of bad vibes. Both sides of the wax are sprawling numbers that hypnotically build out of interlocking guitar and bass that steadily builds towards a distorted, crushing climax with dextrous turns toward powerdrone sludge. Solotroff, with his years of barking like William Bennett, has turned into quite a deft vocalist with his baritone in perpetual motion amidst the roiling noise-rock, coming across more like a cross between Jaz Coleman and Michael Gira. Well worth checking out.

Anatomy Of Habit is the noise-rock ensemble revolving around the twisted mind of Mark Solotroff, Chicago's long standing power electronics king known for his numerous projects over the years including Bloodyminded and Intrinsic Action. Accompanying Solotroff is another noise icon, Blake Edwards (aka Vertonen), yet even with these two ear-shattering technicians on board, Anatomy Of Habit's impressive dynamics come from the far more traditional axis of drums, bass, guitar, and vocals, played by Dylan Posa (Cheer Accident, Brise-Glase), Greg Ratajczak (Winters In Osaka), and Kenny Rasmussen. "The Decade Plan" begins with a bright ellipsis of guitars that wouldn't be out of place on a slowcore jam from Codeine or Slint before the band launches into a super heavy riff, girded by metal-bashing percussion only to settle into a assaulting groove to further along Solotroff's tales of sex, violence, and their psychological implications. The brutal brooding continues on "After The Water" amplifying their smashed sound even further through the tranced-out, sludge riffs and subharmonic roar. Think Pelican, Isis, Bodychoke, and of course, Swans. Cut at 45 rpm, these two tracks are fucking massive!