How To Assess Your Damages is record number two from these Colorado post hardcore heavies, released on the same label that gave us the recent records from Lark's Tongue (see elsewhere on the aQ site). Il Cattivo features members of Planes Mistaken For Stars (whom we love, but who for some reason have never made it on to our list ever), and traffic in a dense flurry of dueling guitars, mathy drumming and howled vox, their sound a brooding heavy noise rock, with a dash of screamo, and plenty of classic hard rock melody, as well as pop smarts, not to mention a particular strain of Midwestern rock that some aQ-ers are a bit obsessed with to this day, we're talking about bands like Paw and Kill Creek, their hard rocking indie rock flecked with a bit of twang, and a bit of Southern rock, which seems to make it into the music of Il Cattivo as well. The dual guitars here mean the heavy parts are dense and layered, and also means there are plenty of killer guitar harmonies. The vocals too are surprisingly varied, a super commercial croon one second, a throat shredding howl the next. Some of these songs are crazy polished and poppy, and it's not hard to imagine them on the radio or MTV (if they still played music), but then even the catchiest song will splinter into a wild squall of heaviness, and vice versa, the band will lay down some furious metallic mathiness, only to inject it with a heaping dose of impossible catchiness, which makes for a seriously sweet combo. It's definitely easy to hear Il Cattivo as a logical extension of Planes Mistaken For Stars, just a bit more melodic, a bit more polished, and with some serious kick ass songwriting chops!
All it takes is a handful of listens and you'll be obsessed, seriously, dig into the samples below and you won't be sorry. We were just gonna give this a quick review, but with every listen, we found ourselves digging it more and more and wanting to listen to pretty much nothing else. WAY recommended!!
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES, each one hand numbered!!
If you have never heard of Rikki Ililonga or his influential band, Musi-O-Tunya, you are not alone. As it goes in the rediscovery of important music especially outside North America, the true innovators of a sound and a scene are often the last to be rediscovered, and Rikki Ililonga is a case in point. Followers of the aQ list have no doubt been aware of the recent spate of "ZamRock" reissues, most lately, from Witch, and Tirogo, and farther back, gems from Ngozi Family, Chrissy Zebby Tembo, The Peace, and Amanaz, that really have shown the influence of Jimi Hendrix and heavy psych on this part of Southern Africa. Well, Rikki Ililonga through his band Musi-O-Tunya and subsequent solo records were there from the beginning, releasing the very first pop and rock records after Zambia gained its independence, thus pioneering the birth of "ZamRock".
The Now-Again label has done an incredible job of compiling two discs of recordings from the years 1973 through 1976, one disc devoted to Musi-O-Tunya, and the second disc to Ililonga's solo recordings. The first disc traces the band's roots from its Afro-beat beginnings with bass and horn funk rhythms to more lo-fi fuzzy garage rock singles band then to a heavier psych powerhouse singing full on in English. The centerpiece single being the title track, "Dark Sunrise", should get any heavy seventies I-rock head salivating. The second disc compiling Ililonga's first two solo records is a more varied affair as he goes through many seventies styles and tropes. There's still plenty of heavy psych with searing guitar leads, but there's also some Thin Lizzyish power rock, baroque rock balladry, heavy sexy blues and even some rhythmic Afro-pop.
The cds are housed in a 32 page full color hardback book compiling photos and interviews, liner notes and ephemera, and the triple lp vinyl version is even fancier, a massive boxset containing 12 page booklet, and individual, exact reproductions of Ililonga's original 3 albums (thus tracklist of the vinyl format is somewhat different than the way the cds are organized, as described above). Whooo yeah!
This album number two from Ilitch (a.k.a. Thierry Muller), originally released in 1980 and finally reissued in its entirety with a bonus disc of unreleased/live material. '10 Suicides' is record of dark and claustrophobic, primitive and noisy, electronic
Just recently on our New Arrivals list (in our Record of the Week review of the Vertigo Mixed compilation) we mentioned (again) how much we love prog. Combine that with how much we also love the music of UK songwriter and experimentalist Richard Youngs, and you can imagine how excited we are by this brand new Ilk offering. Canticle is the unexpected second album from Richard Youngs' long-dormant "prog" project Ilk, a band (of sorts -- it's just Youngs and collaborator Andrew Paine, though we don't remember if Paine was involved with the first Ilk cd from 1999) that celebrates both the idea of '70s British progressive rock epics (including the pretentiousness of narration and the like) and the related field of pastoral folk-psych. Which isn't too far from what Richard Youngs is often all about anyway. Anyone familiar with his two most recent solo albums, the AQ faves Airs Of The Ear and River Through Howling Sky, will find much that's familiar about Ilk's Canticle. There's gorgeous melodic material on here, Richard's honest English voice accompanied by gentle acoustic guitar for some stuff with a moving, quasi-religious tone... but the intentionally, overtly "prog" aspect is borne out by tracks like "A Guiding Principle", which consists of a scrambled jumble of guitar, drums, and electronics, something like the Dead C playing a free jazz version of Relayer by Yes on 45! These more active, electric "prog" and "rock" elements interact interestingly throughout the album with the folk/drone loveliness we've come to expect from Youngs, for a listen that satisfies both our love of "classic" prog in general and the not so easily catagorized work of fellow prog-lover Richard Youngs in the particular. Recommended!
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The first release on Richard Youngs' No Fans label since the early '90s is quite a surprise -- it's not experimental noise stuff like much of his work with frequent collaborator Simon Wickham-Smith, this is actually the debut album by Young's one-man progressive rock band Ilk. Yup, '70s style prog rock -- but not really. Young has constructed mock-suites of beautifully intricate rock structures that include classical guitar, flute and sleigh bells. (No mellotron though.) Actually, the "prog" aspect of this seems kinda conceptual. I mean, there IS a Roger Dean-eque painting of a floating island of monoliths (that spell I-L-K) on the cover, and there's some portentous introductory narration by someone (Youngs' dad?). But the music isn't full of weird time changes or bombastic instrumentals to show off his chops -- it's simply beautiful, focusing mainly on Youngs' haunting vocals, and/or (in song "Nocturnal Path Flow" for instance) the mesmerizing sheets of eerie, shimmering sounds from his keyboards. It's elemental in its majesty -- you can understand how the album was inspired by his travels on the coast of Scotland. If you've gotten into Young's much more recent and equally gorgeous (if mellower) collaboration with Kawabata Makoto on vhf, you should definitely check this out! Allan LOVES this album.
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We talk a lot about good "going to sleep music", but this lovely album, while it would work just fine for that, might be even better suited as good "waking up music". Truly, this Belgian ensemble's ambient-chamber music, gently glistening and glimmering, sounds like it, itself, is waking up. The dawning of a new day, gentle sonic rays of sunshine, all that sort of thing - though admittedly, one could imagine the onset of dusk as well, drifting off along to the quietly melodic instrumentation (guitar, piano, cello, double bass, organ, vibraphone, violin, horns, xylophone...), soothingly played, accompanied by even more abstract sounds - hushed drones, subtle pulsations, and synthesized electronics like whooshing, softly blowing wind. The nine named tracks on this album are interspersed with five additional "Interludes", those just slightly more ambient in nature, though it's not as if you need 'em in order to catch your breath or anything, the whole album is quite relaxed. Basically, Illuminine's full-length debut is a kind of quasi-classical take on the "Pop Ambient" thing, via instrumental post rock, for fans of bands like Sigur Ros (and in fact, this was recorded in Sigur Ros' studio, in Iceland, by their own engineer), also for fans of similarly ambient-ish, strings-and-piano-and-electronics graced releases on labels like Miasmah and, especially, Time Released Sound.
This Paris synth / cold / new wave duo are the first contemporary release on the Medical reissue label, and they're a perfect fit, sounding like, if we didn't know better, and actual reissue of some Euro-wave obscurity from the nineties. Sure the sound is a bit more modern, more synth-gaze / darkwave than old school new wave, less low fidelity too, but for the most part, I.S. have THAT sound nailed. Buzzing synths, squelchy basslines, sequenced rhythms, swirling atmospheres, the vibe cold and clinical, with vocalist Christina delivering her best sexy ice queen croon, besides sounding like an actual band from back in the day, they also sound like they'd be right at home on Italians Do It Better. Fans of that labels Euro-disco synthwave and outfits like Desire, Chromatics and Glass Candy will be in retro-synth gloom-wave heaven. Many of the tracks are dark and dour, shadowy and melancholic, but a bunch fall closer to classic EDM, channeling Cabaret Voltaire and Chris And Cosey, and obviously anyone into the current crop of modern retro synthwave outfits will definitely dig! Usually when reissue labels dabble in contemporary music, the results are disappointing, but Medical obviously know what they're doing, and we can't imagine anyone who's dug ANY of the Medical reissues, wouldn't also dig Illustration Sonore!
Like all of Medical's reissues, Illustration Sonore's Undisciplined Strips Of Emotion is fantastically packaged, pressed on heavy clear vinyl, housed in a faux distressed full color jacket, with a full color insert / lyric sheet. And yeah, also VERY limited...
Lovely lovely lovely. Originally released way back in the magical musical year of 1971, on the French label Flamophone, the sole album by the youthful hippie duo of Bernard Ilous and Patrice Decuyper is just that, lovely. And pretty darn obscure. Amazing how reissue labels like Lion can dig up such things, as good as this elegant piece of psych-tinged, pastoral pop, replete with lush vocal harmonies, careful arrangements, and gorgeous melodies! So who were Ilous & Decuyper? Beatles-fan Ilous was already an accomplished professional composer, with a desire to at last sing his own songs rather than just write for the French pop stars of the day. He teamed up with likeminded folk guitarist Patrice Decuyper, and via a "confrontational" collaborative song-writing process that highlighted the emotional content of their music, this album was created. Doubtless the symphonic, sophisticated sound of Ilous & Decuyper's record wouldn't have been possible, except that luckily they had off-hours access to a big league, 16-track recording studio -- and spent, like, a year making this album, playing almost everything themselves and finding creative ways to do so.
We can't conclude this review without mentioning their amazing cover of "Eleonor [sic] Rigby", a wonderful, almost-hard-to-recognize-but-not-really reinterpretation of that famous Lennon/McCartney tune. Beatles fans Ilous & Decuyper were indeed, though for every part of this album that sounds Beatlesy, there's also parts that sound as much like CSN&Y, or Led Zeppelin, or Ennio Morricone, or the Bee Gees, or some sort of psychedelicized, Francophone variety of "yacht rock"!
As we've come to expect from reissues associated with Lion Productions, not only is this a pretty great, totally obscure treasure, but they've made sure to include copious liner notes and complete lyrics in the thick cd booklet. And there's also two bonus tracks from a post-album single. Quite nice indeed.
As if all of the projects that Emeralds' synth wrangler John Elliott weren't enough, he's adopted a pseudonym to record under the Imaginary Softwoods banner. The name's Blue O'Randa here, although there's little doubt as the authorship of the sounds. With the exception of the bittersweet attitude of "Rainbow Obsidain Key" and its faux-harpsichord melodies, The Path Of Spectrolite fully embraces the New Age path that Elliott, ummm, O'Randa has been teasing us with through all of his recordings. With all of the aquatic bubbling, bright-eyed synth pads, cosmic shot dream-drone, and harmonic tonal shimmer, Imaginary Softwoods bare more than passing resemblance to the likes of Iasos. Limited to just about 500 copies.
All right. Yet another great homage to the transcendent, cosmological sounds of mid-'70s progressive electronics by way of John Elliott, better known as one of the synth dudes in Emeralds. The number of Elliott's solo / side projects is pretty staggering, with Imaginary Softwoods being the eighth that we're aware of, outside of Emeralds. Given the vast back catalogue from the Elliott / Emeralds axis, it shouldn't come as surprise that this 2lp set has gone through several permutations as well. First on cassette (three of 'em!). Then on vinyl. A cd-r came and went. Now, this remastered set appears once again on vinyl. There is a reason for all of the various editions of this album: it's a damn good record!
The first side opens with a cold void atmosphere of filter sweep tones and metallic sawtooth vibrato, reminiscent of Elliott's recordings as Outer Space with more of slant toward the languorous, flanging drones that come by way of Maeror Tri or Cranioclast, minus the post-industrial framework. Elliott settles into a series of tone cluster of rounded synth notes whose cycling phrases have an elegant restraint and somber mood, as if Morton Feldman were to score a isolationist sci-fi soundtrack. Side two offers more of the liquid abstraction that became an Emeralds' signature on What Happened, sprawling through gentle oscillation and bittersweet half-melodies. A church-organ like set of rainy-day impressionism settles onto the third side, before Elliott reprises the cold flanging isolationism and Feldman-like tone clusters noted on the first side. The album drifts into a minor-key oblivion that descends over the course of the three final tracks on the fourth side of the album, tumbling into maudlin suspended tones and drones. So so nice!
Japan's Ruins are/were a bass and drums prog-spazz duo lead by octopoidal drummer Tatsuya Yoshida. Ruins have been longtime faves 'round here for their manic precision and complex catchiness, kind of a cross between Melt-Banana and Magma, played by a two-piece. Hopefully, you know all about Ruins already. And if you're a fan, then you're reading the right review!
Goddamn, if you thought that Ruins were crazy... believe it or not, Yoshida's latest duo project has upped the ante quite a bit. Teaming with guitarist Imahori Tsueno, and further augmented by computer processing, this takes Yoshida's brand of frenzied prog palpitations into hyperdrive. Considering what we know Yoshida can do live with no overdubs (and even all by himself) it's positively dangerous to allow him and his collaborator to crank up the craziness with technology. Yet the Doubtmusic label has allowed them to do it, twice -- this is their second disc. As you may recall, we already raved about the first one, Territory, last year. This one is equally awesome, if you're at all inclined towards this sort of technical musical mania. It will leave you breathless, staring at your stereo, jaw on floor. There's 17 tracks, ranging from one minute four seconds to eight minutes fifty seconds. All of 'em action packed, constructed through a partially improvised creative process that incorporates malfunctioning video game sounds one nano second, virtuoso jazz fusion licks the next... kecak-like vocal parts, blasting rhythms, heavy guitar rippage. And there's also artificial speed manipulations, pitch shifting, and jump-cut electronic edits -- yeah just when you thought it couldn't get any more dense or intense, it's like they flip a switch and suddenly achieve superhuman levels of prog rock performance (beyond even what the Ruins are known for!).
It's not all speedy spasmodicism, as they also delve into some momentary moody, much calmer atmospherics... always ready to turn a corner into utter ADD insanity, however. While still always retaining a knack for ear-catching riffage, as per the Ruins at their best. And this IS the most Ruins-y thing we've heard in a while!! Of course. Boy this makes us happy.
Recorded on old machines, in the darkened halls of the BBC, after hours, when the rest of the workers had gone home, Imbogodom's The Metallic Year is the work of multi-instrumentalists Alexander Tucker and his partner Daniel Beban. They holed up in these dark temporarily abandoned studios, playing music on various instruments, capturing them on analog tape, manipulating the tape, and recontextualizing the sounds, creating ghostly soundtracks to otherworlds, music for late night strolls through darkened hallways, a glorious ghost world. Looped pianos and sonar like pings, becomes lush crescendos of dramatic tension, voices are transformed into sitar like buzz, and layered into heaving swells, like s tuning up orchestras woven into minimal dronemusic accompanied by slowed down monk-like chants, pianos and strings swirl ominously like a Bernard Hermann score pressed onto warped vinyl, swirling streaks of gauzy melody drift over clouds of warbly xylophone like tones, reverbed harmonics drift like dust motes in hazy rays of washed out light, warm whirring buzz creeps through soft tangles of detuned guitars and deep moaned vox, billows of processed swoops and swirls float above the weird backwards hiss of reverse tape ambience, ghostly voices float above wheezing chords and thumping distant rhythms, a lugubrious spectral creep that leads into the final stretch, an extended sprawl of ghostlike voices, a collage of haunting incantations, over an orchestra of burbling witches' cauldrons, the sounds all melting and oozing into each other, a slowly decaying vocal dirge, a black sea of doomic drift, that sounds exactly how you would imagine those haunted halls would sound, cloaked in darkness, free of life, as if Imbogodom were simply channeling some sonic spirits, capturing a blurred indistinct snapshot, burned like some ghostly image to magnetic tape.
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Loud... quiet... loud. Aah yes, a style of indie rock that will never never go away. And Imbroco perform it with vigor and ample emoting. A 6-song ep that would make any Get Up Kids or old Superchunk fan bob their head with glee.
While known most for being the bass player in Stereolab, Simon Johns carries some other plates as well. Including his band Imitation Electric Piano, who follow up their debut full length from a few years back with an album that's quite different then that instrumental affair. This time out he recruited the breezy English folk vocal stylings of Mary Hampton. With her sweet summertime-flowers in her hair delivery it ends up sounding like how you would imagine Stereolab doing Pentangle covers might sound like. Bright and peppy as it rolls in green grass on a shimmering sunny afternoon.
... is the band led by Mr. Simon Johns. His musical resume boast the fact that he played bass on Stereolab's Cobra and Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night album, and there are definite shades of the 'Lab here as well as Aluminum Group and the Sea & Cake. This is some delightfully pretty, smooth post rock with light, jazzy moments that sound strongly influenced by composer Kryzstof Komeda (known for among other things, his film soundtracks to Roman Polanski's Cul De Sac, Rosemary's Baby, Knife In The Water). Strolling along at a spritely step, the oft-arpeggiated organ, harpsichord and yes, electric piano melodies and gentle pulses cycle over and over as muted horns and the odd strum from an electric guitar step in every now and then to break the repetition. Steady goes the rhythm section with rounded bass lines and light hi-hat taps while soothing vocals very akin to Sam Prekop of the aforementioned Sea & Cake pop in for a visit every so often.
MPEG Download: "King's Evil" [/audio/imitationkings.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "King's Evil" [/audio/imitationkings.m3u]
Innocuous instrumental playfulness courtesy of Simon Johns who has released material as Clearspot on Stereolab's label Duophonic (and who is currently the 'Lab's bassist). Sounds exactly as you'd think it would -- bubbly and harmless. Fans of Broadcast may like this, but it's not nearly as good.
No sophomore slump for this terrific band of Canucks with genuine familial ties to The New Pornographers. Lead singer and keyboardist Kathryn Calder has certainly honed her craft touring and recording with her Uncle Carl's band. She's certainly come into her own since her band's debut Ones And Zeros only a couple of years ago. As a whole unit Immaculate Machine have advanced in leaps and bounds, bursting with confidence and a healthy dose of spunkiness. Where it is perhaps most noticeable is in the vocal department. Calder sings ever so sweet'n'strong, while Brooke Gallupe's voice has developed into a remarkably deep and smoothly expressive charmer that at times draws comparisons to Jarvis Cocker (as opposed to the drollness of Stephin Merritt on the last album). On Fables, they've tempered the brooding with the bright-eyed, the perky with the pensive. It's at once punchy and slouchy, sorta like a female-fronted Strokes. A great summer in the city album!
Since their beginnings, Immaculate Machine have been most known as the band starring Kathryn Calder, the sweet-voiced niece and fellow New Pornographers bandmate of Mr. Carl Newman. But these days singer/guitarist Brooke Gallupe has stepped into center stage and is shining brightly! He is clearly more firmly in the driver's seat on the band's most recent recordings. High On Jackson Hill finds them channelling equal parts New Pornographers (on songs such as "Thank Me Later") and T. Rex (on songs such as "He's A Biter") with ample nods to '70s West coast classic rock too. That said, don't miss the starkly contrasting lovely "You Destroyer", a low-key, folksy Calder-sung song that glows with its own luminous sweetness. A well-crafted treat!
Psst, we've also just gotten in a few other new and new-to-us titles on this fine Vancouver indie label by The Awkward Stage, Buttless Chaps, The Pack A.D. and Neko Case's early band Maow!
This young Canadian band has been tagged with the selling point that lead vocalist Kathryn Calder is the long-lost niece of New Pornographers' Carl Newman, and that she sings and tours with that band -- a wise move on her uncle's part 'cause she's mighty talented. A great way to get a lot of attention from Canadian pop-loving folks, that's for sure! That said, Immaculate Machine's music sounds nothing like those dear NPs and stands on its own merits. Indeed, the Victoria, BC trio have set the bar high on their first outting and they've done so with such solid songwriting and an ease and composure that so many bands' many times their age haven't been able to grasp. Their fully fleshed out arrangements bring together the hard'n'crunchy and soft'n'pretty. Although the core of their sound is indisputably pop, it's a pop of a different flavour. More feverish and punchy. The first song has a retro feel that brings to mind their labelmates The Organ. In fact in keeping with the family theme here, imagine them as a peppier cousin of said band. On the other hand the male lead vocals on the fourth song "Phone No." are a deadringer for Stephin Merritt of Magnetic Fields. Overall, their sound recalls the early edgy energy of '70s/'80s British bands such as XTC and Gang Of Four, but not the trademark sounds of either of those bands which have been plundered and regurgitated to death recently by many other young bands. A remarkably robust debut!
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Fat Cat's successes with their series of electronica split 12"s hasn't necessarily translated in their forays into avant-rock. This Immense 7" is quite a bit better than their other avant-rock release: the a-side is a steady building piece of rock hypnosis sort of like a sax solo fronting Stereolab's "Emperor Tomato Catchup", the b-side is a sad yet beautiful guitar and piano composition sort of like the Texas melancholia by 26 (or later 37).
Now available on vinyl for a limited time! Packaged in a gorgeous gatefold sleeve, with new photos and design. We never listed the cd before (it came out before we did reviews, let alone black metal reviews) but fans should know it, and that's who'll be interested in Immortal vinyl anyway. This was their very first album from '92, so probably their rawest, but still all about the winter wonderland that Immortal devoted their career to mythologizing.
Imperial Teen are back from their major label excursion and now grace Merge Records with this cd filled with poppy, catchy songs, some with Clinic-like danciness. This is their best record by far. The melodies and harmonies get stuck in my head and are
Imperial Teen are back with what might be their brightest, bubblegum-iest album ever! All the familiar faces are back in the fold -- Roddy Bottum, Lynn Truell, Jone Stebbins and Will Schwartz! You probably know that the latter has been keeping busy during the band's five year hiatus with his fun-fun-fun dance party Hey Willpower! He might've been workin' it on out on the dancefloor, but he's not gonna get much rest with the equally energetic Imperial Teen. Packed with crunchy electric guitars, boy/girl vocals, snappy drumming and hooks galore, this is some jubilant, ultra carefree pop! It begs for an endless supply of exclamation marks!!!!! Go on, whatever age you are, take a gleeful sock-footed bound around your living room! And like any kind power pop band should, Imperial Teen give you a sweet slower closing number for you to cool off to! For fans of Redd Kross, Tralala, The Go! Team, and The Rondelles.
The debut album from Chicago's Implodes is a quintessential Kranky release. It's a darkly beautiful production of pop narcotic smeared in layers of shoegaze distortion, monochromatic psychedelia, and slumping atmospherics, harkening back to Kranky's early releases from Bowery Electric, Amp, and maybe even the first Labradford record. That said, Implodes does fit nicely in with the current Kranky roster of Belong and Tim Hecker as well, and moreso Disappears, as Implodes is a conventional rock quartet crafting their tuneful sludge balanced with radioluminosity through pedals and amps. Throughout the album's humid, smoldering fuzz and droned distortion, Black Earth perpetuates the creeping violence and midwestern depression, spoken through the album's cover art, a creepy photograph of a woman's silhouette brandishing a knife in a rather hostile pose. The suitably downer melodies and androgynously murmured vocals flicker amidst the muffled guitar haze like the best of all shoegaze acts, but unlike most who reference My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, or Ride, Implodes is more attuned to Flying Saucer Attack, Bailter Space, or even the desolate drone-rock of Higuma. Tracks like "Screech Owl" and "Experiential Report" slowly burn from downer acoustic strumming into the plodding rhythms and intertwining male / female vocal mumblings buried beneath the narcoleptic atmospheres of muffed guitar haze. But if there was to be a 'hit' on the album it would be "Meadowlands" with its disco-ping synth notes that must be a reference to Joy Division's "She's Lost Control" instead of anything remotely hedonistic. Out of all this fuzz and distortion, sad melodies and muffled androgynous vocals sing of woe and heartache with a psychic conviction that doesn't need anything explicit like lyrics. The music is perfect in delivering this bleak mood all on its own.
Album number two for Chicago's heavy shoegazing quartet Implodes picks up exactly where they left off with their Kranky debut, bridging the blur of Slowdive with the depressive post-punk of Joy Division (or more accurately, the first New Order records which held over much of the existential bleakness of Joy Division before switching gears entirely in offering forth "Blue Monday"). Recurring Dream is an apt title, although whatever dreams these guys are channeling, they ain't pretty. Every song is a monochromatic fug of blurred vocals, heavily pounded slow motion rhythms, and black/blue maelstroms of overdriven, reverb laden guitars that might be pegged as psychedelic if everything weren't so dark and so cold. A somber atmosphere from their icy drone-rock introduces the album's first three cuts, leading up to the comparatively dynamic "Necronomics" with its propulsive rhythms and Mogwai-like explosions and crescendos. The harmonic, lead guitar lines of "Ex Mass" are right out of the Daniel Ash playbook for Bauhaus / Tones On Tail but grafted onto a sullen, slow-core arrangement all caught in a sonorous tarpit of murk and blur. The album ends on a perfect downer note with "Bottom Of The Well", with an exasperated Matt Jencik emoting a very sad tale even as the words are entirely obfuscated in echo and reverb, while the rest of the band propels forward into a black hole of twin guitar solos and swirling synths akin to Emeralds rehashing The Cure's Pornography. Awesome.
So if you were disappointed by the new Weezer, and thought maybe Weezer don't sound as much like Weezer as they used to, well, the Impossibles do. Starting life as a pop-ska-punk band, the Impossibles have mutated into a catchy heartfelt power pop band, and a
We found a handful of titles, maybe only 5 or 6 of each, from Aussie label Diagnosis� Don't! We've had these for ages, and odds are these are long gone as they were pretty limited to begin with, but for a few of you, here's your chance to grab one (or all) of these super limited 3" cd-r's.
The Impromptulons are an improvising (get it?) free noise collective from Brisbane, who use a confusional mix of instruments to create their sound, from found objects to actual percussion, lots of feedback, very rhythmic and ritualistic, one single extended jam, equal parts Avarus and the Dead C, very tribal, with plenty of click and glitch, rumble and thump, all wrapped in a swirling haze of tape hiss and distant bowed strings, not really noisy so much as much as hypnotic. Strings are plucked, drones shimmer, percussion clanks and clunks, and somehow the result is a gorgeous piece of rhythmic dronemusic.
Packaged in thick cardstock mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. And again, we only have a VERY FEW of these....
Ultra limited (already out of print) blast of bizarrely beautiful outsider noise, a la Skaters, Dead C, Yellow Swans and all that groovy shit! Only 100 copies and we got about 5...
A collection of demos and live tracks of super lo-fi recordings from the stateside equivalent of the Fall. Recommended.
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SORRY.
A working definition of self-reflexivity, the in Out asks the question "What is the in Out all about," when the answer is quite clear... The best Fall record that was never released... Right down to imitating Mark E. Smith's Damo Suzuki, the in Out out-Fall The Fall. Brilliant.
Light the seance candles and ready the Ouija board, Sweden's In Solitude have returned from realms unknown to deliver the third installment in an unholy trinity of ominous occult heavy metal, this time distilling their sound with a healthy dose of '80s goth rock and some serious stadium sized chops. While In Solitude's previous records wore their Mercyful Fate infatuation well and truly on their tattered sleeve, Sister takes their sound to strange new frontiers. While the misshapen shadow of King Diamond certainly still looms large over this record, there's just as much influence from bands like The Mission U.K., Fields of the Nephilim, and '80s Damned to name but a few! The production is perfectly sparse and simple, seeming to stretch and creak like rotting floorboards leading to dimly lit entry ways. Singer Pelle Ahmen sounds like a man in a trance, a restless spirit faintly crying out from the astral plane. He still definitely conjures the lower register ghostly wail of King Diamond, but just as often his crooning drawl recalls Danzig, Nick Cave, The Cult's Ian Astbury, and on the album's acoustic opener especially The Sisters of Mercy's Andrew Eldritch (could the album title be an homage??). While the fist pumping heavy metal of In Solitude's previous two records often revealed Ahmen's limits as a vocalist, in the context of their newly stripped down, more rock and roll sound he works absolutely perfectly, totally dominating the record with his unearthly presence. And for all the arcane occultism and haunting imagery, Sister is absolutely full to the brim with hooks and accessibility, often sounding a bit like Ghost (whom they're rumored to be aligned with member-wise somehow!) without all of the Scooby-Doo cartoon hokiness, but with just as much of an eye toward pop songcraft and classic rock'n'roll.
"Lavender" is almost like The Doors soundtracking a haunted house horror film with its Technicolor hints of '60s psychedelia and guitars spiraling with a circus acrobat's abandon over that ever present haunting vocal croon. Album closer "Inmost Nigredo" opens with a lush dreamy opium den crawl, like Pink Floyd at their most clinically depressed, before slumping into a doomy graveyard lurch layered with echoey fluttering black metal guitar leads, sounding a bit like a less obtuse Negative Plane or Occultation. Meanwhile the album's title track and possible album highlight grooves with a serious slithering swagger, seeping through the speakers like the undead sibling of G'n'R's "Mr. Brownstone" unearthed from some forgotten unmarked burial plot! Sister is the perfect example of tweaking a band's sound subtly, but just enough that it absolutely changes everything. In Solitude sound imbued with a vibrant new energy and a renewed sense of purpose, and Sister is most certainly a late in the game contender for metal record of the year, even though some might argue that this isn't (entirely) metal anymore.
(Heck Andee and Allan are both convinced that Sister reminds them a bit of an old fave from the '90s, the reverby Southern Gothic indie garage act the Rock*A*Teens.)
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This is one of my all time favorite grindcore bands. They combined unbelievably kick ass grinding fastcore with the kind of sense of humour you wish all bands had. This is a posthumous collection of everything they did, including the brilliant 'Nutty Antichrist' lp (that featured a demonic Jerry Lewis on the cover). Pummeling and punsishing, fast and brutal, and funny as fuck. Awesome.
Some of us came to punk in a seriously roundabout way. Seems like most folks we talk to, got into punk rock, then moved toward heavier stuff and got into metal. But we went straight to metal, then gradually discovered punk rock, so we ended up learning about bands like Fear and Black Flag and Die Kreuzen and the Dead Kennedys well after we had been into Slayer and Venom and Motley Crew or whatever. One effect that had on our taste in punk, was that we liked the stuff that was heavier, and more metallic, Cro Mags, Die Kreuzen, Black Flag, and we got super into West Virginia's Th' Inbred, partially for that reason, sure they were punky and fast, and had a vocalist who sometimes sounded like Jello Biafra and sometimes sounded like Lee Ving from Fear, and their lyrics were snarky and political and funny, but musically they had lot more going on than a lot of punk rock bands, super complex guitar playing, very Greg Ginn influenced, bordering on jazzy now and then, but often gnarled and twisted, and the band were pretty noisy too, easily mistaken for some punky AmRep band, but then able to bust out a super complex almost proggy start stop punk jazz groove, and then explode in a frenzy of pounding pure punk energy, plus they had a wicked sense of humor, as evidenced not only by their lyrics, but their album covers as well (the Jerry Lee and Myra Kissin' Cousins cover for example).
Listening to this again, it's hard to believe these guys were even as popular as they were, this is some weird shit, every few tracks the band would throw the crowd a bone, with something full on punk, but they definitely spent most of their time trying everything but!
Killer reissue, both albums, the first ep, as well as some bonus tracks, all stuff circa '85-'88, a HUGE booklet jam packed with new liner notes, track listings, tons of photos, and some awesome (and awesomely funny) illustrations.
Latest from this one woman dreambliss outfit, and it's a soft focus washed out doozy. It seems like Grouper and Inca Ore are constantly competing to see who can craft the dreamiest slab of disembodied pop, of ghostlike ambient shimmer, and with every release from each of them, we find ourselves proclaiming a winner, until the next disc shows up, and there's a new winner, and on and on and on.
But really, we're the big winners in this made up competition, as we can't get enough from either. Both utilize vocals as their main sound source, but both have spread their wings, incorporating more and more instrumentation, creating sprawling expanses of gorgeous blurred ambience. And part of the magic is that the sounds are often smeared to the point that it's difficult to tell what is voice and what is instrument.
This latest Inca Ore record is maybe her most song based yet, and it totally suits her. She has always been adept and creating atmospheres and textures, but her knack for hiding catchy melodies and soft pop gems amidst all the drift and murk is really coming through. The opener here is absolutely heartbreaking perfection. Minor key and washed out, with a vocal line, that distorts perfectly, adding unexpected texture, a hidden hook that lodges in your head, the vocals drifting on the glistening minimal soundscape in the background, when the vocals fade out, leaving just the music, it's so utterly sad and funeral, but still fuzzy and dreamy.
She covers Merle Haggard and makes the song totally her own. We could go song by song and describe the record in detail, but where's the mystery in that. The first song, and the description above should be enough to suck you in. But once you're in, let yourself go and drift off into Inca Ore's haunting hallowed soundworld.
Beautiful full color covers, printed 12"x12" inserts, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES! (Well, actually, some of the copies we have, which we got directly from Ms. Inca Ore herself, are from an earlier, self-released pressing. Same record, slightly different cover art. The copy you get will be randomly chosen.)
First full length from Inca Ore since the awesome Birthday Of Bless You (not counting a mess of collaborations and splits), and it's more of what we've come to love about Eva Ore's mysterious world of sound. Like Grouper, Inca Ore is definitely vocal based, a breathless ethereal mumbly croon, often heavily effected, or buried beneath a wash of swirling layered soft noise, but where Grouper is murky, Inca Ore is more noisy, her tools are high end to Grouper's low end, a delicate crystalline drift, all rounded whistle like tones, and whispered vocals, will morph into a swirling squall of crunch and skree, the vocals still dreamy and angelic, but wrapped in strange clattery rhythms, fuzzy distortion, streaks of feedback, and a thick lo-fi haze, only to slip seamlessly back into another stretch of high end shimmer, a soft cacophony of muted music box melodies, chiming and reverberating, the vocals so processed, they blend into the field of bells and tones.
And so it goes, every song a glorious, gauzy world of delicate sparkling glimmer set amidst slowly drifting clouds of buzz and hiss, soft thrumming percussion, hushed thrum, and dreamy, druggy, softly psychedelic drone drift ambient pop. So lovely.
We have very very very few of these so we won't go into too much detail. You probably already know just from the two artists if you need this or not. New work from two of the few women kicking ass in the mostly male 'noise rock' scene. Both huge AQ faves, both who utilize voice and effects, in addition to the usual string-ed instruments to weave dreamlike soundscapes and delicate cinematic ambience.
Both are in full effect here, each outfits offering up gauzy beauty and mysterious haunting murk, distant shimmery drones and abstract lo-fi song fragments. Gorgeous as always.
Printed insert in a gold paint splattered tape case. And as mentioned above, CRAZY limited and gone before you know it.
Sometimes we just have nothing nice to say about a record. So instead we'll just quote this compelling blurb their label wrote, from the sticker on the front cover: "belief pacts, beatnik poetry, sandpipers and perfume, axed lungs, prison lullabies, pigmented moments, bonneted lambs, January storm fang. I'm listening illuminate with your attention."
Um, yeah, sure. Sounds more like a bunch of kids banging jars and howling obnoxiously to us...sorry!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Up Records strikes again with another syringe of essential pop that goes straight to the old adrenal glands. Third single from the Seattle trio that brought you the amazing Greatest Thing 7". Think Nothing Painted Blue, Tullycraft, Raincoats. The B-side ("Driving in your car") wins on this one. --Cory Brown.
Energetic pop you can sink teeth into, a là local favorites Pee. Extra-high quality.
