The recent instore by this Canadian duo was a total stunner, their broody, minimal electro pop balladry sounding just as good live as on record, with the added strangeness of a vocalist who looked like he should be fronting a hardcore band, shaved head, boots, white t-shirt, grasping the microphone with a steely gaze, but those vocals immediately transformed him into a very unlikely balladeer.
"Turns Turns Turns" might be one of our favorites from their debut full length, Impersonator, and maybe the least minimal of the bunch, with programmed beats, a woozy vocal loop, lush and layered, those deeply dramatic vocals, intense and emotional, classic pop through a modern minimal filter, folks who have yet to check out Impersonator, give this a listen, and see if you aren't as smitten as we are. And being that smitten, had us frustrated that the group only had that one full length. So we were super excited that there was a 12" with three additional non-album tracks. So beyond "Turns Turns Turns", there's also "What That Was", which is much more lo-fi, all buzzing synths and primitive Casio rhythms, but then the vocals swoop in, and it's pure Majic. Fans of Magnetic Fields should definitely check these guys out, could be your new favorite band.
The flipside starts off with another more lo-fi jam, simple programmed beats, a dreamy piano refrain, some swirly ghostly vox, and a strangely psychedelic high end melody near the end, but it's the next track, "I Want To Warn You", which makes this woth grabbing, broody and buzzy, moody and darkly dramatic, like a demo version of a track that SHOULD have been included on Impersonator, and a song that helps hold us over until there's finally more Majical Clouds to be had...
Here's guitarists Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggars again with their third album under the Major Stars moniker, after working together previously in such similarily-psychedelic bands as Crystalized Movements, Magic Hour, B.O.R.B., and the not-to-be-forgotten Wormdoom.
As you might expect from these Terrastock rock heroes, "Distant Effects" features a lot of nimble psych guitar solos, dirty with effects and wanky (very Hendrix like). The drumming, also, is big and bombastic. We like a lot of this, except, as unfortunately tends to be the case with Mr. Rogers' stuff, for the vocals. His lackluster pipes project a sincere indie-boy dullness, without being heartbreaking or special enough to excuse. Aside from that drawback, "Distant Effects" is a fine album for fans of 60's inspired psych guitar jamming (which is what happens a few minutes into each track once Wayne shuts up and the band starts to cook), with a great recording sound and a varied style from song to song, of which there are just four, reaching a bit over a half hour, culminating in the 14 minutes and 45 seconds of "Elephant", which sees the Major Stars really stretching out with some righteous heaviness. On Squealer, where it seems to belong, seeing as how that label is also home to several High Rise and Acid Mothers Temple releases!
Not quite, unfortunately.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Kate Biggar and Wayne Rogers of Crystallized Movements, Magic Hour, and the highly-regarded Twisted Village label and store.
Now on cd, the 2nd Major Stars album (with bonus track from an out of print 12"). This record starts off innocuously enough but by the time the last track "Dream of the Accidental Bird" reaches its tenth minute, you're in distortion heaven. 1/2 instrumental, the first "side" with singing, the second saying "the heck with that, let's jam!" and thus without. Either way, the psychrawk blow-out factor is in full effect as one might expect from anything having to do with guitarist Wayne Rogers (Crystallized Movements, Magic Hour, etc.).
Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggar of Magic Hour and Vermonster team up with two other fine gentlemen as the Major Stars.
Ex-Nation of Ulysses exiled to the garage. Ex-Sassiest Boy in America Ian Svenonius is the artist who wishes to be known as Prince.
Spock haircuts, tight pants, white leather belts and a 'missed-the-point' white suburban take on James Brown.
The Make-Up were so much of what was great about indie rock in the '90s. Their commitment to all-ages shows, putting on a totally spirited and performative show, their release of a multitude of 7" singles, their aim at infusing some soul and propaganda into an all too stiff scene was such a welcome respite. Those of us who remember seeing them live know what an amazing spectacle their live shows were. Ian Svenonius channeled his inner preacher meets James Brown meets RFTC's John Reis for a concoction that oozed with charisma and infectious presence. Several years before bands like The Hives and White Stripes were coordinating their outfits and creating mystique with their presence, The Make Up were doing that with a brilliantly uniform vision and execution while keeping their hearts and principles deeply rooted in the underground, by always playing all-ages shows and keeping those door prices low. Taking their Nation Of Ulysses Dischord roots and adding some much needed ass shaking and soul sounding spirit into the equation.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Wow. I had no idea the Makers sounded like this now. They got some really schnazzy production which only serves to make them sound all generic 80's college rock, sort of like the Replacements on a very, very bad day. And then there's even a ballad or two? Whatthufuck? This just sounds... sad and pathetic, like Bon Jovi or something. What happened tough guy? Gone all soft? Yuck.
With their newest record (a sort of stupid concept record), The Makers come across as much more glam than abusive, with lots of rhinestones, teased hair, and big Elton John sunglasses. Notorious in the past for getting themselves into a brawls with other bands and audience members, they seem to have redirected more of their energy and aggression into their style and music. Crank it up, flashy bad boys.
All right, before we go naming the debut album from San Francisco's The Makes Nice the #1 Pop Album Of The Summer Even Though It's Barely February Already, full disclosure: we do happen to know these guys. An especially good friend of ours is guitarist/vocalist Josh Smith, whom you too probably know from some other bands of his in the past -- he used to play lead guitar in the The Fucking Champs, and also was integral to the legendary SF black metal band Weakling! So after Josh quit the Champs a few years ago, you can imagine our reaction when, eventually, he told us that his next band project was gonna be a power pop, power trio -- with him singing as well as playing guitar! That's pretty far from the instrumental metal of The Champs, or the epic evil of Weakling, eh?? But damn if he didn't pull it off!
Teamed up with Aaron Burnham (of The Mothballs) on bass and vocals, and Jack Matthew (of Harold Ray Live In Concert) on drums, Josh's new band has not only only blown us away with their live shows but now present their killer debut album, the cryptically-titled Candy Wrapper And Twelve Other Songs. The thirteen tracks here run about 31 and a half minutes -- most of 'em not even hitting the 2 minute mark. But each is crammed with so much blazing pop energy in the vein of freakbeat, psych-pop heroes of yesteryear who populate compilations like the Nuggets 2 box set (they'll tell you themselves) that it's got enough head-nodding, foot-tapping hooks for an album twice its length, and could power a full on ballroom blitz to boot.
Hopping on a White Striped bandwagon? No, not at all. What sets The Makes Nice apart from a lot of the current crop of garage rock outfits is their emphasis on Beach Boys/Beatles styled vocal harmonies and sheer songcraft. Yeah, most of these songs are totally raw and rockin' and full of high energy sonics, but also carefully arranged with vocal sweetness that would do Brian Wilson proud. Furthermore, the album is woven throughout with memorable guitar solos. Peeling off licks with tasteful abandon and doses of thick fuzz, Josh's virtuosic playing really gives The Makes Nice their unique signature and vitality. Fucking Champs fans who pick this up just 'cause Josh is on it won't find any metal, but they will hear plenty o' great guitar playing -- and in fact, Josh really lets loose with more soloing here than he ever did in the Champs! So rad guitar + sweet harmonies + utter catchiness = why The Makes Nice totally rule, basically.
And they didn't got to all that work with the vocals without giving some thought to the lyrics as well, so this thing has just got about all the angles covered, top of the pops as far as we're concerned. Definitely this disc should have a lot of appeal to fans of sixties Brits like The Who, Pretty Things, Creation, and Tomorrow up through '70s, '80s, and '90s North American acts like The Raspberries, Cheap Trick, Redd Kross and Sloan! Seriously, the toughest thing about writing this is that we still have to write a bunch of other reviews before this week's New Arrivals list goes out, but from working on this, we've got pretty much this entire record stuck in our heads right now -- and we don't want to make it stop!
This Time Tomorrow? As in, by this time tomorrow, all these songs will be stuck in your head! San Francisco power pop power trio The Makes Nice hit us with their second album, again crammed with catchiness, boasting a bunch more action-packed, altogether killer, no filler tracks. A pitch-perfect hybridization and revitalization of all of their varied retro influences, from '60s Nuggets style garage to Elvis Costello to the Raspberries to Cheap Trick to the pansiest of paisley psych to, even, Devo. All 14 numbers are poppy n' boppy, but there's definitely two general sorts of songs The Makes Nice like to knock out, to knock us out: one is the energetic, nay frenzied, punker fueled by whiplash Keith Moon-ish bashing, full of slashing guitar rippage. Or, we get foot-tapping, sunshine n' lollipops hooks and harmonies... but even then, the headspinning guitar licks are in full force, Josh Smith doin' proud such legends as Billy Gibbons, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page. Even though it's only 33:48 long, this album is an embarrassment of riches. Heck we made their debut Record Of The Week. This one's just as good, maybe even better. No sophomore slump here! 'Nuff said?
If anything, The Makes Nice sound even more assured and dangerous this time 'round. If they've got any competition, they sure shut 'em down. Their not-so-secret weapon remains the wham-bam-thank-you-mam soloing of guitar whiz Josh (still formerly of The Fucking Champs, and Weakling too if it matters) but drummer Jack Matthew and bassist Aaron Burnham hold up their sides solidly for sure, and actually it's the whole band's involvement in complex arrangements, clever boy-meets-girl lyrics, and vocal harmony that really makes The Makes Nice something special. That's the thing, despite how prolific they are (by this time tomorrow, they probably will have written another cool song or two!), their craftmanship is prodigious, little details get a lot of thought. And as a result, they're not for everyone. The scuzzy sloppy garage crowd may find them too accomplished, complex. While pure pop fans might not get into their raw garageiness. And both camps could be scared off by Josh's advanced Stratocaster chops. On the other hand, in our book those are all real good things. So get with the program!
Protometalheads, psychfreaks, Japanophiles - listen up.
Imagine, what if Janis Joplin sang for Black Sabbath? And further imagine, what if both Janis and Sabbath were in fact Japanese?
Well, you almost don't have to imagine. 'Cause Carmen Maki and Blues Creation's album together has just been reissued, on both cd and vinyl!
It dates from the magic year of 1971, originally released 'round about the same time as Blues Creation's all-time proto-metal classic Demon & Eleven Children, which we've gone on and on about before, one of the heaviest albums of the era, from a band who were basically the Japanese answer to Black Sabbath. And Japan had some heavy bands back then, like Flower Travellin' Band, Flied Egg, Ranmadou, and Speed Glue & Shinki. But of all those, the most Sabbathy one was probably Blues Creation (though of course FTB comes close, having actually covered the song "Black Sabbath" on their debut).
The lovely Carmen Maki, for her part, was already a popular Japanese singer, definitely of the Janis Joplin blues belting school. Though she's also been likened to Grace Slick, and even to a female Robert Plant. Made sense for her to team up with this particular shit-hot blues rock outfit, both live and on this record.
Bands back then tended to do a lot of covers, but instead of being obvious and covering a Janis Joplin song, the opening track here is a bit more obscure, though it might sound somehow familiar anyway, it's a version of "Understand" by a lady often compared to Janis, Lydia Miller of the American band Fantasy. They do a few other standards on this album, "Motherless Child" and "St. James Infirmary", but all the other tracks were written by Blues Creation guitarist Kazuo Takeda.
And to be clear, this record isn't nearly so heavy as Demon & Eleven Children, not all the time, a lot of it's in fact fairly mellow, and all of it is, naturally, quite bluesy. But, even when they're not in the midst of a rollicking full-tilt Mean Old Boogie, the gentler "soft rock" stuff is pretty nice; and each track usually builds into a fine frenzy of wild wailing blues licks and distorted riffery. Those solo sections are really when the Blues Creation guys get to let loose, though Cream is probably the much bigger influence here that Sabbath.
Maki later fronted a band called Oz (no not the Swedish '80s metallers), who were pretty heavy too, and proggy; we'd love it if that stuff got reissued too someday...
Chicago's Mako Sica have been a longtime favorite here at aQuarius, and with their second full length (third if you count their live vinyl debut), we figured it was about time more people took note of this amazing band. The trio whips up a heady and unique noise that goes way beyond simple classification and remains blissfully in its own world. The main ingredients � two guitars, drums, and evocative wordless vocals � are augmented here and there with trumpet, thumb piano, and various percussive flourishes, but it's the way the musicians interact with each other that makes this band so special. And while they certainly do rock as they ascend to higher levels of psychedelia, calling Mako Sica a "rock band" or a "psychedelic band" doesn't quite hit the mark. The noise addled skronk of hometown labels like Skin Graft is certainly evident as well as plenty of free jazz and world music influences, but the band never tries to be anything other than themselves, and with those influences guiding the way they have arrived at a stellar sound that will be instantly accessible to adventurous listeners. At the same time, a level of mysteriousness remains constant, demanding repeated listens. As distinctive as it all is, we know this will appeal to fans of legendary groups like Trad Gras Och Stenar, Taj Mahal Travellers, and Les Rallizes Denudes, not to mention the current crop of San Francisco bands blowing the minds of the world like Barn Owl, 3 Leafs, and Carlton Melton. How could we not make this a Record Of The Week?
Essence opens with the monolithic sidelong "Fate Deals A Hand". A slow, eerie buildup gives the impression of a rising sun as the sounds bubble to life. Sustained, cello-like drones and bells accompany a voice that is itself another layer of beautiful sound. The mood gradually shifts and an underlying harmonic fuzz on one of the guitars indicates that things are finally gonna take off. The heaviness and unease of the guitars grows as the percussion becomes more insistent, and six and a half minutes in the sounds begin to merge into a more distinct form before launching into an ominous psych jam that is almost metal if it weren't for the way the drums hold it all in place. Queasy, discordant sounds kaleidoscopically swirl about as the vocals (which at times sound almost like Nina Simone if she were wordlessly chanting) add an awesome, somewhat disorienting vibe that makes it difficult to guess when and where this music could be coming from. It's amazing how the vocals illustrate a story without words and create drama, even if you aren't quite sure what it all means. Eventually a delayed trumpet glides into the maelstrom, at which point the band somehow still holds back and lets an atmosphere of spaciousness build - spaciousness being one of the key elements separating this band from the rest of the pack, who often try to cram as much as possible into the proceedings. Of course, Mako Sica launches into another distorted freakout before reaching a final and total silence. Fucking awesome.
Side two offers up two more lengthy jams, beginning with "On Cracked Sea". Cosmic chanting and guitars operate in unison, trading melodies freely without confining themselves to any traditional structure. Instead, it's just TOTAL music, melodic, jagged, beautiful, and noisy, all at once, with the drums clattering about creating just as much mood as the guitars. More of that awesome harmonically rich fuzz guitar comes cascading in, bringing the song to a new level of intensity before winding down into a woozy blissful fadeout. The final track here, "Chain Leg", begins with some low ominous rumblings and more bad ass vocal chants, reminding us a bit of a less metallic version of UK space/psych/drone collective Bong. Eventually the proceedings get a little more abstract even as some discernible riffing takes center stage. Everything sounds perfectly in place and open to whatever adventures appear to be happening in real time. Musical freedom, pretty much.
For a band that has continuously surprised and inspired, Essence stands as Mako Sica's greatest achievement so far. Their somewhat shadowy existence may mean they might not the first band that comes to mind when pondering the international resurgence in explorative, free form psychedelic music, but it's hard to imagine that not changing with this amazing record. Get it now!
Chicago's Mako Sica return with another cassette release, with the band conjuring up two lengthy pieces live in their hometown plus an additional studio outtake from their amazing Dual Horizon album. You couldn't put together a more varied trio; the band is comprised of Polish guitarist Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (who also handles trumpet duties) formerly of longtime favorites Rope, drummer Michael Kendrick who cut his teeth for years in the underground metal community, and North Carolina bred guitarist/vocalist Brent Fuscaldo. Somehow the three managed to come together in the center of the United States, and with an arsenal of influences and references have managed to create a sound that is distinctly their own. Pinning the band down with terms like "psychedelic" or "improvisational" may help one get a vague enough reference, but these ultimately prove insufficient. The songs are expansive and constantly moving forward, always avoiding the pitfalls of mindless jamming and relying on the natural interaction of the three musicians, who possess an uncanny understanding of how to work with each other. Not surprisingly, there is a strong jazz influence to these songs, but the guitar team of Drazek and Fuscaldo is more than qualified to rock out and bring things into bold new territories. Kendrick's drumming perfectly complements his bandmates and provides the elastic framework that really sets the band apart from their peers.
The live performance was captured in August 2010, and monolithic 17 minute opener "Fate Deals A Hand" begins like smoke looming out across the horizon with an exotic Eastern feeling. Wordless chanting is used to great effect - sort of like a MUCH more restrained and melodic Haino-esque wail, at any rate an essential part of the band's musical vision. Things slowly build in intensity as the guitars create walls of swirling atmosphere while cymbals slowly crash about in waves as bells chime away. With the shamanistic vocalizing you probably won't be thinking "band from Chicago" as they lurch forward and become almost demonically heavy. The lead guitar snakes about while the rhythm work is created on the low strings for a sound that is a lot like you would get from an actual bass guitar. As we've mentioned in past reviews, these guys are experts at incorporating negative space for a totally unique effect, and even with members of the audience yammering away it almost seems like the voices were meant to be there. Bits of atonal free shredding stab like knives and bear a resemblance to legendary skronk rockers US Maple (whose Todd Rittman actually recorded the outtake on this tape). The band eventually cools down with sparse freeform drumming and some vocal-like trumpet work adding an elegant yet slightly disconcerting vibe before going into another suite of blissed out heaviness. Wow. Side 2 opener "Ancestors" begins with a steady drum plod carrying things forward while a thumb piano provides a unique kaleidoscopic melody. The dramatic low end guitar resembles something one might get on a synthesizer and the vocals create a cool mysterious feeling before the band explodes into a finale of beautiful noise that no doubt had some jaws dropping to the floor. As mentioned earlier, "Red Rivers" was cut during the Dual Horizon sessions. The song is another perfect demonstration of how well these guys know each other as people and musicians. The sharp bits of delayed lead guitar give out a jagged little melody alongside the gorgeous wordless vocals. The song has a lonely cinematic Western feel to it, eventually becoming reminiscent of Sabbath's "Planet Caravan" as it kicks into a steady groove with one guitar establishing an amazing dubbed out rhythm while the lead guitar dances about before wrapping up like a sunset.
An essential outing from one of Chicago's great unsung bands, and we are looking forward to the band's next full length which is in the works - can't wait!
Took us a little while to get around to reviewing it, but we ARE excited about this, the third album from Bristol UK duo Malachai, a band originally championed by Geoff Barrow of Portishead, who released their debut on his Invada label (and plays drums on one cut here). We LOVED that album, The Ugly Side Of Love, as well as its follow-up Return To The Ugly Side, and now this one too, Beyond Ugly. The methodology on all their albums is the same - using loops and samples, as well as their own live instruments, they make beautiful (not ugly) music that sounds like a mashup of paisley '60s psych pop and proggy '70s acid rock. Retro sounds, modern technology. Fuzzy guitars, groovy organ, subtle electronic embellishments, junkshop record crackle, killer breakbeats, all stitched together DJ Shadow Endtroducing-style, tracks that are either super catchy or super moody (or both), but with sing-song melodies carried forth by the vocals, from one half of the duo, which are delivered in a sometimes soft, sometimes raspy, distinctively English "'Allo, guv'nah!" voice.
The dozen cuts on this new disc run the gamut, from dreamy mellow pop to hard rock groove, several almost sounding like they could be off of one of those "Electric Asylum" compilations of vintage glammy, proggy "Rare British Freakrock", if you didn't know better. The two songs here with credited samples borrow from Bollywood and The Stranglers, though, demonstrating Malachai's inspirations range far and wide. Like their previous efforts, we're totally sold. Love it!
Maybe only hardcore aQuarius customers who always read our list will 'get' this comparison, but if you can imagine a hybrid of When (circa Lobster Boys) and White Stripes, Malachai are somewhere in there. Of course, if you're that much of an aQ customer, you probably already have the other Malachai albums and know you want this one too!
Last year's Ugly Side Of Love, the debut from UK sampledelic duo Malachai, was a surprise hit around here, we loved it from the second we first heard it, we just didn't realize HOW much. We ended up playing it to death, and it ranked as one of our favorites of the year, so much so that we found ourselves lamenting the fact that we didn't make it a Record Of The Week. Which it no doubt should have been, a dizzying assemblage of samples and proper instruments, woven into what sounded like some some lost seventies retro rock, proto metal, fuzzy, groovy, heavy psych jam, and barring some little bits of obviously electronic filigree, it totally could have been.
So we were super psyched to discover a new record, and while on first listen, it doesn't sound -quite- as catchy as their debut, the more we listen, the better it gets, and we're pretty sure we'll find ourselves obsessed and kicking ourselves all over again. But whatever, just don't sleep on this, so fuzzy, and heavy and groovy and goddamn good. And strange. Simultaneously warm and familiar, but also like nothing you've heard, from the super cinematic opener "Monster", a string heavy bit of dramatic ambience, with big skittery beats, and a gorgeous soaring orchestral outro, which leads directly into a heavy shuffling drum beat, laced with some hazy guitar buzz, some swirling atmospheric shimmer, and then some reverby vox, the sound again some impossible hybrid of then and now, past and present, sixties psych wrapped around looped beats, and wreathed in shimmery effects.
"Mid Antarctica (Wearin' Sandals)" is super heavy proto metal buzz, the riffs epic, the organs whirring, the bass thick, the beats big, a sort of hip hoppy groove underpinning some serious psych fuzz, occasionally breaking down into ethereal drift, but always lumbering right back into some thick churning heaviness. "Rainbows" is all hazy and reverby and echoey, with gorgeous boy girl vox, the strums muted and washed out, everything wreathed in a patina of soft focus shimmer, and so it goes, the record shifting and transforming, from hushed balladic drift, to shuffling sunshiney hippie folk, to buzzy druggy groove, to piano driven super dramatic creep, to what might be our other favorite track, "Monster" which sounds like DJ Shadow, if he were raised on sixties psych as well as hip hop, epic and bombastic, moody and broody and so good. And it just keeps getting better. The sort of 'psychedelic sixties Entroducing' vibe becomes more pronounced as the record progresses, finishing off with the twangy, woozy buzz drenched strum and shuffle of the closer "Hybernation", pepper with some unlikely boomin' system low rider bass, and yeah, we're kicking ourselves now for not making this Record Of The Week, so just figure this is an UNofficial ROTW, which means this is about as recommended as it gets...
This was a total left field surprise, what on the surface appears to be some lost seventies retro rock, proto metal, fuzzy, groovy, heavy jam, is in fact, the work of two electronic musicians who cobbled this disc together via samples, computers, effects and yeah, some actual instruments. We weren't sure how we felt about it at first, but after a few minutes we were pretty much sold. And have been jamming this ever since.
For actual seventies proto-metal freaks, and retro reissue obsessives, this could definitely rub you the wrong way, but for the rest of us, who can dig some twisted modern take on the shit we LOVE, then this might totally hit the spot.
The guitars are fuzzy, the organs are warm and warbly, plenty of twang, some Morricone-esque moodiness, some rad old hard rock drumming, killer vox, hand claps, plenty of jangle, hooks galore, there are also plenty of rad psychedelic interludes, with twisted backwards guitars, swirling FX, all sorts of primitive electronics and layered collaged sounds, but it's the songs that seal the deal. Super heavy, totally groovy, while to these ears it sounds like classic proto-metal, to some folks around here it sounds more like current retro revivalists like White Stripes, Earl Greyhound, Wolfmother, but this stuff is so much cooler and weirder, the little studio tricks that make certain notes stutter, the samples that are played like an instrument but are still wreathed in record crackle, lots of backwards sounds everywhere, it's like some lost sixties psychedelic hard rock lost gem, reimagined and reinterpreted using modern day technology and it RULES.
Awesome. A few years ago, some friends of ours -- the Jewelled Antler guys as a matter of fact -- had a once-in-a-lifetime record collector wet dream come true experience while on a day trip up north of San Francisco. They came across some sort of town dump / recycling center place where a whole bunch of old vinyl lps had been left free for the taking. Like, someone's entire record collection! Of course our friends expected to find the usual beat-up Bread, Eagles, Simon and Garfunkel albums, but took a look anyway, just in case... and soon realized they'd stumbled upon a small cache of extremely cool, rare records! Obscure psych rock and free jazz stuff. Terry Riley and Alice Coltrane and even some Yahowha 13 lps!! Lucky bastards. Among the treasures was an album on Verve by someone called Malachi. We got to hear it, were wowed, and ever since have been hoping to find a cd reissue... at last, here it is!!
Psychedelic New Age before either terms were widely known or even invented, Holy Music was recorded one late San Francisco evening in 1966 by proto hippie Malachi. While most people consider psychedelic music of this time to be from garage rock bands who used sitars, Holy Music was truly one of the first psychedelic recordings in the way we define that term nowadays, meaning long and druggy, hypnotic, droney and blissed out. These five pieces named Wednesday (the day in which he recorded them) are raga-tinged guitar cycles accompanied by Jews harp, tom toms and meditative chanting, that bridged an eastern ornamentalism with earthy western counter-cultural invention. Malachi was the Animal Collective of his day. Allen Ginsberg was a big fan, and if you like your psychedelia to be both dreamy, drifty and earthy then we're sure you'll be big fans of Malachi too. Recommended!!!
Sprawling double disc of self described 'other planetary field drone' from this mysterious Aussie duo featuring members of doomsludge heavies Whitehorse, avant noisemakers Bone Sheriff, and grey metallers Krystoffkrvstoffiston, one disc of collected tracks (hence the title), the other disc a 'collaborative' collage put together by Malakat, and made up entirely of an unreleased collaboration between the now defunct Grey Daturas and the also now defunct Yellow Swans, but more on that in a second.
The collected tracks disc, gathers up various jams from the last few years, all of them hushed and minimal and mysterious, strange dronescapes of abstract ambience and microscopic events, field recordings and performances, long stretches of creak and whir and thrum and rumble, laced with mysterious voices, fragments of melodies, a sound somewhere between the free forest clatter of Avarus, the ritualistic black abstraction of Abruptum and the free sonic exploration of A Handful Of Dust.
Long streaks of feedback, overloaded mics, monstrous howls, low end crumble, whirring layers of glitch and hum, washed out hazy shimmer laid over murky sonar mumbles and muted clatter and clank, doomy crumbling rhythms pulled apart into sprawling industrial blurs, all smeared into creepy hushed black ambient drifts, and groaning, creaking, whispery abstract free noise minimalism.
The second disc, finds Malakat assembling somewhat similar sounds, but using only a recording of the Yellow Swans and Grey Daturas from 2006 as source material, and according to the liner notes: "pots, pipes, a clay skull and a wooden tube". And it sort of sounds like it. Sort of. Ultra minimal, abstract and ambient, stretches of what sound like alien field recordings give way huge heaving swells of crumbling buzz, squalls of roiling blacknoize splinter into full on drum freakouts and blurred drone jams, deep cavernous rumbles explode into jagged shards of hissing static and beastly vocal mewling, gorgeous blown out swells of chordal whir dissipate into chiming metal-buzz minimalism, these lengthy bursts of sonic energy, which actually don't sound all that messed with, more like they're just straight up recordings of GD and YS rocking out,, but those blowouts are all separated by short interludes of barely there shimmer and hazy muted drift. Killer stuff. On bad ass Australian label Sweatlung, and most likely crazy limited...
It always seemed a little odd that during the past couple of years, a series of unlikely remixes of Malaria! had been popping up from Sun Electric, Dr. Motte, Westbam, Chain Reaction's Moritz Von Oswald, and the reprehensible Chicks on Speed (all of this due
Malaria! is clearly dated from the early '80s and sometimes shows their age. But I'll take Malaria! over Le Tigre any day.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The self-titled debut release from Malditos is a minimal and dark synthesizer driven ep filled peppered with some unlikely but super awesome electric tablas! Because most of the songs are sung in French you might be tempted to think this is a slab of obscure European '80s gothic vinyl reissued by Dark Entries; but no, this Oakland, CA band is comprised of current or former members of Swann Danger, The Phantom Limbs, and Black Ice. The aforementioned tablas and Eastern scales recall more than a few of the moodier aspects of Dead Can Dance, but there's also echoes of Rowland S. Howard's angular phased guitar work. The record is quite heavy, the two synths proving a driving and repetitive low end while occasionally swirling around the upper registers. As previously mentioned, three out of the four vocal tracks are in French. Pretty much the only French word you need to know, however, is "Noir". When listening to lyrics in a foreign (to this reviewer) language, what is said is less important than how it's sung and Cyn M. does an excellent job of setting a brooding and dark mood with her powerful vibrato. The last track is an almost industrialized cover of Serge Gainsbourg's "Requiem Por Un C..." (sung in French, of course). Limited to 259 hand numbered copies, this record is sure to go fast.
A collaboration between Mike Patton (Mr. Bungle, Faith No More, Fantomas) and Masami Akita (Merzbow). This is actually quite listenable, considering their combined propensity for annoyance. Playful and downright giddy Noise!
The debut from these UK noise poppers had to be one of the biggest surprises of last year, a killer collection of grungy, fuzzy pop, equal parts indie jangle, blown out heaviness and fuzzy garage rock, loads of hooks, plenty of oooh's and aaah's, it most definitely gets loads of play STILL, and "All Things This Way", the 'hit' of that record, is definitely still on heavy rotation with most of the pop kids we know.
So we were super excited about a new record, a new batch of perfect pop, of noisy garage pop gems, and heck, whattayaknow, that's just what we got. There have been some grumbles about the group's new softer sound, and yeah, some of the rough edges have been smoothed out, the vocals too, much more crooned, sorta what you might expect from a band with their second go 'round'. And actually, we think it definitely suits them. Just give opener "Tame The Sun" a listen, and odds are you'll be smitten, sweetly melodic jangle, dreamy vocals a killer hook, some rad guitar, not to mention a super strange but weirdly subtle stuttery tempo change that pops up now and again, it's pretty goddamn great. As is the rest of the record. No huge reinventions, no dramatic shifts in songwriting, but then that's not really what we were after anyway. The sound is different enough that it's not a total rehash, but similar enough that our hankering for a Nothing Hurts part 2 is more then fulfilled, and really all we were hoping for is another great indie rock noise pop record which is precisely what this is, and like the first, the more we listen, the better it gets, and the more obsessed we get with all of these songs. A new pop fave for sure!
Like the first record, fans of the Lemonheads and Weezer and Guided By Voices will be just as psyched on this as fans of Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall, Royal Baths and all the rest...
If we had to describe these guys in as few words as possible, we could probably do it in three: Dum Dum Boys. Or maybe even two: Vivian Boys. Yep, that's basically what Male Bonding are all about, yet another group carving out their own little chunk of sound in the ever dwindling sonic territory that makes up the current explosion of hazy lo-fi fuzz drenched reverby garage pop, but like the Vivian Girls (who guest on a track here) and the Dum Dum Girls, Male Bonding too manage to rise above, using lots of the same elements, but crafting a sound all their own. Sure they borrow from everybody, few modern bands don't, but their mix of Weezer and Guided By Voices, the Lemonheads, classic pop punk and nineties indie rock, all filtered through a the now sound of retro leaning warped garage rock, makes Nothing Hurts a serious contender for pop record of the year.
And it's all about the songs, the band deftly slip from crunchy feral punky garage rock, to totally infectious heavily hooky, power chord power, pop and back again, before exploding into another post punky workout that sounds like some obscure Polvo B-side. And when they team up with the Vivian Girls, one might expect a woozy, gauzy, reverb drenched sixties style Spector-ized wall of sound chunk of garage pop, but instead, it's an almost entirely acoustic jam, just guitar and vocals, with the Vivian Girls' contributing occasional "oooohs" and "ahhhhs", and then there's an unexpected bit of hazy washed out shoe gazey distorted guitar fuzz, before they slip right back into some dreamy druggy strum.
And that's sort of what's so great about the record, on the surface, it's fuzzy and punky and poppy, and all the folks into Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees and Gary War and of course Dum Dum Girls, will dig it right out of the gate, but spend some time with it, and it ends up revealing itself as so much more, a super smart, surprisingly complex, crazy catchy chunk of classic sounding indie pop / post rock crunch.
The latest addition to the Castle Face roster comes in the form of SF's goofily monikered Male Gaze, who�s echo drenched, garage punk is pretty much a perfect fit. From the first few seconds you�re definitely in familiar territory, fuzzed out guitars, loose drumming, crashing chords and laid back reverby vox, the sound falling right between CF flagship groop Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall�s power trio Fuzz. But unlike those bands, the Male Gaze (d)evolves into more sort of tranced out territory, at times kicking out a hypnorock like a revved up Circle, at others, slipping into a woozy stoned lope, blissed out and almost shoegazey. The sounds are most obviously connected by some seriously blown out guitar tone, even at its most melodic, it still seems to come crumbling through the speakers. The vocals too are pretty distinctive, a deep wasted croon, that�s perfectly pairs with MG�s lysergic garage rock, a dizzying concoction that constantly zigs and zags, flitting deftly from hyper-kinetic hookiness, to broody almost bloozy swagger, to near metallic crunch.
Fans of the usual suspects will most definitely dig!
If you find yourself feelin' the need to skip past the first song on Stephen Malkmus' latest solo effort, you're not alone. There was an audible "uh oh" in the store when we put this on for a first listen. There's something to be said for keeping things fresh and current, but the first song on Stephen Malkmus' third solo album just seems like he leapt aboard the hipster dance-rock bandwagon as it swung through his town. The somewhat awkward song's very un-Malkmus tempo, rhythm, synth details and overall feel are surprisingly ripe for a remix treatment, tho'. We wouldn't be at all surprised if this surfaces on a DJ deck sometime soon. That said, fortunately he doesn't linger too long in the vicinity of the dancefloor, venturing out into other musical zones, but always returns to the comfy indie rock stylings that his fans know and love. It actually seems like Malkmus got pooped out trying new things 'cause as the album draws to a close he reverts back to more of that familiar Pavement brand of slouchy slacker indie rock.
The second EP from Mr. Malkmus. The title track can be found on his recent solo debut album, but the other three tracks were recorded live in Germany. And what are they? Well, they're three covers of songs by Black Oak Arkansas, Coloured Balls and Greg Sage.
Pavement is no more, yet Stephen Malkmus is making another go at it, as a solo artist (as if everybody didn't know that Pavement was basically his project anyway). His debut album is a marked improvement from the last couple of Pavement records, but this still doesn't break Indie-Rock Rule #326: 'the only good Pavement is early Pavement'. By the way Indie-Rock Rule #325 is '500,000 Slint fans can't be wrong', and Indie-Rock Rule #327 is 'Thrift store slacks will never go out of style.'
Actually very nice new indierock album from former Pavement frontman. His half spoken / half sung delivery is, for some reason, not nearly as annoyingly eccentric as on later Pavement records (hey it's just my opinion!). This is an album strong on songwriting and hooks, immediately accessible and inoffensive. Cool in a happy-go-lucky sort of way. I know this review sounds like I was totally expecting the worst, and ok I *was*, but then, how nice that it turns out to be so good. Recommended.
Limited edition first pressing comes in digipak with extra disc containing five bonus tracks. If you want this extra edition, don't wait!
MPEG Download: "(Do Not Feed the) Oyster" [/audio/malkmusoyster.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "(Do Not Feed the) Oyster" [/audio/malkmusoyster.m3u]
When it's all said and done hundreds of years into the future when some kid goes online to whatever search engine is in vogue then and types in 'indie-rock' the first thing that will pop up is a picture of Stephen Malkmus. His legacy with Pavement has spawned countless wannabe's trying their best to get to that clever and effortless zenith that Malkmus perfected, which most or all of his imitators will never get close to. Make no mistake, he might always make it seem easy but Malkmus is one incredible guitar player and he's flexing his chops big time on this, his latest outing, with expanded jams, dabbles into prog and who would have thought that the indie rockers and hippies would one day merge as you can also tell that Malkmus has been digging on some Dead as of late.
Real Emotional Trash is the first Jicks album with Janet Weiss of Sleater Kinney fame a full fledged member on the drums and there is no denying the proficiency of the playing on Real Emotional Trash. While his guitar and vocal stylings are instantly recognizable, we almost get the feeling that Malkmus didn't have much to say with words on this record and even though he is so known for his clever word play we found ourselves much more on board during the instrumental moments of these songs and a little less concerned with what he was singing about. But all in all another solid outing from the reluctant king of indie-rock.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
"What is indie rock?" Perhaps one day that question will win a contestant on Jeopardy a ton of money. And chances are the answer would be, a style and approach to music perfected and exemplified by Stephen Malkmus and his '90s band Pavement. Yes the words 'indie-rock' and 'Malkmus' pretty much go hand in hand, and we've got to say that all these years later the old Pavement records are still sounding so great, and his solo releases have been not half bad either.
This time out, Malkmus teams up with Beck, who was called on to produce Mirror Traffic. After working with Thurston Moore on his latest, Demolished Thoughts, this time around Beck got the opportunity to work with another one of his heroes. We wonder if Matador has Beck on their payroll now, but damn we've been pretty impressed with Beck, the producer. Though, this record is still very much the sound and vision of Stephen Malkmus. While there's no doubt both Beck and Malkmus, have strong, confident egos, we would never expect Malkmus to let go of control of his patented sound. The album is for sure the most peppy and poppy post-Pavement outing yet. While some of his more recent albums have found him striving for a bombastic psych approach, Mirror Traffic finds Malkmus remembering hooks, clever word play and catchy melodies better then almost any other songwriter around. We can imagine this record was a lot of fun to make, as he seems to have let go of any grandiose musical pretension, and got to the core of what he does best. In fact the last few songs on here, had us thinking we were hearing some rad unreleased Pavement tracks. Indie rock is still alive and well in 2011!
With feet firmly set in the fevered footsteps of the late great VSS, as well as perhaps later Man Or Astro-Man, and The Fall, SF post-post-punkers The Mall have been raising a party ruckus around town for the last couple years. Following up their well received First, Before And Never Again vinyl 12" from earlier this year, this is their riotous debut full length. The cd version is self-released and the vinyl was released by a friend of theirs, but this album would be right at home on the current Gold Standard Laboratories label roster. On Emergency At The Everyday, The Mall keep their teeth sharp and a fire in their hearts. They tear through the thirteen churning spewsome tracks like there's no tomorrow. All except one is under two minutes long, and the exception is the final track which is -gasp!- downright pretty! Raw, splattery and a bit crusty.
Phew, this is one furious fuzzed out blast or RAWK! Local rockers The Mall offer up 4 short sharp tracks of trashy garagey new wave artrock fuzz and splatter. Taking an arsenal of sounds formerly employed by the rosters of GSL and Gravity records and giving them a 21st century makeover, The Mall, take jangly angular guitars fuzzy warbly casio keyboards, yelped distorted vocals and BIG bloopy Gang Of Four bass. In fact the thick throbbing bass is what hold this all together. And gives it a sort of dancepunk vibe. But this isn't shiny and well coiffed, no this is dirty and noisy, scummy and crusty, Like Interpol if they were taken into an alley, roughed up a bit, hair mussed, suits ripped, soiled and dirtied, and forced to play through broken old amps and hand me down guitars and keyboards held together with duct tape. Super chaotic, wild and aggro, but subtly funky. So if the current wave of artpunk, dancepunk, electro whatever is just a little too smart and smooth, crisp and clean for you... The Mall would be more than happy to take you out back and show you a thing or two.
Packaged in a cool hand silkscreened blue, white and maroon sleeve, with an equally cool matching insert.
Is it right to call The Mallard's final album a swan song? Wouldn't a duck call be a better metaphor? Even for the charmingly weirdo, garage-pop label empire Castle Face, The Mallard were an odd bird in a flock that includes Thee Oh Sees, Warm Soda, and Blasted Canyons. Finding Meaning In Deference is only the band's second album and its release is a posthumous one, after the band's somewhat public demise in the spring of 2013. The minor-chord jangliness that The Mallard churns out is a weird amalgamation of a whole lot of Flying Nun bands, all of whom are wholly misremembered in a drunken / drugged-out / art-damaged haze. One can pick out bits of The 3Ds, The Pin Group, and Straightjacket Fits, but it's always deranged into a woozy, yet totally groovy swarm of psychedelically tainted gloom pop, or gloom filled psyche-pop if you wanna approach from the other direction. Frontwoman Greer McGettrick finds herself half-asleep and half-awake in monotone melodies she croons between the swaths of spring reverb and analogue delay, while the band behind her jangles and lurches through the slithery, narcotic reinventions of garage-pop tropes. On "Out The Door," McGettrick wakes up enough to climb up and down a sublimely simple lo-fi vibrato that grates against the creepily skeletal guitar chords and zombie-stutter rhythms. The playfully elliptical basslines of "The Communist" with its fucked-up, lo-fi low-pass filter sweeping makes for a particularly woozy number. It's almost fitting that they end the album with the extended drone-rock epic "Iceberg" where The Mallard cruises in a holding pattern of Parson Sound hypno-rhythms, only to plummet back from the sky in an extended tumble of gasping vocal mantras, thrumming basslines, and Velvety minimalist jangle. A perfectly aQuarius record of imperfect pop perfection.
You may have seen the oddly named SF garage psych trio The Mallard opening for folks like Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees, Blasted Canyons, thus it makes sense that they would end up on John Dwyer of the Oh Sees' Castle Face label, and once you get an earful off their twisted lo-fi FX drenched garage pop wooze, we imagine you'll be pretty smitten. Unlike many of the other female fronted garage rock combos, The Mallard don't get all warm and shimmery sixties girl group, instead they traffic in something much more off kilter and tweaked, sorta like Syd Barrett if he were a woman, fronting some twisted drug addled art rock combo, but here filtered through the occasional classic garage rock trope, although for every bit of poppy jangle or sweet harmony, there's a cracked bit of detuned stumble, or a bizarre stretch with droned out chords and strange alien vocal yips, and did we mention effects, at times it's like they stomped on a pedal and forgot all about it, until eventually and usually unexpectedly, the sound will shift and suddenly it's all low slug slithery groove, or dirgey gloom pop bounce, and the production too, just as fucked up, with various instruments and vocal parts exploding into shards of buzzing crunch, stretched out into blurry drones, pushed so loud it sounds like the speakers might blow, but somehow, even at its most demented and deliriously twisted, the songs, especially on repeated listens, blossom into some of the most imperfectly perfect pop we've heard in ages. And weirdly enough (or maybe not), fans of Thee Oh Sees with find that of all the groups out there doing this sort of thing, The Mallard's sound / style / songs might just come closest to the OCS mothership, which is absolutely not a bad thing.
Killer bear-barfing-blood cover art. Includes a download coupon so you can listen to these jamz on your computer.
Ah, unless our ears deceive, it's another delightful Hammond organ fantasia from Sweden's dreamy Sagor & Swing...yay! Well actually it's not quite a new Sagor & Swing album, as this is the product of just one half of S&S, but it contains the crucial element, as Eric Malmberg was the organist is that now defunct duo. So this sounds like a lot more than just fifty percent of Sagor & Swing for sure. Not to slight the contribution of Malmberg's former partner, drummer Ulf Moeller, but it's the so very Bo Hansson inspired Hammond organ playing of Malmberg that really makes the magic (Bo Hannson being the jazz-psych-prog genius whose 1970 Lord Of The Rings album is an all time AQ fave). Without the drumming of Moeller, this is definitely less jazzy, all the more airy and ambient, spacey and even a little droney. And, as always, so very very lovely, full of the pretty melodies that Malberg seems to conjure as effortlessly as does his equally ear-soothing countryman Bjorn Olsson (also a big Bo Hansson fan).
This is entirely a solo, instrumental affair, though presumably recorded with the aid of overdubbing. And it's *only* Hammond organ. No other synths at all. The Hammond was indeed the sole sound source, a point of pride for Malmberg, making him a bit of hero to all Hammond-lovers! Some tracks employ the tick-tock beats of the Hammond's built-in rhythm box (harking back a bit to early krautrock Kraftwerkian electronics) whilst others simply drift memerizingly without. Meanwhile his keyboard arpeggios and gentle seagull sonics lull the the listener, so sweetly.
To our ears, this is quite possibly better than the final Sagor & Swing album Orgelplaneten, or at any rate is certainly quite different, tending more towards vibe of mellow forest folkiness of the earlier S&S and not the brasher, uptempo stuff on the jazzed-up Orgelplaneten. Recommended!
Who has Swedish prog-organ legend Bo Hansson guesting on their new solo album?? Why Eric Malmberg, formerly the organist of Sagor & Swing of course! Imagine how chuffed he was to jam with his hero. Hansson doesn't play the organ here, though, he's on synth (funny, 'cause apparently Malmberg owns the actual Hammond organ Hansson used on his famous Lord Of The Rings album).
As you might expect if you've heard Malmberg and/or S&S (or for that matter, Bo Hansson) before, this is all about the magic of the Hammond organ, its gentle, groovy bombast, Malmberg weaving an instrumental prog-jazz delight of both bright and mellow moods! Gorgeous stuff as usual. It's got a much bigger sound than what the Sagor & Swing duo could crank out, as this is a bigger band, Malmberg joined here by many other folks besides Hansson. It's a dense but fluffy bed of sound, with shuffling drums and folky melodies, jamming synths and glorious horns. Some songs, like track one "Finalen", are propelled by martial beats, still joyous though... Like his countryman Bjorn Olsson, Malmberg has a knack for cinematic-sounding melodies that'll put a smile on your face. Recommended.
