The Microphones are a warm & fuzzy but oddly avant pop band on K. It's as if the band stays up really late at their parents' house, eating lots of sugar & drinking lots of caffeinated soda, listening to Stereolab, This Heat, and early Pavement records, and quietly try to record their own synthesis into a 4-track without waking mom & dad. Inside the tape compression universe of the 4-track, The Microphones beef up their quiet melodic strum with overloaded effects and distortion. Quirky, oogly fun.
As self-deprecating and painfully shy as Phil Elvrum can be when performing live, his latest release as The Microphones is a monstrously hyperbolic album of artfulness that pushes K Records as close as they will ever come to The Red Krayola or Gastr Del Sol. "Mount Eerie" is an indulgent studio driven album, which may have begun as a psychedelic epic on par with Olivia Tremor Control's "Dusk At Cubist Castle," but has been shattered into a variety of half-completed song fragments which unexpectedly jump, twist, and turn in any number of directions including dense crescendos or lunch-box rock recreations of childrens songs. Elvrum is obviously a very gifted abstractionist of indie-rock strum but is often too elusive in where he wants to take these songs. Despite how vague and convoluted the narratives of "Mount Eerie" are, Elvrum succeeds in directing the album's mood with layers of monochromatic chanting, deep trombones, and huge crashing timpani that give this album a ponderous weight. Mope rock meets art rock.
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Art damaged singer/songwriter psychedelia and knob twiddling that succeeds where the Olivia Tremor Control has recently faltered. Produced by Steve Fisk at Dub Narcotic and released by the Elsinor label, home of Death Cab For Cutie.
For the third album from the Microphones, "Window" is full of reverb soaked Olympia lunchbox / art rock with a low-key naive take on the Elephant 6 sound. For fans of Beat Happening.
This live album starts out promising enough, presenting selected recordings from three scaled down, intimate Microphones' shows (in comparison to his last few cds which have been considerably more grand productions), but swiftly descends into awkward, near-cringe territory. Granted he's playing all new songs which often seem unfamiliar even to him, but without the trippy glorious lo-fi indie pop orchestrations of his recent recordings to compliment and contrast his frail, emotive vocals in the live setting, mainman Phil Elvrum ends up fully exposed. You might recognize the deeeeep voice that pops in to help out as that of Calvin Johnson, but that's only on a few occasions. There's that fine line where deeply heartfelt, unrestrained singing meets off-key yowling-at-the-moon warbling... and that line gets crossed a few times on Live In Japan. Also for some reason "Silent Night" and "These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things" make their lyrically revised way into his live repertoire. Why?! We guess it's a case of 'you had to be there' which in this case was Kyoto, Nagoya, and Tokyo. Only for diehard Microphones fans. All others seek out The Glow Pt. 2 for a much better slice of Microphones music.
For whatever reason, we've never reviewed anything by angular metallic noise rockers Microwaves, even though some aQ-ers are big fans, but we HAVE reviewed several records by Br0wn Angel, which just so happens to feature one of the members of Microwaves. And while the sounds are certainly pretty different, there's definitely a sonic link. Although probably best to consider that this 2012 release from Microwaves was released on Weasel Walter's UGexplode label, which of course means there's definitely a serious no-wave / free-noise vibe going on, which there most certainly is, but his guitar /drums / FX duo take that stuff and filter it through something much more mathy and metallic, which most definitely pushes all our buttons, the sound lurching from slithering progged out creep, to tangled, almost sci-fi sounding metal crunch, to warped new wave noise rock freakout, the guitars jagged and atonal, the drums wild and octopoidal, the vocals yelped and howled, some tracks wreathed in thick swaths of synth squelch, others a haze of psychedelic buzz, the guitars sometimes so distorted they sound like blasts of power electronics, and if you needed more of an idea of what these guys were shooting for, check out their awesome (and awesomely tweaked) cover of Devo's "Penetration (In The Centerfold)", which takes the already warped original, and manages to attain a level of cover version genius that almost rivals Pussy Galore's take on the same song. Total tripped out, psychedelic zoner-metal, noise-wave, math-rock radness that is most definitely recommended.
FYI this is the vinyl version, but there's also a cd, which we'll hopefully get in to list soon too.
First we've heard from this witchy Northwestern psychedelic kosmische prog-synth outfit, even though they've been at it since way back in 2008, but this sort of synth heavy, hypnorock trippiness is definitely ripe for some love, cuz sonically, this definitely seems to fall in line with the current crazy of synthy retro-futurism, but Midday Veil definitely add their own twist, sound like an impossible mix of local psychedelic space rockers Lumerians, future synth wranglers Majeure, weirdo heavy psych Swedes Goat, legendary synth prog combo Goblin and witchy occultic metallers The Devil's Blood. The core of the sound is swirling synths, and motorik rhythms, simple grooves wreathed in cascades of tangled keyboard melodies, and spidery guitar melodies, with vocalist Emily Pothast's witchy, soulful croon definitely defining their sound, giving it an almost funky vibe at times (hence the Goat comparison), the title track sounds like some lost Kraftwerk jam reimagined as something darker and dirgier, while the mainly instrumental "Choreia" is total John Carpenter style cinematic broodiness, woven into a much more propulsive hypnorock framework, reminding us a bit of Finnish faves Circle. "Remember Child" is all celestial / cosmic synthscapery, a smoldering slow build, before the vocals drift in and transform it into some sort of gothic sonic ritual. "Without And Within" is all buzzy raga dirge, heavy on the Eastern style melodies and sitar like buzz, the vocals heavily processed and draped over the woozy blackened exotica. "Sun Stone" is a brief bit of experimental psychedelic synth drone, before the 11+ minute closer, a total hypno rock psych-prog epic, the vocals getting super dramatic, the vibe completely over the top and majestic, getting downright shreddy and bombastic near the end.
Gorgeous packaging too, with stunning cover art by Robert Beatty.
Malcolm Middleton, the multi-instrumentalist chap from those Scottish melancholics known as Arab Strap, steps up to the microphone. So as we might expect this does sound a great deal like A.S. if perhaps a bit more earthy, straight-outta-the-pub folky acoustic. 16 drained pints... er, I mean songs of depression, broken relationships and self deprecation. A slew of "woe is me, woe is you" lyrics ensues. Moods swing from rambunctious and rowdy to sullen and brooding. One of the totally pint-raising singalongs is "The King Of Bring":
I'm only happy when I'm sad
My good times are all bad
The best years have all left me
Alone with you.
Aaaah, heavy sigh... but somehow Middleton succeeds in not making 5:14 Fluoxytine a complete despair-fest. Along with the words of utter bleakness comes achingly pretty compositions both barebones like in "Cold Winter" as well as more fleshed out with subtle details like the misty-eyed strings, hushed female backing vocals and delicate chimes of "Best In Me". So good! Cup (who has a soft spot for Scottish mope-pop) has been playing this every single day since we got the advance copy. This domestic release includes four bonus songs as well as a short film by Martin Smith.
Gawd, how I love the bitter, sourpuss music of Malcolm Middleton. Why is his beleaguered Scottish grumpiness so damn endearing? Well, for one thing the man's a genius at penning a pop hook even when it's laden with the weight of the whisky'd world. His ol' band Arab Strap may be no more, but fortunately he's still makin' music on his own. This is his third blearily great solo album. Sweetening the proceedings is the presence of female vocalist Jenny Reeve (also of The Reindeer Section) who pretties up Middleton's scruffy loner pad... uhh, we mean music with some creamy pastels and brighter lighting. Still nothing can outshine the overcast woolen greys of Middleton's hopelessly romantic and just plain hopeless universe. Recommended!
A new album from our favorite (favorite!) Scottish sadsack. We lovingly compare his music to an abandoned puppy in the rain... lapping up the last drops from empty pint glasses outside the neighborhood (neighborhood!) pub. The all-acoustic songs on Sleight Of Heart, a mix of originals and covers (including a great, unflinching slow creeping rendition of Madonna's "Stay"!), sound more off the cuff and barebones than those on his last album 2007's A Brighter Beat. His haggard voice is once again joined by the dulcet pipes of Jenny Reeve as well as Mogwai's Barry Burns on piano and The Delgados' Paul Savage on drums. Five years down the line Middleton's first solo album 5: 14 Fluoxytine Seagull Alcohol John Nicotine still continues to slay me (Cup), but each of his subsequent full lengths have plenty of woeful weepers to delight any craving for that unmistakable Scottish melancholia. Go on, slip into this bummer goodness!
As the first few songs from Malcolm Middleton's latest album burst forth, you sorta get the feeling that he's thrown off the sadsack shackles of past dour hopelessness. The feverish tempo of many of these songs suggests that he might've come to the realization that too much time has been wasted mopin' around, and he's pulled up his socks and gotten a move on. The fantastic opening tune (and clear choice for the first single off the album) "Red Travellin' Socks" had us imagining what the world would be like if the New Pornographers had blossomed out of Scotland instead of Canada. 'Tis buoyant, beautifully produced pop with soaring female backing vocals that's as infectious as can be. Sure there's still the occasional song during which Middleton's spirits droop and his shoulders slump under the weight of the woes of his heart and soul as well as that of the rest of the world. Need proof? Give "Ballad Of Fuck All" a spin! Yeah, the title sez it all. He's never been one to mince words. As well there are a few endearingly dorky moments when the parts don't quite seem to fit - such as the introduction of programmed beats and/or a bleep-bloop synth line (as on "Zero") into the predominantly folksy acoustic setting. On the other hand, the same additions to songs such as "Box And Knife" work beautifully! Day in and day out, Middleton seldom disappoints! Recommended.
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Midlake have garnered some pretty notable classic rock comparisons ranging from the Alan Parsons Project to Neil Young. Some reviewers have been quick to compare the group's opening track "Roscoe" to Fleetwood Mac. We agree that Lindsey Buckingham would approve of the delicate acoustic guitar picking (reminiscent of "Silver Springs") on "Bandits" and the crunchy guitar solo (ala "Go Your Own Way") on "Head Home," and Christine McVie wouldn't sneeze at the subtle electric piano lines that blend nicely into the rhythm section, yet contribute heavily to each song. However, we think the band's opener "Roscoe" is more comparable to Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper." After about ten seconds you begin to expect the cowbell to come in. Soon enough Tim Smith begins singing in a melancholy tone comparable to early Thom Yorke or Mark Kozelek and the cowbell seems miles away as you are swept up in the beauty of The Trials of Van Occupanther.
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Odorously belched from the cesspit of Lucifer's most depraved sulphur kegger, Midnight have returned as subtly as a spiked fist in a circle pit to deliver only their second proper full length since first slithering forth from Cleveland's fetid devilwomb over a decade ago. Those most cult and initiated know what's on tap here: Only the filthiest blackened punk & roll clatter in the truest MotorVenom mold, vocalist Athenar's depraved howl literally sounding like Cronos reborn. The songs ranging from uptempo necksprainers to mid tempo plodding fist pumpers, but always fucking dirty, fucking rowdy, and above all really fucking catchy. In fact, that's the only real noticeable difference between No Mercy For Mayhem and these hooded menaces' previous output - the hooks. Every song is an instant sing-along speedball, chockfull of brainworm choruses and dangerously addictive riffs - it's basically impossible not to get caught up in all the sleazy fun. So no, this ain't no grand departure for Midnight, but who in the hell would want that?? No Mercy instead finds them refining their sound to the point of bloody leathered ecstasy. Obviously recommended for fans of the aforementioned Venom and Motorhead, but also newer upstart maniaxe like aQ faves Speedwolf. But don't think about it too much. Just turn the stereo on, turn your brain off, turn the cross upside down, etc etc. And then spend the next 36 minutes losing your mind. (Satanic side note: Include a bonus live disc for further aural devastation!)
Hooky -and- haphazard, and nicely lo-fi, yes it's another batch of early '80s UK DIY goodness, rescued from oblivion by Hyped To Death's Messthetics series! Leicester's Midnight Circus, who considered The Instant Automatons (reviewed last list) their mentors in the whole DIY cassette culture art punk thing, appeared on one collectable vinyl comp (Angst In My Pants) as well as on many many self-released cassette-albums with titles like Pre-Natal Counseling, The Bland Craze, Galvanizing The Dead, and Do Modern Atoms Wear Fashionable Clothes.
As per general Messthetics standards, they weren't terribly musically accomplished, but they -were- creative and fueled by much post-adolescent angst... Perhaps the Arctic Monkeys would have wound up like The Midnight Circus if they grew up 30 years earlier. Expect their Gang-Of-Four-ish guitars to be accompanied by beer can percussion (or crudely amplified metronome, or at best a cheap drum machine), that sort of thing, which of course we totally dig.
This is a "best of" of sorts, compiling tracks from that comp, their cassettes, and previously unreleased recordings as well circa 1980-83 and it includes scads of liner notes and cool black-and-white graphics in the 10-page cd booklet, as you should expect from these very thorough, labor-of-love Hyped To Death productions.
Midnight Movies' latest full length Lion The Girl exudes an irresistible sexy confidence. Believe you me, it is your new favorite if you happen to be a sleek late night jetsetter. This is great driving, moody pop a la Metric or Electrelane. Y'know, the kind that's deeply influenced by the shadowy side of '80s new wave, a bit of post-punk tension and maybe some Stereolab too with their penchant for propulsive krautrock-y organ lines. The robust combination of Larry Schemel's guitars, Jason Hammons' synthesizers and new drummer Sandra Vu's drums pack quite the walloping backdrop for Gena Olivier's sultry vocals. Occasionally the L.A. band take a bit of a breather from their fevered pace for a gentler '60s girl group vocal style slow number ("Ribbons") or a druggy space rocker ("Lion Song"). We like! Recommended.
Good grief, this is the second album AQ's reviewed by Pittsburgh's Midnite Snake and I've only just NOW gotten the terrible pun implicit in their band name. Snake, snack, geddit? Ugh, wish I hadn't! Oh well, let's not hold that pun against 'em, 'cause this is a damn fine disc of raw, in-the-red, motorpsycho, amp-fried garagey geetar heaviness in the tradition of bands like High Rise and The Heads. The cool/curious thing about Midnight Snake is that it's obvious that they're totally IN control of the out-of-control, if your know what we mean. It's weird in a way, for something that's supposed to sound so SCUZZY they're actually not that sloppy.
So, what are this fright-masked trio up to this time 'round? They kick things off by kicking out the jams on the nine-minute "Cruise Control", effects swirling and burbling, bass throbbing, fuzzzzzzzzz baking yr ears to a crisp. Track two, "Sacred Mist" is an even longer jam, moodier at the beginning before building up to the requisite freakout. And then, with track three "Bigfoot '69" they REALLY go off but check out the drumming, tight! It's got all the "get down" energy of something by the late great Lubricated Goat. They follow that up with the mellow "In The Grass", it's all quiet and pretty for over four minutes... what happened??? Smoking grass instead of popping pills we guess, but it's nice. Soon enough, with track five "Shaving The Angel" they're back to the frazzed, fuzzed, frantic sort of stomp-splatter that Midnite Snake fans want to hear from Midnite Snake. Feedback squeal squalls and all. And then, holy crap, the final track number six "Supermodified" is a doozy. Nearly 26 minutes! Mantric noisy space rock mayhem.
File with yr White Hills, Residual Echoes, Comets On Fire... and Japanese stuff like Mainliner, Musica Transonic and Acid Mothers Temple (this actually even LOOKS a helluva lot like an AMT album).
Raw wah-wank garage psych rawk from a new Pittsburgh PA trio whose in-the-red motorpsycho stylings would make Makoto Kawabata blush. If they were Japanese, this would get filed next to Mainliner and High Rise. All instrumental, which means they don't have to come up with any lyrics to go with such songtitles as "Machinegun Cock" and "Nitro-Turbo-Overdrive"... they just have to play it like they mean it. And they do, bombing out some drunken guitar-bass-drums as if their practice space was on fire and they're trying to put it out with their amps. Don't listen if you don't like hangovers. The aptly named track "Acid Wash" drones things out for about twelve minutes at the end of the disc, without turning down the volume.
Do you have a fist full of quarters? About five dollars worth? Do you like feisty '80s-style punk pop tunes? Well, you just might wanna head for this Midway! Their debut five song ep positively bursts with youthful vigor. As you may guess from the title, they're all about cute, no-frills fun. And we'd guess they're more into riding the rollercoasters and the bumper cars, than the Ferris wheel! Fun!
Folk-psych fans, 'tis time to gambol in the old oak tree grove at dusk, wander the windy moors, or perhaps sit by a fire, recounting sad tales of ancient times. Because those are the vibes of the perfectly named Midwinter - bleak and beautiful - an obscure underground '70s British acid-folk outfit whose 1973 demo recordings are collected on this disc (they never released an actual album, though they did later morph into the band Stone Angel, whose privately-pressed lp from '75 is another English folk-psych gem). So this should sound good to anyone into Stone Angel or others of that ilk: Mellow Candle, Trees, Caedemon, Shide & Acorn, Parameter, etc., not to mention better known hippie Brit-folkies like Fairport Convention and Pentangle.
Midwinter's music is nicely melancholic, tweeness balanced by darkness, with folk instrumentation such as acoustic guitar, recorder, autoharp, mandolin, dulcimer, banjo, jews harp, and hand percussion joined by occasional lashings of distorted electric guitar. There's a female vocalist with a lovely lilting voice, singing lyrics seemingly passed down over many dusty centuries. Meanwhile, the male vocals remind us a bit of the wonderful Roy Harper. They do an especially haunting rendition of "Scarborough Fair", alongside other traditional numbers as well as those written by Midwinter, all quite nice and evocative.
'Twas previously released on cd in the early '90s on the Kissing Spell label, by the way, with a different cover. This disc also includes two bonus tracks taken from Midwinter/Stone Angel frontman Ken Saul's solo single, circa 1970. And there's plentiful liner notes.
Mike Fellows (of the monumentally important and awesome band Rites of Spring) has had a helping hand in records by Royal Trux, the Silver Jews, Will Oldham, and even Smog. Now he's finally struck out on his own. But don't expect any ass kicking emo. This is a
We usually don't pay too much attention to mainstream music mags, especially when they're pushing something as the next big thing, so we're not sure how exactly we ended up hearing this record from Miike Snow, a Swedish trio, not a person, but apologies to whoever wrote the recommendation, and whatever magazine printed it, cuz this really is fantastic. Totally quirky, super lush pop, that if we had to summarize these guys in a nutshell, we'd probably describe them as Animal Collective meets Phoenix, maybe with a little TV On The Radio mixed in (especially in the almost Peter Gabriel sounding vox), although we have seen them described as Animal Collective meets A-Ha, which might be not that far off either.
But however you describe them, the sound is amazing. Super lush, glimmering almost orchestral pop, with gorgeous vocal harmonies, buzzy synths, minimal programmed rhythms, little flurries of electronics, swirling ambience, tinkling pianos, a glistening production, and incredible hooks, the first three tracks have this record so frontloaded the rest of the songs barely stand a chance, but somehow they do manage to hold their own, which is saying a lot, just give the three sound samples a listen and you'll know exactly what we mean.
We probably haven't dug a major label mainstream pop record this much since Phoenix's Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, and you know how much we love(d) that one, so needless to say, for the pop kids this one comes highly recommended.
Just when we thought all the weird dusty corners of strange and magical sounds had been uncovered from the vast archives of the ESP label, something new to us, shiny and unbelievably wonderful gets unearthed. MIJ is the strangely cryptic moniker of Jim Holberg, (or on second thought not so strange as we just realized, it's his name spelled backwards!) who was discovered in Washington Square Park on a hot summer day in 1969 yodeling and playing guitar by ESP label head Bernard Stoller. But this wasn't any country western or Swiss Alps yodeling, this was some freaked out high-keening spacey Martian kind of yodeling. The kind that cuts through time and space and penetrates your subconscious. Blown away by his street performance, Stoller invited Holberg into the studio the next day to record a full length album and in just three hours with an array of echo effects and a patient and agreeable engineer, the Yodeling Astrologer was born. Apparently Holberg had explained to Stoller that after being injured in an auto-accident that had fractured his skull and impaired his hearing, his perceptions became altered and he began to do things musically that he couldn't comprehend but they somehow worked, and indeed they do. With both voice and guitar reverbed to the nth degree, this is some Donovan meet Dreamies meets Curt Boetchner of The Millenium psych-folk magic. So awesome and beautiful, weird and dreamy, with well-written songs and just enough freaky yodeling that won't scare off the folks who might be put off by the concept of, well, freaky yodeling. We've been playing this nearly everyday, it's so good. So Highly Recommended!
These five new no-wave / garage punk gals from L.A. kick and howl and raise quite a fevered ruckus while copping feels of Toni Basil's "Mickey" and The Knack's "My Sharona" (check out the fourth track "Jogging Song"!). Also brought to mind '90s lo-fi punk pop grrrls Frumpies, Bratmobile and Bikini Kill, not to mention their foremothers The Slits and X-Ray Spex.
Milanese's Extend record from back in 2006 instantly became an all time aQ favorite. A total headspinning mix of old school jungle, hip hop, ragga, grime and who knows what else. A massive block rocking, dancefloor destroying, speaker shaking dancemusic freakout. We still throw that one on all the time. Then came Adapt, which was remixes, and took Extend and twisted it up and freaked it out evern MORE. And now we have Lockout, which seems like a proper new full length, although it's jam packed with remixes and guests and multiple versions, but right out of the gate, we're totally sold. Big phat buzz synth basslines, swooping space FX, and some super tweaked helium vocals, until part way through when everything shifts, the beats flip backwards, the tempo drops to half time, and a new vocalist joins the fray, his lazy flow perfectly matching the woozy buzzy lope. The second track is more of the same, a sort of supercharged junly techno, with a dash of dubstep, and some tongu twisting rapping over the top, the whole thing peppered with weird distorted tracheaotomy croaks and warped computer vox. And it just gets weirder and weirder and better and better.
Skittery hiccupping beats wrapped around creepy looped little girl voices, huge chopped jagged shards of low end, warped stumbling big beats, some twisted Tracy Morgan like flows, clipped sirens, clouds of squelch and glitch, a bunch of awesome samples and fractured melodies, a definite Sensational / Dr. Octagon vibe all over the place, as well as a gritty sheen of buzzy grime, a couple tracks dip their toes into diva / radio hip-pop, but even those jams are plenty tweaked.
Another winner for sure, and another record from Milanese that manages to go way beyond dubstep or grime or techno or hip hop or whatever other label you can come up with that barely begins to cover whatever the fuck is going on here. Awesome.
What do you get when three ladies from groups like Godspeed You Black Emperor and A Silver Mt. Zion come together to form a "string auxiliary"? One intense and beautiful album, that's what! With cello, viola and violin employed with full force, this is a record that maintains a compelling tension from start to finish. Almost what you would imagine Rhys Chatham, Glenn Branca or Steve Reich would come up with if they were to use a string ensemble to score a lost Hitchcock film. Suspense filled sounds played with a piercing perfection. Kind of like a more forceful version of the Rachels' with the same elegant touch but a punchier disposition. This is totally recommended! Came out a while back (last year) but we only just mangaged to get some more in, it's a Canadian import. Not sure when/if we'll be able to get more when we run out...
Chapel Hill, NC post-hardcore, synth rockers Milemarker sound as though they really want to rage but fall short on firepower. For instance, the angstful, aggressive male and female voices seem to be grasping for the Atari Teenage Riot umph that's just out of their reach. Nevertheless when they step back a bit, details like piano lines and driving rhythms shine through. This actually
Earth Has Doors is the first solo record from Fresh & Onlys guitarist Wymond Miles, and while in many respects it's sonically similar to the F&O's mothership, Miles paints a much darker musical picture, twangy and dirgey, heavily reverbed, a little bit swampy and gothic sounding, Miles' vocals are haunting, deep and dramatic, and while these songs are heavily rooted in Miles' study of eschatology, anthroposophy, and Gnostic and Hermetic symbolism, one might not necessarily hear that, even on close listening, although the sounds here are most definitely dark and mysterious, reminding us at times of Scott Walker, Woven Hand, Mark Lanegan, and other similarly dark spirited songsmiths. Miles' vocals do definitely also remind us of Fresh & Onlys frontman Tim Cohen, which makes sense, and sonically, Miles's first foray is again not that far removed from his main band, which of course means F&O's fans will definitely dig, as long as they're prepared for a bit more darkness than they're used to. But that said, Earth Has Doors is its own dark beast, with some strange production, sweeping strings, buzzing synths, proggy arrangements, tribal percussion, lots of buzz and drone, some thick spaced out effects, as well as some surprisingly catchy songs, all wreathed in a darkness that somehow only makes these songs that much more appealing. Great stuff!!
Another release from our new favorite French label, that last brought us the amazing new Hint album reviewed last time, as well as Guapo, Double Nelson (above), etc. More conventionally "post-rock" a la Don Cab, June of 44...Good stuff for fans of that style of loud, rhythmically challenging mathy stuff. Pandaemonium is almost single-handedly changing the unfairly prejudiced view that almost everyone holds of the French rock scene (Magma excepted of course).
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Super sunshine indie pop in a very Beulah meets Pavement-esque fashion... It's San Francisco's Milk Chopper! Breezy boyish harmonies abound with a subtle bit of twang and snippets of sound samples shuffled in here and there. Quite a pleasing pop debut.
Found a VERY small stash of these original 1993 vinyl pressings at one of our suppliers. At original 1993 vinyl prices too! (Yes, remember when vinyl was cheaper than cds?). This release was the debut from Milk Cult, a beats-and-sound-collage side project of Dale "C.C. Nova" Flattum from San Francisco's late great grungy noiserock heavies Steel Pole Bath Tub, and it predates our "list" by a couple years, so we've never reviewed it, though much later on we did make Milk Cult's fourth and final album a Record Of The Week (2000's Project M-13, now long out of print unfortunately).
Love God opens with the title track, well worth the price of admission alone, 10+ minutes of chugging distorted Slayer riffage meets turntablist whip-whip-whap in a sampledelic maelstrom. All kinds of other insanity enters into the pounding mix, from flamenco dance music (?) to police sirens. It's apparently the soundtrack to a short film by Frank Grow which we've never seen but we figure it must be pretty freaky. From then on, the warped vibe of underground '90s plunderphonic noiserock industrial soundtrack mayhem continues, in a surrealistic style where, like, moments of sepia-toned old tyme record crackle loopage that could be from a Leyland Kirby disc, will be rudely juxtaposed with sudden onslaughts of -actual- Slayer samples, or even blasts of machingun fire. It's definitely very '90s, in a good way, think Pain Teens, early Scorn, Sucking Chest Wound, experimental Melvins, Cosmonauts Hail Satan, WordSound label dubby "illbience", and of course Steel Pole Bath Tub themselves - they always used samples, weird voice-overs and whatnot, and if you're familar with them, what you'll hear here will remind you of that aspect of their sound, but given center stage. Chaotic and/or creepy for sure, but "groovy" too in a way. Needless to say, these are the last copies we're gonna see, and when they're gone, they're gone. (Honestly, we only found 4 of these, so apologies in advance if they're all been snagged by the time you read this.)
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SORRY.
Wow -- one of the rare AQ Unanimous Staff Favorites. Ex-members of ye olde local band Steelpole Bathtub have put together this AMAZING Milk Cult record. Sounding nothing like Steelpole whatsoever, this is an experimental melange of dance, rock, and lounge music that's so f***ing accessible and so kickass serious fun that we sell a copy almost every time we play this in the store. It features everything from throaty French singers to earth-trembling bass to random noises and disco, plus lovely wailing guitar soloes, exotica, bird calls, you name it. The recipients of a French arts grant, Milk Cult spent a month recording "traditional Corsican singers; Buddhist chanters; Algerian folk improvisors; French folkies; industrial noisicians; rockers; jazzbos; hip hop artists; spoken word artists; electronics experimenters; a thirty-piece African orchestra; a Conch player; all of whom played along with backing tracks prepared by Milk Cult but never with each other..." The entire thing is put together so well it is seamless, and we predict you will love it. Highest recommendations for a record that really shouldn't be overlooked.
One of a handful of new releases this week from local label Superior Viaduct, a killer batch of legendary/infamous oddball rarities, elsewhere you can check out Departmentstore Santas, and Homosexuals side project L. Voag, and then there's this, the only record from UK DIY art school post punks Milk From Cheltenham, originally released in 1983 on the War Boys label, run by Jim Welton aka Amos of the Homosexuals (the man responsible for the aforementioned L. Voag lp). Milk From Cheltenham set out to make their own Pet Sounds, but ended up with something far stranger, a damaged avant pop songsuite cobbled captured on an old cassette recorder, utilizing all manner of bits and bobs, cans and pieces of metal, boxes and veritable kitchen sink's worth of junk-as-instruments, and maybe most hilariously, a primitive "surround" function on the tape recorder, which more than anything made the sound even LESS Pet Sounds and more gloriously WTF?
At its core, the sound falls squarely in eighties post punk territory, but goddamn, it's so much more, and so much stranger, a home brewed concoction of sonic fragments, processed vocals, gorgeous lo-fi, layered atmospherics, jagged, blown out live recordings, stumbling, drunken jazz, seriously psychedelic freakouts, vocal experiments, skeletal punk-funk, loads of tape warble and feedback, moaning strings, handclaps and primitive FX, analog synthesizers, and electric sitar, bizarre vocal harmonies, field recordings, practice space noise jams, disembodied piano vamps, avant sonic collages, angular punky pop, and pretty much a million stops in between. They'd also play the various sounds and recordings through big speakers and then re-record them, almost like a more primitive Taj Mahal Travellers!
It's far out, and all over the map, but it's also gleefully inventive, and a total fucking blast to get lost in. It's not at all hard to understand why Triptych Of Poisoners was a crate digger holy grail, and thus was long, long overdue for a serious vinyl reissue!
Nice packaging as always from Superior Viaduct, includes a download code as well!
Debut full-length of melodic and occasionally morbid ("Suicide Note", "Crib Death") garage rockin' from this Canadian husband-and-wife duo, the hubby being Jeff Clarke, frontman of garage rock freeks Demon's Claws. Together Jeff & spouse Emily Frances have come up with an enjoyable album of sloppy, lo-fi catchiness that touches on Nuggetsy '60s style pop psych, raw bluesiness, fuzzy punk, and twangy, hazy country-rock, the couple delving into their shared love of certain sorts of cool sounds from dusty decades past. You get the idea that they probably both had subscriptions to Ugly Things magazine before they met, and just might have some Lee & Nancy fantasies.
(Vinyl version upcoming on December 18th, btw.)
We had been hearing about this for ages, local pop heroes the Ovens had been RAVING, as had our very own Andrew, and about a million blogs, hailing these guys as the second coming. Of what you ask? Husker Du? Dinosaur Jr? The Wipers? All three is more like it, these guys offer up six songs in 21 minutes of buzzing, grungy, slightly sludgy ultra heavy indie pop, that takes that classic punk / pop sound, and adds some Torche-like heft, the guitar impossibly thick and crunchy and fuzzy, the songs hooky as hell, the vibe sorta washed out and woozy, a little druggy and laid back, the perfect mix of nineties guitar rock, eighties punk rock, and modern post punk heaviness, super emotive about-to-crack vox, and the solos, total J Mascis guitar tone, short and simple, just sort of mirroring the vocal melody, and then right back into it. Stripped down and simple, every jam a goddamn anthem, total windows down, stereo cranked, feeling young again, summer jam bliss, and fuck, if a band like the Ovens, who write catchy pop songs like it ain't nothing, lose their minds over a band, proclaiming them THE BEST EVER, well, then, you know you better figure out what the fuck is up, and what the fuck is up, is that this just might be your new favorite band.
Milk Music's Beyond Living lp was the sort of record we could barely keep in stock. The band hyped to high heaven for ages before we actually heard them, but somehow, when we finally did get an earful, it more than lived up to all that hype, an explosive hybrid of classic nineties indie rock, fuzzed out noise pop, equal parts Dinosaur Jr, Husker Du, the Wipers, and fuck, pretty much every band we've loved from the last four decades. Fuzzy and hooky and heavy, jangly and crunchy, super melodic and crazy catchy. But still pretty goddamn punk. Which is why we were pretty surprised when we discovered their new record was on Fat Possum, home to the Black Keys among others. But then they were sort of primed for mainstream success anyway. And while we're definitely digging Cruise Your Illusion, the group's sound has changed a lot. At first blush, it's way less fierce and furious, more laid back and fuzzed out. The Dinosaur vibe is huge, right down to the guitar tone, fat and buzz drenched and blown out. Not to mention the fact that once we're 3 or 4 minutes into the record we're already in full on psychedelic guitar jam territory. But you know what? It suits them, and it still sound pretty great, you just have to prepare yourself for something a little less sweat soaked and headbangable, it's more that sort of bounce up and down, nod along nineties style college rock jangle, there's definitely a big shoegaze vibe going on too, with some of the songs boasting explosive tranced out riff heavy blissouts, but for every one of those ("Cruising With God") there's another shuffly jangly groover ("Crosstown Wanderer"). We're tempted to think these guys are actually engaged in a super high concept musical hoax, but if that's the case, why are some of these songs so goddamn great!
The vocals too, way higher in the mix than last time, wavery quavery keening about-to-break sad boy indie rock vocals, reminding us again of Dinosaur, but of course also early Soul Asylum (back when they were GREAT), and in fact, there's a huge Soul Asylum / Replacements / Husker Du feel to the whole record, which is most definitely not a bad thing. We'd be surprised if folks who dug Beyond Living didn't dig this too, but in some cases, it could be borderline too jangly and indie poppy. But for folks who love that era, and that sound, there's probably not a new band doing that old sound better than these guys.
Debut album from 1969 sees itself reissued on disc. This NYC-based duo were popular for their tender ballads played out on classical and acoustic guitar and cello, with the added flourishes of maracas and harpsichord, and appropriately fey vocals. Will
Here's an apparently much sought-after rarity now reissued (thanks again to the fine folks at Sundazed), that we have to confess we'd never heard of until now. But that's one of the great things about reissues, isn't it? And as reissues go, this one's a doozy: three discs of sugary, sunshiney psychedelic pop dating from 1965-1968, produced by the interrelated studio groups The Millennium, The Ballroom, Sagittarius, Summer's Children, and others (all creations of, among others, songwriter/producer Curt Boettcher, a man whose work we're told Brian Wilson was stunned by). Demos, singles, instrumentals, unreleased alternate takes, plus the full albums (Ballroom's "s/t" and The Millennium's "Begin") from these guys: it's all here. And it's all pretty great -- magical, even. Often dreamy. Well, sometimes goofy too (unfortunately reminding us of that "Drugsachusetts" Kroft Super Show parody sketch from Mr. Show!). Ok, if you're not in the mood, it'll make you vomit, but if song titles like "Dancing Dandelion", "Sunshine Today", "Milk And Honey", and "Karmic Dream Sequence" make you smile, then you'll want to have this for those special moments when today's Elephant 6 output just doesn't cut it. (And by that we mean to suggest that if you're a fan of Olivia Tremor Control or Apples in Stereo, you'll find so much to love here -- the music is as sweet as the Olivias but with a really good grit to it too.)
62 tracks total, that's almost 3 hours of material, all direct from the original analog tapes in Columbia's vaults. This massive reissue package, which includes extensive liner notes and many photos as well as those three compact discs of geniune genius '60s "Soft Pop" music, was assembled with the active cooperation of the original musicians.
Another Record Store Day exclusive, and one of the few we had enough (maybe) copies of after the big day, to list and review, for all our beloved aQ-ers who live far and wide. And it's a good one. Matching up Jenks Miller, he of big time aQ faves Horseback, and James Toth, of Wooden Wand, and once again, as with recent Horseback joints, Miller continues to confound, pushing his sound in whole new directions, moving ever further from the blackdrone creep of those early HB records. After a brief bit of psychedelic blooze drift, Miller launches into some organ driven, super distorted twang flecked post rock, all grizzled melodies, motorik rhythms, swirling FX, still pretty bluesy, but a sort of minor key psych blues, which is even more surprising when the vocals come in, a softly distorted croon, transforming the sound into something like a more metallic, more psychedelic Sparklehorse maybe? Not a bad thing at all. The final track from Miller name checks Roy Montgomery in the title, and sonically is essentially an homage, a sky full of layered, pulsing guitars, looped into slow shifting shimmers, and smeared chordal swirls, before disappearing into a cloud of dreamy distortion, and adding some subtle propulsion, the second half a gorgeous, fuzzy, druggy, droned out psychedelic drift. So good!
Toth's side is much more stripped down, acoustic guitars wedded to wheezing harmoniums, and strange clattery percussion off in the background, a woozy campfire drone-folk that's quite lovely. And while the vibe is abstract and spacey, the vocals bring it back down to earth, transforming it into more of a dark Appalachian psych folk, but the minute the vocals fade out, the song seems to soar skyward once again. The other two tracks are shorter, and less abstract/experimental, the first, more psych folk, the second like some lost Laurel Canyon classic folk-rock B-side, right down to the female back up vox.
SUPER LIMITED, as in these are likely the very last copies we'll see, so you know the drill. Also includes a download code, and comes housed in a handsome full color, matte finish gatefold jacket.
Oh, Rhett Miller what're you doin' to us?! You, dear AQ reader, might recall that we had a gripe with his 2002 album's cover photo (a teen magazine worthy close-up shot of his peaches'n'cream face on a green background), and we didn't even bring up the appalling cover of his early solo offering Mythologies. Shudder. This time he's all dolled up and lounging in velvets. Doin' his best Rufus Wainwright impression. Weird, but unlike Wainwright who possesses an easy jaunty elegance, Miller looks posed and unnatural. Geeeez! Alright, that's enough harshing on Miller for one afternoon, but frankly it'd be less of an issue if any of his cover art or photos to date have suited their respective albums' music OR if his solo tunes kicked as much ass as those of his full band (Old 97s) do. Instead, his solo fare is much closer to that of loads of other folks. For instance the second tune could very well be a Goo Goo Dolls cast-off (which in itself isn't all that bad, is it?). Then the very next song "Meteor Shower" sounds like it could be a re-interpretation (or in less kind words, a knock-off) of David Bowie's song "Soul Love" from Ziggy Stardust. Later in the album "I Believe She's Lying" traces a melody and strummy guitar sound that Gin Blossoms put to better use on their song "Hey Jealousy". Not surprisingly, it all sound good -- really well played and produced -- but just comes across as faceless. That said, there's certainly enough heartstring-pulling here to guarantee that you'll be hearing some of these songs in teen movies this summer...
Solo record from the lead vocalist of alt. country rockers the Old 97's. And yet another chapter in the seemingly never ending saga of a band we love getting worse and worse. While the last Old 97's record still hinted at the band they once were, this is total middle of the road, singer songwriter, adult contemporary bland pop rock. Blechh.
