If you've been following our reviews of Ms O'Neil's releases over the years, you might've noticed a trend. That is, we've used the words "beautiful" and "her best yet" (or words to that effect) on each subsequent release. I (Cup) am more than pleased to report that the tradition continues with You Sound, Reflect. Damn, lady! You just keep getting better and better! Seriously, this is totally achingly beautiful from start to finish. One dozen hushed, lonely and contemplative songs carefully crafted from brittle, barely-there piano, banjo, fiddle, guitar and vocals. Recommended.
Probably the easiest way to describe this would be 'George Winston plays Radiohead.' And if you were me (Andee) that would be enough. I love Radiohead. And I love all things George Winston/Windham Hill. -Not ironically- I might add. But if you're not me, and thank your lucky stars you're not, then I guess we can elaborate a bit. Gorgeous shimmery solo piano versions of all your favorite Radiohead songs, from hits to distinctly-not-hits. The melodies are intact, as are the basic song structures, but the effect of -those- songs being played on a piano is quite lovely. Simplified and stretched out, strange atonal clusters of notes replace electronic weirdness, simple spacious reverb takes the place of million dollar production, and the result is a simple, soft, gorgeously serene performance that reveals Radiohead's songwriting genius and O'Riley's sympathetic ear. Definitely veers towards 'elevator music' but c'mon, wouldn't you rather hear Radiohead in the elevator than Billy Joel or Elton John? I sure would.
Crowd-pleasing folk strum, very pretty but so close to Fahey that we can't tell if it's a parody or he's serious or what.
Latest in Touch's 7" series, this one folks have been clamoring for, comes from Mr. Jim O'Rourke, a name that should no doubt be familiar to most folks by now! Brise Glace, Gastr Del Sol, SONIC YOUTH, as well as about a million more, not to mention a vast body of solo work. Well before O'Rourke was an in demand producer, a guest guitarist, dabbling in noise rock and Appalachia, he was a master of the drone, and this 2 part single track 7" harkens back to those days, with an amazing and beautiful arrangement of buzz and whir, of excited strings and resonating metal.
It's almost a shame the track had to be split up on a 7" as the two parts flow so perfectly into each other. Beginning with a deep resonant buzz, sounds like a guitar, but could be a harmonium, wheezing and whirring, warm and thick and lustrous, bits of feedback lace the blurred drift, over the top delicate high end melodies, float and shimmer, becoming more and more active until they seem to be driving the piece, the whole thing strangely looped and weirdly melancholy, beneath the track, deep rumbling swells pulse and throb. By the second side, the sound has gotten more abrasive, much more scraping and metal buzz, electronic streaks, the sound tangled and constantly shifting, managing to sprawl into an expanse of beautifully noisy dronemusic.
As always beautiful cover by Touch head honcho Jon Wozencroft, and like the rest in the series, probably limited.
Everyone seems to be torn between being impressed by Mr. O'Rourke's amazingly all encompassing sonic palette, or just annoyed by his short attention span. While Bad Timing was quite an unexpected and pleasant Fahey-esque surprise, Eureka finds Jim O'Rourke experimenting with the lush pop that was hinted at on the last Gastr Del Sol record. If you like the orch-pop of Cardinal and Eric Matthews, the Supertrampish stylings of the High Llamas, or the real deal: Steely Dan/Seals and Croft, then there's bound to be something here to amuse or entertain you.
Jim O'Rourke, seemingly unsatisfied with his efforts on "Bad Timing" and "Eureka", has decided to mine his new found love of Bread, America, and Steely Dan to the motherlode on this three song ep.
Upon close investigation into the gleefully genre-jumping career of Jim O'Rourke, a recurring theme becomes glaringly obvious: O'Rourke discovers a highly distinctive sound (i.e. John Fahey, Red Krayola, John Duncan, Sea and Cake), O'Rourke begins to
Yet sadly, it seems that on "Insignificance" this isn't quite the case. "Insignificance" has already become known as, quite simply, Jim O'Rourke's "southern rock" album. But O'Rourke's intentions towards southern rock seem far from homage, and it seems he may have slipped drearily down the path of the ironist. The opening cut -- with its (unwittingly?) apt title "All Downhill From Here" -- is a shameless rip-off of "Sweet Home Alabama," performed as if sung by Lou Reed, completed with Steve Miller Band backing "hoo-hoo"s and a terminally shitty drum production straight out of Robert Pollard's basement. O'Rourke sheepishly denies any intentional links between this song and Lynyrd Skynyrd, which seems a bit dubious. A couple of sub-Chicago / Bruce Hornsby ballads -- that do (to be fair) have that lush sound found on his Stereolab production work -- lead into another painful pop culture reference: Edie Brickell's "What I Am". Really.
If this is 'conceptual' art, am I supposed to believe what I hear? Is this is an homage to the losers who work at Guitar Center and who have saved $5000 to record their 'great southern rock opera' at a studio where the engineer doesn't give a fuck who's in front of a microphone as long as they're paying? That's not art. That's bullshit. Jim O'Rourke needs to have his tongue surgically removed from his cheek this time. Either that or we should bow down before our copies of The Wire and proclaim that we all love the emperor's new bunny costume.
Oh, boy! A Cat Stevens record.
Ah, the Tzadik label's lovely obis. Not that they tell you what the record Sounds Like, but still: "American composer/improviser/producer Jim O'Rourke has worked with Derek Bailey, Tony Conrad, Faust, the Red Krayola and Gastr del Sol -- electro-acoustic music is the thread that connects his varied activities and comprises his main compositional effort. These pieces, two years in the making, are his finest constructions to date."
You probably can't find a musician with a wider breadth of sound, or more sonically varied releases, than Mr. Jim O'Rourke. During his vast career he's made everything from harsh noise to delightful pop, was part of one of the more influential groups of the last few decades, Gastr Del Sol, collaborated with Nurse With Wound, became a member of Sonic Youth, was at the forefront of the '90s experimental electronic renaissance, made some crunchy rock albums with his Wilco pal Jeff Tweedy, and the list just goes on and on.
These days O'Rourke has slowed down his output considerably so a new release is both much more anticipated as well as a total unknown as to which side of Jim O'Rourke will be on display. With The Visitor, O'Rourke emerges with his first new full length in many years and wow the wait was worth it! The Visitor is one long track clocking in at around 37 minutes but it almost serves as some kind of early morning daydream song cycle with a spectrum of nuanced sounds that make us think of Van Dyke Parks arranging a John Fahey album or what a more restrained James Blackshaw record might sound like.
The record starts with very hushed noodling guitar and as the piece goes on the sounds expand in richness as extra flourishes of bells, piano and other lushness flesh out O'Rourke's delicate guitar playing. Hard to avoid this clich�, but The Visitor really is a total journey, at first you don't really know where it's going and you're not sure if you necessarily want to follow but as the piece evolves it completely grabs a hold of your attention until you are lost in its slowly unfurling sonic voyage. Highly recommended!
Third EP in the self-released series. This is another instrumental work that is more similar to the second stretched out EP than the melodic first. Bonus: all text in Esperanto.
Third EP in the self-released series. This is another instrumental work that is more similar to the second stretched out EP than the melodic first. Bonus: all text in Esperanto.
More rollicking honkytonk inspired tunes from these Brooklynites.
Second album of sunkissed honky-tonk from Brooklyn-based Oakley Hall, featuring a former member of Oneida. Reminiscent of '70s California soft roots rock like Dan Hicks and his Hot Licks or the Anonymous / J. Rider reissues we listed awhile back. Sunny male and female harmonies and lazy day fiddles ride a solid foundation of electric psych-tinged country rock. Only the final track, a great cover of Buffy Saint-Marie's "Cod'ine" (which was also very successfully covered by Dan Hicks earlier group, The Charlatans) points at a darker alt-country vibe we wish there was more of.
If one is to believe those VH-1 "Behind The Music" specials, the brotherly disputes between Noel and Liam Gallagher are ancient history and both have been getting along splendidly in their relative sobriety. Yet, the music that their Oasis has been producing as of late is far from being "godlike" (to paraphrase Liam's coke-induced megalomania during "Wonderwall" era Oasis). As blasphemous as it may sound, Oasis' second album "What's The Story Morning Glory" is probably the best Beatles album that McCartney and Lennon didn't pen themselves. If you're going to commit an artistic felony, you should do it on the grandest of scales; and that's exactly what the Gallaghers did in their outright pilfering of the Beatles on that album.
It's possible that during the aftermath of that album, the numerous reconciliations, drug intervention programs, and general turmoil, Oasis started to feel guilty about their theft and have attempted to re-invent themselves as sounding 'unique.' "Heathen Chemistry" is the third album following "What's The Story Morning Glory" and it sounds exactly like you'd expect: recycled UK-beat / psych riffs, the twin vocal sneer from the brothers, and an upbeat pop sensibility crafted out of minor-keys. Yet without the thrill of the swindle, neither Liam nor Noel seem to rock with any enthusiasm. So, this album is pretty good, and will probably do well enough for them. But it's clear that Oasis won't be winning any new fans with this one.
Music aside, their career has been a fun trash novel to read, but Oasis' recent grandstanding hasn't been as bombastic as before--no longer are they claiming to be better than the Beatles. Maybe it's that they haven't done as much coke as in the past. Maybe it's that this record isn't as good as the previous outings. Maybe they just realized that they aren't now, never were, and never in a million years could be better than the Beatles!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Okay folks, here's a release that hardly needs an introduction or a description because the masses are gonna be grabbin' this up regardless of what we say... many already have! Conor Oberst has pretty much become a household musical name and face, and we'll surely be seeing more of him in the coming months following the release of what is perhaps his most accessible album to date. No question, he's a talented Americana songwriter, but the thing that made his music so immediately distinct, so emotionally charged and so darn endearing was his youthful quivering-verge-of-breakdown-shivering-rain-drenched-puppy-ness. That's far less apparent these days which makes his music more appealing for some, and less for others. In fact, it was more than a little bit unsettling for us when we realized that on a few numbers Mr. Oberst (yes, he's definitely a man now) sorta sounds like a second rate Tom Petty (whom many of us love!), but also a deadringer for John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band as well as the Fabulous Thunderbirds (uhhh, whom less of us love!). Album highlight? Definitely the quite Elliott Smith-esque "Lenders In The Temple".
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The third full length from this post-Drive Like Jehu / Hot Snakes combo explodes right out of the gate with the furious "Taste The Diff", which finds frontman Rick Froberg's already feral raspy caterwaul sounding even more gristly and grizzly, sounding like a mix of Mark Arm and Kurt Cobain, Froberg's yowling rasp the perfect match for the music, which is maybe the fiercest we've heard these guys yet. Swaggery and caustic, tightly wound and minimal, but energetic and seriously fucking rocking. In our reviews of the other Obits records, we talked much about how their sound was much more mature than previous projects, which makes sense, cuz, well, these guys are old like us! But that maturity worked, the songs darker and broodier, so we were thrown for a loop by "Taste The Diff", with its blast of youthful exuberance, and while there are moments like that popping up throughout, the bulk of Beds & Bugs definitely lines up closer with the sound of the past records, the songs sinewy and slithery, occasionally swaggery and stompy, but for the most part, low slung, darkly melodic, the guitar playing as always, totally ruling, understated at times, explosive and chaotic at others, and Froberg's voice, sounds better than ever, heck, maybe even better than back in the day. And the new songs, holy shit, we often wonder why old bands can come back and are somehow capable of conjuring up that sound we love, but not the songs, but nothing like that going on here, then again, this is no nostalgia trip, and the songs this time around, more than ever, KILL, groovy and dark, crazy catchy, moody and super melodic, loud and raucous, one of those records we just can't seem to stop listening to...
Killer cover art too, the cd is a reversible gatefold, with a dizzying printed pattern and a printed inner sleeve, the lp kinda like a giant old school 7", or a seventies disco 12"!
We know, we know, it's too much to hope for, and it's never gonna happen, but somehow we just can't seem to stop thinking about it, and we're sure these guys are sick of hearing it too, and will no doubt be annoyed that it gets mentioned in ANOTHER review, but heck, that's what happens when your frontman fronted one of the greatest post punk bands of all time! And yeah, we're talking about a Drive Like Jehu reunion, and yeah, we called them post punk, cuz what else do you call a band like that, a band that is essentially sounds like no one else. But whatever, we're wiping it from our minds. Then though, there's Hot Snakes to contend with Rick From Jehu's post-Jehu and pre-Obits combo, who were nothing like Jehu, but instead were a raw, sloppy, garage-y ball of super rocking fire. Which brings us to the Obits, who on first listen do in fact sound quite a bit like the Hot Snakes, due in no small part to the fact that it's Rick Froberg (or as Rick From Jehu as he's still know to many) singing and playing guitar, but this is altogether something new, a bit more refined and perhaps, a little like an older wiser Hot Snakes maybe, where the Hot Snakes were all pent up aggression, and wild thrashing garage stomp, the Obits traffic in something much more measured, but no less rocking. Still garage-y and super stomping, but tighter, more varied. Froberg sings as much as he howls and wails, the guitars here don't just crash and clang, they shimmer and twang, there's definitely a surf element, the drums crisp and tight, the guitars spidery and crystalline more than crunchy and heavy. These guys played at our SXSW showcase and were awesome, so kick ass and energetic, and so so tight, taking that garage rock thing they have down pat and adding in all sorts of unlikely -other- stuff, some Beefheart bits, plenty of Mudhoney rawk swagger, but all filtered through the Obits unique take on rock and roll, and that's basically what this is, rock and roll, not punk rock, not post punk, not post rock. Just rock, or okay, maybe RAWK.
Needless to say, if you're a fan of any of Froberg's bands, especially Hot Snakes, this will definitely hit the spot. But even if you don't know what the hell we're talking about, Jehu this, Hot Snakes that, as long as you're into bad ass rock and roll, groovy garage, indie jangle, or any combination thereof, you should definitely check these guys out.
Cool packaging too (Froberg's an incredible artist as well btw!), all vintage and old comic book looking, the cd is in a cool Japanese style mini gatefold jacket with an equally cool (sort of creepy) printed inner sleeve, the lp similarly housed...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
It's really kinda hard to know what to say about Obits, when we first HEARD ABOUT the band, we were basically already primed to be blown away, c'mon, this was the new band fronted by Rick Froberg, he of late great math rock/post punk masters Drive Like Jehu, not to mention the mighty and mighty missed Hot Snakes. Froberg's guitar playing and super distinctive wail (rivaled only perhaps by his labelmate Mark Arm of Mudhoney) are indie rock underground treasures, and wherever they end up, you can bet, we'll be there front and center, digging the sounds. And we are digging this new Obits big time, it's not a huge departure from their Sub Pop debut I Blame You, which already was a bit of a shift from the looser, more rocking Snakes... Obits offered up the same sort of garagey rock, but maybe it's that the band was no longer youngsters, in fact most were married with kids and thus, the sound was way more mature, in a good way, the songwriting concise and tightly wound, and if anything, they continue to shift in that direction on Moody, Standard And Poor, the sound still low slung and swaggery, stomping and propulsive, but even more broody and dark, the sound much more stripped down, a serious Wipers vibe to these ears, that same sort of classic songsmithery, wreathed in more modern post Stoogesy stomp. And the songs here are fantastic, they suit a more minimal approach, it's like a modern punk rock take on classic rock, harkening back to a time when bands were as concerned with songs as they were with songs, and thus, these are the kind of songs that will remain lodged in your head. The sort of record, that sounds pretty great on first listen, but by listen 10, and then 20, and beyond, well, then it gets harder and harder to imagine listening to anything else. Easily one of our new favorite records. So good. (PS comes out Tuesday, so you won't find it in the store 'til then, but you can certainly order it now.)
When it comes to full throttle driving and anthemic guitar driven rock, our hearts are so closely aligned with the San Diego scene of the 90's. You know, the one that spawned such awesome bands as Drive Like Jehu and Rocket From The Crypt. Rick Froberg, who was in Drive Like Jehu and then later in Hot Snakes is back with a brand new band, Obits. Their debut is this smokin' two song 7" that finds him picking up right where he left off with Hot Snakes. His delivery, guitar playing and vocals have this ability to just make us melt as his songs always sound so good on first listen but its the repeated listens where they really start to burn in our ears so so right.
We have a friend, who reads our list regularly, and who automatically skips any review with references to �hordes� or descriptions of the sound being �grim� or �blackened� or �frostbitten�, assuming that it�s something he just wouldn�t dig. We always threaten to review some record we KNOW he�d love, using all that metal terminology, just to mess with him, and yeah, we know, by prefacing the review with the above, we�ve kind of let the cat out of the bag, but fuck it, didn�t want to confuse the rest of you...
So here it is, the first �full length� from this grim horde of blackened psychedelic garage rockers, with this hellish set of frostbitten anthems, a furious onslaught of buzzing swagger bloozy blackness... OK fuck it, these guys are from Texas, and opened for local garage pop heroes Thee Oh Sees on their last tour, and this set was captured live at the Chapel, just down the street from aQ, and is the third in the Live In SF series (after Fuzz and White Fence) and displays these guys in their element, although we�ve never heard any of their recordings, so we can only assume that this blast of swaggery psych blooze fused to fuzzed out garage rock pound is precisely what these guys traffic in. And the sound is glorious, sweat soaked and a bit blown out, the guitars fuzzy, distorted and in the red, the vocals a super distinctive bluesy bellow, the songs short and sharp and laced with plenty of hooks, it�s easy to tell this show must have been a humdinger, super energetic, wild and woolly, loose as fuck, but plenty swagger and snarly and noisy and punky, and as much as we�re digging this live set, it�s also priming the pump and getting us psyched to get our hands on a proper studio full length!
First we've listed from Obnox, the side project of Lamont Thomas, drummer for aQ faves Puffy Areolas, and like that group, Obnox traffics in similarly noisy, lo-fi dissonant, garage punk dischord, the difference is that Thomas adds some serious poppiness, and a bit of soul, and a smidge of glam, positioning Obnox more alongside noisy garage pop groups like Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees, albeit a whole lot grimier and noisier.
The four tracks here are INSANELY catchy, a noisy trashy garage punk, that's feedback drenched, driven by wild chaotic drumming, wreathed in blown out buzz and laced with tanged distorto leads, BUT, it's also poppy as fuck, with super cool. dramatic, soulful vocals, that at times even reminds us of Guided By Voices, in that effortless melody making, the sort that stick in your head forEVER. The opening track starts out all noisy and remains that way, but does blossom into some extreme catchiness with a tossed off chorus that poppier bands would kill for. And pretty much all the tracks here follow suit, vocal driven garage pop gems doused in grit and grime, at times the sound almost glammy, one song reminded us of the late great Lee Harvey Oswald Band. The B side adds some blown out big beat rhythms and sing along vox, even some chipmunky falsetto background vocals, but finishes things off with the title track, which sounds like it could be a cover of some long lost musical, soaring and dramatic, and again hooky as hell, and yet still noisy as fuck.
At this point it seems like weirdo psychedelic noise rockers and aQ faves the Puffy Areolas must be done for, cuz PA drummer Lamont Thomas, aka Obnox, can't seem to stop releasing records, it seems like one every couple months, and not just that, but every single one of those records RULE. Not to take anything away from drummers, but holy shit, who knew what this guy had up his sleeve when he was back there bashing away.
Now we all know, a dizzying barrage of soulful garage noise and hip hop flecked psych rock, a clutch of wicked songs, and some seriously and deliriously wacked out covers. And while we often reach a saturation point with some bands, we're not even close with Obnox. Boogalou Reed explodes right out of the gate with some blown out organ drenched groovery, that sounds like some weird alien proto metal, Deep Purple via Castle Face or something. And it just never lets up, the songs doused in distortion, the recording super hot, but the vocals surprisingly melodic, in fact, the awesomely titled "Cynthia Piper At The Gates Of Dawn" sounds a little like Purling Hiss mixed with Malachai, which makes no sense, but somehow it DOES.
In fact a lot of Boogalou Reed reminds us of the weird retro psych of Malachai, albeit delivered via face melting amplification, and rickety drum kit, captured on a busted 4 track, and blasting from a shitty car stereo as we ride shotgun, white knuckling it while Thomas does his thing. And while it's all gloriously and rambunctiously noisy, buried amidst all the noisiness, like on past records, are the sorts of jams, that are damn near timeless/classic ("Too Punk Shakur" sounds like some old soul song sped up and doused in distortion, while the title track gets all spaced out and seriously trippy).
Not sure what else to say about Obnox that we haven't already, other than he rules, and this rules, and you should buy everything you can get your goddamn hands on. Includes a download too.
The return of Obnox, aka Lamont Thomas of psychedelic garage punks Puffy Areloas, and this double 7" is chock full of surprises, none more so than the A side, a weird, noisy, lo-fi garage hip-hop jam, that's right, hip hop, and it's KILLER, the groove is funky but fuzzy and damaged and perfectly lo-fi, soulful and so good. a killer flow over a blown out dirgey groove, with some seriously super distorted bass. But fear not, flip the record over and Obnox take on two short sharp punk as fuck covers, one by the Urinals, the other by Gaunt, both noisy, and chaotic, and distorted and buzzy kick ass.
The second single starts off with a cover of the McCoys' "Hang On Sloopy", plenty sloppy and garagey and chaotic, but plenty groovy and soulful as well, which leads right into the final track, a killer cover of the gospel soul classic "He's Forever" by The King James Version, and Obnox basically just roughs up the edges a bit, retaining much of it's soulful gospel groove, but here wedded to distorted guitars and wrapped in a lo-fi production. Kick ass stuff. Some seriously ruling soul punk from this Puffy Areola gone rogue!
Packaged in a full color gatefold sleeve, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
Latest from Mr. Lamont Thomas, aka Obnox, former member of the Bassholes and This Moment In Black History, current member of Puffy Areolas, Corrupt Free Enterprise his EIGHTH release in 3 years, a sprawling double lp that finds Thomas, a drummer, who only recently taught himself to play guitar and all the rest of the instruments here, kicking out some of the sweetest jams of his brief solo career.
After a clutch of killer singles, and a handful of full lengths, Thomas delivers a mighty blow in the form of these four sides of howling, super distorted, soulful garage punk bash and howl, crunch and buzz, the whole of the A side a blown out blast of furious pound and stomp, in the red and doused in distortion, some seriously fierce noise rock garage pop crush, it's not until the side closer that some of that soulful side that popped up on past singles surfaces, with Thomas getting all woozily groovy. The B side begins with a blast of distortion drenched hip hop, all blown out beats and echoey vox, groovy and soulful for sure, but also raw and lo-fi, which leads directly into a handful of covers, all delivered Obnox style, including a totally reworked version of Tom Waits' "Way Down In The Hole", doused in buzz and noise and transformed into some seriously psychedelic garage noise, and rendered nearly unrecognizable, but holy shit, so rad! And so it goes, the second lp delivering track after track of gristly, speaker shredding garage punk, and fuzzed out noise pop, with the occasional bit of soul infused into the proceedings. Like all the Obnox before, totally recommended! Packaged in a super heavy full color gatefold jacket, with printed inner sleeves, featuring photos, liner notes and lyrics.
Regular readers of the aQ list no doubt know by now, how obsessed we are with Obnox, aka Lamont Thomas, drummer for psychedelic noise rockers Puffy Areolas, who on his own, has been kicking out jam after jam, a body of warped, distortion drenched soul infused garage punk that is quickly eclipsing that of the Areolas mothership. Due in part to the relentless release schedule for sure, about a million records in the last year, but also, there's just something about Thomas' solo stuff, noisy and weird as fuck, home brewed and constantly on the verge of collapse, but also impossibly catchy, twisted idiosyncratic noise pop / garage rock, that doesn't shy away from slipping into blown out hip hop / punk hybrids, or delivering some straight up fuzz pop, or some wah wah guitar dosed soul punk, a sound that combines the noisiness and psychedelia of PA, with something much more personal and WTF?!
The opening one two punch here, "Prime Time Sista", might be the catchiest Obnox jam yet - fuzzy, dirgey, noisy, heavy, a little druggy droniness, a little stonery swagger, but melodies galore, and a hook / chorus most bands would kill for. But then comes "Molecule" which sounds like a garage punk Cypress Hill, all staccato groove, FX heavy wah guitar, almost rapped vox, but noisy as fuck and super lo-fi. imagine Rage Against The Machine covered by Rusted Shut! That fucked up, that weird, and that cool. And on it goes, the record veering wildly from jams like "Raindrops", another blast of fuzzed out garage pop bliss, this time rife with some super dramatic over the top vox, to tracks like "How To Rob (The Punk Years)" which is straight up lo-fi punk rock hip hop, and in between, all stripes of fuzzy punk, groovy noisy psychedelia, funk flecked garage rock, shredding epic jammage, short sharp punk-buzz stomp and distorted soulful ballads. Check out closer "Feeling Real Black Today", a distorted soul-punk dirge/ballad, that sounds like it could have come off that killer Forge Your Own Chains comp. Fuck yeah. Best Obnox yet for sure, every record he just keeps getting better and better...
Includes a download code too!
Another killer blast of blown out garage-soul punk-blooze from Lamont Thomas, who might be better known as the drummer for psychedelic noise rockers Puffy Areolas, but who on his own has been cranking out release after release of amazing hook heavy noisiness that manages to fuse the wild psych stomp of the Areolas with some impossibly deft lo-fi pop-smithery and some serious soulfulness.
After a brief blast of punked out reverb drenched noise, "All Hail The Deejay" is all seventies swagger, slathered in distortion and FX, a glammy falsetto sung stomp that sounds like it could have been plucked off the last Ty Segall Record, albeit a bit more rough around the edges. "Sit Yo Ass Down" is even better, doused in feedback, with a stuttery, almost funky groove, all wreathed in thick, distorted guitar buzz, and with another falsetto chorus that KILLS. "Thanks For Yesterday" dials back the buzz for something bordering on balladic, but then in swoops "(Do) The Clap" which sounds like an even noiser, sweatier, more chaotic and sweat soaked Oh Sees, the whole thing finishing off with the brief speaker shredding blast of "Buzz Clique", a dense tangle of super distorted backwards noise-psych, that almost sounds like a garage punk version of Teenage Filmstars!!
Includes a download code too!
Latest chunk of noisy, super distorted, soul flecked garage rock from Lamont Thomas, drummer for psychedelic noise rockers Puffy Areolas, who late in life decided he wanted to step out from behind the kit, and make some music on his own. And in a short while, he's racked up an impressive body of work, this latest three song blast included. The A side sounds like some classic movie musical converted into blown out distortion drenched pound and howl, impossibly poppy, with a chorus other bands would kill for, but all buried in layers of buzz and hiss, the distortion CRANKED, but even then it's impossible to disguise how goddamn catchy it is. The B side remains amped up and punked out, with the first track being about as punk as it gets, aggro and heavy and noisy, a short sharp burst that also displays a subtle poppiness, before finishing of with a cover of the (pre-Alice Cooper Band) Spiders' "Don't Blow Your Mind", which infuses the punky garage crunch of the rest of the record with some serious glammy swagger. As always, so goddamn good!!!
Strange but kinda cool department: This is the second album (we missed the first) from this international, intergenerational hybrid kraut/psych/spacerock band, featuring members of Peru's La Ira De Dios, the USA's Dragonwyck, and Germany's Karmic Society and Treacle People. Well, we're fans of rockin' fuzzpunks La Ira De Dios anyway, don't really know the others. Apparently, inspired by residual '60s psychedelic vibrations, these likeminded folks got together to do some jamming, and that's what this is, all improvised, each track edited down from one-take jam sessions! Well, except for the surprise SLAYER cover, they do "Black Magic" from Show No Mercy! (Or, had we been paying attention, maybe not such a surprise, as apparently they also did Metallica's "For Whom The Bell Tolls" on their first album, we'll have to look into that...)
Otherwise, it's all in the realm of spacey stoner rock jamming with lots of fuzz guitar, Hammond organ and Hawkwindy FX, also wailing female vocals dubbed in over top (someone channelling their inner Grace Slick). Not the hippest band in the world, no, but fun and far out. Their unexpected speed metal obsession sure helps heavy it up, keeping this from totally retro tie-dye hippiedom, while at the same time, they manage to make Slayer fit in with their spaced-out sound. Some parts remind us of Circle, some parts remind us of Jex Thoth!
The Occasion set their cauldron of somber psychedelia on the fire to simmer, and the slowly spiralling vapors wafting up into our ears are quite a pleasure. Much of Cannery Hours' beautiful smoldering embers may easily be aligned with the shadowy, expansive likes of Black Heart Procession, Destroyer as well as Godspeed You Black Emperor, and seem to draw ample inspiration from Pink Floyd and perhaps even This Heat. Subdued yet emotive male vocals and contemplative picked guitar lines give way to the fevered piano, crashing cymbals, and swelling waves of guitar distortion.
When talking about this band Ocean, there's always an obvious temptation to liken their music to giant waves crashing upon the shore, which we shall indeed succumb to here. 'Cause of their name, which they share with another heavy band, The Ocean from Germany (this Ocean is the one from the coastal city of Portland, Maine) and 'cause of their massive, relentlessly cycling sound. Large rocks, over the aeons, would easily be turned to tiny grains of sand, by the action of Ocean. Even within the limit of the running time of a compact disc, Ocean surely hints at such power. Over the course of these two loooooong tracks here (35:50 and 23:04), Ocean's repetitive riffs and percussive detonations surge and crest, washing in and out with regularity and ponderous force, slowwwww and steady, building up almost imperceptibly. Beautiful to our ears, or to those of anyone else equally as enamored by crushing, moody, majestic sludge-metal!
The anguished vocals, guttural gasps, oftimes like gasses escaping from a subterranean crypt, or (a more appropriate analogy) the final cries of drowning men from a sinking ship intermingled with the bellowings of some leviathan of the depths, put us in mind of the ultra-doooom of Khanate, as do the varied levels of carefully sculpted feedback and distortion. There is some guest singing (in Japanese, we believe) from Yoshiko Ohara of fellow doombringers Bloody Panda on the first track, but even her cleanly-sung lamentation eventually gives way to "vokill" style throat-abuse.
During much of her turn at the mic, as well as at other junctures on this disc, (the) Ocean calms and quiets, yet the listener remains adrift at sea. Doomed to drown, sinking down into into the stillness of the deeps, an undersea abyss where of course the darkness and pressure make this even heavier! Not so good for actual shipwreck victims, but metaphorically excellent for those of us into this sort of music - a combination of dirgey funereal doom and loud/soft post rock prettiness, truly elegant -and- extreme. If you liked Ocean's earlier effort for Important (Here Where Nothing Grows), and/or the likes of Bloody Panda, Conifer, Lesbian, Khanate, Thou, Pelican, etc., this is probably for you! And we must also mention the packaging; a white digipack, with text and engraving-style artwork in metallic silver ink. Very classy-looking.
Garage punk from Denmark
sounds like a mix of early off-kilter Talking Heads and the ferociousness of the Cramps. Limited supply!
Latest sprawling collection of next level avant guitar shreddery from Mr. Mick Barr, he of black metal horde Krallice, spazzed out angular mathcore duo Crom-Tech, his sometime drum machine driven solo project Octis, and of course our beloved Ocrilim, another solo vehicle for multi tracked solo guitar, and whose sound is positioned somewhere between maddeningly repetitive Reichian/Riley-ian experimental guitarscapery, and black metal riffery sans everything but the guitar, which ultimately amounts to almost the same thing, soaring, epic, frenzied, tangled guitar insanity. And as much as we love all of Barr's various projects, we find ourselves returning to Ocrilim the most, and while, as we've mentioned in other reviews, most folks find much of Barr's output difficult, bordering on unlistenable, Ocrilim is fantastically mesmerizing, hypnotically rhythmic, lushly textured, intensely frantic, but somehow weirdly listenable, so much so that we find ourselves constantly pushing repeat, even though the majority of these songs are 20-30 minutes long. It's so easy to get lost in Barr's dense dizzying guitarscapes, and the tracks here function both as background music, a swirling psychedelic blur, that bleeds into a buzzing backdrop to whatever you're doing, and as rich fodder for active listening, an impossible intricate collection of modern maximalism composition, one that pushes the listener's limits in terms of sonic endurance, but also in an understanding of the music's varied complexities. The fact that a frantic sprawl of rapid fire notes can blossom into a soaring swirl of black metal style buzz and vice versa only makes it that much cooler, and perhaps even demonstrates the innate avant elements in black metal. A sequel of sorts to the first Annwn release, which came out on Hydra Head, these tracks were recorded back in 2007, and have not been released until now.
Barr put this out on his own label, and of course the cover features Barr's distinctive sci-fi line-drawing art, and as you might imagine, there aren't too many of these, it's LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!!
Any one familiar with Mick Barr, most likely knows all about his dense, insane shredding axework and super obtuse metalisms in groups like Crom-Tech, Orthrelm, Octis, Krallice and of course Ocrilim. This super deluxe, super limited boxset collects three out of print cd-r's, and presents them on vinyl, and all three taken as a single body of work might just comprise the most listenable stuff we've ever heard from Barr.
Annothrith Hymns is the prettiest of the bunch, a collection of short form solo guitarscapes, ostensibly black metal, but just the guitars, loosed from any griminty and instead allowed to soar majestically, layered and lush and lyrical, the sounds pulse and undulating, the tremolo picked riffs blurred into sweet soaring ur-drone epicness. Somehow buzzy and metal but still ethereal and mesmerizingly dreamy, even the Xasthur cover is transformed into something more crystalline and lovely.
Ixoltion immediately sounds like some epic, Norwegian style black metal, until you realize, that once again, it's just guitar, and the sound is not so much buzzy, so much as again, like the first lp, soaring and majestic, single riffs expanded to fill up a whole side, sprawling riffscapes that manage to remain black metal, while becoming something completely other, some sort of mesmerizing, looped, minimal blackened riffdronebuzz bliss out. Heavy sure, maybe, but more hypnotic and trancelike.
Finally, Sacreth, which complete the trilogy, and in some weird way, sounds like the first two combined, this is actual black metal, blasting and buzzing, but still minimal, the programmed beats proggy and intricate, matching the unlikely riffing, super hypnotic, the arrangements quite strange as well, lots of stop/starts, super mathy and complex, but still remaining epic and majestic, and weirdest of all, seriously melodic and poppy. It's almost like the three records are a slow build to Sacreth's black metal, but each part functioning fantastically on its own. So good. And even those of you who might have been put off in the past by Barr's gnarled noisy metallic tangle, this might surprise you as much as it did us.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Hand screened, hand glued silkscreened sleeves in a silk screened cardboard box, the records pressed on 180 gram vinyl, with a silkscreened insert, handnumbered.
Record number two from SF scene kingpin John Dwyer's (Coach Whips, Zeigenbock Kopf, Hospitals, ex-Pink And Brown, ex-Burmese etc.) solo bedroom project OCS. The first OCS record released on tUMULt a couple years back (and still available!) was a big ol' double disc collection split right down the middle, one disc of sweet acoustic musings, and one disc of ear splitting noisy chaos. Well, for record number two Dwyer's abrasive Mr. Hyde is tucked safely away, and we are presented with his sweeter, gentler Dr. Jeckyll. 2 is a ramshackle collection of stumbling, sloppy Appalachia, Sentridoh-ish introspective mumbling jangle, and rickety 4-track folk. Dreamy and sleepy, rambling and sun dappled. Tape hiss, and amplifier buzz, snippets of found sound, and buried-in-the-mix sing-songy vocals augment ragged meandering ragas, droning acoustic dirges, and all manner of indie-rock/bedroom-folk detritus.
Ah, the sweeter side of John Dwyer. It's always been a struggle for Dwyer, between his sweat soaked spazz rock, club smashing, instrument battering side (Landed, Pink And Brown, Coachwhips) and his lonely boy, mix tape, bedroom, acoustic and sensitive side (OCS). Well it appears, that for the time being at least, with the end of the Coachwhips, OCS is Dwyer's main focus. Dr. Jeckel has regained control and banished Mr Hyde to wait patiently in the dakness....
Like the first OCS record, released on Andee's tUMULt label, this is a massive, beuatifully packaged double disc collection of beautifully ramshackle, intimate and home recorded lo-fi indie bedroom folk. However, unlike the tUMULt release, where disc two was a clattery, crunchy, crashing NOISE record, both discs here are chock full of simple strummed guitars, echoey percussiony, big empty room rhythmic clatter, distant distorted melancholy melodies, haunting reverby electric guitar, quavery falsetto vocals, drowsily affected jangle shuffling snare drums and hazy atmospheres....all occasionally peppered with swooping stuttering psych rock space effects, chirping birds, and creaking rattling soundmakers of all kinds. For fans of Sentridoh, Shrimper and all things 4-track, lo-fi, jangley, shuffley and strummy! The lp is is the OCS '3' record only, you gotta buy the double cd to get both '3' and '4'!
Ah, the sweeter side of John Dwyer. It's always been a struggle for Dwyer, between his sweat soaked spazz rock, club smashing, instrument battering side (Landed, Pink And Brown, Coachwhips) and his lonely boy, mix tape, bedroom, acoustic and sensitive side (OCS). Well it appears, that for the time being at least, with the end of the Coachwhips, OCS is Dwyer's main focus. Dr. Jeckel has regained control and banished Mr Hyde to wait patiently in the dakness....
Like the first OCS record, released on Andee's tUMULt label, this is a massive, beuatifully packaged double disc collection of beautifully ramshackle, intimate and home recorded lo-fi indie bedroom folk. However, unlike the tUMULt release, where disc two was a clattery, crunchy, crashing NOISE record, both discs here are chock full of simple strummed guitars, echoey percussiony, big empty room rhythmic clatter, distant distorted melancholy melodies, haunting reverby electric guitar, quavery falsetto vocals, drowsily affected jangle shuffling snare drums and hazy atmospheres....all occasionally peppered with swooping stuttering psych rock space effects, chirping birds, and creaking rattling soundmakers of all kinds. For fans of Sentridoh, Shrimper and all things 4-track, lo-fi, jangley, shuffley and strummy!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
