You probably already heard a lot of the hype surrounding this record, and you know what? It's all totally true! Phoenix have created one of the best and most infectious pop records to come around in a very long time. We're talking start to finish every single song having hooks and melodies that sound so fucking great and are both breezy and catchy as well as so totally immaculately crafted.
This is one of those rare pop records that is both so smart and so fun. Imagine Saturdays=Youth era M83 covering the Strokes!!! Although comparisons seem a bit silly here as Phoenix have really made a super unique record, that kind of perfect summer pop jam that most bands only dream of and often spend their whole lives trying to make, only to fall flat over and over again. No matter where you are or what you're doing, when you listen to this record you're totally transported, it's a refreshing rush, the world seems sunshinier, the skies bluer, everything just sparkles and glistens. So cool and suave and slick in the best way, it's impossible to not fall in love with Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. So many folks we know, who are into experimental music or electronica or other branches of more esoteric minded sounds, have just fallen head over heels for this new Phoenix record which is truly a testament to its undeniable universal appeal.
While past Phoenix records always had at least a few totally standout tracks, none of those records can possibly compare. Some of us here, pop fanatics for sure, were pretty skeptical, having not been that impressed with past record, and not believing the hype, but after hearing just the opening track, naysayers were silenced, and almost immediately transformed into rabid fans, playing this to death, in the store AND at home. Sparkling, hook laden, well produced power pop bliss. This one's gonna be a bigtime contender for pop record of the year!
When Brooklyn's White Hills was here last week (they played a rad instore, hope you made it), they brought us some copies of this new compilation on which they appear, alongside the likes of Mammatus, The Heads, Kawabata Makoto, Residual Echoes, Plastic Crimewave Sound, Fuzzhead, and a couple others (many of whom are depicted in the cover drawing montage, done by Plastic Crimewave, whose art you may know from his Galactic Zoo Dossier 'zine). Heavy duty, fuzzed out, psychedelic stoner rock nirvana here, folks! But it's NOT exactly a comp, actually. It's the follow-up to an out of print disc called Jamnation that we reviewed (thumbs up) a few years back. And that's the catch, kinda. Both Jamnation and now Phosphene River aren't just various artists collections, they're spoken word projects from the fevered mind of one Dan McGuire, who lays down his gritty beatnik poetry overtop the instrumental spacey effects laden bliss and/or throbbing distorted guitar riffage being pumped out by these bands. We've said it before, we'll say it again, we're not so big on the spoken word thing. You'll never catch us at a poetry slam. BUT, we gotta say, first off McGuire's rambling Lizard King orations, we can deal with, usually. His subject matter is surreal and sinister enough to somewhat make up for the sheer self parodic silliness of the whole spoken word thing. And, his words don't really get in the way of the music, which is really why we're listening. He slips right in there like he belongs, instead of being a total distraction. He's got a cool, gritty voice (we compared him to turned on, dropped out John Wayne / Henry Rollins hybrid before) and sorta sounds like the hardboiled detective doing the voiceover in some '50s noir movie, except with the drug fueled, fear & loathing laden, imagination of a Hunter S. Thompson. Even when he's getting Biblical, as he does on the PCS track "Are You A Dragon". His streams of consciousness can be sort of hypnotic - we'll admit to listening less to what he's saying and more to the heavy sound of the whole thing. And as we said when we reviewed Jamnation, McGuire has a knack for knowing when to back off and leave space for the music. He'll let a track play halfway through sometimes before opening his mouth - and the tracks he's selected for this disc are of course good 'uns, as you might have already guessed from the quality lineup who contributed. It's pretty well done for what it is!
So, if you like stoner psych -and- spoken word, this is for you for sure. If just stoner psych, well we'd say that this comp is rad enough to withstand the inclusion of all that jawing. And think about it, McGuire's purple flow of deviant verbiage is really not that different from what these band's guitarists are doing with their axes, wailing away, off on their own freaky trips...
For the first time, Pia Fraus's 2008 album After Summer is now available on vinyl! This album from Estonia's preeminent shoegaze outfit was produced by Teenage Fanclub's Norman Blake, who deftly shapes and sculpts the buoyant dream pop found in these recordings. It's a bright and lilting sound, one that melds the hushed boy / girl vocals with a plaintive jingle-jangle on the guitars with nary a blurred edge to be felt. All of the soft-focus vibrancy that Pia Fraus conjures is through their sparkling, motorik drift pop, which cheerful organ melodies daubed throughout. Think Stereolab, Urlich Schnauss, or even The Pastels.
Nature Heart Software was the third album from this beloved Estonian dreampop / shoegaze outfit, originally released through their Seksound label in 2006. Now the band has issued this album on vinyl for the first time! The band lifts away some of the fuzz, bluster, and blur that was found on their 2001 debut for Clairecords in particular, showcasing the impressive songwriting that ripples through Nature Heart Software. The whammy bar bends across Pia Fraus' layered 'n' jangled guitars were obviously inspired by Kevin Shields, with their bright riffs and fading summer sweetness heading toward Yo La Tengo like swooning on "You Know There Are People Living In The Country" and some Slumberland-ish noise-pop propulsion on the charmingly titled "Thank You Peter Parker." Top it all off with a few melodic flourishes from horns and Farfisa, and here's one wistfully perfect dream-pop record!
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With last year's artistic triumph "Low Birth Weight" (avant-rock nursery rhymes doused with macabre Victorian antiquity), Piano Magic delivered on the promise of their stunning debut, the updated-for-the-nineties Young Marble Giants-influenced "Popular Mechanics." So we had high hopes for the third album. But it's records like "Artists' Rifles" that propagate the myths of certain musicians as morose pasty whiners who sound as if they can't do much but shoot heroin, barely get out of bed, and be self-proclaimed geniuses. The record completely falters in stepping well beyond the boundaries of self-pity to encompass a sound that wouldn't be far from King Missile if they wrote funeral dirges (and not charmingly dorky pop ditties) for 4AD all the while convincing Kramer to add that shimmering reverb excess. Oh well.
Hurrah! something new from Piano Magic! The only unhappy thing about it is that it's an all too brief four song ep. We found ourselves hitting the 'play' button again every seventeen minutes. Never know quite what to expect whenever a new release from Glen Johnson & Co. crosses our threshold...
Delicate shimmering whimsical art pieces? Brooding heady molasses-rock? Wall o' guitars? Sparkly electronic chamber pop? We can attest that whatever they've offered up thus far though has seldom disappointed. They seem to be moving in a more straightforward guitar driven rock direction these days that we certainly didn't anticipate. The title track and the final one both threw us for a loop. Very very slow with an almost goth gloominess, sinewy and Doors-esque even! It also drew some comparative musings to the darkest side of The Go-Betweens. The two songs in the middle are far more familiar. "Stations" is a velvety languid number sullenly sung by Johnson, and "Vacancies" is the dreamy pop surprise treat on the cd. Sung sweetly by Angele David-Guillou, it'll surely also please fans of the sadly defunct UK band Delgados! Lovely!
Moments on this ep hint at the lovely wonder that was Piano Magic's "Low Birth Weight" album but falls just a bit short of reaching the sparkling splendour of that release. However, if you loved "LBW" but were sadly disappointing by their most recent
For the first song on this new Piano Magic cdep, the British group takes a turn into more of a Euro-pop direction. Imagine a more sullen Saint Etienne. Much to our delight, Angele David-Guillou's charmingly soft, wistful vocals are presented front and center for the first two numbers.
They're followed by one gorgeous instrumental and one sung by mainman Glen Johnson. That adds up to four sumptuous moody beauties! Aaaah, in terms of the Piano Magic of yesteryear (well, 1999 to be exact) that we hold so near and dear to our hearts (namely their very out-of-print Low Birth Weight album), it seems like they've found their way back to that enchanting/enchated place. More please!
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With such a visual grasp on the surreal puppets of Jan Svankmajer, Piano Magic invokes the musical equal to a Victorian cabinet of curios - carefully arranged avant-pop songs filled with macabre nursery rhymes that shimmer & sparkle in spite of the dust, dimly lit spaces, and eerie moodiness. Quite similar to the early incarnations of His Name Is Alive or the later days of Tear Garden. Quite possibly Piano Magic's best, most focused work. Stunning!
The Important Records sticker that's plastered to the shrinkwrap of this album plainly states that "this is the most purely electronic record Piano Magic has ever made." Yes, that is certainly true; although the mood and atmosphere of Opencast Heart is no different hear than on previous Piano Magic records, as Glen Johnson (who's Piano Magic's chief songwriter / producer and only returning member of each incarnation for the band) continues to spin delicate, precious songs whose fragility hint at something slightly dark and wintery. With the icy electronic whirrs and naked vocals from both Johnson and chanteuse Angele David-Guillou, Opencast Heart has more in common with the Mark Van Hoen / Locust recordings than with the archetypal 4AD sound that Johnson had reified on the Piano Magic classic album Low Birth Weight.
Some may exclaim, "Alas!" upon a first listen to Piano Magic's seventh album Part Monster... For the band seems to have shed their beloved persona as being the darkly whimsical aural equivalent of a Quay Brothers film. Where there once were feathery filigrees and antique gilt melodies are now rushes of sleek modern rockisms. Admittedly the heftier '80s/'90s Brit rock guitars and an overall aggressive edge initially rubbed a few of us the wrong way a bit. The album's third track "Incurable" actually sits comfortably next to the latest album by Blonde Redhead, while the fifth "The King Cannot Be Found" straddles the dissonant rock fence between Sonic Youth and The Cure. Yes, this is a bigger, bolder Piano Magic. Part Monster was produced by Guy Fixsen (member of Laika and producer/engineer for the likes of My Bloody Valentine, The Pixies, Stereolab, The Breeders, and Lush) no less, which might explain the degree to which the deeply effected guitars take centerstage. This new Piano Magic might takes some getting used to, but after the initial shock dissipates Part Monster retracts its claws briefly, revealing the still present sumptuous chamberly charms of the Piano Magic of old. You need only listen to the slower, velvety fourth number "Soldier Song" to be mesmerized once again by their, ahem, magic.
You never know quite what to expect from each new Piano Magic release. There's sure been some highs and loooows in past few years. Granted, Piano Magic standards were set pretty high by their enchanting 1999 album Low Birth Weight (sadly now out of print). That was truly something special, and unfortunately Glen Johnson and co. just haven't quite hit that mark with subsequent releases. But this ep certainly has its hight points, among them the presence of Low's Alan Sparhawk, Cornershop's Ben Ayres and wonderful '70s UK vocalist Vashti Bunyan (who previously appeared on their 2002 Writers Without Homes album). The music of Piano Magic is ever shadowy, somber, fragile and richly poetic, and these six songs are no exception filled with stuttering rhythms, fluttering tremoloed guitars, haunting strings and glistening synth washes. That said, the three instrumentals and three vocal songs here are perhaps their darkest and most intense work to date.
Falling somewhere between a best of and a rarities collection, "Seasonally Affective" is a diverse sampling of the Piano Magic back catalogue, capturing both the gems (i.e. their magnifciently Victorian "Low Birth Weight" album) and duds (i.e. their
Glen Johnson - Piano Magic's ringleader and only consistent member on all of the albums - has admittedly never left the dark baroque sounds of the '80s behind, especially those of early Dead Can Dance, The Wolfgang Press, and Tones on Tail. Thus, for him
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Unanimous AQ-favorite! The next best thing to the Young Marble Giants, and that is saying a lot. Delicate, bittersweet electronica-pop that updates the aforementioned Giants with subtle dinginess reminiscent of Third Eye Foundation. This is one of the groups that beautifully bridges the ever-closing gap between indierock and electronica. We highly recommend you give this taster, or their full length, a try.
The teaming up of Piano Magic and 4AD would have been such a good match had Piano Magic existed 15 years earlier, as their dreamy songs of Victorian miserablism would fit perfectly alongside the early recordings of Cocteau Twins, Dead Can Dance, Wolfgang Press, and Modern English. However, 4AD has moved well into singer-songwriter territory during the past decade releasing work by the likes of the Mountain Goats and Red House Painters, and cast away many of the bands and sounds which formed their early history. Oh well. This discussion of 4AD is neither here nor there anyway, as with The Troubled Sleep Of Piano Magic, the band (which is pretty much just chief songwriter Glen Johnson and whoever else happens to be around) turns from their stint on 4AD to the tiny Spanish label Green UFOs. With a references to Durutti Column-esque guitar patter, Disco Inferno's underappreciated songs, and Godspeed You Black Emperor's soaring glide guitars, Piano Magic sets an overcast mood of theatrically languid expressions and perfectly follows up all of their earlier records. With all of the emphasis upon death disco as the current retro obsession from the '80s, it's nice to hear a well-executed twist on the desperate romanticism that was also quite prominent in the '80s underground.
Like the Ivo Watts-Russell / John Fryer productions as This Mortal Coil, Glen Johnson supports his endeavors in Piano Magic by surrounding himself with a constantly rotating crowd of talented guests. Where This Mortal Coil tipped the balance in their favor in covering pre-existing material (Syd Barrett, Alex Chilton, Tim Buckley, as well as other 4AD outfits like Modern English and Rema Rema), Piano Magic is firmly based upon the Johnson's ability to delegate and collaborate in order to compose new material. At his strongest on the Victorian-tinged album "Low Birth Weight," Johnson shaped his various collaborations into a cohesive, yet multi-faceted album dominated by an atmosphere of aristocratic sadness and dignified decay. Such moods have been the goal for Johnson ever since, but without the same success. This isn't to say that "Writers Without Homes" is a bad album, in fact it's quite good. But in comparison to its predecessor, this falls a little short.
With a few exceptions of bombastic percussion and theatrical vocalizations, Johnson crafts his bittersweet pop miniatures out of simple and quiet elements: a gently lulling piano, an unassuming acoustic guitar, and hushed / whispered vocals shrouded in the classic 4AD production of glistening bohemian miserablism. Johnson has rounded up an impressive roster of collaborators including '60s folk maven Vashti Bunyan, Simon Raymonde (ex-Cocteau Twins), Robert Lippok & Bernd Jestram of Tarwater, Robert Johnstone (Life Without Buildings), and plenty more.
Our Record Of The Week from List #347, back in stock!!
One genre in heavy music, that a whole bunch of aQ-ers consider critical to their musical development, is in fact WAY underrepresented on the aQ list, partially cuz much of the music that made up that genre happened well before the advent of the aQ new arrivals list, but also because so few contemporary bands can pull that sound off, at least convincingly. What the heck are we talking about? SCREAMO. Yep, wild, chaotic, short sharp post punk heaviness, some of our faves include Orchid, Mohinder, Swing Kids, Portraits Of Past, Heroin, Antioch Arrow... those live shows were legendary, heaving masses of sweaty flesh, the line between audience and band blurred or obliterated completely, sets as short as 10 minutes, still packed with 15 songs of furious hardcore frenzy, there were definitely politics going on too, but it was the sound that had us smitten, the energy, the passion, the emotion, that first wave of screamo was obviously heavily indebted to Rites Of Spring, Die Kreuzen and other early hardcore and post hardcore combos, but the screamo bands took that sound and cranked it up, supercharged it, shortened the songs and blew the living fuck out of it.
Very few bands today can pull off that sound, or even try, there's Comadre, and Ampere, and a few others, and now you can add Pianos Become The Teeth, but the cool thing about PBTT, are that they take that classic screamo sound and meld it to a seemingly diametrically opposed sound, that sort of Godspeed You Black Emperor, slow build epic post rock majesty! And somehow it works. The energy and passion, the bursts of furious howling musical catharsis wedded to something more smoldering and patient, and the mix is pretty fucking fantastic, the group lurching from dense tangles of wild punkish crunch to soaring epic psychedelic blow outs, the songs super complex, constantly shifting mood and emotion, but keeping the tension ratcheted way up. "Quit Benefit" features insane squalls of wild octopoidal drumming, stuttering arrangements and dramatic pauses, haunting stretched out sheets of feedback, cool hard panned guitar jangle, the song a non stop frenzy of ever shifting rhythms, incredibly lush and melodic but all snarled up, but with a distinct melodic vibe running through the whole thing. "Pensive" finds the band locking into a churning slow build, with still more intense and relentless drumming, the guitars sharp and angular, the vocals howled and oozing with pathos, every song is a dizzying mile a minute post punk emo screamo epic, the band slipping so easily from indie jangle to rabid grinding punk and back again, but after nearly 30 minutes of that incredible and insanely cathartic level of sustained energy, the band offer up the final track, "Young Fire", a gorgeous post rock drift, all clean spidery guitars, simple skeletal rhythms, woozy twangy melodies, a slow build part way through to something more heavy, but never letting go, never exploding into a wild freak out, instead, letting the song unfurl lazily, the various sounds slowly slipping away, eventually leaving just a single reverbed guitar to play the record out. So lovely.
And the whole record, so fucking heavy and epic and emo(tional), definitely a big new favorite around here, and for folks who have been missing the days of the Orchid and Mohinder and Gravity Records, this is as about as close as you're gonna get to making it back there, but as is obvious from the above, Old Pride is less about looking back, and more about taking that sound, and dragging it forward, into the NOW.
We made last year's Old Pride, from post screamo heavies Pianos Become The Teeth our Record Of The Week when it came out, as it pushed all our buttons: the furious chaotic, post hardcore of screamo, the soaring epic emotion and about-to-crack vocal-ed intensity of emo, and the brooding slow build intensity of post rock. And on this most recent record, the band continue to hone this hybrid, pushing all of those elements further and further, crafting something this time around that dials back the chaotic punkish intensity just a bit, and focuses more on the expansive majestic side of their sound, pushing them in a direction more along the lines of Explosions In The Sky, the sort of sound, that sans vocals, would be the perfect music for some super moving moment in a film or a TV show, when everything comes crashing down, and the main character is walking dejectedly in the rain, head hung low, contemplating just what to do next, overwhelmed by life. This is the sort of 'punk rock' we grew up on, intense and emotional and moving, the sort of stuff you'd put on that cathartic crush / break up mixtape, and blast in your car, to either get the guts to talk to that crush, or to try desperately to forget about your broken heart. The power of punk rock here recast as something more lush and layered, the songs intricate and carefully crafted, but without losing that intense drama, or that extreme emotion, and while the screamo/punk elements may be dialed back, they're still present, and are exactly what gives this stuff it's power, the guitars chiming and ringing out one second, buzzing and grinding the next, the drums dense and wild and heavy hitting, the songs brooding and building into churning psychedelic squalls, the anguished super emotional vocals, just pushing it over the top. It sounds cliched, but they really don't make music like this anymore, or more specifically, they probably actually do, it's just nearly as amazing as this. Definitely a new favorite from an old favorite, and another one of those records that easily could have been another Record Of The Week, just like the first one.
There's a somber heaviness to the music of Canadian ensemble Picastro. Its ebb and flow creeps from your stereo speakers like molasses -- smooth, dark, and bitter-bittersweet. Each song takes its time, moving at its own pace like the ocean's tide or the slow rise and fall of a sleeping person's chest. Much like their previous album 2002's Red Your Blues, this is very soundtrack-y in the Godspeed You Black Emperor / Mogwai sort of way, but with increasingly potent, hand-wringing female vocals along the lines of Shannon Wright or PJ Harvey. You might also liken them to Black Heart Procession with a female singer -- oh such intoxicating melancholia. Will you let Picastro brings you dowwwwwwn?
Picastro are a quintet from Toronto, ON who've actually been around for many years, but have waited until now to present their debut album. A lovely collection of shadowy melancholia, this would be very much at home on either Thrill Jockey or Godspeed You Black Emperor's headquarters Constellation Records, but no, instead it graces the roster of Los Angeles' Pehr Records. Red Your Blues begins with some gentle guitar, a minimal snare drum beat and slowly gliding cello that leads to the slightly drowsy, slightly brittle female voice of Liz Hysen, quite akin to that of Trailer Bride's Melissa Swingle, Cat Power's Chan Marshall or fellow Canadian Julie Doiron. Highly emotive and intimate. The instrumentation moves smoothly from bare bones acoustic guitar to more complex, lush full band arrangements with creeping strings, warm piano, additional guitars, washes of feedback and plenty of toms in the percussion section. At times quite haunting and atmospheric. Fans of the above-mentioned labels and groups as well as Rachel's, Shipping News, Dirty Three, take note!
The third full length from this Toronto band is a haunting, handwringing journey. They sound drugged out, but the listening experience is sobering. Pretty much every song reels with a chilling plod of despair, and the ones that don't (such as "Stair Keeper") still possess an unsettling whimsy, and seem to be inspired by the spare melancholic folk of Sybille Baier. As always, they're very akin to the dissonance laced soundscaping school of Godspeed You Black Emperor -- shifting through unstructured percussion, whinnying strings and distortion swells, settling into a melodic passage for brief soul-searching spells -- but this time a little more of an indie rock slouch infiltrates their sound. Whore Luck features guests Final Fantasy's Owen Pallett and Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart. The latter appears on their cover of The Fall's "An Older Lover, Etc". They also do a rendition of Roky Erickson's "If You Have Ghosts". For your most dour days.
Perhaps you're familiar with that kick ass Prog Is Not A Four Letter Word compilation on Delay 68? It's sure been a big seller hereabouts. One of the bands that compiler Andy Votel introduced us to via that collection was an Italian group by the name of Picchio Dal Pozzo. Their track "La Merta", in all its gently gorgeous glory of tinkling, buzzing, and wordless vocal "aaaah-aaaahhing", made us curious to hear more by them! Turns out "La Merta" was taken from this, their self-titled debut originally released in 1976 on the Grog label. And indeed it was indicative of the mellow and mysterious delights of this album, a work of cosmically spacey, jazz-inflected, psychedelic chamber-prog inspired by the Canterbury sounds of Robert Wyatt era Soft Machine (indeed, it bears a dedication to "Roberto Viatti" aka Robert Wyatt). They were probably into Terry Riley too. Yet nothing prepared us for track three, this record's ten-minute masterpiece, the suite entitled "Seppia" that freakin' blew our minds with its droning, throbbing, Magmoid, synth-sizzling heaviness. Wow! Have the Boredoms heard this?? So, a very nice record indeed, with at least one track that just takes things to another level entirely. Seriously, if you're like us you'll being playing that one over and over again. Instantly a new Italian prog fave here -- half the AQ staff bought copies for themselves!
These new members of the Absolutely Kosher family (which also includes Wrens, Pinback, Xiu Xiu, Eltro, Jim Yoshii Pileup) are a puzzling blend of twee jangle pop and angular Sonic Youth-y art rock. Some songs are strictly one or the other, but every so often they come together... and it somehow works! Made us wonder: Is there a songwriting competition goin' on? Their sound is most characterized by the alternating sweetie-pie female vocals (quite akin to Juliana Hatfield and Rose Melberg) and considerably more aggressive, screamo boy vocals (a blend of Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo). Quite cool.
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Buckethead and DJ Disk of the Invisbl Skratch Piklz.
1972, Argentina: hard rockin', heavy bloozin', proto-metal political protest band Piel de Pueblo ("Village Skin") record and release their one and only album, which we recently discovered via this reissue, being intrigued by its cover painting featuring a blood-dripping Earth whirling through space, orbiting a bummed-out Sun that's crying a single tear...
Piel de Pueblo make some prog moves here - there's electric violin on a couple of the tracks (reminding us of early UK heavies High Tide) - but mostly it's all about the wailing wah-wah guitar solos, and distorted fuzzed-out riffage (also reminding us of High Tide, for that matter).
"La Tierra En 998 Pedazos" is the psychedelic epic here, at 9 minutes plus (thus finding time for some gentle melodiousness amidst the riff-rock), but most of the other songs are right around 3 minutes or so, rockin' out for the duration. Fans of Mexico's Los Dug Dugs at their most "Loco" should investigate, likewise if you're into Piel de Pueblo's fellow countrymen Pappo's Blues...
Booklet includes Spanish-language lyrics, band photo, and a brief note about the history of the band in both Spanish and English.
Prog rock and/or Magma fans, pay attention: what we've got here is a smokin' live album from a three-piece instrumental group featuring current Magma guitarist James MacGaw. He's on electric bass here, joined by drummer Daniel Jeand'heur and Thierry Bruneau on "vielle a roue". What's that? Some sort of traditional French hurdy-gurdy type of instrument, apparently. And that's what gives the Pienza Ethnorkestra their special flavor. MacGaw's burbling, burping basslines and Jeand'heur's propulsive, peppery battery are exciting enough, but add to that the wild fiddle-ish flights of melody and stretches of melancholic drone from Bruneau's ancient instrument and you've got an amazing hybrid of a Magmoid rhythm section and a Balkan gypsy wedding band. Indeed, several of the tracks here are traditional Bulgarian and Hungarian folk tunes, fitting in perfectly with the originals written by this "ethnorkestra".
To reference two AQ faves with Eastern European influences, we'd say that the frenzied energy with which Pienza Ethnorkestra approach this material (and the occasional electric-guitar like distortion applied to the vielle a roue) make this sound more like Tatsuya Yoshida's Koenjihyakkei (with strings) than it does like Steven R. Smith's Hala Strana. That this is a live recording only increases our amazement at how much these three kick ass. And the audience whoops it up appropriately. You might too, listening to his at home.
Wow! Bay Area troubadour Mr. Garrett Pierce has continued to nurture and refine his songcraft in a big big way. All Masks blossoms and flourishes onwards from his previous two releases (a now out of print self-titled cdr from 2004 and the full length beauty Like A Moth which was released on Crossbill Records in 2006). Some of the songs on his latest album verge on the epic yet still maintain his intimate earthy heart. The core of his composed, yet at ease music is solidly rooted in the traditions of good ol' Americana, but this time he's incorporated some '60s pop styled gently rockin' sway (check out "Tonight"!) and gorgeous orchestral embellishments (as heard on the opening track "Your Feet In Wet Cement") to very tasteful good effect. He's fine lyricist too. From his pen flows richly evocative poetic phrases and fully realized story telling. Wonderful! Actually if you dug his fellow singer/songwriter friend Matt Bauer's last album The Island Moved In The Storm which also had a similar 'coming into one's own' feel this is very much for you (psst, Mr. Bauer makes a banjo and vocal guest appearance on one song)! Recommended!
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On his self-titled first album SF singer/songwriter Garrett Pierce treads the well-worn path previously and currently trodden by such fine earthy pop gents as Mark Eitzel, Will Oldham, Mark Kozelek, and Jason Molina... and he more than holds his own among these vets. An impressive debut.
The sudden breakup of garage punk legends Dead Moon caught more than a few people off guard, but we safely assumed Fred and Toody Cole, rock n' roll lifers by definition, wouldn't sit still for too long. Now Fred and Toody are back at it with new drummer Kelly Halliburton, and fans of the Coles' vast musical history will surely rejoice. The sound is not too far removed from Dead Moon - in fact, we might go as far as to say that it isn't in any way removed - so if you dig scuzzy, no frills rock free of all bullshit, this will be right up your alley. Descending Shadows cuts right to the point with production that is upfront and immediate, not at all over the top, working perfectly for these impassioned tunes. Vocals are split pretty evenly between the Coles and there is plenty of great husband and wife punk harmonizing. The songs are full of classic Pacific Northwest fuzz and grit, with Toody's simple driving basslines and Halliburton's steady pound working right alongside Fred's melodic riffing. For fans of Dead Moon, this one is a no brainer, while Descending Shadows is also a highly worthy place to start for the uninitiated. Really awesome stuff, not surprisingly.
Recently remixed by the likes of Coldcut, Fatboy Slim, William Orbit and a bunch of French people, this is the ORIGINAL ballet soundtrack that Pierre Henry scored in the late 60s, a truly bizarre mixture of psych rock and musique concrete. Rare import, hence the price.
L.Pierre... haven't we seen your face before? Hmmm, you kinda look like that Scottish lad Aidan Moffat, but you're French, right? Besides, your new instrumental album sounds nothing like his band Arab Strap. So you couldn't be one and the same, could you? Ah, but you are!
Each track on Touchpool is composed primarily from processed loops and programmed rhythms (although his fellow Arab Strapper Malcolm Middleton does step in to contribute some guitar on the fourth track "Baby Breeze"), and each evokes a different hazy atmosphere which could easily be put to good use on a film soundtrack. One odd moment on the album though is the sixth song "Velbon" on which Moffat, err, Pierre (formerly Lucky Pierre by the way) seems to be solemnly prodding at the melody to "Ave Maria" but never fully launches into it (and just as strangely brings it to a rather abrupt end). Likewise, there's not a great deal of development in the course of each of the other tracks neither. They tend to gradually come into view, linger in one place for a spell, and then fades away. Some folks may find this to be haunting and hypnotic, while others might find themselves seeking more stimuli after a few minutes.
Book Burner is the first record in 5 years from these grindcore gods. Their last full length was 2007's Phantom Limb, and as we mentioned in that review, as much as we dig these guys, we sort of dig PD frontman Scott Hull's -other- grind band even more, the twisted, warped, drum machine driven Agoraphobic Nosebleed, perhaps in part due to the fact that the music is not at all restrained by the limits of human drumming, which means that a lot of AnB stuff is ridiculously, and inhumanly fast, not to mention dizzyingly convoluted. But let's not sell PD drummer Adam Jarvis (who also plays in Misery Index) short, he comes about as close as any other human we can think of to insane hyperspeed drum damage, and the rest of the band follow suit, unfurling some seriously shredding, grinding heaviness, that in the world of grind really has no equal. We bitched about the more punky parts of the last record, and for the most part, that stuff has been jettisoned, in favor of lots of crushing slow and midtempo parts, that KILL, as well as crazy chunks of wild progged out math metal, which sound sooooo good, especially when paired up with bursts of lightning speed grinding blasts, the switch to churning chugging riffage only makes it sound that much heavier. And if anything, the sound of Pig Destroyer has continued to inch ever closer to that of Agoraphobic Nosebleed, more dense and complex, more furiously frenzied and fucked up. It's still somehow surprising the sort of hype this record's been getting, these guys popping up on the covers of all the metal mags, and no doubt filling up year end lists, but we have to say, as skeptical as we were, the more we listen to this, the more we're digging it, repeated listens yield a deeper appreciation of how fucking epic and relentlessly masterful this stuff really is, strap on some headphones and get lost in the wild squalls of grind, and the classic metal flecked churn and chug, a furious face melting modern grind metal powerhouse that jams 19 songs into 32 minutes, and sets the grind bar pretty goddamn high. As always, creepy artwork, demented lyrics, and a clutch of sick guest vocal spots from occasional PD/AnB vocalist (and full time Salome frontwoman) Kat Katz.
Who would have thought a band with name like Pig Destroyer, and heck, a band that -sounded- like Pig Destroyer, would be super popular, but just check out the sticker on the front of the new Pig Destroyer record Phantom Limb: "For fans of Slayer, Mastodon, Lamb Of God, Melvins, Black Dahlia Murder, Cephallic Carnage." Huh? Cephallic Carnage makes sense but the rest? It seems like maybe they're just saying, "If you like heavy music, this is heavy too, so you'll probably like it." Which is certainly true, but Pig Destroyer are way heavier and weirder and more extreme than most of those bands, but then again who are we to complain if the Alternative Press youth of today are digging shit like Pig Destroyer along with their Slipknot, way better than A.F.I. of Aiden.
But as much as we dig PD, we're still surprised at how popular they've become. They're definitely great, but not -that- great. Maybe if you have a limited exposure to grind, we can see how they might blow your mind. But personally we tend toward Pig Destroyer's drum machine drive alter ego Agoraphobic Nosebleed, who take the metallic grind of PD, and speed it up, twist it all around, and chop it into short sharp blasts of furious impossibly technical fury.
But fuck it, we're nitpicking, sure we like AnB more, but this is some seriously heavy and brutal metalgrind insanity. These guys totally destroy, and totally shred, super convoluted arrangements, confusional mathiness and superhuman tempos, all wrapped in super downtuned chug and blown out distortion, howled vocals and buzzing bass, lots of the tracks slip into a more straight ahead thrashing punk which we're not so into, but the blasting parts are face meltingly intense and so awesome, and PD do kick out some damaged sea sick doomy jams here and there that are pretty kick ass. And hell there are plenty of super catchy killer riffs dotting Pig Destroyers hyperspeed grindscapes.
So yeah, maybe we love Agoraphobic Nosebleed a bit more than PD, and this is definitely not our favorite Pig Destroyer disc (that would probably be the Painter Of Dead Girls comp, or maybe their debut full length Explosions In Ward 6), but fuck it, this is still severed heads and hacked-off shoulders above most grind, and definitely heavy enough to please most metalheads and grindfreaks alike�
Local gutter dwellers Pig DNA are only one full-length deep and already they're a no-brainer for Record Of The Week. It was precisely 34 seconds into Mob Shity that we knew this one was special, a drum fill that queues an almighty wall of blown out fury, a cathartic release of energy that does not let up for one second on the rest of the record. While Pig DNA's aesthetic has obvious nods to Japanese hardcore legends like G.I.S.M. and first-wavers like Discharge, the sound on here has much more in common with the fucked up anti-music of infamous Japanese noise group The Gerogerigegege than Randy Uchida's lobotomized take on hardcore and metal in G.I.S.M. Despite the franticness of Mob Shity, these 14 minutes or so of music are surprisingly rhythmic and calculated, also calling to mind the overblown pounding of early Whitehouse material, done without the aid of electronics.
This is punk music stripped down to its most pure musical form, primal, furious, relentless, and totally out-of-control. Easily one of the best punk records to come out on this side of the Pacific Ocean last year.
Latest slab of pummeling, punishing industrial power violence from this local one man band, who also just so happens to be 1/2 of another band we love, Iron Lung, but unlike Iron Lung, BHT, aka Jon Kortland, creates twisted blurts of caustic noise, grinding, distorted power electronics, and brutal metallic churn. This latest is split into 28 tracks, each 44 seconds long, each a sonic stunner, from skull cleaving blown out crush to sculpted static over stuttering jack hammer rhythms, it's a hard sound to swallow, difficult listening for sure, and it's likely most metalheads might find this a bit too brutal, and too abrasive, and probably not metal enough, which is saying a lot, but for folks into twisted avant noise, industrial and power electronics, outfits like Ramleh and Skullflower, Whitehouse and Swans, Brighter Death Now and Bastard Noise, PHT definitely fits somewhere amongst all their equally sonically twisted brethren!
Some tracks are strangely atmospheric, others purely rhythmic, the sounds themselves blown out and in-the-red, plenty of sonic gristle, crumbling feedback, hiss and hum and skree and squalls of feedback, metallic clang and clatter, with sounds often exploding into wild gouts of white noise, but just as often evolving into murky pulsations. Heady, heavy and hypnotic, the vocals a wild bellow, the only really link to the group's punk/metal roots, otherwise, the sounds is more experimental, and avant, and even with the vocals, the vibe is more like some lost industrial outfit from the eighties or nineties. There are plenty of surprise too though, moments of unlikely melody and beauty ("1970"), gorgeous bits of grey ambient drift ("Scum"), and a bunch of tracks that almost play out more like some warped variant of minimal techno, all skeletal crunch, and stuttery throb, and yet, it all somehow works together as this bizarre, noise drenched hydra-headed, 28 part psychedelic, power electronic noise-crust epic. And it KILLS.
Awesome orange and black minimal cover art too.
Folks went nuts for the PHT full length we reviewed a few weeks back, so here we have two new slabs of murky, muddy, downtuned sludge drenched power violence. Both tracks are gloriously crusty and filthy and so so so heavy, and would have fit perfectly on the full length.
One side features a massive lurching riff over machinelike drumming and howled vokills, pounding and relentless but strangely hypnotic almost like a sludgier Geronimo. The flip side is even doomier and more spaced out, with crushing low end, squiggly streaks of feedback, all wound into a lumbering grinding slow motion behemoth, with glass gargling vocals all beneath a thick layer of buzzy grit.
The weird part about this 7" is that both tracks, each side, features essentially an entirely different lineup! There's only one guy who plays on both sides and on one he plays drums, while on the other he plays bass. We knew they were a sort of collective and this seems to prove it. Especially considering that both sides definitely and distinctly reek of that filthy blackness that could only be Pig Heart Transplant.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES. Packaged in hand stamped plain red sleeves with a printed red bottom obi.
Second of two new seven inches from the Olde English Spelling Bee label (the other by Ducktails, reviewed elsewhere on this list), two new tracks from husband and wife psych folk duo Pigeons, whose sound is like a modern take on that classic seventies Wickerman acid psych folk sound, but a bit more twisted, flecked with bits of electronics, effects, not to mention fairly unorthodox arrangements, which is no doubt aided by the involvement of various guests including some No Neck Blues Band-ers.
The A side starts out all softly psychedelic and folky, sweetly strummed acoustic guitars, lush vocal harmonies, subtle slippery lap steel, but then all of sudden in swoops some weirdly almost funky bass, along with swirls of effected melodies and distorted psychedelic guitar leads making it sound almost like some strange psych folk / Portishead / no wave hybrid, but all the disparate elements woven into something dark and lovely.
The B side begins with brittle, skeletal old school style drum machine, horns and tendrils of distorted guitar, an odd assortment, but again Pigeons are able to fuse those bits and bobbles into a gorgeously off kilter hazy seventies sounding bit of lo-fi folk pop, laced with angular guitars, buried vox, and other bits of sonic weirdness, managing to sound strange and mysterious but still lush and lovely.
Pigeons are a Northwestern husband and wife psych folk duo, augmented by members of No Neck Blues Band and other NNBB offshoots, and this is Pigeons full length number two, released appropriately enough on the always kick ass Olde English Spelling Bee label, and this is indeed a gorgeous chunk of psychedelic folk, dark and heavy and hypnotic, big simple motorik drumming, distorted psychedelic guitar leads, simple acoustic guitar strum and heavenly ethereal vocals, not to mention various keyboards, and bits of percussion, total Wicker Man seventies style acid folk, but definitely modernized, imagine a young hippy folksinger in the UK in the seventies, suddenly transported to now, hooking up with the new breed of lysergic bedroom folk pop alchemists, well, this is the most likely result, at its core, pure lilting dream folk, but all wrapped up in strange swooping backwards guitars, fluttering flutes, detuned doomy riffs, skittery percussion, glitchy electronics, buzzy swaths of processed effects drenched psychswirl, wild spidery melodies, tons of reverb, and strange little bits of sonic detritus, all blurred into gorgeously lush lysergic acid folk, at once timeless and classic sounding, but also weirdly modern, almost like a Karen Dalton or Vashti Bunyan for the warped lo-fi garage pop set. Which is just as good as it sounds.
Housed in super swank tip on style jackets, comes with a download coupon as well!
One of our favorite instores in recent memory was a super special appearance by East Coast psych folk outfit Pigeons, who we already loved on record, but who proved to be even more entrancing in person, performing an amazing set for a small but utterly rapt audience. Their sound over the last few records has gradually grown more and more lush, more dreamy and druggy, and more shoegazey. We thought their last record Liasons was basically the culmination of this evolution, but then along comes They Sweethearstammers, which manages to up the ante on Liasons in pretty much every way. It's weirder, trippier, the strange sort of Portishead-y downtempo electronic elements even more twisted and strangely incorporated into the group's newly expanded sound, the vocals are more powerful, confident, often heavily effected, the bass is fuzzy and driving, adding a weird sort of gloomy pop vibe, from the very first track on They Sweethearstammers we knew we were in for something special. Sounding like some strange hybrid of lost seventies acid folk, some outsider British trip hop and Mazzy Star, all blurred into a gorgeously hazy drug drenched chunk of fuzzed out folky jangle pop. That buzzing bass driving everything, even mirroring the guitar melody here and there, acoustic guitars over jangly chorus laden electrics, everything layered and sun dappled, and of course some killer super distorted psych leads, all woven into a super catchy pop song. And that's just track one. It only gets weirder, and keeps getting better from there.
"Tout Nulle Part" is all gloomy and low slung, with some strange zither like buzz, some surfy twang, a little Morricone, a little Serge Gainsbourg, that driving fuzzy bass still holding everything down, the vocals lush and sensuous, the vibe dirgey and droney, but still strangely and hauntingly poppy, the song gradually coming apart as it goes, becoming more and more abstract, eventually dissipating in a cloud of electronics and detuned melodies. "Dead Echo" opens with some reverbed drumming, some super distorted vox, and what sounds like electric piano, or at least heavily effected guitar, the drums doing a sort of slo-mo 'funky drummer' shuffle, everything hazy and washed out and dreamily druggy, sounding a bit like a folkier, more tripped out Blonde Redhead. "Chances" is a strange one, big production, sassy glamorous vocals, some wah wah guitars, plenty of dubbed out production, what started out sounding super commercial, seems to grow more and more strange and lovely, eventually transforming into a cool murky bit of droney doom pop, before slipping right back into that opening groove. "Red Friend" is some lush perfect folk pop, very Beatles-esque, but even more lovely and lysergic. "Tournoi" reminds us of Ween, which is not a bad thing, it's the strange production, and the weird guitar sounds, maybe it sounds more like Mazzy Star with Dean and Gene Ween backing them up, either way, it's some gorgeously druggy psych pop for sure. "Lauren" starts off all tripped out experimental industrial, feedback, and rhythmic thumps, detuned twang and sci-fi shimmer, before slipping smoothly into some dark folk mesmer, while "The Welcome" is a lush murky sprawl of dirge dreaminess, a sort of muddy psych ballad, laced with strange acoustic guitar tangles, and lush layered drones, maybe the most deliriously mesmerizing track on the record, which leads right into closer "Cogville", which finishes things off with a brief bit of swirling tripped out horn laden dream pop chamber psych.
So great, not that we expected anything less, we just didn't expect something so far our and so far from where they started. So utterly and whole heartedly recommended.
Latest batch of woozy, dreamlike downtempo psychedelic folk from this husband and wife duo, and like their previous efforts, they subtly hybridize Portishead style trip hop with seventies style acid folk, the results are sublime, spidery guitars, hand claps (!), thick almost synthy sounding low end, skeletal rhythms and angelic reverbed vocals. The tracks drift and hover and shimmer, but occasionally are peppered with bits of psych rock fuzz and crunch, that sounds like it could have been lifted from the Latin American installment of those Love, Peace & Poetry comps, but the fuzz is fleeting, slipping quickly back into more dreamy drift.
The B side is even more melodic and melancholy, ditching the handclaps and more overtly programmed drums, introducing subtle wah guitars, and adding even more haze to the mix, the vocals positively dripping with space-y echo, both tracks here, haunting and lovely, and way recommended.
There's lots of ways we find out about cool new bands. We finally listen to a promo that came in the mail, or a customer raves about them, or we read about 'em in a fanzine or on the internet, etc. etc. One of the best ways though, is to randomly see a band playing live that you've never heard of before, and be impressed. That's the deal with how we discovered local SF heavies Pigs.
I (Allan) just moved into a new apartment here in the Mission, that's not too far from the Potrero del Sol skatepark. On one of the days I was moving stuff, I could hear live music coming from the direction of the park, where they do sometimes have outdoor shows. Sounded like yr basic punk rock, but then a band started playing that - as best I could tell from several blocks away - sounded much more metallic and interesting, with shredding guitar leads and chunky riffage and everything. And obviously very loud. So, needing a break from my moving tasks, I wandered over to the park posthaste to check out what was going on. When I got there, the band I'd heard was still playing, and they were GREAT. Super heavy, fairly hairy power trio (boy drummer, girl bassist, bearded dude guitarist / sometime vocalist) kicking out the jams big time, sorta like a scrappier, scuzzier Melvins, in their earliest, fastest, punkiest incarnation. Like, with some more Motorhead mixed in. I had a blast watching the rest of their set, totally into it, already wondering if they had any recordings I could get my hands on for Aquarius. Also wondering, just who the heck they were. Well both questions were soon answered when the drummer held up a garish purple, very DIY looking handscreened LP emblazoned with the name Pigs, saying they'd just put this record out. Better yet, moments later a friend of mine appeared, who it turned out was friends with band as well, and told me that he'd just been telling Pigs before they played that they should bring their album down to Aquarius. And so they did, a week or so later, not just the limited vinyl but also a cd version too.
Just like their live set, the album is a blast (of distortion, among other things). Sometimes slow and sludgy, equally often full of frenzied jamming, Illuminati House Party is pure metal-punk underground awesome, with more than a few nods to classic rock catchiness. Pigs traffic in Black Sabbathy riffs (most definitely in "Lurch"), their songs furthermore having plenty of rollicking swing to 'em a la both Sabbath and Sleep. The guitarist constantly peels off tangly, widdly leads like they're coming back into style. All the tracks here (11 of 'em) rule, from the sick-o smartassery of "Hard Lovin' Van", a song with gnarly Ginnish licks and hoarse, strangled vox that could almost be an old Tad tune (some of the lyrics: "let's go the lake, and feed the ducks...get in the van, take the candy"), to the even more punk "Population Control", to the wasted doom of "Hessian's Revenge" and sheer shred of "Surf's Up". And then there's the epic instrumental 3-part rifftastic "Taser Trilogy" wherein Pigs show off their Champsy chops, not to mention stoner sense of humor (and not for the first time on this record). Yeah, great stuff!
Is it possible to imagine an unholy hybrid of, um, Electric Wizard, Breadwinner, and, er, Pissed Jeans?? Pigs might be it. Soooo glad I was within earshot of the skatepark that day!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
No, not a reissue of Metal Box but rather a brutally immense four cd collection spanning Public Image Limited's career from the beginning into the early 90's as pop media saboteurs. This band still has no equal. Aside from being a sort of giant best-of, it contains BBC and Peel Sessions and some remixes (no, not drum 'n' bass versions). In a big grey jewel case embossed with silver and filled with great liner notes. Consume.
An extremely pretty, moody, mellow droney solo album from Italian electric guitarist Stefano Pilia... we neglected to list this when it came out some months ago but realized a) it's great and b) he's a member of recent AQ Record Of The Week scoring group 3/4hadbeeneliminated, so some of you just might want to know about this! Healing Memories was previously released a few years ago as a cd-r by Last Visible Dog, but now LVD have updated it with extra tracks and issued it as a real cd. As it should be, since it's quite nice indeed. Constructed mostly with tones and textures from an electric guitar, with some synth and electronics, tape loops and turntable. Slowly unfolding instrumental soundscapes that shiver with sensitive beauty. Restrained, relaxed, gorgeous. For fans of the likes of James Blackshaw, Steven R. Smith, and Giuseppe Ielasi.
First proper full length from these guys, a reissue of an out of print cassette, after appearances on the two Underwater Peoples samplers, and it's a killer. A totally tripped out chunk of tropical outsider pop damage. Acoustic guitars and simpler percussion, dreamy summery harmony vocals, all tangled up with huge swaths of fractured noise and crumbling distortion, twisted xylophone melodies, and swirling effects, long stretches of murky dirgey fuzz pop, muted drums, animal sounds (!), warped melodies... Imagine the Beach Boys, crossed with Animal Collective, crossed with lots and lots of cough syrup, smeary and blurry and dreamy. The guitars are effected and warped and pulled into glimmering streaks and jangly shard, the riffs are looped into stuttery almost synth sounding rhythms, acoustic guitars buzz and shimmer, beneath layers of feedback and percussive clatter and clang, swaths of hiss and blown out fuzz, the sound very much like the tropical lo-fi pop of Ducktails, but WAY WAY more tweaked and ramshackle and druggy and psychedelic and noisy and freaky. Which in case you couldn't tell, means we're loving this BIG TIME.
