[ aquarius records — Rock Pop ]

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Showing results 1251 through 1300 of 19388.

Just got these in today, list day, four new aRCHIVE dvd titles (Ai Aso, Mick Barr, Khlyst, and Suishou No Fune). So, we haven't had a chance to watch 'em yet but since they're limited and all we figured you'd rather we just went ahead and listed 'em now rather than waiting 2 weeks. And all four artists are pretty cool after all. Man, even if we got this last week we're not sure we'd have been able to give it a proper review in time for tonight's list - it's two whole dvds fergoshsakes, and watching even a few minutes of either of 'em is probably likely to induce seizures, seeing as how they document the INSANE guitar playing of our pal Mick Barr, from such techy/mathy/metally acts as Octis, Orthrelm, and Ocrilm. It's billed as "an inclusive look at Mick Barr's estoeric approach to guitar playing", featuring solo stuff, various groups, and footage of an improv meeting with Hella drummer Zach Hill. Essential for any fan of Barr and/or crazy guitar shred. 4 panel foldout cover, tons of vellum everywhere, with scribbly art on the vellum obi by Mick himself. Limited, OF COURSE, to a pressing of just 500 copies.

Somehow we managed to miss the debut full length on Handmade Birds from Barren Harvest, the duo of Lenny Smith from Atriarch and Jessica Way of Worm Ouroborus, and we're kicking ourselves now, 'cause this new release of theirs, on local label Black Horizons, reveals a compellingly mysterious soundworld, that owes more to groups like Comus and Death In June than it does to anything properly metal. While technically this is their latest release, what's on here are actually the earliest recordings from Barren Harvest, early demos, many of which would go on to be reworked and rerecorded for their full length, but they sound fantastic here just the way they are. Skeletal, minimal, bare bones, hushed and intimate, simple spidery arrangements of steel string buzz, delicate piano, moaning strings, darkly crooned male and female vocals, harrowing harmonies, almost liturgical at times, the sound a sort of neo-folk torch song, haunting, elegiac threnodies that seem to be emanating from those dark woods, or seem to be crooned by those robed figures surrounding that crumbling altar amidst the brambles by the seaside, the vibe windswept and overcast, grey, otherworldly and mysterious. LIMITED TO 233 COPIES, fantastically packaged, three 7"s, each packaged in their own sleeve, each one adorned with a drawing of a flower on one side, a sigil on the other, and each with a little printed lyric sheet, all printed in metallic silver on black, all housed in an inner AND outer slipcover, each again adorned with metallic silver artwork, and inside a small printed piece of owl art, very very very nice.

We flipped from the debut lp from these power pop punks, Nocturnal Missions, one of our favorites of 2011. Equal parts Cheap Trick, the Shoes, Dwight Twilley Band, that seventies Yellow Pills style power pop, cranked up and revved up with buzzing guitars and a hefty punk rock production. The result was easily one of our favorite punk-pop records in recent memory. This new 7" is/was part of a subscription series, but is also available on its own (we're listing the Terry malts installment elsewhere on this week's list), and is a doozy. Two 45rpm blasts of fuzzed out glammy, trashy power pop radness that sound like they could have been plucked right off Nocturnal Missions. The A side driven by some fuzzy organ and handclaps, sounding like a Yellow Pills version of the Ramones. The B side is total Cheap Trick worship, which minus the distorted buzz and blown out production would reveal some pretty perfect pop, there are even some rad falsetto backup vox. Way recommended, just like the full length.

We talk a lot in reviews about not judging books (or records more specifically) by their covers, but when we do, it's almost always in the context of doing just that, and realizing that by doing that, we had missed out on something cool. Which leads us to this, the latest instance of us judging a book by its cover, or in this case a record by its label, the newest from power poppers the Barreracudas (and yeah, that's the spelling, assuming it's referring to barre chords), whose debut is in fact the first thing we've ever reviewed on the, uh, Douchemaster label. And yeah, judging books by their covers blah blah blah, but c'mon, it's a little tough not to judge that book's cover when the cover says Douchemaster, but that said, these guys kick up a fantastic old school big guitar super hooky power pop racket, beholden to Cheap Trick, the Shoes, the Raspberries, the Dwight Twilley band, all the great seventies and eighties power poppers, and yeah, the guitars may be a bit crunchier, the production a little louder and punkier, but only a little, at their heart these songs are pretty goddamn perfect power pop and definitely sound like they could have been transported directly here from back in the day. In fact they remind us a lot of another modern retro power pop group (which just so happens to feature a member of Cheap Trick), who we raved about a while back, Tinted Windows, just check out "Baby Baby Baby". There's also a serious punk pop vibe, think The Dickies, the Ramones and other punk bands who were always more pop than punk. All the tracks here rule, hooky and heavy, crunchy and jangly, and quickly becoming out new favorite (power) pop record!

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Originally composed as the soundtrack for an upcoming Judge Dredd film adaptation (and rejected!), Drokk finds Geoff Barrow from Portishead, teaming up with composer Ben Salisbury for a dark futuristic synthscape that looks to the classic scores of John Carpenter and Goblin, but instead of sounding like just another record jumping on the retro-futuristic synthscape bandwagon, that seems to have infected so many other groups, the sound these two have conjured up is much darker, and much more dense. And it plays out more like an actual soundtrack, since after all it is (was?) one. Drokk offers up all sorts of rhythms and melodies and arrangements and textures that definitely do feel like cues, like sounds designed to accompany specific images and actions, and while in many cases, scores loosed from their films lose a lot of their power, that is definitely not the case here. The sound reminding us in places of Blade Runner, and displaying obvious influence from groups like Tangerine Dream. There are also some Portishead like moments, creeping spare downtempo dirges that work surprisingly well with the more driving puslating synths. The opening jam definitely sets the tone, and sounds like it must have been for the opening credits/sequence, a spare bit of synth pulse, underpinned by a high sinewave like tone, the synths growing ever more ominous, expanding into fuzzy swooping synths, before exploding into full on eighties style sequenced synth stutter, laced with reverby industrial percussion, the sounds dense and lush and layered, frantic and frenetic (it is titled "Pursuit" after all). From there on out it's easy to get lost in the Barrow and Salisbury's imagined soundworld, haunting minor key melodies, woozy percolating synths, primitive rhythms, one second all washed out and cosmic, the next dark and driving and relentlessly rhythmic. Needless to say, fans of the current crop of Carpenter/Goblin worshipping retro synthwranglers will flip for this big time, and while sonically, this does fit pretty perfectly alongside Umberto, Zombi, Majeure, Roll The Dice, Expo 70, Bitchin Bajas, Dylan Ettinger, Gatekeeper, Food Pyramid, Xander Harris and all the rest, Drokk actually manages to sound less like one of those bands looking to the past, and more like one of the originals from back in the day, looking forward, to some impossible unimaginable future, like the one we're living in today.

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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. Archers of Loaf somewhat make my skin crawl but this is a solo outing by one of the people in the band and *it's great*. Sounds like the Thinking Fellers in grade school.

Want to get lost in hazy, shimmering sounds that would sound perfect in the pristine church of 4AD worship? Sounds pretty great right, well, the sounds of Julianna Barwick deliver just that. With her looped ethereal vocals she creates such hypnotizing sounds that really evoke a more tripped out Lisa Gerard (Dead Can Dance) or Elizabeth Fraser (Cocteau Twins), a sound that is totally perfect for the crisp and cold days we've been experiencing as of late, each track a gorgeous soundtrack for bundled up evening strolls when you can see your breath in the air. Barwick has been crafting her own multi-layered, hazy and hypnotic sounds for several years now, in fact her self released debut, Sanguine, from over three years ago was a big favorite here in town at our local radio station KUSF and we're happy to have gotten that in as well which we'll most likely be gushing about on a future list. In fact that record came out just shortly after Grouper's wonderful debut Way Their Crept and the two definitely share a swirling and surreal sonic spirit.

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We knew it was only a matter of time before the ethereal magic of Julianna Barwick's music would capture the attention and imagination of the underground music scene. After two utterly gorgeous self released albums, Asthmatic Kitty wisely stepped up to sign her and release this brand new stunning set of songs, which finds Barwick's sound becoming even more pristine and dreamy. Alongside Grouper, Barwick really is doing wonders to channel the ethereal magic of 4AD's sound via Dead Can Dance, This Mortal Coil, and Cocteau Twins. Magic Place wastes no time heading right for the sky, which is where Barwick's songs always reside. Daydream reflections, moon worship hymns, sun cycle observations, close your eyes and let these sounds take you wherever they may. Beyond beautiful!

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Julianna Barwick makes the kind of music that totally transports us into that sort of hazy spaced out daydream we wish would stretch out into infinity. Using just her voice and assorted manipulated loops, Barwick creates an hypnotic environment of sound that conjures up images of standing all alone in a huge cathedral, lit with washed out light filtered through ornate glass windows, reflecting off silver and gold sculptures. There is something so totally otherworldly and church-gone-cosmic to the sounds on Sanguine, like floating in a pristine sky, high on codeine as you swirl amongst fallen angels and mysterious creatures. Self released back in 2006, we are so happy to finally get this in the store as it really is one of the most mesmerizing and beautiful records to come out in the last several years. Because of the lack of its distribution the first time around, Sanguine didn't get the attention it deserved, which is too bad, because it most likely would have enjoyed the same sort of praise and popularity that groups like Grouper have so rightfully received, creating sounds from a similar template. And while the Grouper comparisons are inevitable, there really is something unique and singular about the way Barwick channels the most psychedelic and ethereal 4AD inspiration into a totally DIY hypnotic state of sound. Blissed out to perfection!

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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. Another successful pairing of the older guard and the new wave, one of the latest in the RVNG label Frkwys series puts together experimental vocalist, Julianna Barwick (whose recent aQ instore was beautifully dreamy), and avant percussionist and seventies no wave music scene vet, Ikue Mori (DNA, John Zorn, Death Praxis). Recorded live during a residency at White Columns in New York last year, the two sides are the results of two different performance collaborations. The first side was made while Barwick and Mori were separated from each other in cubicles in the gallery, improvising together through aural suggestion. The second side was made with the artists working face to face. Both sides employ Mori's signature warbling crystalline electronics and sampled percussion triggers with Barwick's swelling gossamer and reverbed vocals in prolonged forays of electro-acoustic atmospherics and ambient abstraction, but each side has a different feel. The collaborative dynamics caused by closeness and distance move from a hushed majestic expansiveness to a more engrossed focused energy that demands your attention. Quite lovely!

If anything, it's about baseball of the soul... It's Tycho Brahe channeled through Ken Nordine in possession of an armload of Sandy Koufax fastballs. OK, I don't really know what Holy Mountain guru JW is talking about, but I think the Baseball Astrologer sounds like Godspeed You Black Emperor (a point of contention for sure, as JW vehemently despises Godspeed). Just as those opening deep drones backed the Native American tale of self-annihilation on F#A#oo, the Baseball Astrologer presents the booming existential monologues of Douglas Berman (painter, astrologer, raconteur, chai-maker, and dedicated walker) with the exceptional guitar drones, courtesy of Stephen Lobdell - currently of Faust. Each copy comes with a different 1970s baseball card - sorry the one with Rollie Fingers was already taken. Keep in mind we also still have the stellar solo LP from Lobdell under the name Davis Redford Triad.

Bonn Ist Supreme is a rare glimpse into the live performative side of guitar soli legend Robbie Basho. Recorded in Bonn, Germany six years before his death, Basho was by then in his less interesting Windham Hill phase of his career, but you wouldn't know it by this recording. Containing many pieces from his Takoma-era heyday, Basho's fusion of Celtic, Middle Eastern and medieval influences on his guitar work made him the least blues-based of the Takoma triad of himself, John Fahey, and Leo Kotte. Melding an esoteric spirituality to his playing style, it's easy to get lost in Basho's raga like compositions. Some of the pieces do contain his unique singing which is often a dealbreaker for some (though we dig his vocal stylings), but it doesn't get in the way too much here, and shouldn't keep folks from enjoying his mesmerizingly sublime guitarwork. Nice!

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A long-awaited reissue of Robbie Basho's debut, originally released on John Fahey's Takoma label in 1965. Basho was the third part of the Takoma triad which of course included Fahey and Leo Kottke. A big surprise that back then, Basho was the least popular of the three, as he has become a serious cult favorite of the genre since, and this first look into his unique take on Guitar Soli shows why. Basho was the least interested in American forms of blues, classical and ragtime, and sought out instead Celtic and Oriental idioms which heavily influenced his music, giving his work a searching devotional quality. But he also wasn't afraid of performing with a brusque playing style as long as it captured an unfettered emotional intensity. This set definitely highlights his inventiveness as he uses the guitar body for a resonating percussive instrument and even accompanies himself on the flute on one song. Housed in a Smithsonian Folkways style tip-on sleeve, with a simple hermetic drawing, Seal of The Blue Lotus has the feel of an arcane mystical object, one that imparts ancient wisdom to seekers of the craft. Basho's records didn't have cryptic liner notes or partake in humorous antiquated eccentricities, so their more serious reverential nature may have had something to do with his lower profile on the Takoma roster, but probably everything to do with why his records are so coveted now.

Heeey Bassholes fans, time to get off yer (b)asses! 'Cuz there's a new collection of their old singles and unreleased stuff from the early '90s. Broke Chamber Music brings their unmistakable trashy nasty blues rawk right back to your front stoop. Still ripe and ready to chafe many a delicate ear, these are the raw gritty folk songs to play while you're chippin' the crud off your mud-caked boots with a termite-infested twig. Seriously fucked-up, slurred vocals that sound alternately like they're being sung by someone who's had his tongue cut out and sewn back in or some stunted teenager messing with the tape speed on his tape recorder. Very Ween-ish (or maybe it's the other way around). Includes a bang-up cover of Rodd Keith's delightful song-poem "Little Rug Bug"!

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We first got a glimpse of the newly invigorated, and newly METAL-ized Bastard Noise on the recent split with The Endless Blockade, with BN sounding like the second coming of Man Is The Bastard, all heavy and noisy and bassy, but still rife with noise and electronics, incorporating our favorite elements of Bastard Noise offshoot Geronimo into a dizzying hybrid, that hit the spot like crazy. So with this new full length, Bastard Noise have pushed that sound even further. Opening with a brief spoken word monologue, the band explode in an electronic flecked bass heavy crush, the bass and drums locked tight, a lumbering lurching dirge, proggy and intricate, and weirdly melodic, with some of the SICKEST vocals ever, alternating death metal growls and throat shredding shrieks, and all over the place, thick shards of damaged electronics and fractured effects, careening wildly until finally locking into a groove that just won't quit, chaotic drumming, low slung bass buzz, the heaviest, most bad ass thing we've heard in ages. "Me And Hitler" is another blast of Man Is The Bastard style bass driven powerviolence, but with the addition of those shrieked almost black metal vocals, and still more caveman electronics... and when the band again get all proggy and intricate and heavy and groovy, they almost sound like Nomeansno, if NmN were WAY meaner and brutal and caustic, which is in NO way a bad thing. The whole record is a crushing downtuned post-punk avant prog powerviolence electronic kraut-dirge motherfucker, the songs lurch and swing and grind and blast and pound and pummel, bursts of double kick underpin shards of crackling electronic glitchery and analog skree, there are some really strange stretches of almost jazzy drift, crooned reverbed ambience, operatic abstraction, spaced out dronemusic and moody instrumental skitter, but those brief moments only serve to balance the otherwise insanely and genius-ly brutal heaviness. Fuck, this totally rules!

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The return of long running Man Is The Bastard offshoot Bastard Noise, who now have a body of work that dwarfs their previous group's comparatively tiny catalog, but who took a long time to win us over. Not sure if it was the disappointment of no more MITB or that suddenly Bastard Noise seemed to release a million records, or that our heart belonged to Amps For Christ. Whatever the reason, it took a few years, but we learned to love BN, even more so lately as they've seemed to have become a real band, a real HEAVY band. Gone are the days of harsh noisescapes and power electronics, the band are now a serious sonic forces to be reckoned with, in BAND form, and on their latest, they continue on the path set forth on A Culture Of Monsters, melding tripped out psychedelic ambience, to lurching lumbering doom, the rhythm section as tight as MITB ever was, the shrieked vox seriously harrowing, a good foil for the monstrous guttural growls, and as we mentioned in our Record Of The Week review of A Culture Of Monsters, the bass tone, and the overall bass driven heaviness, had us not only thinking of the legendary Nomeansno, but also another MITB offshoot, former Record Of The Week-ers Geronimo, whose krautrock like rhythmic mesmer seems to have found its way into BN's new sound. The opening title track might be the most epic thing BN has ever recorded, a creeping ambient drone/dirge, that finds the band churning and chugging, howling and pounding over a hazy shimmery smear, their metallic crush augmented by some hushed ethereal flutter, the sound almost Native American, it's a strange combo, but it works, weirdly, the track easing up partway through its 13+ minutes, the band unfurling a kosmische sci-fi shimmerscape, before lurching and lumbering back into action, and pounding out the last couple minutes. Much of Skulldozer actually seems to have the band channeling their former group, with short bursts of jagged punkish power violence, but then the band slip right into their other incarnation, the other side of the band we love, their abstract psychedelic space drift ambience, last heard in full bloom on their awesome Rogue Astronaut record, and so goes the rest of Skulldozer, lurching from churning powerviolence crush, to glitched out abstract sci-fi drift, to experimental ambience, to blackened metallic pound and back again. Totally ruling, and most definitely a new favorite!

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Sixty-two more minutes of wonderfully harsh, grinding noise from John Wiese and Eric Wood of Man Is The Bastard. Features two long ass tracks previously available, one on a really limited Japanese tour 3" cd-r, the other on a one sided 12" that we've had

RealAudio clip: Denied Psychotic Human Pt. 2

We love Man Is The Bastard. Always have. So we wanted to love Bastard Noise as well. And we did, once in a while, but we might as well fess up, the thing that kept us from truly embracing Bastard Noise, was in fact, the NOISE. Allan may be into his speaker shredding Japanoise, and Jim definitely loves his minimal grind and glitch, but for the most part, noise music has generally left us a bit cold. That's not to say there haven't been exceptions, there most definitely have, and those exceptions tend to be when the noise is less 'noisy' and more drone-y or textural or dynamic or all three. Our favorite Merzbow records tend to be the ones where Masami Akita isn't just spewing a face full of hot white noise. Our favorite noise records to tend toward the dronier more ambient side of the noise spectrum. So there have definitely been some Bastard Noise jams that have totally hit the spot, Descent To Mimas was one, released on Ground Fault, and Rogue Astronaut is definitely another, just out on Gravity. Rogue Astronaut seems to be sonically and thematically a sort of continuation of Descent To Mimas. Another noise opera of sorts, a tale of post apocalyptic space travel, of dead satellites and a withered Earth, of floating alone through space, of the endless expanse and the soul shearing loneliness of the Rogue Astronaut. Much like Mimas, and our favorite noise records, the sounds on Rogue Astronaut are less harsh and heavy, and more atmospheric and textural, the ten minute opener, even features haunting falsetto vocals set amidst an expansive drift of analog buzz and electronic squelch, layered drone, and a symphony of upper register tones, the sounds are noticeably Bastard like, raw and corrosive and analog and lo-fi, but deftly arranged into epic sweeping dronescapes and noisescapes, slipping from minimal buzz and glitch to full on fuzzed out malfunctioning electronic roar. Track two, "Ryobi Party" sounds a bit like another post Bastard project, Geronimo, only with the drums stripped away, and the addition of gurgling demonic vokills. The twenty minute title track is gorgeous and space-y, the tones and sounds and textures allowed to sprawl and spread out, set amidst a lush backdrop of reverbed black shimmer, and deep ominous drones, the squelches and glitches like lost radio broadcasts, drifting aimlessly through the inky blackness of space. Sheets of feedback are muted into layered high end whirs, the 'noise' is allowed to hover and float and change shapes and transform, the track is almost like some strange beast made out of sound, captured so we can observe it in captivity, watching as it morphs before our very eyes, a sonic representation of what lies beyond. The track is less about noise, and more about ambience, and mood, and it does create an intense and ominous and super evocative cinematic soundworld. The last three tracks cycle through the various shades of noise and space, highlighted by the darkly delicate "Moonpool Team", which begins as a hushed ultra minimal drift, before it transforms into a groovy, moody, reverby almost Eastern sounding bit of abstract soundtrack music, like it could have come from some crazy lost sixties space epic, gorgeous soaring vocals, the grinding electronics muted and smeared into almost melodies, peppered with the occasional violent squall, but for the most part, a gorgeous languid landscape of deep bell like tones and swirling space-y noise flecked shimmer. Gorgeous packaging too. Metal foil stamped booklet that folds out into a poster, with full color inserts/cards as well as a sticker.

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Bastard Wing is the duo of Christina Carter from Charalambides and Andrew MacGregor who records as Gown. A while back we reviewed a cd-r collaboration between MacGregor and Carter, which was a strange and creepy affair, but also a fairly caustic and atonal one, with plenty of anguished Jandekian wailing and Keiji Haino like frenzied howling, cacophonous and bizarre, but beautiful in it's own damaged way. The Bastard Wing finds the two in a much more contemplative mood, spreading out warm thick blankets of psychedelic strum, swirling fuzzy ambience, over which breathy ethereal vocals drift and shimmer, gorgeous foggy soundscapes of distant blown out psych guitar, haunting disembodied vocals, crackling crunchy distortion, swooping vocals that seem to creep up right to the microphone before fading into the murky background, everything bathed in thick reverb, tons of delay and clouds of swirling outer space FX. Some tracks sound like deconstructed Mazzy Star, with any semblance of 'rock' taken out, so the ghostly remnants are allowed to drift incorporeally heavenward, while others are frenzied otherworldly rituals, dense with thick vocal swirl and damaged guitar histrionics, although even at their most manic, everything is muted and smeared into an indistinct haze. Creepy and lovely. Definitely for fans of Grouper, Lichens and of course Charalambides. Like all Free Porcupine Society releases, nicely packaged, this time in a cool simple white cardstock folder, printed with metallic silver ink, spare and striking.

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So cool. We've been wanting to list this for a while, finally got a bunch of copies so we can. It's a disc collecting early pieces by one of our favorite idiosyncratic music makers and sonic visionaries, Pierre Bastien. For those who have yet to discover the joys of Bastien, imagine strange haunting lullabies, played BY ROBOTS. Real Robots! Well sort of. Bastien would take apart old turntables, use bits of random electronics, stuff laying around the garage, sometimes adding multiple tone arms to record players, sometimes using bits of metal and electronics to create little machines that would pluck strings, or make little rhythms, and he would play along usually on trumpet. It sounds strange, but the music he created was magical, mysterious, childlike, but strangely mechanical (obviously) and haunting. Like a super DIY bedroom Philip Jeck but with a band of homemade robots! Sold? We figured you'd have to be. We've been pretty obsessed with Bastien and his music ever since we first heard his Musiques Paralloidres album almost 10 years ago. This compilation collects a bunch of early tracks, a handful never before released, all from well before his first proper album, mostly culled from the eighties although one track is from WAY back in 1968, an untitled track for prepared guitar and Metronome! Soon, rather than utilizing a mundane metronome, he was indeed building his own mechanical music-making helpers, the "Meccano". Each one custom-designed to accompany Bastien on plucked strings, skipping record, scraped metal, automated percussion, whatever Bastien imagined as accompaniment for a specific song. The results are divine, tick-tocking, clicking and clacking, wavering and warbling, dark plucked melodies, dizzying fragmented loops, squiggle and scrapes, alternatingly mesmeric and gentle, chaotic and clattery, a sound like a ramshackle music box, gives way to a sweet child-like melody, the sound of a toybox coming to life once the children are asleep, a mini toy orchestra performed in the still of night, with only the moon and the stars looking on. Many of the tracks feature much more actual playing than later Bastien discs, but the robots are still out in full force, playing along, his own little mechanical band. All of Bastien's records are fabulous, super creative, innovative, baffling, fun and funny, playful and sometimes silly, but just as often dark and beautifully brooding. Mecanoid, Pop, the recently reviewed Visions Of Doing, all of them deserve to be in the collection of any adventurous music lover, and Les Premieres Machines 1968-1988 most certainly does too! The booklet features a few photos, liner notes in French only (unfortunately), and an extensive discography!

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We sure are suckers for unconventional music making. Be it accidental (ice melting, applause, junkyards, metal rusting, fire burning) or environmental (elephants, sled dogs, cats purring, FROGS!, bats) and most especially the mysterious or unexplained (the sounds of the dead, breaking through the radio waves, haunting shortwave spy transmissions). Then there is a whole other realm of unconventional music making: the mad scientist. Why form a band, when you can construct robots and machines to play all the instruments? Why actually play the piano, or the guitar, or the drums, when you can construct an elaborate set of pulleys and levers and gears and axles that will play them for you? Why be happy with a turntable that plays records with only one stylus when you can make music with a turntable equipped with multiple needles? We can only assume Pierre Bastien asked these same questions, and the answer he came up with is Pop. Forty five minutes of simple, repetitive, hypnotic and mesmerizing machine driven minimal krautrock. That's right, krautrock is what this sounds like. In lesser hands a room full of self playing instruments would most likely result in a sterile series of sound events, but Bastien has a deft hand and a keen ear, and breathes life into his automatons, delicate contraptions that each contribute a unique element to a song, not just spitting out sounds -- strange gadgets that play simple chords on a keyboard, an apparatus to beat out simple insistent rhythms, all manner of haunting minor key plinkety plonk, crisp windup toy clickety clacks and disgruntled grinding large machinery groans and whines, some strange warped turntablizations, wearily wheezing woodwinds, all woven into spare stretches of minimally propulsive ambience. Sounds a bit like an army of tiny wind up toys assembled in an automated sonic ballet, an inhuman menagerie making music more human that it seems possible. The vibe is very fuzzy and washed out, droney and dolorous, smeary and sepia-toned, definite shades of Philip Jeck and Tim Hecker, with plenty of creak and crackle surrounding the minimal melodies and subtle rhythmic pulses within each song. It's easy to become obsessed with the method behind the music, and the amount of obviously painstaking preparation that went into creating these machines. And why not?! It's absolutely mind boggling to be sure, but even beyond the mere construction of these music making mechanisms, imagine figuring out how to get these 'things' to make these sounds, and THEN somehow to compose music this lovely and captivating. Seems impossible. Surely, Pop is too perfect to be accidental, too beautiful to be pure luck, too musical to be anything other than the work of a brilliant mad sonic scientist. Or better yet, and possibly more likely, imagine Bastien is nothing if not lucky, a man who somehow stumbled upon a secret world of machines, in some mysterious forgotten warehouse, in some dark overlooked part of town, an insulated little world populated by these devices, not a living breathing creature in sight, just shelves full of strange little contraptions, all running endlessly and self controlled, creating this beautiful music as if that's what they were designed to do, and he was just the first to stumble upon this place, these things, and was able to capture these mysterious sounds before one night, that building and those things were nowhere to be found. Sounds farfetched, maybe a little silly, but it's the sort of romantic story that befits music this warm and beautiful and mysterious, whether it was ultimately the work of a man, or the just the serendipitous sounds of a room full of machines.

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MPEG stream: Noon
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Here's a band that far outshone most of their contempories but somehow managed to slip through the cracks and become more known as a footnote of the bands that came after than the rock legends they truly were. Ever wonder where David Grubbs spent his time after Squirrelbait and before Gastr Del Sol? Ever wonder what Bundy Brown did before Tortoise? Ever wonder what John McEntire did before he was in Tortoise and the Sea & Cake and started producing Stereolab Records? Did you ever wonder what band featured members who would go on to play in bands like Slint, Evergreen, King Kong, The For Carnation and more? Well, if you did, the answer is a resounding BASTRO! This live release was supposed to coincide with the two proper Bastro lps finally released together on a single cd, but there seems to be some weird legal hang up, presumably with Bastro's old label Homestead, but for now we have this glorious live record, from one of the most amazing bands of the late eighties / early nineties. If you're already a fan, this record is Holy Grail type shit, all songs that were never recorded, caaptured live right before the band broke up. Some of these songs morphed into Gastr Del Sol songs, but a whole new record of never-before-heard Bastro songs should have your jaw around your ankles. And for those of you new to the whole Bastro experience, these songs will definitely whet your appetite for more. Bastro are really hard to descibe, which could be why maybe they ended up going over a lot of people's heads. They incorporated lots of elements of other post hardcore / college rock bands but in perfectly obtuse, totally unlikely ways. You can hear bits and pieces of Jesus Lizard, Big Black, Rapeman, Scratch Acid, Drive Like Jehu and Don Caballero. They started out as a sort-of-industrial-noise rock band a la Big Black, turned into a pumelling noise rock combo, and eventually morphed into a dense, complex avant-math-rock outfit, which is where this live recording catches them, live in 1991, in Chicago and Germany. Super serpentine guitar lines, extended convoluted song structures, impossibly mathy drumming (resident AQ drummer Andee spent ages learning and then playing along to Bastro songs, and considered McEntire one of his favorite drummers back then) all in a dense tangle of fragmented pop, mathy post rock and obtuse musical chaos. So incredible. As much as we love the bands that came after, Bastro still hold a special place in our heart, their music somehow transcending the music of almost all of their contemporaries, melodic, heavy, bizarre, beautiful. We're dying for the reissue of the albums proper, but for now we'll just listen to Antlers, over and over and over and over and over..... Also includes two live Quicktime videos of Bastro live in Germany and Holland!!!

MPEG stream: Antlers
MPEG stream: Educated Fool

THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. Wow, Homestead reissues two of Andee's favorite records ever (see The Frogs, below). There was a time, pre-Tortoise and pre-Gastr del sol, when John McEntire and David Grubbs rocked. I mean really ROCKED. Hard to believe, but in 1989, those guys were making some of the meanest, noisiest (barely indie) rock around as Bastro. Nasty Albini-ish high end guitar assaults, hammering rhythms, and howlingly furious vocals, made them Slint's bigger and meaner noise rock brother. Awesome.

THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY.

Natasha Khan, the artist behind Bat for Lashes, is a one-woman wonder. Though assisted by numerous musicians - including Scott Walker (!) on "The Big Sleep" - Bat for Lashes is obviously Natasha's heart and soul project. When one person is the primary songwriter/musician, there's an almost undefinable connectivity and synergy in the instrumentation that is difficult to achieve with a "real" band. The interplay between vocals and synths, how one will flow into another and then back, just as the koto-inspired drum programming kicks in, it's brilliant. There's pretty, tinny piano synths, brooding gothic synths, and sweeping orchestral synths, with just enough violin or guitar or live percussion to keep it from sounding completely electronic. Honestly, the artist that comes to mind more than anyone else while listening to "Two Suns" is Kate Bush, and while that may be a turn-off for some, it's a huge freakin' compliment as far as we're concerned. Like Kate Bush, Bat for Lashes can turn what would otherwise be semi-cheesy instrumentation into interesting, beautiful songs. Highlights include the opening song "Glass" (a little bit Bjork, a little bit of the Creatures), the second song "Sleep Alone" (a whole lot of Kate Bush), and the Scott Walker duet "The Big Sleep".

MPEG stream: Glass
MPEG stream: Siren Song
MPEG stream: The Big Sleep (Featuring Scott Walker)

With past releases including Acid Mother's Temple and Yahowha 13, we can always count on Prophase to deliver a lysergic dose of psychedelic awesomeness. Gypsy Woman is their latest offering of psych-folk bliss, a free-flowing cosmic epic from Oakland's tarot warrior Janina Angel Bath. With the help of some friends and a wide array of world instruments, including bansari, tamboura and flute, Ms. Bath gently crafts an otherworldly escape into ethno-drone solace. While Gypsy Women is heavily decorated with exotic instrumentation and dizzying effects, the majority of the album revolves around Ms. Bath's vocal work. "Mystic Lady", a favorite track of ours, probably because it features Kazem Zia Ebrahimi on electric sarod, unfolds like a hazy desert dreamscape. Somber gestures from the sarode weave in and out of Bath's vocal croons, swells of reverb fade into the distant horizon as the many layers fall into place like a leaf onto water, so mysterious and elegant.

MPEG stream: Everyday Is Different
MPEG stream: Mystic Lady

THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. Imported from New Zealand. Bathgate is also guitarist in Tall Dwarfs.

In a former life, Alec Bathgate was one half of the New Zealand indie rock band Tall Dwarfs (Chris Knox was the other half). He's now gone solo, shifting his focus slightly for The Indifferent Velvet Void. His overall sound is along the lines of the soft, wispy twee folksiness crafted by Elephant 6 Collective bands such as Olivia Tremor Control, Minders or Apples In Stereo, but we sensed some subtle Raspberries '70s softrock influences too. The first song immediately made Cup start singing "Yummy yummy yummy I've got love in my tummy!" but then again that might also be because she'd just eaten an enormous slice of chocolate cake. Nevertheless, this is some super sweet retro poppiness which just might tickle your fancy if you dig any/all of the artists mentioned above!

MPEG stream: In The Shadows
MPEG stream: New Day

We actually thought this was going to be the SF band Baths we've been hearing so much about but turns out there is actually a Baths from LA who are way different but totally awesome as well (the San Francisco Baths are changing their name and we're anxious to hear a record from them one of these days too). This Baths is a one man warped electro-hip-hop artist out of Los Angeles who fits so perfectly on Anticon. This is a record that really does sound like the natural progression for the label and its sound really needed and deserved. Approaching left field pop with the same kind of vision that folks like Black Moth Super Rainbow/Tobacco have, infusing hip-hop production and beats into a much more nuanced and Technicolor soaked melodicism. Crazy to think this guy is only 21, as the music he makes sounds so assured flows so flawlessly. Armed with J Dilla like beats and Neon Indian sounding production, this is totally hitting the spot right now!!

MPEG stream: Maximalist
MPEG stream: Hall
MPEG stream: Apologetic Shoulder Blades

When it rains, it pours. Especially when we're talking about, um... shit? Bathtub shitter that is. Now that the world has discovered the joys of Bathtub Shitter and the 'Shitter are no longer just an underground grindcore secret, the band have systematically been re-releasing their long out of print (and unbelievably kick ass) early seven inch singles. Bathtub Shitter were pretty dang prolific with more than a dozen singles and even more compilation tracks under their belts before they finally released a proper full length. So here we have the Angels Save Us 7" from 2002 and the Mark A Muck 7" from 2001, as well as a bonus track from a long out of print grindcore compilation. So if you're new to Bathtub Shitter, here is as good a place to start as anywhere. Imagine a grindcore band that incorporates bits of Zeppelin, and surf rock, and metal into their grind, occasionally veer off on questionable tangents and explore truly bizarre musical flights of fancy the way Japanese bands are often wont to do. But as with most bands, it's the vocals that -make- the band, but most bands probably don't have a skinny Japanese vocalist who bellows like an overwight demon with indigestion one minute, and screeches and squeals like an hysterical teenage girl the next. Sounds weird? It is. Really weird. But so funny and cool. A completey unpredicatable and super fun blast of chaotic grinding metallic rock and roll weirdness. Limited to 1000 copies and hand numbered!

MPEG stream: Introduction (Bathtubshitter Theme Song)
MPEG stream: Reek And Leak
MPEG stream: Big Hip Pig

Every kid dreads finding a lump of coal in their stocking come Christmas morning, so much so that many spend the weeks or months before the big day doing their very best to ensure their spot on Santa's 'Nice' list. No more teasing the siblings, no more grousing about yardwork, cheerfully doing all their chores, eating all their vegetables, doing all their homework. Whatever it takes. But this year kids have something else entirely to worry about. Sure finding a lump of coal is a drag, but how about finding your stocking full of shit!! Well around here, that's something to be excited about. Because this is the year that Brown Santa comes to town. And who better to fill our hearts with Christmas cheer and regale us with tales of Brown Santa than Japan's shit obsessed grind lords Bathtub Shitter? That's right, it's a Bathtub Shitter Christmas. Record! Forget your Nat King Cole, and Perry Como, and Bing Crosby, and Barbara Striesand, this is the only Christmas record you need! And it's conveniently stocking sized, a cute lil' 3" cd, jam packed with furious grind, howling pummeling brutality, and lots and lots of shit. For those of you new to the wonderful world of Bathtub Shitter, let's refer to a past review that perfectly and succinctly describes the Bathtub Shitter Experience: Imagine some strange mix of Drop Dead, the Boredoms, Brutal Truth, CSSO, death metal, grindcore, and well....um...shit! Crunchy riffs swing from almost-surf rock, to Zeppelin groove to metallic crunch, but spend most of their time in grind mode, splattered and speeding out of control. Crazy drumming, farting bass and some wicked guitar noodling add to the sick sonic stew. But the vocals are where things get really weird. The main vocals are of the burping, grunting, cookie monster death metal variety, belching out indecipherable tales of shit and shitting, but their foil is a squealing, squeaking little girl of a man voice, sounding either like a babblingly hysterical middle age housewife shrieking at the top of her lungs or a horror movie cheerleader being evicerated, screaming in that terrified way only dying cheerleaders in horror movies do. The two vocal styles swing and switch and battle and butt heads like some sort of bastard grindcore Beastie Boys. Or imagine Chuck D as Chris Barnes in his Cannibal Corpse days and Flavor Flav as the aforementioned shrieking dead cheerleader. With the everpresent S1Ws made up of members of S.O.D. and Angelcorpse. Other sorts of vocals are occasionally introduced like the 'dog barking underwater' and the 'asthmatic yodel'. The truly strange part is that all of the various vocals come from the very same guy! Speaking of vocals, our Bathtub Shitter Xmas starts off with the a cappella "Brown Santa", a confusing and brilliantly bizarre series of shrieks and gurgles, grunts and wheezes. This guy could very well give Jaap Blonk a run for his money. Track two is the reverential hymn "Holy Shit", a grinding blast of Japanoise flecked surf-sludge-grind-rock, with insane squiggly guitars, chugging downtuned riffs, blasting octopoidal drumming and of course the 'Shitter hi / lo, shriek / growl vocal battle is in full effect. And finally, what better way to finish things off, than with a classic holiday chestnut, this time roasted over roaring hellfire!! WOOOAHHHAAAA. "Little Drummer Boy" turned into a sludgy slab of slow motion drone metal, huge churning guitars, the only glimpse of the original being the martial snare drum rat a tat tat-ing beneath all that sludge and of course the impossibly guttural growling cookie monster vocals spweing out a barely recognizable "parumpapumpum". Wow! Now if that doesn't sound like something everyone would want to find in their stocking or under the tree Christmas morning then we don't know does! "We're dreaming of a... Brown Christmas!"

MPEG stream: Holy Shit
MPEG stream: Brown Santa (A Cappella Version)

Holy shit!!! A brand new record from our favorite Japanese stoner grind sludge punk rock group. Possesor of quite possibly the best band name ever. And most appropriate too, as the band seems strangely pre-occupied with shit (although not bathtubs so much). It's been raining 'Shitter reissues as the band works through their considerable back catalog of singles and split eps, so we ordered this thinking it was another reissue, but lo and behold, it's a whole disc of brand spanking new Bathtub Shitter. For those of you new to the world of Bathtub Shitter, imagine the bastard spawn of Brutal Truth, the Boredoms, Celtic Frost, Black Sabbath, and Dick Dale. Stoner grooves collide with buzzing goregrind, surf rock licks sit unexpectedly amidst sludge metal riffs and lightning fast blast beats. A glorious goofy grinding metallic mess as only the Japanese can do it. But the star of any Bathtub Shitter is Masato Henmarer Morimoto, the owner of quite possibly the most ridiculous and breathtaking set of vocal chords ever. On first listen, we were convinced that BS must have had at least two vocalists, maybe more, but it's all the work of one man, Masato. Once you hear it you'll understand why it's so hard to believe. There is of course the requisite goregrind gurgle, a rumbling, phlegm spewing demonic growl, then there's the sort of punk rock yelp, that balances the first voice a bit, but it's the third distinct voice that blows the mind. A piercing, falsetto, damsel in distress, horror movie massacre, cheerleader / housewife shriek. It's so crazy, but sounds so great, especially when engaged with the aforementioned growl in a sort of unholy duet, like a grindcore Beastie Boys, but battling atop a swirling squirmy mass of downtuned guitars, rumbling bowel loosening bass and blasting splattery drumming. WE LOVE BATHTUB SHITTER. Packaged like the last few BS releases in an oversized 7"style sleeve with really cool and creepy cover art!

MPEG stream: Skate Of Bulgaria
MPEG stream: World Dun Hole
MPEG stream: Umber

If you've been hanging out with me (Andee) much lately, you've undoubtedly heard me singing the praises of Bathtub Shitter. In fact before I had even heard them, I knew Bathtub Shitter had the potential to be my favorite band. C'mon, they're Japanese, they are called Bathtub Shitter, oh and did I mention they only sing about shit? For a while I was fantasizing about releasing a split with the two best bands in the world (as determined at the time solely by monicker as I had yet to hear either) Bathtub Shitter and Fuck I'm Dead. I'm still thinking about it, but while I ruminate, we're lucky to have this, the first full length Bathtub Shitter record and their only cd. We spent a good long while tracking down 7"s, but since the world leans heavily in the digital direction we had to wait until this beautiful shiny shit-obsessed marvel fell into our hands! What's it sound like you're probably wondering by now. Well, imagine some strange mix of Drop Dead, the Boredoms, Brutal Truth, CSSO, death metal, grindcore, and well....um...shit! Crunchy riffs swing from almost-surf rock, to Zeppelin groove to metallic crunch, but spend most of their time in grind mode, splattered and speeding out of control. Crazy drumming, farting bass and some wicked guitar noodling add to the sick sonic stew. But the vocals are where things get really weird. The main vocals are of the burping, grunting, cookie monster death metal variety, belching out indecipherable tales of shit and shitting, but their foil is a squealing, squeaking little girl of a man voice, sounding either like a babblingly hysterical middle age housewife shrieking at the top of her lungs or a horror movie cheerleader being evicerated, screaming in that terrified way only dying cheerleaders in horror movies do. The two vocal styles swing and switch and battle and butt heads like some sort of bastard grindcore Beastie Boys. Or imagine Chuck D as Chris Barnes in his Cannibal Corpse days and Flavor Flav as the aforementioned shrieking dead cheerleader. With the everpresent S1Ws made up of members of S.O.D. and Angelcorpse. Other sorts of vocals are occasionally introduced like the 'dog barking underwater' and the 'asthmatic yodel' but I don't want to give away too much. It's better if you just let the Bathtub Shitter unfold before you like a beautiful, shit-filled flower.

MPEG stream: Control Of Own Hole
MPEG stream: One One One
MPEG stream: Fuck Hip Raper

What else to say about Bathtub Shitter at this point? We've gushed and gushed in review after review. If you're a loyal AQ list reader, you probably know all there is to know about these guys. But for those of you who have somehow missed out on the goofy grind glory that is Bathtub Shitter, check the AQ website to read all about Japan's masters of shitgrind! But in a nutshell, BS are a whirling blast of super technical downtuned metallic grind, with plenty of groove and surf rock (!) and any other weird musical bits they choose to incorporate. Fast and furious and sometimes funny. A buzzing blasting metallic maelstrom, topped with some of the coolest, weirdest vocals EVER! A grunting guttural death metal growl, gurgling and demonic, but that in the blink of an eye, can suddenly switch into hysterical falsetto, like a screeching cheerleader, or a yapping lap dog. So weird, but somehow so goddamn perfect too. They are Japanese after all, and seemingly any idea that sounds too ridiculous or dumb, can be pulled off by a Japanese band without even breaking a sweat. Shitter At Salzgitter was recorded in Germany back in 2004 and features tons of BS 'hits': "War Of World Is Words", "Bathtub Shitter", "Fuck Hip Raper" and the brilliantly titled "Everybody Has The Wet"! Nothing dramatically different, just some alternate versions of your Shitter faves as well as a handful of killer tunes you probably haven't heard. Between song banter is always the best part of a live record, and while BS keep it to a minimum, it's cool to hear the songs introduced in either haltingly polite English or raspy monster growls, sometimes both!! Rumor is these guys will make it over here this year so we can experience this stuff LIVE!! We can't wait. ALL HAIL THE 'SHITTER!!!

MPEG stream: Holy Song For You
MPEG stream: Wall Of World Is Words
MPEG stream: Bathtub Shitter
MPEG stream: Everybody Has The Wet

OK. By now any avid reader of the AQ list doesn't need to know anything more than this: NEW BATHTUB SHITTER. If you're like us, that's more than enough to send a tingle down your insane Japanese grind metal lovin' record nerd spine. But if that's somehow not enough. How about 5" vinyl ep? SO much cooler than a boring old 7". Still not enough? Okay, this has to do it, the lyric sheet is printed in shit brown ink on a PIECE OF TOILET PAPER!!! So just do it. You know you want it. NEED it. But just in case you need more, or this whole 'Shitter business is new to you, let's go back to an old review where we summed up the whole Bathtub Shitter experience as perfectly as we'll ever be able to: "Imagine some strange mix of Drop Dead, the Boredoms, Brutal Truth, CSSO, death metal, grindcore, and well....um...shit! Crunchy riffs swing from almost-surf rock, to Zeppelin groove to metallic crunch, but spend most of their time in grind mode, splattered and speeding out of control. Crazy drumming, farting bass and some wicked guitar noodling add to the sick sonic stew. But the vocals are where things get really weird. The main vocals are of the burping, grunting, cookie monster death metal variety, belching out indecipherable tales of shit and shitting, but their foil is a squealing, squeaking little girl of a man voice, sounding either like a babblingly hysterical middle age housewife shrieking at the top of her lungs or a horror movie cheerleader being evicerated, screaming in that terrified way only dying cheerleaders in horror movies do. The two vocal styles swing and switch and battle and butt heads like some sort of bastard grindcore Beastie Boys. Or imagine Chuck D as Chris Barnes in his Cannibal Corpse days and Flavor Flav as the aforementioned shrieking dead cheerleader. With the everpresent S1Ws made up of members of S.O.D. and Angelcorpse. Other sorts of vocals are occasionally introduced like the 'dog barking underwater' and the 'asthmatic yodel'. The truly strange part is that all of the various vocals come from the very same guy!" Yeah, we know it seems lazy to just crib that description from an old review, but that's EXACTLY what they sound like. Not sure we could describe it any better than that first time we discovered Bathtub Shitter. In fact, just reading that again gets us all excited about the 'Shitter all over again!! Packaged in a striking full color mini lp style sleeve, with aforementioned toilet paper lyric sheet, and as with most things like this, very very limited!

We won't go into too much gushing detail about our obsession with Bathtub Shitter. For more on that, check the review of their debut Lifetime Shitlist. Needless to say, Bathtub Shitter are the greatest band ever. And definitely have the best band name ever! Okay, so hyperbole aside, the Shitter are the kind of band only Japan seems capable of producing, a chaotic, pounding grind metal juggernaut, with a lead vocalist who switches from demonic gurgling growl, to shrieking hysterical old lady squeal, often within the same verse, and an unhealthy obsession with all things shit. Yep, Japan is amazing. And so is Bathtub Shitter. Heavy enough to please metalheads and grind freaks, but weird enough for everyone else! This is a reissue of their out of print 10", on cd for the first time and with bonus tracks!

MPEG stream: Wall Of World Is Words
MPEG stream: Fuck You

THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. The first release on North Carolina's Now Sound label to *not* feature a naked lady painted by the label president's dad! Congratulations, Jeremy! Masaki Batoh of the awesome Japanese band Ghost, who give hippies a good name, mind you, plays acoustic guitar, marimba, harmonium etc, and covers Can's "Yoo Doo Right".

Yep that's Masaki Batoh, the visionary leader of Japanese modern day hippie psych legends Ghost, looking rather more futuristic than his usual shamanistic self, on the cover of Brain Pulse Music, his new solo album for Drag City. The elaborate science fictional headgear Batoh is wearing, a tangle of wires, electrodes, metal bands, and for some reason goggles, is the eponymous Brain Pulse Music machine he helped invent. Apparently in clinical trials for therapeutic medical use, it somehow helps to stabilize one's brain waves, by electronically transmitting them in the form of audio signals that can be controlled via a biofeedback procedure. So this high-tech augmentation of Batoh's traditional acupuncture practice has applications to his musical activities as well, as heard here on this disc dedicated to the victims of the 2011 Japanese earthquake and ensuing nuclear disaster. According to Batoh, the BPM machine can promote healing for both the user employing it, and hopefully more widely as a tool for literally higher-minded music making. So, what's it sound like? High pitched electronic drone-tones, rising and falling, sometimes soothing, sometimes noisy, not unlike the "onkyo" music of fellow Japanese experimentalists such as the sine-wave artist Sachiko M, for instance. We'd assume that depending upon the brains involved (of both user and listener!), the sounds the BPM machine produces could be perceived as either blissful or possibly piercingly aggravating. But, Batoh includes a lot more than straight BPM recordings on this album. The machine's drones are (usually) mixed with more traditional, ethnic Japanese acoustic instrumentation, such as wood block percussion, drums, gongs, bells, and shakuhachi flute. While some tracks are all about the BPM whines, others foreground the simple ceremonial ancient sounds (indeed, a few omit the BPM machines entirely), with the disc's 10+ minute final cut utilizing two BPM machines at the same time, alongside plasma theremin, springer FX, and shinto chant. That one is particularly amazing, pulsations indeed, by the end sounding like at least one of the BPM machines must have been plugged into Merzbow's brain. Interesting stuff conceptually of course, but also the BPM meshes well with Batoh's less high-tech, more timeless Ghost-like musical rituals. Nice silver-and-black graphics and design, with personal liner notes from Batoh himself.

MPEG stream: Eye Tracking Test
MPEG stream: Kumano Codex 2
MPEG stream: Aiki No Okami