We loved the White Fence record from last year, but nothing could have prepared us for what an amazing slice of warped '60s inspired psych pop they would conjure up on this mind blowing sophomore effort. Recorded with an analog warmth that melts and rocks and is so totally satisfying, overflowing with songs that rife with hooks and charisma galore, keeping us wanting more and more.
While influenced by the sounds of like Syd Barrett, Donovan, West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, early Who, The Kinks or some track from a Nuggets compilation that would blow your mind, the secret to White Fence's greatness is that they don't just sound like a band from a different era, but they take some of those elements in creating such a warm and woozy vibe, with a set of songs that's had us under a spell we never want to get out from under. So damn good!
Live records are a strange proposition. We know folks who love live records, and just as many who don't. For some it's to commemorate a classic show they were at, and want to relive, for others, it's a chance to hear a band live, when they might not be able to ever actually see them in the flesh, and to be fair, bands generally are WAY better live. Recording is all about capturing that live energy, which any band will tell you, might be the hardest part of recording. For us, live records, are a chance to hear a band let loose, to tear it up, no worrying about the take, or certain parts, or subtleties, just rocking out, reacting to the crowd, with the best live records oozing blood and sweat, the live energy of not just the band, but the crowd as well, exciting in a way that sitting in a studio could never be.
So here we have local garage psych rockers White Fence, performing live in March of this year, right down the street from aQ at Amnesia (which used to be the Chameleon, our favorite venue from back in the day), kicking out the jams, and as described above, the sound is loose and wild, the band on fire, some of the psychedelic subtleties of the recordings lost, but in their place, one of the best performances we can remember from these guys, heavy, jangly, noisy, poppy, psychedelic, the crowd going nuts between songs, the songs we already loved supercharged, the guitars fuzzed out and crumbly, total psych garage bliss out, some of the versions here maybe even better than the recordings proper. If you've yet to hear these guys, this would be a great introduction, and hell, even if you have all the records, you probably dig them as much as we do, and are gonna likely want/need this one too...
For some reason, this 7" and the vinyl version of the most recent full length from local garage rock one man band White Fence, were both practically impossible to keep in stock. We did eventually list and review the WF Cyclops Reap full length, and now we finally have enough of these, the pre album 7" to list. And while it may seem backwards, WF fans are still probably gonna want the single, cuz 2 of the three tracks are exclusive to this 7". The A side "Pink Gorilla" is the first single from the Cyclops Reap album, and it's easy to see why it was picked, a super warped chunk of ultra psychedelic scuzzed out fuzz rock, with blown out guitar gristle wrapped around swirling jangle and breezy vocals, like some classic sixties pop gem, worked over by some modern garage rock mad scientist, which it essentially is.
The other two tracks are more of the same, but unlike "Pink Gorilla", for some reason were NOT included on Cyclops Reap proper, which hearing these tracks now, it's hard to figure out why. "Fragility" is a gorgeous chunk of hushed, moody, softly psychedelic buzz and strum, that's warm and billowy, lush and dreamily jangly, wreathed in whirring organs and tangled and fried guitar melodies, all blurred into a hazy chunk of washed out sixties garage pop bliss, albeit with some weird blurts of guitar glitch and weird whirling atmospheres. And on top of that there's the second B side, the track "Cyclops Reap", which weirdly is NOT on the Cyclops Reap record at all.
White Fence fans should nab one of these before they disappear AGAIN.
Latest release from Tim Presley, aka one man lo-fi garage rock / noise pop band White Fence, a sprawling two volume collection of jams, culled from supposedly over 80 tracks, and this collection is a doozy, like past WF records, a collection of super varied pop weirdness, from super catchy indie jangle, to super fuzzy Kinks worship, from damaged zoner psych, to in the red garage punk swagger, and pretty much every stop in between. We're tempted to compare this to the Sopors, whose 7" we reviewed last list, another rad blast of weird pop from a twisted loner genius, and while the Sopors record is seriously damaged and on the verge of collapse, the sounds here are significantly more polished, but only some of the time.
The first volume is the poppier of the two, just check out the opening one-two punch, "Swagger Vets And Double Moon", with its programmed drums, psychedelic leads, reverbed vocals, fuzzed out guitar, shuffly rhythm, and then "Long White Curtain", which is total British Invasion worship, with a seriously strange lo-fi mix, the leads practically bursting from the speaker, while the rest of the sounds are dialed way back. And so it goes, wherever Presley's twisted sensibilities take him, there's the lilting dreamy fuzzy twee pop of "Do You Know Ida Know", which sounds almost like Ween, with its weird processed vox, or the fuzzy organ driven shuffle pop of "It Will Never Be", that locks into a hazy krautpsych loop and warbled and warps, while spidery guitars coil themselves around that main groove, or "Hey! Roman Nose", which is total lo-fi bedroom pop, with a little bit of that Purling Hiss style seventies power pop mixed in, and the first volume finishes off with "Daily Pique" a fuzzy psychedelic groove with weird vocals, and an even weirder production.
The second volume seems decidedly weirder, although it starts off with a dreamy bit of synth driven balladry, that sounds weirdly like the Frogs, which is most definitely not a bad thing, "She Relief" wraps some garage pop in squiggly leads and all sorts of piano pound and psychedelic freakout, before "I'd Sing" brings things back down, unfurling as a little stretch of psych guitar laced bedroom pop murk.
Things do definitely become more and more unhinged, lots of weird synths, and strange experimental song structures, noise guitar freakouts, even the poppiest jams are all twisted up, doused in effects, tangled up into weird arrangements, but somehow it suits them, and we find ourselves digging the second volume as much as the first, if not more.
Ty Segall and Mikal Cronin and John Dwyer might be getting most of the love (rightfully so), but folks who like their garage rock and indie pop a bit more fucked up and fractured, twisted and confusional, White Fence might just be your cup of spiked tea.
FYI, along with this cd twofer version, each volume is available individually on vinyl, though we only have Vol.2 in stock at the moment.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Latest release from Tim Presley, aka one man lo-fi garage rock / noise pop band White Fence, a sprawling two volume collection of jams, culled from supposedly over 80 tracks, and this collection is a doozy, like past WF records, a collection of super varied pop weirdness, from super catchy indie jangle, to super fuzzy Kinks worship, from damaged zoner psych, to in the red garage punk swagger, and pretty much every stop in between. We're tempted to compare this to the Sopors, whose lp we review elsewhere on this list, another overwhelming songsuite from a twisted loner genius, and while the Sopors record is seriously damaged and on the verge of collapse, the sounds here are significantly more polished, but only some of the time.
The first volume is the poppier of the two, just check out the opening one-two punch, "Swagger Vets And Double Moon", with it's programmed drums, psychedelic leads, reverbed vocals, fuzzed out guitar, shuffly rhythm, and then "Long White Curtain", which is total British Invasion worship, with a seriously strange lo-fi mix, the leads practically bursting from the speaker, while the rest of the sounds are dialed way back. And so it goes, wherever Presley's twisted sensibilities take him, there's the lilting dreamy fuzzy twee pop of "Do You Know Ida Know", which sounds almost like Ween, with its weird processed vox, or the fuzzy organ driven shuffle pop of "It Will Never Be", that locks into a hazy krautpsych loop and warbled and warps, while spidery guitars coil themselves around that main groove, or "Hey! Roman Nose", which is total lo-fi bedroom pop, with a little bit of that Purling Hiss style seventies power pop mixed in, and the first volume finishes off with "Daily Pique" a fuzzy psychedelic groove with weird vocals, and an even weirder production.
Ty Segall and Mikal Cronin and John Dwyer might be getting most of the love (rightfully so), but folks who like their garage rock and indie pop a bit more fucked up and fractured, twisted and confusional, White Fence might just be your cup of spiked tea.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Latest release from Tim Presley, aka one man lo-fi garage rock / noise pop band White Fence, a sprawling two volume collection of jams, culled from supposedly over 80 tracks, and this collection is a doozy, like past WF records, a collection of super varied pop weirdness, from super catchy indie jangle, to super fuzzy Kinks worship, from damaged zoner psych, to in the red garage punk swagger, and pretty much every stop in between. We're tempted to compare this to the Sopors, whose lp we review elsewhere on this list, another overwhelming songsuite from a twisted loner genius, and while the Sopors record is seriously damaged and on the verge of collapse, the sounds here are significantly more polished, but only some of the time.
The second volume seems decidedly weirder than part one, although it starts off with a dreamy bit of synth driven balladry, that sounds weirdly like the Frogs, which is most definitely not a bad thing, "She Relief" wraps some garage pop in squiggly leads and all sorts of piano pound and psychedelic freakout, before "I'd Sing" brings things back down, unfurling as a little stretch of psych guitar laced bedroom pop murk.
Things do definitely become more and more unhinged, lots of weird synths, and strange experimental song structures, noise guitar freakouts, even the poppiest jams are all twisted up, doused in effects, tangled up into weird arrangements, but somehow it suits them, and we find ourselves digging the second volume as much as the first, if not more.
Ty Segall and Mikal Cronin and John Dwyer might be getting most of the love (rightfully so), but folks who like their garage rock and indie pop a bit more fucked up and fractured, twisted and confusional, White Fence might just be your cup of spiked tea.
Totally awesome breezy lo-fi garage pop from Los Angeles, that we just can't seem to get enough of. While many of WF's lo-fi counterparts these days are all about fuzz and feedback, White Fence is so much more about infectious songs and deep running melody. Like some lost early recording of Chris Knox covering The Kinks or The Zombies, or imagine The Art Museums if they were a little more washed out and blurred and blissy. Also reminds us a bit of a more focused Ariel Pink, as WF are able to tap into such golden pop tones yet give them a nice warped and lysergic twist. While it's for sure going to get lumped in with a lot of our favorite recent garage pop faves like The Fresh & Onlys, Woods, Hanoi James, etc., there is something very timeless about the songs White Fence create. They could just as easily be lost nuggets from some obscure pastoral psych band out of the UK in the late '60s as it could be a Cherry Red band from the Paisley underground in the '80s, or a young Robert Pollard merging with the Elephant Six collective. For sure a strong outsider pop sound, with hints of Syd Barrett and Bobb Trimble. Bottom line is that this is top quality songwriting delivered in such a satisfying way. So damn good!
Don't think that Make-A-Mess pressed a ton of the vinyl so better act fast. But fear not, there's a cd on Woodsist too.
This is volume 12 in the LAMC series from the Famous Class label, where a bunch of our favorite bands offer up an exclusive song for the A side, and pick one of their favorite up and coming bands for the flipside. Past participants have included A Place To Bury Strangers, Deerhoof, Fuzz, Mikal Cronin, Wand, CCR Headcleaner, Ceremony, White Magic and more. This time around it's local sixties style retro poppers White Fence, who offer up another glimmering sonic gem, a dreamy bit of lo-fi retro pop, all hushed vox, music box melodies, tinkling chimes, and fuzzy, jangly guitars sounding a bit like vintage Kinks by way of Guided By Voices, which is most definitely a good thing. WF picked Jack Name for the B side, whose Light Show record was recently released on Ty Segall's God? label, and reviewed here, and much like that lp, the track here is a woozy bit of garage pop murk, with deep dramatic vox draped over almost cabaret sounding fuzziness, a little bit baroque, a little bit lo-fi, all blurred into a heady, psych-pop gem, which should have folks who missed out on the aforementioned full length, righting that wrong, right away!
And yep, EXTREMELY LIMITED!!
Heads up for White Flight! He might look a bit familiar to some who know mainman Justin Roelofs as the guitarist for The Anniversary, but he's doin' something quite different from the direct, peppy emo-pop of his other band. Still quite energetic and emotive, but this pop is more sprawling and slightly tweaked in a meandering Beck or Ween-ish fashion with vocals that fall in a similar yelpy range of Hidden Cameras, Wolf Parade and Arcade Fire. While maintaining a core of slouchy indie rock, Roelofs dabbles with shuffling hip hop beats and bleary psych-folk detours. This is an album brimming with often seemingly disjointed ideas -- some more fully realized than others, some we wish he'd elaborated on further. For those with short attention spans who dig cool aural fragments.
It all started with the MSG lp we reviewed a while back, a record called Songs From A Gated Community, a seriously damaged collection of lo-fi Casio keyboard driven suburban-nerd outsider pop that sounded like it was recorded by an ADD latch key kid, high on jello, and cheetos, and afternoon cartoons, and probably a little weed too. To our ears, the first White Glove lp sounded like that kid's older brother, the same basic ingredients, but more teenage, drug fueled, girl obsessed skate rock. So here we have full length number two from this Portland lo-fi skate-pop combo, and before we get to the music, let's talk about the INSANE album cover. A seventies skater, doing some sort of trick and spewing a huge cloud of smoke from his mouth, directed at some female shaman, calmly tending to her fire, and whatever potions she might be brewing, all in front of an epic backdrop of snow capped mountains and forests. Woah.
And yeah, the music takes up right where the last record left off, a sort of minimal punk / pop, acoustic guitar, drums, weary laid back, drawly vox, the songs still about girls and skating, being bummed, and bored, the sound a bit like a more lo-fi Violent Femmes, or a little bit sixties jangle, like early EARLY Who, but WAY stripped down, the vocals this time around are a bit more polished, with some proper harmonies, plenty of ooooh's and aaaah's, and some goofy noodly keyboard solos, the music too, a bit more 'produced', but only a bit. Really, the best thing about this new record is the songs, which are WAY better. More fleshed out, still simple and minimal, but the band seem to have a better handle on song craft, on catchy choruses, memorable melodies, but fear not, it may be catchier, and a bit more polished, but the vibe is still all pot smoking, parking lot, bored small town rebellion, black light posters, beer bong, dead end job, pissed off at parents, bad haircuts, broken hearts, old mix tapes, late night cruising, small town blues, all delivered via a set of songs that we're finding surprisingly addictive!
Some of you aQ-er's might remember the Songs From A Gated Community record, by a group/guy called MSG, that we reviewed a while back, an essential WTF? slab of lo-fi Casio-driven 4-track electro nerd pop, with songs about BMX, candy, car stereos, and at the time we wrote that we weren't sure if it was actually recorded by a precocious child, or an adult channeling his inner child, and in a way, even though we now know, we still don't REALLY know. But imagine if the weird suburban outcast, the latch key kid high on pop rocks with his nose buried in comic books and purloined Playboys, who was ostensibly the 'genius' behind that MSG record, was actively sonically chronically his adolescence on record, well then this White Glove record finds that same kid, slightly older, experimenting with pot, trying to make it with chicks, and most importantly SKATEBOARDING. Yup, this is all jangly, punk pop, lo-fi, swaggery SKATE ROCK. We hear shades of the Dead Milkmen, the Surf Punks, Spot 1019, and Camper Van Beethoven even, it's got that sort of simple strummy hookiness, mostly acoustic guitar, or electric guitar through a crappy little practice amp, simple practice space drumming, each song with just one or two parts, with some scrappy, emo-crooned vocals, and lyrics about, well, mostly skating, also being attacked by skinheads WHILE skating, getting stoned, then skating, their friend Jesse's supposedly bisexual girlfriend, some girls's pretty, pretty boyfriend, drinking beer (and then skating), getting pink eye (and not being able to skate), listening to dubstep (?), you get the drift. Like MSG, the songs are fun, and funny, goofy and dorky, but actually, really pretty good, and some of the jams here are super catchy, and you'll find stuck in your head like crazy.
Definitely recommended for folks into weird nerd pop, home brewed what-the-fuck songsmithery, and all manner of puerile, juvenile punky poppiness.
Includes a download code too!
First vinyl release from these NY based drug addled space rock explorers, featuring a new member and a somewhat different sound. The new member is Kid Millions, drummer for the band Oneida, whose most recent disc, Preteen Weaponry, was a huge hit around here. But the addition of Millions doesn't signify a shift towards the abstract rhythmic heaviness of Oneida, instead, White Hills seem to have gone in the opposite direction, ditching some of their heavy freak out tendencies, and instead sprawling languorously, letting the instruments unwind, the songs unfurl, laid back, blissed out, far out, and endlessly drifting space rock, heavier on the space than the rock.
Two sidelong jams, the first, is thick with wah guitars, but those guitars are suspended in wide open stretches of whir and hum, wreathed in reverb, and allowed to drift and shimmer, the drums are the steadiest part, alternately jazzy and shuffling, subtle and propulsive, the recording and production is raw and immediate, almost like a rehearsal space demo, but it definitely suits the sound. The track wanders and meanders, like a super stripped down Hawkwind, until the various sounds become enveloped in soft clouds of spacey FX and buzzing synths, a crescendo of sorts, but the track never explodes, never gets heavy, it's almost like a field recording of some eternal space jam, a neverending sonic entity that continues forever in both directions, backwards until the birth of the universe, forward into infinity, we're just offered a glimpse as it passes us by.
The flipside is a bit dirgier, more garagey, a sort of stripped down Stooges-y stomp, but slowed way down, until it's almost a doomy dirge, more clouds of spaced out FX, this time a bit more raw, the sound a bit heavier, but still more spacey and abstract, the second half of side two a tripped out ambient bliss out, layers of drones and buzz, whirling beneath random minimal effects and some creepy looped vocals.
LIMITED TO 333 COPIES. White sleeves with paste on art, front and back, inside a red vellum insert, we did get a whole bunch of these, but as with most White Hills releases, they'll probably go pretty fast, and odds are we won't be able to get more.
Finally, this long long long out of print recording from these aQ space psych faves, originally released as a super limited tour only cd-r, is available again, repressed on vinyl, via the kind folks at Immune. Here's what we had to say about these jams when we first reviewed the cd-r version WAY back in 2007:
The return of White Hills, and their East Coast Hawkwind worshipping Stooges stomp FX blowouts. Every album so far has kicked our asses, each one exploring a different side of WH's spaced out psychedelic sound. From the swirling cosmic krautprog of No Game To Play, to the more straight ahead space rock of Glitter Glamour Atrocity to the collaboration with Bay Area noisemakers White Pee, a half hour blast of ambient spacenoize. Where does Abstractions And Mutations fall? It falls smack dab in between all of those, but it falls HARD and HEAVY. Easily one of THEE fiercest outings yet from Dave W. and his bearded and robed wizards of druggy sonic overload. Beginning with a seriously metallic riff, and some super effected vocals, the band pounds relentlessly, adding tons of melody and a wicked hook, and then a brief space-y shuffle, before the song explodes into three minutes of amp frying psychguitar destruction.
The 15 minute "Left Behind" begins by drifting through some Tangerine Dreamed outer space void, peppered with fluttering drum fills, abstract shards of guitar, and clouds of shimmering FX, before again, exploding into a relentless acid jam, the drums splattering and sputtering, pounding and thrashing, the guitars wailing and howling, everything wrapped in a dense haze of buzz and effects. The rest of the record strikes a balance between the two, the blissed out laid back haze, and the face melting psychedelic freakout, culminating in the super tripped out final track, a sort of disembodied Doors-y jam, slow and spare, vocals drifting, guitars burning in soft swells, the percussion doused in reverb, the pace seriously stoned, before the chaos rains down from above, an intense drum guitar duel, the reverb and delay joining in for good measure, a swirling head spinning blow out.
Includes a download coupon as well!!
In case you missed it on our Record Store Day "in-between list" last Friday... but these are going fast! At this rate, gone within the week, if not sooner...
Last year - or maybe it was the year before - we told ourselves, hey, Record Store Day is awesome and all, but what would make it even more awesome? Maybe if we had our OWN release for Record Store Day! Something that, then, we could make sure our devoted mailorder customers wouldn't miss out on, also something that we could be absolutely sure we'd have, utterly unique to our store, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of all the other RSD releases.
So, this year, we did it! With the help of our good friends, Brooklyn's psychedelic space rockers extraordinare, you know 'em, you love 'em, White Hills. As those of you who live here in San Francisco may remember, White Hills brought their spaced out sounds to aQuarius for a fantastic instore on October 1st, 2010. Actually, they performed under the somewhat obvious pseudonym Black Valleys ('cause the venue they were playing that same night didn't want them doing another show the same day). In any case, their "Black Valleys" set turned out to be quite a bit different than an "ordinary" White Hills performance, being a drumless, droned-out duo performance specifically tailored to our space, trying (though probably failing!) to keep the volume low enough not to disturb our neighbors... but still hypnotizing us all with their nonetheless heavy sounds. The show was recorded, and it turned out GREAT.
Over a half hour long, the first few minutes of which are filled with shimmering, pretty pulsations and subtle sonic textures, as if this was the White Hills' version of Pop Ambient. It's both mesmeric and miasmic... Eventually waves of grinding fuzz enter the scene, and this slow building sonic juggernaut of throb and drone and drift takes on more massive proportions, propelled by what we can only say are almost ghostly riffs, giving this something of an Earth 2 vibe. We could go on and on, but somehow don't think we need to, since we know what White Hills fans are like (and you're all White Hills fans, right?).
So, digging the recording, White Hills gave us the go-ahead to release it as a special limited edition cd, for Record Store Day this year. And boy are we stoked.
LIMITED TO 300 hand-numbered copies, packaged in slim, dvd-style cases, with cool Op-Art inspired cover graphics by our pal Nathan Berlinguette, printed in black on fancy silvery paper. NOT sold in stores - except for ours!
Latest blast of modern space psych drone rock from these East Coast spacelords, an ultra limited (only 1000 copies) 12", part of Thrill Jockey's new subscription series, which means these will probably be gone in a flash.
Which is too bad, cuz this is one of the best White Hills jams yet, thankfully, only two of these tracks are exclusive, one is a new version of a track from Heads On Fire, remixed by Julian Cope's drummer, one is a track from the upcoming full length, but two of them are ONLY available here (and the remixed version of "Oceans Of Sound" from Heads On Fire is different enough to make it essentially a new track) so pretty much a must own for the space rock psych drone obsessives out there, which is most likely most of you.
The A side begins with "Dead" which will be on the band's upcoming full length, and it's a doozy, fuzzy, druggy, a little bit lo-fi, looped and hypnotic, with dreamy soft singing, beneath billowing clouds of distorted guitars, all hazy and super space rocky, definitely channeling the spirits of Loop and Spacemen 3, definitely has us chomping at the bit for the new album.
The second track is the remixed "Oceans Of Sound" and is a cool processed guitarscape, swirled FX wrapped around a stuttery tremolo guitar, like a drugged out space rock "How Soon Is Now?", fragmented riffs careen through streaks of buzz and hum, building to a total space pop climax that definitely had us thinking Spiritualized or Teenage Filmstars.
Flip it over, and "Another Coming" explodes out of the speakers, a grinding thick viscous dronescape, very reminiscent of Expo 70, that sort of krautdronespacedrift, with dense looped guitars, stretched out into a churning blur, the whole thing wreathed in hazy effects. The second track, "Red Sun", is all skeletal and dubbed out, almost funky sounding, with minimal guitar, but again loads of effects, thick throbbing bass, and creepy sampled voices.
Super rad. And SUPER LIMITED. ONLY 1000 COPIES, and most likely sold out any minute, we got a whole bunch, but that doesn't mean we won't blow through these. Gorgeous jackets too, matte black with spot UV gloss lettering, and a fancy full color pasted on art card front cover.
The latest full length from these East Coast psychedelic space rockers and long time aQ faves find the band at their most rocking, trading in some of their soaring heart-of-the-sun blissed out psych jams for something a bit more Stooges-y, launching right into it with "Pads Of Light" which is definitely their most overtly hard rocking, channeling Loop and Spacemen 3 as much as Hawkwind, the pounding riff heavy churn still wreathed in swaths of celestial effects and underpinned by multiple layers of guitars, the song a seemingly simple three chord pound, but the production is massive, and the song offers up super melodic refrains, some gorgeously melodic basslines, and a second half that's all wild cosmic shred, soaring melodies, soft squalls of psych guitar tangle and more swooshing effects, on past records it might have stretched out for 10 more minutes, but here the band wind it down after just four. But fear not, the follow up "Robot Stomp" is a sprawling 12 minutes, a slow burn smoldering chug through clouds of shimmer and buried voices, some serious mesmerizing hypno-psych krautdrone mesmer, we kept expecting he song to explode into another part, but the band stay locked tight, letting the groove unwind slowly and druggily, the surrounding sounds getting more and more active, swirls of effects, warped woozy melodies, bombarded by squelches and glitches and lazer like bleeps and bloops, not to mention soaring string like synths, super dramatic and tense and intense, which leads directly into another rocker, the relatively brief "You Dream You See", which swaggers and slithers, the guitars thick and warm, the drums dense and tribal, laced with blasts of psych guitar freakout, finally, slipping into some abstract spaced out psychedelic drift for the last half of the song, another part that could easily have stretched out for two or three times as long.
"Song Of Everything" manages to merge the two sides of the band perfectly, the droned out psychedelic hypnorock, and the urgent riff heavy hard rock, the band slipping seamlessly between the two, before collapsing into a weird sort of abstract outer space drift, laced with spidery tendrils of melody, shards of wah wah, processed vox, spoken, and slowed down, super trippy and far out, before finally exploding into a final minute of chugging, churning psychedelic hard rock riffing.
And finally, the record closes with the awesomely titled "I Write A Thousand Letters Pulp On Bone", a hazy, woozy, dreamily druggy single part, repeated over and over, the listener sucked in and sent spinning into the ether, a cool super dynamic drum part, soaring swells of shimmery synth, while all around guitar and effects whirl and swirl and drift, definitely the sort of thing we could listen to forever, and the perfect finish, a sort of chill out, come down droned out psychedelic coda, that does get heavier and heavier, but also seems to get further and further out, and takes us willingly with it. Needless to say, absolutely recommended. And while we're tempted to say this might be the best White Hills yet, let's just say it's another fantastic record from a band whose given us pretty much nothing but fantastic records.
And, needless to say with a White Hills release, the vinyl is on the limited side of things, and going fast...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The latest full length from these East Coast psychedelic space rockers and long time aQ faves find the band at their most rocking, trading in some of their soaring heart-of-the-sun blissed out psych jams for something a bit more Stooges-y, launching right into it with "Pads Of Light" which is definitely their most overtly hard rocking, channeling Loop and Spacemen 3 as much as Hawkwind, the pounding riff heavy churn still wreathed in swaths of celestial effects and underpinned by multiple layers of guitars, the song a seemingly simple three chord pound, but the production is massive, and the song offers up super melodic refrains, some gorgeously melodic basslines, and a second half that's all wild cosmic shred, soaring melodies, soft squalls of psych guitar tangle and more swooshing effects, on past records it might have stretched out for 10 more minutes, but here the band wind it down after just four. But fear not, the follow up "Robot Stomp" is a sprawling 12 minutes, a slow burn smoldering chug through clouds of shimmer and buried voices, some serious mesmerizing hypno-psych krautdrone mesmer, we kept expecting he song to explode into another part, but the band stay locked tight, letting the groove unwind slowly and druggily, the surrounding sounds getting more and more active, swirls of effects, warped woozy melodies, bombarded by squelches and glitches and lazer like bleeps and bloops, not to mention soaring string like synths, super dramatic and tense and intense, which leads directly into another rocker, the relatively brief "You Dream You See", which swaggers and slithers, the guitars thick and warm, the drums dense and tribal, laced with blasts of psych guitar freakout, finally, slipping into some abstract spaced out psychedelic drift for the last half of the song, another part that could easily have stretched out for two or three times as long.
"Song Of Everything" manages to merge the two sides of the band perfectly, the droned out psychedelic hypnorock, and the urgent riff heavy hard rock, the band slipping seamlessly between the two, before collapsing into a weird sort of abstract outer space drift, laced with spidery tendrils of melody, shards of wah wah, processed vox, spoken, and slowed down, super trippy and far out, before finally exploding into a final minute of chugging, churning psychedelic hard rock riffing.
And finally, the record closes with the awesomely titled "I Write A Thousand Letters Pulp On Bone", a hazy, woozy, dreamily druggy single part, repeated over and over, the listener sucked in and sent spinning into the ether, a cool super dynamic drum part, soaring swells of shimmery synth, while all around guitar and effects whirl and swirl and drift, definitely the sort of thing we could listen to forever, and the perfect finish, a sort of chill out, come down droned out psychedelic coda, that does get heavier and heavier, but also seems to get further and further out, and takes us willingly with it. Needless to say, absolutely recommended. And while we're tempted to say this might be the best White Hills yet, let's just say it's another fantastic record from a band whose given us pretty much nothing but fantastic records.
And, needless to say with a White Hills release, the vinyl is on the limited side of things, and going fast...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The latest full length from these East Coast psychedelic space rockers and long time aQ faves find the band at their most rocking, trading in some of their soaring heart-of-the-sun blissed out psych jams for something a bit more Stooges-y, launching right into it with "Pads Of Light" which is definitely their most overtly hard rocking, channeling Loop and Spacemen 3 as much as Hawkwind, the pounding riff heavy churn still wreathed in swaths of celestial effects and underpinned by multiple layers of guitars, the song a seemingly simple three chord pound, but the production is massive, and the song offers up super melodic refrains, some gorgeously melodic basslines, and a second half that's all wild cosmic shred, soaring melodies, soft squalls of psych guitar tangle and more swooshing effects, on past records it might have stretched out for 10 more minutes, but here the band wind it down after just four. But fear not, the follow up "Robot Stomp" is a sprawling 12 minutes, a slow burn smoldering chug through clouds of shimmer and buried voices, some serious mesmerizing hypno-psych krautdrone mesmer, we kept expecting he song to explode into another part, but the band stay locked tight, letting the groove unwind slowly and druggily, the surrounding sounds getting more and more active, swirls of effects, warped woozy melodies, bombarded by squelches and glitches and lazer like bleeps and bloops, not to mention soaring string like synths, super dramatic and tense and intense, which leads directly into another rocker, the relatively brief "You Dream You See", which swaggers and slithers, the guitars thick and warm, the drums dense and tribal, laced with blasts of psych guitar freakout, finally, slipping into some abstract spaced out psychedelic drift for the last half of the song, another part that could easily have stretched out for two or three times as long.
"Song Of Everything" manages to merge the two sides of the band perfectly, the droned out psychedelic hypnorock, and the urgent riff heavy hard rock, the band slipping seamlessly between the two, before collapsing into a weird sort of abstract outer space drift, laced with spidery tendrils of melody, shards of wah wah, processed vox, spoken, and slowed down, super trippy and far out, before finally exploding into a final minute of chugging, churning psychedelic hard rock riffing.
And finally, the record closes with the awesomely titled "I Write A Thousand Letters Pulp On Bone", a hazy, woozy, dreamily druggy single part, repeated over and over, the listener sucked in and sent spinning into the ether, a cool super dynamic drum part, soaring swells of shimmery synth, while all around guitar and effects whirl and swirl and drift, definitely the sort of thing we could listen to forever, and the perfect finish, a sort of chill out, come down droned out psychedelic coda, that does get heavier and heavier, but also seems to get further and further out, and takes us willingly with it. Needless to say, absolutely recommended. And while we're tempted to say this might be the best White Hills yet, let's just say it's another fantastic record from a band whose given us pretty much nothing but fantastic records.
And, needless to say with a White Hills release, the vinyl is on the limited side of things, and going fast...
Ok, pink vinyl all gone, but we do have a few of the white vinyl left, listed last week...
The latest full length from these East Coast psychedelic space rockers and long time aQ faves find the band at their most rocking, trading in some of their soaring heart-of-the-sun blissed out psych jams for something a bit more Stooges-y, launching right into it with "Pads Of Light" which is definitely their most overtly hard rocking, channeling Loop and Spacemen 3 as much as Hawkwind, the pounding riff heavy churn still wreathed in swaths of celestial effects and underpinned by multiple layers of guitars, the song a seemingly simple three chord pound, but the production is massive, and the song offers up super melodic refrains, some gorgeously melodic basslines, and a second half that's all wild cosmic shred, soaring melodies, soft squalls of psych guitar tangle and more swooshing effects, on past records it might have stretched out for 10 more minutes, but here the band wind it down after just four. But fear not, the follow up "Robot Stomp" is a sprawling 12 minutes, a slow burn smoldering chug through clouds of shimmer and buried voices, some serious mesmerizing hypno-psych krautdrone mesmer, we kept expecting he song to explode into another part, but the band stay locked tight, letting the groove unwind slowly and druggily, the surrounding sounds getting more and more active, swirls of effects, warped woozy melodies, bombarded by squelches and glitches and lazer like bleeps and bloops, not to mention soaring string like synths, super dramatic and tense and intense, which leads directly into another rocker, the relatively brief "You Dream You See", which swaggers and slithers, the guitars thick and warm, the drums dense and tribal, laced with blasts of psych guitar freakout, finally, slipping into some abstract spaced out psychedelic drift for the last half of the song, another part that could easily have stretched out for two or three times as long.
"Song Of Everything" manages to merge the two sides of the band perfectly, the droned out psychedelic hypnorock, and the urgent riff heavy hard rock, the band slipping seamlessly between the two, before collapsing into a weird sort of abstract outer space drift, laced with spidery tendrils of melody, shards of wah wah, processed vox, spoken, and slowed down, super trippy and far out, before finally exploding into a final minute of chugging, churning psychedelic hard rock riffing.
And finally, the record closes with the awesomely titled "I Write A Thousand Letters Pulp On Bone", a hazy, woozy, dreamily druggy single part, repeated over and over, the listener sucked in and sent spinning into the ether, a cool super dynamic drum part, soaring swells of shimmery synth, while all around guitar and effects whirl and swirl and drift, definitely the sort of thing we could listen to forever, and the perfect finish, a sort of chill out, come down droned out psychedelic coda, that does get heavier and heavier, but also seems to get further and further out, and takes us willingly with it. Needless to say, absolutely recommended. And while we're tempted to say this might be the best White Hills yet, let's just say it's another fantastic record from a band whose given us pretty much nothing but fantastic records.
And, needless to say with a White Hills release, the vinyl is on the limited side of things, and going fast (pink vinyl gone)..
NYC's White Hills blew us away last year with a bunch of limited edition, Julian Cope-approved cd-r releases documenting their mesmeric, motorik, heavy, and very Hawkwindy space rock sound. We're now very pleased to have their new full-length album in stock -- and it's a real cd, even though the (cool-looking) digipack it's contained within appears hand-assembled.
This time around, we are initially given the impression that White Hills has decided to mix it up a little, branching off into a more musicianly, refined post-rock realm rather than sticking entirely to the amplification n' effects laden, cosmic droneout krautrockishness set-the-controls ROCK of their cd-rs. Certainly there's more dynamics here, more ambient/acoustic interludes, lots of really pretty, even poppy bits. But what about the heavy hypnotic headnodders? They're here too, don't worry! Fans of Hawkwind, Neu!, Braindonor, Spacemen Three, Comets On Fire, Kinski, Titan, Pharaoh Overlord, etc. will certainly dig the likes of "Love Serve Remember" (which weirdly reminds us of the Painteens) and the distorted, psychedelic, jamming excess of the nearly 15 minute long album-closing title track, among others here. This new White Hills is perhaps more nuanced in some ways than their prior output, but any newfound delicacy hasn't dimmed the drugged dementia of the louder portions of this disc and they've always had their wonderfully blissful side anyway, so we're quite happy with their "progress"!
Latest blast of psychedelic space rock from these NYC sonic assassins, and like all the previous White Hills jams, it's a good one, but in some ways, it's actually a lot different, still present are the usual space rockisms, swirling effects drenched guitars, pounding drums, vox buried in the mix, extended droned out jams and seriously psychedelic leads, but the tone is different, and the arrangements are more jagged, more varied, apparently this records is thematically focused on the band's anti government and anti-corporation sentiments, and we have to say, it sort of suits them, right out of the gate, opening track "The Condition Of Nothing" is a killer, a lot heavier and darker than much of the White Hills that have came before.
Dark buzzing guitars, woozy effects drenched atmosphere, motorik drumming, chanted dead eyed vox, some seriously caustic and crunchy FX, the guitar tones thick and super distorted, the sound ominous and sinister, the roiling riffage infused with a pulsing droning thrum, but then there's some super melodic female vox, courtesy of WH bassist Ego Sensation, which lead right into a cool, lurching breakdown that sounds almost pasted in, but it's a cool jagged shift, and just makes the track sound that much more fierce when the band swoop back into their churning droned out space psych, which is also laced with plenty of crunchy chug, and then comes the solo, which is super noisy, a little shreddy, a wild tangle of synths and guitars, all wound up into a whirling blown out wah wah drenched squall, before slipping right into that breakdown again, but this time stretching it way out into a hazy, druggy sprawl of synthy buzz, woozy and washed out and hauntingly dreamy, playing out till the end. Shit, just one song in, and we're thinking this may be the best WH record yet. After a brief experimental synth / noise interlude, the band slip into a slow burn lope, all blissed out minimal rhythm, layered hushed buzz, beneath softly swirling clouds of spaced out FX, quickly building to thick slab of reverb and distortion drenched hypnorock, mesmerizing and cyclical, the effects getting more and more pronounced, threatening to swallow the rest of the music whole, heavy and heady, but still sorta blissed out and laid back.
The next track is another angry groover, a thick propulsive rhythm, some pulsing synthbass buzz, like a supercharged Circle, locked tight for nearly 13 minutes, the sort of jam that might as well have gone on for 13 more, the main groove static and solid, while all around the band unleash some of their most twisted effects and warped atmospheres, adding woozy melodic layers, of jagged shards of processed hiss and static, some warbly almost new wavey synths, the whole thing, fuzzy and thick and totally and irresistibly mesmerizing.
White Hills kick out the jams on "Upon Arrival" a synth soaked guitar heavy Stooges-y stomp, the riffiest and poppiest of the bunch, hard and heavy but hooky as hell, and still appropriately spaced out, before slipping into a suite of experimental ambience, a thick, buzzy, almost funereal organ dronescape, a blown out synthdrone sprawl, all low end pulsations, warped FX, thick processed guitars, doom drenched downtuned riffage, and sci-fi spacey ambience, a weird drum heavy, tribal rhythmic workout, horn like tones, stretched into layered drones, glitched out electronics, propuslive and almost dancey, before the whole thing gets all tangled up and processed into a crunchy garbled smear of squelches, which brings us to the epic 17 minute closer, which is basically the ultimate White Hills jam, starting out all riffy and Stooges-y, before evolving into a heart of the sun psychedelic guitar jam, then slowing down to a druggy low slung crawl, only to explode right back into it, another stomping groove, wild leads, over thick crunchy riffs, and woozy walking basslines, building to a majestic ur-drone bass-heavy psychedelic space drift, before fading out into several minutes of gradually fading space-y swirl.
Fuck yeah, so good, and utterly kick ass all the way through, assuming we can get past that kick ass opener. As always, psychedelic spacelords and ladies need look no further than this for their cosmic fix.
After a whole mess of crazy limited cd-r releases, this is only the 2nd proper, actual cd release from these East Coast blown out garage psych space rockers. Avid readers of the list will no doubt by now, be hip to these guys, their wall of guitar, Hawkwind meets the Stooges meets Monster Magnet meets the Heads is tough to beat, every song drenched in wild outer space FX, the drums pounding beneath an avalanche of psychedelic guitar, the vocals, shadows flitting across the molten surface of these tracks, barely audible just another layer of dense fuzz.
So how does this record stack up to the rest? We mentioned that the last release, the tour only Abstractions And Mutations, was the band's fiercest yet, but Heads On Fire might have us reassessing. Cuz this has to be exactly what it would sound like if your head was indeed on fire.
The opener is a heavy as fuck space rock romp, right out of the gate, a wall of buzzing wah wah guitar is loosed, and all you can do is hang on for the ride, it's like Spacemen 3 on speed, that same sort of billowy tripped out warm guitar buzz, but souped WAY up, supercharged, a blinding supernova of freaked out garage rock psychedelia. But the track right after that is way riffier, a serious Stooges-y stomp, plenty of guitar crunch and psychedelic squalls, but the vocals are more present, a sort of Wyndorf style lord mother fucker drawl, wrapped in reverb and draped over the jagged riffing and pounding drums.
Then there's "Don't Be Afraid", which begins with whipping wind and distant foghorns, ominous and mysterious, a phone being dialed, ringing and ringing, the band gradually coming in, a slow lope, simple tribal drums, a laid back guitar line, soft fuzzy swells of sound in the background, a lugubrious slow build, the vocals howled and spacey, reverbed and dripping with delay, the guitar getting gradually more and more jagged and distorted, until everything drops out, just wind, and muted electronics, muffled FX, the bass line creeping along steadily, bits of melody drifting by, the vocals come back in and BAM the band takes off, the guitar spitting flames, the drums falling down a mineshaft, a huge tangle of psychedelic space rock chaos, and then nothing, a weird, barely there, 5 minute outro, bits of guitar, creaking and buzzing, more wind, and finally silence.
And in case that last 30 minutes, and those last 5 in particular, had you forgetting just where you were, the band shuts things down with 4+ minutes of furious fuzz and pummeling pound, thick and corrosive, and so distorted the riffs seem to melt into each other, the vocals sung from the bottom of a well, a bit of start stop dynamics, replete with creepy giggling children, and then the perfect send off, a sky full of psychedelic fireworks, multicolored streaks of white hot guitar, a blinding ear full of sonic pyrotechnics like staring straight into the sun.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Super limited cd-r, released to coincide with shows in the UK from this spaced out drug rock krautrocky combo. Featuring outtakes from No Game To Play as well as a couple tracks from the upcoming full length. SUPER LIMITED.
Holland's Roadburn festival has become THEE ultimate heavy rock music festival, be it doom, sludge, psychedelia, space rock, whatever, the fest consistently offering the sorts of lineups most of us could only dream about, super hyped new bands, legendary older bands, total unknowns, next big things, nobody curates festivals like these guys, and it definitely shows, every year, selling out sooner, and luring folks from all over the world to fly over to take it all in (heck, our own Allan even went a couple years ago!). Roadburn also decided a while back to chronicle some of these performances and release them, so the rest of us sorry suckers unable to make the journey could get a little taste of what it is we've been missing.
Which brings us to this, a document of last year's Roadburn, in particular, a performance by aQ faves, Brooklyn heavy psych rockers White Hills, who definitely KILL it, with one of the heaviest sets we've heard from them. In fact, the disc opens with the band in full on heavy riff mode, almost like someone just pushed record mid-set, our imaginations have us picturing opening 8+ minute blast "Three Quarters" just the last chunk of an hours-long mega blown out super psych jam. Regardless, the band churn and roil, the riffs distorted and in-the-red, the drums wild and chaotic, of course everything wreathed in thick swirls of effects, the vox gruff and bellowed, definitely giving the sound some serious rock heft. "Under Skin Or By Name", sees the band slipping back into some more meditative drifty krautpsych territory, but within a few minutes the band have exploded again, with wild endless leads, lumbering motorik grooves, total drugged out heavy psych bliss of the highest order.
And so it goes, the band never letting up, the songs sprawling, slipping from Stooges-y stomp, to Hawkwind like druggy drift, to hazy psychedelic shimmer, to near Monster Magnet like metallic chug, the bass groovy and melodic, those drums pounding fiercely, courtesy of occasional WH skinsman Lee Hinshaw, bassist Ego Sensation even offers up some vocals on one track which gives it a cool sort of True Widow vibe, the band unfurling epic expanses of druggy FX heavy drift woven into more crushing space-metal riffery, finally finishing off with a killer version of the title track from their most recent full length "Hp-1", which if anything takes the original and makes it even more epic and heavy and gloriously spaced out.
Sweet packaging too, full color six panel digipak with some killer psychedelic live shots of the band in action at Roadburn.
We won't go into too much detail about this one, as it's already sold out and out of print, and these are the last copies we'll be able to get. Two live sets, both recorded at New Jersey radio station WFMU, one last year, one back in 2007, from longtime aQ faves, psychedelic space rockers White Hills. Both sets offer up variations of exactly what we've come to expect from these guys (and gal). Blown out distortion drenched Hawkwind via Stooges soar and stomp, the guitars swirling in thick druggy clouds, the riffs crunchy and wreathed in effects, the vocals buried in the mix, the drums propulsive and hard hitting, the sounds all blurred and gauzy, smeared into long sprawls of buzzing, smoldering spaced out heaviness, the more recent set definitely leans towards the heavier side of the spectrum, while the 2007 set gets way more abstract and drifty, melding chug and churn riffiness (bordering on psychedelic doom in places), with something much more shimmery and dreamily psychedelic. Needless to say, for WH fans, this is of course essential. And definitely recommended for the usual folks, fans of the Heads, Hawkwind, Wooden Shjips, Monster Magnet and the rest of the psych/space rock brigade...
And again, LIMITED TO 150 COPIES. SOLD OUT AT THE LABEL! These are the last copies EVER. ----* ----* Selected New Arrivals : ----*
One of two new 7"s from the Trensmat label, this one from big time aQ faves, space rockers White Hills, who offer up two tracks of ambient drift, the A side, a swirly bit of abstract shimmer, a softly pulsing two note melody, subtly mesmerizing, surrounded on all sides by strange melodies, little bits of glitch, headphone listening reveals much going on in the background, a slow shifting sprawl of mysterious sounds, that seem to surface and fade, constantly changing shapes, while that pulse remains constant, the sort of jam that sounds like it must have been cut from a much bigger sonic cloth, it's the sort of sound that would be so easy to get lost it.
As is the B side, a more dirgey bit of ambience, thick churning guitars, roiling away in a cloud of hazy whir and deep rumble, loads of echo and delay and reverb, softly swirling, a gauzy and washed out expanse of slo-mo buzz and thrum, that seems to almost become riffs, before those riffs melt into the sounds around them, a gorgeously entrancing stretch of cyclical mesmer, in the form of downtuned spaced out crush.
ALREADY SOLD OUT AND OUT OF PRINT AT THE LABEL. We got a whole bunch, but odds are they won't be around for long, so don't dawdle, or risk being disappointed...
We'd been hearing good things about this band for ages. Someone we know was raving about 'em, and they also had the recommendation of Julian Cope... But we were having some difficulty tracking down the band, or a way to get their record for the store. Until an insane bit of coincidence / serendipity. In walked one Dave Weinberg, who a decade earlier had been Andee's boss at Holey Bagel in Noe Valley, across the street from the old aQuarius (back when Andee had time for two jobs). He had copies of a cd by his band, and what do you know? Dave's band just so happened to be White Hills! Wow. Thus we managed to get 30 or so copies of the second pressing of the No Game To Play cd-r (the first pressing is long out of print, as is the alternate version, which was drastically remixed, resequenced and retitled They've Got Blood Like We've Got Blood and released on Cope's Fuck Off And Di cd-r label) and it's just as good as we had hoped. In a word, SPACEROCK. Or if you prefer, two words. Either way, this is some seriously tripped out swirling cosmic proggy, krautrock flecked, keyboard drenched outer outer outer space rock. Think just the jams from all the best Hawkwind songs, or the dreamiest mellowest bits of your favorite Monster Magnet tracks. Mix in some Neu! and some Faust and even some Stereolab at times and you'll just be scratching the surface of White Hills' sound. The opening track is a grungy, lowslung garagey drug addled space rock stomp, think the Stooges dropping acid until they started drifting off and began to sound more like Hawkwind, a killer hypnotic riff, a simple shuffling drum beat, mumbled vocals buried in the mix, and a swirling squall of wigged out guitars and all manner of synthesizer squiggle and swoon. It sounds quite a bit like Circle too, that riff just repeating and repeating, mantra like, a super tranced out rock that you want to go on forever. The centerpiece of the record is definitely "They've Got Blood Like We've Got Blood", a near static synth swirl over a shuffling tribal rhythm, while guitars just sort of drift and float lazily amidst the whir and drone. Sounds a little bit like Brian Eno jamming with Crash Worship while somebody goes apeshit in the background on the synths. A gloriously mesmerizing hypnorock. Then a brief blast of straight up blown out, super distorted Neu! worship before the drifting ambient closer "Ulan", an abstract synthesizer soundscape that sounds like some lost Tangerine Dream jam. Blissy and totally dreamlike.
This is supposedly the final pressing, limited to 222 copies.
We ordered these from Australia over a year ago, and for whatever reason, we didn't end up getting them until just recently. The label is on indefinite hiatus now, and this disc is WAY out of print, thankfully we got nearly 50 of 'em, but those are the last copies EVER, and knowing how White Hills stuff sells around here, if you want one, best grab one quick.
One sprawling 16+ minute track, just White Hills main man Dave W. solo, echo guitar and synthesizers, unfurling a woozy, buzzy, softly undulating chunk of star speckled spacedrone, think Expo '70, Tangerine Dream, Zombi, Klaus Schulze, total blissed out planetarium lazer light show druggy kraut rock drift. Melodies unwind slowly through gently warped streaks of ominous whirring new age-y shimmer, and the whole track just seems to expand, to open up, like a time lapse vision of the death of a star or the birth of a universe, colors and streaks of white light swirl endlessly, creating delicate melodies, draped over a deep subsonic thrum, and delicate spidery whirring tendrils of crystalline sound, driven by a barely audible buried pulse like rhythm, blurred into a gauzy soft focus bit of divine cinematic space kraut drift.
Packaged in thick cardstock mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi.
And as mentioned above, SUPER LIMITED numbers of these in stock, and once they're gone, they are GONE.
Psssst! White Hills fans!! Good news. We just got a few of the limited edition disc, Oddity II: Night Scene On Mill Mountain, "a collection of out-of-print and previously unreleased tracks" that was previously only available inside copies of the bands' 2011 cd Hp-1 purchased at Rough Trade shops over in England. At the time, we were bummed, why should only the Brits be able to get this quite desirable bonus goodie? Don't the White Hills love America?? Well, while they last, we now have these available to fans of the beloved Brooklyn psych band wherever you may be. Since it's supposed to slip right into the gatefold sleeve of the Hp-1 cd you (presumably) already have, these don't have much in the way of packaging, you just get a disc in a plain white sleeve. What's important, is what's on the disc, let's quote what it says here: "three Untitled Synth Experiments, the full-length alternative mix of BE YOURSELF from the Hawkwind Trilogy project, HEADS ON FIRE (outtake from the S/T LP), a recent Untitled Jam, and the full-length remix of NO GAME TO PLAY that appeared on the Fuck Off & Di release They've Got Blood Like We've Got Blood. Over 50 minutes of music for your listening pleasure!"
Pleasure indeed. Heck, this would be worth it just for the 27+ minute "No Game To Play" remix, probably the track, with its mantric chug, that first got us the most into White Hills back in their cd-r daze...
Exploding once more from the furthest galactic reaches of our Eastern most solar quadrant (aka New York City), White Hills have returned via arcane cosmic pathways to deliver another trippy transmission of their self described "fuzzed out motorik space rock." And So You Are... is everything you could hope for from that descriptor: psychedelic, immersive, monolithic, mesmerizing. It's space rock, but thankfully with a serious emphasis on the rock! Heavy circular riffing, primitive yet spacious, drifts over driving hypnotic basslines, while ghostly vocals echo in the darkness like dying transmissions from Planet Hotbox. The disorienting sounds of Technicolor laser beams ricochet over a proto-punk groove, drums clattering, seeming to invoke the dizzying feeling of falling down a flight of stairs for all of eternity. Elsewhere things gets a bit more ambient. A warming synthetic glow gives way to fluttering static melodies over the weeping of slinking slow motion guitar. Snippets of conversation collide with robotic stuttering like the staggered rambling of a malfunctioning super computer. It's all very conscious altering, very mind expanding, maaaan - but without using that as an excuse to get too meandering or too jammy. So You Are... never overstays its welcome. In fact at a relatively brief 45 minutes this album seems to burst and fade in the blink of an eye like a sudden supernova! You know the drill: Tune in, turn on, drop out - collapse onto a beanbag and allow your astral self to be transported elsewhere, even if it's just for three quarters of an hour - you may find time becomes meaningless where you end up anyway!
And while they last, we have a very limited number of the deluxe vinyl version, pressed on green wax, housed in a fancy old school tip-on style gatefold jacket, which also just so happens to be bundled with a whole extra 12" record (sorry cd nerds, it's only with the vinyl) called Timeless Tracks For Aural Pleasure, featuring 30 minutes (3 tracks) or previously unreleased material, the bonus lp in its own bootleg style sleeve.
(FYI, mailorder folks, once we run out of the deluxe lp, we'll automatically ship the cheaper single lp version instead, unless you tell us explicitly you only want to order the deluxe edition.)
Super limited lp only collection of studio outtakes and rarities from psychedelic space rockers White Hills, the main attraction being the epic side long jam "Drift Away", anchored by a solid krautrock rhythm, wrapped in a woozy bassline, the bass and drums locked tight, while the guitars soar and howl, total epic slow build mega space jam of the highest order, thick clouds of droned out guitar churn and roil over thick slabs of crunchy riffage, leads wriggle wildly all over the place, all very druggy and lysergic and heavily spaced out, like a Hawkwind outro stretched out to fill up a whole side, EXACTLY AS IT SHOULD BE, we're always talking about how White Hills jams should go on forever, well, this is as about as close as we're gonna get. Endlessly hypnotic, the guitars piling up into huge layered looped expanses, seeming like they might explode into the stratosphere, but instead, finally wind down into a cool blissed out chill out, swirls of effects, the guitars softened and blurred into slowly fading swells of whir and buzz.
The flipside features two shorter tracks, the first a gorgeous slab of spacey synthy droning kosmische drift, not all that dissimilar to the recent White Hills (aka Black Valleys) aQ instore, pulsing, whirling ambience, a sea of swirling looped guitars, again layered and layered, built up to a glorious Sunroof!-style Ur-drone, while the second track is way more murky and washed out, thick streaks of distorted riffage, blur into almost drones, the bass thick and undulating and driving the whole thing, the drums a buried throb, the guitars growing more and more crystalline, and less and less murky as the track progresses, totally droned out and mesmerizing!
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES, housed in a cool bootleg style lp sleeve.
Super limited cassette tape from aQ beloved NY psychedelic space rockers White Hills, two side long slowburn psych-kraut groovers, part of a series that offers up a sort of rough draft of some of the 'process' that went into the creation of their most recent full length H-p1, and as you might imagine, everything you (and we!) love about White Hills is present and in full effect, the skeletal motorik drumming, the low slung slithery basslines, the effects drenched guitars, the psychedelic swirls, explosive crescendos, the brooding grooves, weird samples, wah wah guitar freakouts, the sound murky and muddy and washed, out, super lo-fi, but it totally suits them, making this sound like some unearthed seventies psychedelic rarity. The A side is the murkier of the two, raw psychedelic minimalism, that splinters near the end into some weird found sound, and then a chaotic coda. While the B side is much more expansive, still pretty lo-fi, but more guitars going on, chiming and soaring, with swirling melodies, the bass especially thick and super distorted, and a long stretched out super blissy second half, which finds everything dialed way back, the band drifting druggily and dreamily, through a thick expanse of hum and hiss and thrum, finally finishing off with some tripped out backwards guitarscaping. Nice.
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES, already sold out so these are the last copies we'll be able to get.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Synth psych kraut weirdness from NY. Julian Cope raved about it on his Head Heritage website. We have loads of the version the band released but Cope's remixed version is already out of print, and we only have a few copies left.
AQ fave psychedelic space rockers, the duo known as White Hills, are back, and taking some cool new chances with their sound. Busting out of their usual NYC haunts, this new album was recorded in rural Wales by a guy best known for working with poppier, electronic acts like Caribou and FKA Twigs. We're not sure anyone would call THIS album pop-oriented, exactly, though it's a fact that on a couple tracks here White Hills swap out guitar entirely for synthesizers - "I, Nomad" is bleeping, shimmering blissfulness. But for the most part, the usual White Hills krauty hypnorock loaded with squalls of fuzzy guitar distortion is in full effect, as expected, just somehow sleeker and provided with more precise targeting. Yes, Hawkwind is still a definite inspiration/influence/unavoidable comparison, especially on tracks like "We Are What You Are", while some other cuts here are a lot more 'new wavy' or post punk or something, equally propulsive and rhythmic but stripped down, giving more weight to the grooves, and sometimes also to the vocals (reminding anyone who'd forgotten, that White Hills are a boy-girl duo after all). The album-closing title track, laden with effects and electronics and samples, is practically funky and danceable, despite the droning guitar parts. We don't know if Dave W. and Ego Sensation were listening to a lot of Talking Heads, or, like, Herbie Hancock's "Rockit", or what exactly, but we're mesmerized by the results on that one. And if there are Moon Duo fans out there who for some reason haven't yet checked out White Hills, this disc would be a good place to start - "Automated City" sorta sounds like MD channelling the Rolling Stones in fact. While we always love White Hills, we're extra stoked on the different strokes they've surprised us with here.
Note: the vinyl version of this has been delayed for another couple weeks or so, but when we do get it, Thrill Jockey is going let us have a very special limited edition version that only a handful of record stores are gonna get - not only is it on indie-exclusive translucent red vinyl, but also our copies will come with a bonus 12", a half-hour of unreleased material called Drives For Pedestrians!! Just FYI for you vinyl types, you might wanna preorder one.
NOW ON VINYL - WITH SUPER LIMITED BONUS 12" WHILE THEY LAST!!
We reviewed the compact disc version last list, now we've got the vinyl, direct from Thrill Jockey, who let us have a batch that comes with the aforementioned bonus 12", entitled Drives For Pedestrians, featuring five tracks of previously unreleased material, a half-hour's worth! Only available from a handful of lucky stores, like us. Also, the record is on translucent red vinyl in rather nice packaging. Here's what we said about the album proper, last time:
AQ fave psychedelic space rockers, the duo known as White Hills, are back, and taking some cool new chances with their sound. Busting out of their usual NYC haunts, this new album was recorded in rural Wales by a guy best known for working with poppier, electronic acts like Caribou and FKA Twigs. We're not sure anyone would call THIS album pop-oriented, exactly, though it's a fact that on a couple tracks here White Hills swap out guitar entirely for synthesizers - "I, Nomad" is bleeping, shimmering blissfulness. But for the most part, the usual White Hills krauty hypnorock loaded with squalls of fuzzy guitar distortion is in full effect, as expected, just somehow sleeker and provided with more precise targeting. Yes, Hawkwind is still a definite inspiration/influence/unavoidable comparison, especially on tracks like "We Are What You Are", while some other cuts here are a lot more 'new wavy' or post punk or something, equally propulsive and rhythmic but stripped down, giving more weight to the grooves, and sometimes also to the vocals (reminding anyone who'd forgotten, that White Hills are a boy-girl duo after all). The album-closing title track, laden with effects and electronics and samples, is practically funky and danceable, despite the droning guitar parts. We don't know if Dave W. and Ego Sensation were listening to a lot of Talking Heads, or, like, Herbie Hancock's "Rockit", or what exactly, but we're mesmerized by the results on that one. And if there are Moon Duo fans out there who for some reason haven't yet checked out White Hills, this disc would be a good place to start - "Automated City" sorta sounds like MD channelling the Rolling Stones in fact. While we always love White Hills, we're extra stoked on the different strokes they've surprised us with here.
Latest full-length from these Hawkwind worshipping drug-drone psychedelic space rockers from New York, after their killer long players Heads On Fire and Glitter Glamor Atrocity, as well as 7 or 8 other kick ass cd-r's AND a couple 12"s, all leading us here, quite possibly their heaviest and most full realized record yet.
Beginning with "Dead", a track we're already pretty obsessed with, as it was the teaser track from the last 12", and even after spinning the 12" to, um, death, it's still a doozy: fuzzy, druggy, looped and hypnotic, with dreamy soft singing, beneath billowing clouds of distorted guitars, all hazy and super space rocky, definitely channeling the spirits of Loop and Spacemen 3, totally hypnotic, like a blown out krautrock jam drenched in tons of effects, you can almost hear the flashing strobes, and clouds of glowing smoke, the track just oozes druggy bliss.
And druggy bliss pretty much describes the whole record. "Countin Sevens" is a slow burning meander through some otherworldly landscape if prismatic clouds and barren moonlit expanses, the drums tribal and motorik, the guitar strummy and jangly, the bass throbbing and dense, all wound up into yet another seemingly endless sprawl of psychedelic excess, hazy, bleary and so utterly enthralling.
"Three Quarters" is the first track to get TRULY riffy, a sort of Stooges / Loop hybrid, the band locked into a churning loping rhythm, the vocals weirdly processed, exploding occasionally into even heavier double time downtuned grooves, before slipping back into that opening lope, before breaking down into 4 minutes of droned out space psych drift, wild tangled leads, long sheets of rumbling buzz, streaks of feedback, the bass and drums locked into a super heavy groove, another track that could (and probably should) go on forever.
"Let The Right One In" is one of two tracks that crack the 12 minute mark, beginning with field recordings of street sounds and tolling bells, dogs barking and whirling wind, all set a top a washed out bed of murmured guitars, a simple spidery bassline, shuffling drums, a soft focus shimmer, a brooding ballad, that gradually grows more and more post/math rocky, but never truly letting loose, until the last few minutes, but this time the psych freakout is reeled in, and instead the band just get a little epic and majestic, with thick looped riffage, soaring chords, repeating mantra like as the song finally unwinds. "We Will Rise" is a super minimal stretch of gurgling effects laden murk, with some spare drumming, soft squalls of guitar glimmer and a warm liquid bassline running through it, leading directly into "Glacial" which is in fact glacial, a thick whirring drone, muted buzz, and grinding downtuned whirs wound tight into a softly pulsing minimal drift, with some seriously SUNNO)))-like doomic swells off in the background, haunting and hushed and seriously ominous.
Which leads perfectly into the epic closer, "Polvere Di Stelle", fuzz bass, big drums, weary ethereal vocals, and guitars galore, a hazy washed out drug rock space out, more tangled leads, swells of super distorted wah wah riffage, the drums wild and forceful, the whole song a massive lurching beast, building to a super chaotic psychedelic blowout, a speaker melting crescendo, drums colliding like atoms, the guitars whirling and howling, the vocals another hazy layer, everything locked into a churning hypnorock sprawl spreading out into the cosmos...
The cd comes in a cool mini lp style full color gatefold sleeve, the lp is housed in an eye popping super elaborate psychedelic silver foil metallic sleeve and is EXTREMELY limited....
Previously only available as a double lp, this sprawling slab of blissed out space rock psychedelia is now available on cd, and with a SIXTEEN MINUTE bonus track, which, if you're obsessive like us, and we know lots of you are, makes this essential, even if you (we!) already have the vinyl version. More on the bonus track below, but first, here's what we had to say about the record proper:
Touted as the first 'official' teaming up of these two outfits, we're pretty sure this is definitely at least the second, maybe the now out of print Aquarian Downer cd-r is not being counted as properly official, but having freaked out over that a while back, we already knew these two were a good match. And on this collaboration, the two mesh seamlessly, White Hills seeming to let Gnod dial down the intensity and all out rocking, and crank up the shimmery washed out dreaminess, we mentioned Tangerine Dream in our review of the cd-r, and that sound is all over here, but so is Neu!, Wooden Shjips, all sorts of things, but WH and Gnod are clearly space rock masters, and these 4 sidelong tracks only further cement their placement in our personal space rock kraut drone pantheon (what, you don't have one?)!
So for this record, White Hills are a four piece, again featuring Oneida's Kid Millions on drums, and Gnod are a SEVEN piece, so you would think 11 rockers jamming out would be a crazy mess, but nope, these guys are so obviously sonic soulmates, which is evident from the first track, a slab of slow groovy krautrock, motorik (multiple drummer-ed?) drumming, smoldering minimal riffage, mantra like vocals, the Neu! / Stereolab vibe here is huge, woozy synths, tangled psychedelic leads, all glistening and sunshiney, never exploding into full bore heaviness, instead, just unwinding lazily and dreamily, drowsy druggy drift giving way to super spare spaced out smolder, before launching into a muscular Hawkwind sounding jam, all downtuned crunch, caveman pound, swirly psychedelic effects, churning and chugging relentlessly, the rhythm and groove LOCKED in, while the guitars and synths and effects swirl and whirl all around, finally unwinding with a cool muted bit of cinematic drift, haunting ghostlike melodies that almost sound like strings, all in a softly fuzzy dreamlike haze.
Which leads into another bit of druggy drift, all rhythmic and almost new agey, cool repetitive melodies, simple and stripped down drumming, all laid over a deep rumbling synth drone, everything washed out and otherworldly. Eventually that gives way to a throbbing fuzzy bassline, matched up with a rock solid rhythm, more effects are applied, as are some wild fragmented super distorted leads, some warped Manzarek style organ, that main groove never faltering, total low slung incendiary psychedelia.
And so like us, you were probably expecting the final closing jam to be the full on blow out we had all been waiting for, a free for all freak out of epic proportions, but instead, the band dial it WAY down, and offer up some super sprawling, ethereal atmospheric space folk driftscape bliss out, all spidery crystalline guitars, barely there hand drums, thick languid basslines, gauzy restrained effects, soft focus finger picked neo-Appalachia, totally dreamlike and mesmerizing, it almost sounds like the Alps covering Hawkwind, converting heart of the sun heaviness into something hushed and pastoral, subtly lysergic and utterly divine. So good.
This cd version tacks on a final track, a NEW final track, a sprawling 16+ minute slow burn epic, that like the previous 'final' jam doesn't explode or freak out, instead offering up another gorgeous gauzy expanse of swirling psychedelia, loping woozy basslines, muted minimal drumming, soft swirling effects, and plenty of dreamily tangled melodies, sitar like buzz, tinkling chimes, synthy shimmer, all spread out into a blurred, head tripping, Eastern tinged, chunk of glorious smoldering dream psych. Awesome. And maybe just worth buying again...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Another blast of spaced out psychedelia from aQ faves White Hills, hot on the heels of their most recent full length, the kick ass Frying On This Rock. For this split 12", those East Coast spacelords (and lady) have teamed up with LA space rockers Farflung, whose last record, A Wound In Eternity, we reviewed a while back, and as you might remember, we were kinda blown away by just how heavy and spaced out and gloriously psychedelic it was, so it sorta makes sense that they would end up sharing a record (and a tour) with White Hills...
Each band offers up a sidelong track, Farflung starting things off, and pretty much straight away, they launch into some seriously stomping psychedelic spaciness, which we're guessing will have most fans of the current crop of psych/space rock (The Heads, White Hills, Wooden Shjips, Carlton Melton, etc.) wondering how the fuck they've managed to miss out on these guys for so long. It's like Chrome via Hawkwind via the Stooges, the sound MASSIVE, thick and dense and HEAVY, punkish processed vox over crushing stoner space rock riffage, all wrapped in druggy clouds of dense sci-fi FX, swirls and swoops and bleeps and bloops, the vibe slithery and swaggery, pounding and explosive, before the band bring it down part way through and unfurl some blissed out kosmische shimmer, all hushed and heady and drowsily dreamlike, before blasting right back into a stretched out kraut-flecked hypnorock jam that will have Heads / White Hills hands in heaven. And then they somehow crank it up even further for the last few minutes, finishing off with a wild freaked out heavy psych blowout that KILLS.
White Hills opt out of a heavy space psych duel, with Dave W. and Ego Sensation instead turning their sound inward, channeling some serious cosmic drift, much more akin to the sound of last year's aQ instore, blissed out and dreamy, but even more mellowed out here, soft swirls and thick chordal thrum, all blurred into gloriously soft focus smears of celestial kraut-psych shimmer, with a super cool, super weird mid song interlude, with a strange sample bit of angelic vox, like some scratchy old pop record, in a haze of warm crackle and wreathed in streaks of space spidery psych melodies, before slipping right back into the warm, whirling sprawl of muted guitars and softly swirling effects that started things off.
Killer stuff from both bands, White Hills great as always, and hopefully the perennially unsung Farflung will get some big time love from the legions of White Hills fans, cuz they definitely deserve it.
Featuring super eye popping red and white Manga style artwork by Keenan Keller. The vinyl pressed on either red or white (to match the red and white cover art), with a printed insert inside with liner notes and more awesomely garish artwork. LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES!!
Latest from these aQ beloved, NY based drugdronepsychspace rockers, this time, they've teamed up with mysterious UK outfit Gnod, who add a whole other layer of fuzz and grit and blown out buzz, to WH's already heady heavy spaced out sound. In fact the entire first track are most of the second consists primarily of blurred, smeared ambient drones, washed out FX drenched soft noise, more Sunroof! that Hawkwind, but eventually, this sprawling freeform swirl begins to coalesce into something only slightly more cohesive, a shuffling tribal mantra, a cycle of simple percussion and whirring thrum that reminds us of No Neck or Sunburned Hand. Even into the third track, the record has yet to ROCK, instead, muted tablas, streaks of space-y effects, more warm shimmering whir, very tranquil and meditative and almost sort of stoned sounding. Track three finishes off with a little flurry of glitch and squelch, leading into still more muted bliss.
BUT, track 4 is when the band really start to intensify, the drums locked into a more Krautrock sounding beat, the guitars thickening, the ambience slightly more ominous, until finally, the band launch into a seriously heavy and dark, spaced out kraut jam, mostly drums, way up in the mix, pounding and pulsing, beneath a sky full of FX and riff-less guitars offering up clouds of rumble and throb, the bass, a thick black serpent, coiled up around the propulsive rhythm. It's even more intense and 'heavy' sounding after the first three tracks, that while awesome on their own, all dark and raga like, also served to build some serious tension, like some sort of super long intro. But this jam will definitely not disappoint long time WH fans in need of their drone psych space rock fix.
The record finishes off with some super intense synth dronebuzz, like a super ominous dark ambient Tangerine Dream, a simple wavery tone, whirring malevolently within a cloud of drifting muted effects, little bits of shortwave buzz, streaks of hiss and whir, eventually drums join in, but not to rock really, instead they just lock into a repetitive pound, laced with little flurries of percussive splatter, but mostly the drums just pound away, the cymbals unleashing huge sheets of metallic shimmer, the guitars again forgoing riffs and gushing blown out FX soaked buzz, over all that synths swirl, electronics bleep and bloop, it's like a chaotic blend of the heaviest most drugged out and damaged Acid Mothers Temple and Hawkwind outros, until the crowd sounds come in and it becomes clear that this was all live, which makes it even more impressive.
Packaged in a plain black cardboard sleeve, with a paste on front and back cover, and a photocopied insert with liner notes.
SUPER LIMITED as always. We got the very last copies. 40 of em. Not sure we'll be able to talk them into making more if they run out, we'll of course try if it comes to that, but best to grab one of these quick just in case!
Record number three from these Canadian punks, whose first two records were big faves around here even though they never made it onto the list. Their sound seems loosely aligned with Perfect Pussy, in that they're noisy, and have a bad ass female vocalist, but where Perfect Pussy embraces abrasive noisiness, White Lung are much more concerned with melody and songcraft, reminding us of a super charged Team Dresch, which is most definitely a good thing. The production on this new one is massive, the guitars heavy and almost metallic, splintering into shards of keening high end, swirls of angular crunch, all wound around a super tight rhythm section, and of course, vocalist Mish Way, who flits easily from feral how, to throaty croon, and the songs, so catchy and well crafted, the multiple guitars winding multiple melodic lines into killer harmonies, the sound dense and lush and layered, making for something that definitely transcends punk rock, it's anthemic, epic and majestic, but also super personal, and emotional, not hard to imagine White Lung being primo mixtape material, particularly vitriolic breakup mixtapes, it's got that sort of anger and energy and passion. So killer. Odds are you'll end up wanting the other two records as well (and we can get em for you, just ask!)...
White Lung's Paradise is one hell of a modern-day punk record, one that builds upon all of the things that worked on the band's previous albums and also applies a bit of pop-polish production to the music. The venom, snarl, and high-octane energy are still the hallmarks of White Lung's sound, with Paradise seeming plausibly epic in length at 29 minutes, as pretty much all of their previous albums struggled to break the 20 minute mark. Vocalist Mish Barber-Way is commanding presence, with soaring, full-throated melodies that will collapse into viciously barked epithets. It's almost impossible not to hear Courtney Love in her voice, but thankfully without the trainwreck of cultural, personal, and emotional baggage that Love brings to the table. The band had done without a proper bassist for years, maintaining a claustrophobic intensity through the Big Black rhythms transcribed brilliantly by Anne-Marie Vassilou without loosing any of the velocity; and guitarist Kenneth William's shrill angular staccato was always well-suited at a potent foil to Barber-Way's voice. The addition of a bassist opens up the sound, and thankfully, they've lost nothing in the construction of this white-knuckled ride of anxiety, chaos, tension, and vitriol.
We love when music is released to perfectly coincide with the season it's being released in. With new records by Richard Youngs, Citay and this new White Magic ep we feel like we are armed with the perfect sound with which to usher in the fall.
We had to wait so long for White Magic's full length after their debut ep, so we're very happy that they'vee quickly followed up that great first album with another e.p. of their dark and hypnotic psychedelic folk. Conjuring the spirit of Karen Dalton and Grace Slick at her most mystifying, Mira Billotte has proven to be one of the most distinctive and compelling voices in the underground music scene over the last decade. Her amazing voice and mesmerizing piano playing are perfectly complimented by the strong presence of her partner in magical musical spells, Douglas Shaw, who wrote and sings on the ep's closer, which is absolutely beautiful.
With songs that sound like they should be performed at some ceremonial ritual, White Magic have carved out a special place for themselves and have proven that long after the whole 'freak folk' hype is dead and gone they will remain, as a band who truly conjure up meaningful songs and remarkable music. While it's just four songs and only about 20 minutes long, Dark Stars might still find its way on some of our top records of '07 lists. So good!
Ever since Mira Billotte hit the scene with her sister Christina in the band Quix*O*Tic several years ago she has been a force to be reckoned with. Blessed with an amazing voice that cuts right through into your soul and gives you goosebumps all over.
Her debut as White Magic, an e.p. titled Through The Sun Door, from a few years back took the more fantastical and ethereal side of Quix*O*Tic to exciting new heights. When White Magic toured for that record on the west coast they opened for Ghost and put on one of the most jaw-dropping performances we had ever seen. To this day, people who were there continue to talk about the fact that they got to witness something so special. Admirers like Joanna Newsom, Vetiver and Brightblack were all in attendance dancing their hearts out to White Magic's rich, commanding sounds. Fast forward a few years and we still only had that great show and that same handful of songs from the e.p. No full length, as well as rumors that there might never be one, and just two new songs on a Tylenol promotional cd (yes the pain medicine), a split with American Analog Set to tide us over. As our patience began to fade, we finally heard the news we had been waiting for, a new full length was on the way. Dat Rosa Mel Apibus is our reward for waiting so long and so patiently. And it was well worth it. With members of The Dirty Three and Gang Gang Dance, Mira was able to craft a record that resonates with a deep strength and an intense presence. The kind of record that is of course fun to listen to, but it's when you really allow yourself to enter its world when the real magic happens. Songs that suck you right into their raging emotional storm. Melodies that wrap themselves around your brain and tie your stomach up in knots. Like Bjork and Joanna Newsom, White Magic possess that same kind of singular voice and vision that makes their songs resonate with a long lasting power and a deep emotional resonance. So good.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Woohooo! A new release of music by Mira Bilotte aka White Magic is always something to celebrate around here and we just got in a handful of her new 4 song ep on cassette. The title track, "I'm Hiding My Nightingale" is of course a cover of the pre-Can group, The Inner Space, featured on the group's soundtrack for the German film, Kamasutra. Featuring Ariel Pink on acoustic guitar, it follows in the tradition of great White Magic covers by Nina Simone, Jefferson Airplane and Karen Dalton. "Runaway" is a beautiful ballad with slow piano builds and echoing vocals. "Mora" is more psychedelic , building upon a repeating vocal loop with hand percussion and shruti box drones while the final track, "Out Beyond The Moon" is a beautifully loping piano vamp, rhythmic and mystical that has us hoping for a new full length soon, as it's been nearly 10 years since her last one. Comes cassingle style with iridescent wraparound cardstock cover. Limited to 300 copies, and we're not sure we'll be able to get more, but there will be a 10" vinyl version coming out in July.
You know you must be just a little bit obsessed and seriously dying for new material by a band when two little songs are more than enough to tide you over! And that's precisely the case with this new 2 song single from White Magic. Their debut (also an ep) came out a few years back (and is now out of print!), and we've been waiting not so patiently for anything, a full length would have been ideal, but we can make do with this kick ass single!
Their debut ep had to be one of the best things EVER on Kill Rock Stars. Mostly the brainchild of Mira Billotte, who spent some time in an equally great band with her sister called Quix*o*tic. Mira has one of the most chilling and beautiful voices in indie rock without a doubt. The kind of voice that holds you down and forces you to surrender to its warmth and mystery. While folks like Devendra Banhart and Joanna Newsom have garnered most of the attention, it's only a matter of time before the world catches on to the White Magic.
These two songs are such a gorgeously cruel tease, while we are forced to continue waiting as patiently as we can. The first song is their version of "Katie Cruel", an amazing arrangement of a classic tune by Karen Dalton and it's followed up by "Hold Your Hand In The Dark" a stunning original with immaculate piano playing and once again THAT voice, so effortlessly giving us chills and the grandest of goosebumps.
It's almost impossible to keep ourselves still and write about this new White Magic release as every time we listen to it all we want to do is spin and jump around. We've only had New Egypt in our hands and ears for a week now but we've already lost count of how many times we've pressed repeat to hear this ten minute track over and over again. Like some kind of amazing mantra on love, hope, paranoia and what the future could hold, this is White Magic at their fiery and feverish best!
Taking some of the ingredients of what was previously our favorite White Magic song "One-Note" from their Through The Sun Door debut over four years ago and stretching it out with even more dynamics, more fire and a dizzying spell that casts its magic in such physical ways. What separates White Magic from the psychedelic folk masses is that they create music that actually creates a strong physical sensation as well as tapping into emotional realms. It's impossible to listen to "New Egypt" and not have your body start responding physically to the sounds, it's perfect for strapping on headphones and taking on the city and walking faster and with more purpose than ever before.
We'd been hearing that this was supposed to come out for several months, but somehow the timing of it finally arriving now seems so perfect for the crisp October air, as this really sounds like a ceremonial offering to the season of fall. There is a flame ignited at the core of what White Magic creates that's truly connected to all the Earth elements while still inhabiting a space that's filled with intriguing mystique. Make sure to play this one loud as we've found it resonates with such striking glory when it blasts through our skin and inhabits both the inner and outer realms of our psyche.
Packaged with the latitudes series usual classy cardboard aesthetic with a gold embossed pyramid on the cover giving a clue to the transcendental song that is within! While this one is a bit pricey for its length coming it at over a dollar a minute, the song makes that math equation a no-brainer as it really is a priceless gem!
Somehow we'd gotten the mistaken impression that White Magic featured the vocals of Christina Billotte (Slant 6, Quix*o*tic, Casual Dots)...even listening to it didn't dispell that notion. That's 'cause the singer on this is actually Mira Billotte, Christina's sister, who's also in Quix*o*tic too. Her unlike-anyone-but-her-sister vocals are accompanied by her guitar and piano, plus the guitar and drums and handclaps of a couple other folks. There's six songs on this mini-album debut, mostly of artsy, moody, even a little bit bluesy indie-folk, culminating in the Heart-like rock finale of "Apocalypse".
Damn, we've been anxiously awaiting this 7" for quite a while now. When White Magic performed a magical instore earlier this year, she expected to have them then, but they never showed, and in fact, it's been almost two years since rumors began to circulate about the impending release of this mysterious single.
Being that its the first release that Mira Billotte (aka White Magic) has put out herself, and the fact that she's been on tour, and just moved to Los Angeles after a lifetime on the East Coast, it's totally understandable that this record was in limbo for so long. But some artists are well worth waiting for, and "White Widow" is one of the most raw and haunting songs yet from White Magic. We're reminded that Mira's old band Quixotic (check out their amazing two albums if you don't have them!) once covered Black Sabbath, and "White Widow" really does cast such a doomic and mysteriously mystical spell. The flip-side is an awesome and rocking cover of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit", and since Billotte's entrancing vocals have often been compared to Grace Slick at her peak, it's a perfect match. This will for sure please big time White Magic fans, but we also think folks who may not have listened to WM much before but who dig bands like Dead Meadow, Bardo Pond, The Entrance Band, Bark Psychosis, and the like might just love this as well!
The latest release from local label and psychedelic powerhouse Valley King is the latest record from stoner psych space rock visionaries White Manna, and like the two Holy Mountain records that came before, Come Down Safari, is another gloriously tripped out sonic sprawl, all hazy, buzzy throb and tranced out heart-of-the-sun mesmer, looooong tracks that seem to unfurl endlessly, the drums and bass weaving lush languorous backgrounds, that seem to pulse and ooze, over which the guitars soar and howl, melodic streaks blurred into heaving washes of chordal shimmer, riffs stretched out into druggy sonic mantras, the sound slipping effortlessly from churning psychedelic heaviness, to soporific, dream-drone drift, WM channeling the sound of their psychedelic forefathers, into heady, abstract sonic rituals, that manage to take the sound of classic early space rock and fuse it to a more modern take on retro psych.
Fans of the usual suspects (the Heads, White Hills, Mammatus, Carlton Melton, etc.) should already be WAY into these guys, and if they're not, this should fix that pretty quick.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, eye popping psychedelic picture disc artwork by Alan Forbes!
