Yet another collection of breezy, jangly eighties style dream pop from these aQ faves, the sound not too far removed from their last few records, the most noticeable difference this time around being the production, which is even more impossibly lush and expansive, the sound here is gorgeous, still hazy, and dreamily shoegazey, but the sound clear and clean, the songs laced with soaring strings and chiming guitars, the drums tribal and propulsive, the vocals wistful and way down in the mix, drifting on a bed of softly swirling shimmer. The songs too are fantastic. Where most bands doing the retro thing basically get the sound right and don't seem to worry too much about the actual song writing, or if they do, they just can't seem to pull it off. But Wild Nothing manage to both write songs reminiscent of those classic eighties jams, but craft killer hooks to boot, not to mention super addictive melodies. That, combined with the sound, make them top of the retro pop heap. Just check out the first track "Shadow", with its warm acoustic guitar strum, its woozy super melodic basslines, the main riff which will stick in your head like crazy, and the utterly divine string arrangements, it's a retro dream pop gem. But don't stop there. Dig deeper, there's a lot more to discover, strange little bits of fuzzy synth, weirdly proggy arrangements, more amazing strings, swirling vocal harmonies, all woven into WN's lush jangle pop tapestry, pretty much every song on Nocturne a swirly, shoegazy new wave pop gem.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This just showed up in the mail one day, and we weren't really sure what to expect from a band called Wild Wild Geese, or a record cover that looked like a kindergartener drew a picture of an octopus attacking earth with fingerpaints, but we were definitely pleasantly surprised. Some super hooky nineties style indie rock, reminding us of Sebadoh, The Memories Attack, Dinosaur Jr, Built To Spill, Afghan Whigs... Plus they're from North Carolina too, which makes lots of sense, Superchunk, Polvo, the gnarled riffage definitely smacks of Polvo, and pre Built To Spill outfit Treepeople (not North Carolina obviously), and the super blown out leads sound like they could be courtesy of J Mascis, but the band don't just skate by on their influences, they've honed a pretty killer sound, at once looking back to the good ol' nineties college rock days, but also, firmly rooted in the now, with plenty of fuzzed out guitars, lazy drawled vox buried in the mix, garage rock crunch, and a serious heft and heaviness. But those melodies, and the band's arrangements are so reminiscent of the stuff we grew up with, that it makes these jams hit the spot even more. We've been cranking this like crazy, and have no plans of stopping any time soon!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Formerly the guitarist for Northwestern garage rockers Federation X, and occasional collaborator with members of the Reeks And The Wrecks, Ben Wildenhaus has since transformed into a bit of an avant guitarist, now living on the east coast, and managing the Instrumental Quaalude blog, on which he weekly posts new recordings, always instrumental, always under 5 minutes.
Great Melodies From Around seems to be an extension of Instrumental Quaalude, as it is a cassette collection of similarly dark, gorgeously instrumental excursions, assembled from lush layered drones, Appalachian style steel string guitars, woozy twangy slide guitar, strange murky percussion, bits of vocals (NOT singing) employed as more texture, wheezing organ, sinewaves, minimal drumming, subtle electronics, bits of glitch and hiss, amp buzz, a little noise here and there, the occasional sample... The sound is smokey and dark and ominous, dreamy and hauntingly lovely, a distinctly Lynchian soundtrack vibe for sure, late night, lights low, everything dusty, and dark, and lonely, and lit by the streetlights outside, hazy, gauzy, fuzzy, and totally and fantastically lovely.
SUPER LIMITED of course. Full color photograph covers, blue cases, hand decorated tapes.
Goddamn we love this band. And goddamn they're hard to pigeonhole or review. They're the sort of band that leaves critics throwing their hands up and saying weird things like "Animal Collective playing metal", or finds us comparing 'em (on past albums) to everyone from MBV to Redd Kross to the Swans to Gaye Bykers On Acid to the freaking God Bullies...
They sound like a lot of things, but ultimately their own special Wildildlife thing - and we don't have enough hypens handy to describe all the genres they glom together into that. Yeah they're heavy and noisy and fucked up, palling around with Harvey Milk and other sludgey/doom metal types, but also have an almost glammy, "buried pop" side to 'em that's become less and less buried from record to record. This new one is perhaps their poppiest, catchiest yet, without sacrificing any of the delicious distortion, noisiness or heaviness, though.
Details, its front cover bearing appropriately demented, deliberate eyesore cover art scrawlings (the back of the sleeve is even better - a drawing of a cat in corpsepaint), is awash with spacey swirling FX, stonery druggy vocals, and sinuous grungy riffage, making for some seriously psychedelic fuzzed out noise pop that's maybe still somehow sorta metal - definitely mental though. Take some Butthole Surfers, some Dead Meadow, some '90s alt-metal (Nudeswirl, anyone?), some slowcore and shoegaze and old school Sub Pop, and you're getting close to the idea of what's going on here.
We suppose we could just mention a few highlights among this album's seven tracks, but it's tough to choose. The short-and-sweet blast of the excellent opener "Dub 1"? The majestic keyboards of "Water Underneath"? The sleazy riffage cranked out on badass rocker "Conditioner"? The tripped out, lumbering awesomeness of, uh, everything??? Yeah we love it all. You should just get this and listen to it yourself, and let it sink into you and you into it, that's our recommendation. Oh, but speaking of sinking into it, let's also mention how the second side closes out with not one but two 8+ minute hypnorock epics. There's the big roiling drums, droning keys and almost bagpipe-like guitar soloing of "Love Hums", and then the even heavier/dirgier "Edge Of The Apocalypse (Forever)", the latter with a pretty little come-down electronica bit at the end, as the song gently fades out... Nice.
We may be a bit biased of course, 'cause Wildildlife singer/guitarist Matt Rogers is an aQ alumnus, but honestly, we had no expectations, in fact we were surprised this even came out, 'cause we thought the band had basically broken up long ago, the guys living in different cities, Matt more into techno DJing than playing rock music, but here it is, and if it's their swansong it's a damn good one, but hopefully the release of this record might spur 'em to get their shit together and get back on stage and play live again 'cause they KILL and it would be great to see Matt writhing around with his guitar again (and the other guys going off too) and hear these tunes super LOUD in person.
Vinyl-only (grrrr) but it includes a download!
Warped druggy psychedelic metallic noise rock trio Wildildlife, who just so happen to features a former aQuarian amongst their ranks, always had a bit of pop in their sound, even at their most tripped out and damaged, when they were channeling Butthole Surfers and Gaye Bykers On Acid and God Bullies and Lubricated goat, their wild rhythmic blowouts were always laced with primo hooks and loads of melody, and it was that subtle poppy undercurrent, that kept them from being just another noisy rock band. But the thing was, before now, it seemed that it was mostly about the heaviness, and they were indeed heavy, sidling up alongside outfits like Harvey Milk, spitting out churning elephantine riffage and skull caving flurries of drum damage, if we had our way, we wouldn't have changed anything about Wildildlife. That is until we heard this.
It's like they're a whole different band. Not sure if it's a natural progression or if it's the influence of their new producer, Jennifer Herema of Royal Trux, but the new sound is downright GLAMMY, swaggery, and power poppy, the vocals, which used to be distorted and sped up and processed into strange chipmunk squeals, is now actual and proper singing, and as if to drive that whole glam thing home, there's sax now, and we generally HATE sax, but this is like Stooges / Hanoi Rocks sax, which means it rules, and it somehow just makes things sound even cooler.
The opening track might just be our new favorite jam, right out of the gate, it's total soaring fuzzy pop, chiming guitar melodies, warm synth swells, and then when the main riff kicks in, we're in classic Kiss territory, suddenly the picture on the back of the lp, that has the band all in white, the lens all vaselined, looking like seventies rockers Angel, makes WAY more sense. And actually, after more listens, it sounds less like Kiss, and more like Redd Kross cover Kiss, which is even better, slithery and swaggery an snotty and hooky but still heavy, but so glammy, right down to the little sexy exhalation of breath in the super short break. And somehow it seems appropriately self defeating that their catchiest and most accessible song is titled "Fuck That".
The follow up "I Want You Out" even furthers the whole Redd Kross / Kiss thing, but we're talking old Redd Kross, circa Teen Babes From Monsanto, when they were still heavy and a little dark, and way drugged out and psychedelic, "I Want You Out" is all big tribal drumming, downtuned riffs, even some handclaps, and more of those new vocals, and lots of bleating/skronking sax, that once the song gets going sounds like a glam metal version of Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk". Not sure what the hell happened, but we most definitely want some of what they're having.
And the rest of the record unfurls in a similar fashion, classic rock riffs, are all wound up in a glittery haze, hooks are doused in fuzz and buzz and sent spinning into the space rock ether, but the band continue to mix it up, to confuse and confound. "Sometimes" is a folk ballad, dubbed out and drenched in low end synth buzz, acoustic guitars wrapped in reverb, the result a sort of apocalyptic doom folk, glitter style, only to lurch right into "Give In To Live", another Kiss/Thin Lizzy style glamrock groover, but here underpinned by some serious double kick drumming. "Stormbringer" (possibly a Deep Purple cover?) is an epic slow build of distorted vocals, gurgling synths, big drums, but instead of launching into full on glammed out noise rock mode, they lay back, and groove out, a sort of old school Hawkwind style space rock brooder that KILLS, and should have gone on for another 6 minutes. "Shiv" is a low slung, super distorted fuzz heavy churning creep, laced with glammy filigree, and finally, "Permanent Vacation" is the ultimate send off, you can almost imagine these guys on a huge stage, lit from behind with blinding showers of pyro, the drummer standing on his seat, winding up the crowd to clap along, the vocals gnarled and twisted, the guitars chiming and soaring, but instead of launching into the song proper, these guys stretch it out, adding weird rhythmic shifts, bits of mathy weirdness, all the while building and building, totally epic and majestic, before all the sounds are stripped away, leaving a weird warped melody, and some twisted drum machine skitter.
Remember about 1000 words ago we said something about never wanting these guys to change? What the hell were we thinking, sure we might miss the sheer heaviness and drugged out crush of the old Wildildlife, but it seems like a more than fair trade for the new, glammed out, super catchy, weirdo noisepop Wildildlife. Fuck yeah.
While they last, we have the super limited version on AMAZING colored vinyl, they are mostly clear, with weird spurts of color in the middle, mine looks like a bloody egg or something, and all the lps include a download coupon for a digital copy of the record as well!
While we were sad to see our coworker Matt leave us a while back, if it meant helping unleash the true force of the wild beast that is Wildildlife upon the world, then we're happy to have done our part.
As kick ass as their most recent full length was, playing live is where Wildildlife truly destroy, three mild mannered hairy dudes transformed into a fierce six legged, six armed, long haired, face melting, tripped out drug addled behemoth. And while their most recent tour was rife with drama, broken bones, stolen equipment and extortionist cabbies, the shows that did take place were the sort to not be soon forgotten. And while they were on the East Coast, they got to play live on the radio, on Brian Turner's show on WFMU, and this is the proof that it did indeed take place. Hard to imagine a band can kick up such a shitstorm with no crowd to react to, holed up in a little glass room, but Wilildlife bring it, hard.
They open with "Metal", from their full length, and manage to make it sound even more freaked out, the effected little girl vox have them channeling the Butthole Surfers even more than usual, the extended free-jam outro goes on for minutes, letting the band explore the outer reaches, before launching into another downtuned tribal workout. The sound is surprisingly clean, a few folks here like it even better than the record proper. Some of the songs are oldies, revamped and supercharged, some are altered versions of tracks from 6, those creepy high pitched vocals return throughout, and the band is on fire, the songs complex and convoluted but hooky and catchy as fuck, folks who bought the full length will for sure dig this. And if you've yet to discover the mysteries of Wildildlife, this is as good a place to start as any�
Plus there's a pretty funny interview with the trio at the end...
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES, in a cool full color, three panel oversized cover, featuring some pictures of the band on tour, including an awesome shot of Matt perusing porn in the van, as well as a band member's button that says it all: "Let's face it... I'm cute!"
A new ep from San Francisco's Wildildlife serves as a more concise and slightly less abusive introduction to the band than the dense and unremitting Six, December's Crucial Blast full length release (see review on list #281). Whereas Six showcases the band's expansive capabilities, Peas Feast demonstrates a band equally willing to direct their songs more pointedly. Simply put, this is the sound of a bunch of stoned Hessians taunting Tatiana the tiger (R.I.P.)...
The opener, "White Eyelidz" starts with Chrome like distorted vocals that slowly give way to a groove that is simultaneously long-haired and atonal. The vocals are treated with such reverebarance that they may have been recorded in God's icy womb. The guitar line swirls effortlessly while the band locks into circular Neu! like syncopations. The deep-sea diver finds his hidden treasure; a sludgy walk along the ocean floor. Darby Crash drops by for some tea; for the record he wants Darjeeling, fill his cup 5/4th's full.
"Violent", keeps it super slow and heavy. Picture My Bloody Valentine on 6.66 RPM. Harmonies shouldn't work but they do, possibly accidentally. Every sound feeds back grossly. Like a too full stomach. But the food's just so good, how're you gonna stop eating? Yet the song only gets slower and slower and now your burrito weighs seven pounds. Gentle Californian psych licks expedite the digestive process. Still, you're gonna shit blood.
If your crusty friend P-Nutty let his dog stick his head out of the window of a car he didn't have, "The Shining Son" is what it would sound like inside his doggie's brain. This is easily the catchiest song Wildildlife has ever written. Vocals wretch triumphantly, trying in vain to disgrace this gem of a pop song. Not gonna happen. The final track, "My Song", which had appeared earlier as an acoustic track on the bands self-titled EP, mixes an urgent sing-songy dementia with timpanic bass and drum blasts. This review has yet to mention the constant presence of the shrieking guitar, and this track is jammed with it, beginning to end. The epic track eventually melts away into a into a lalaland that channels a desperation not heard since the coda of Leonard Cohen's "One of us Cannot be Wrong." It should also be said that the experience of seeing Wildildlife's live show can range from pseudo-intentional beer-on-amp pouring to psychosexual hypnosis to telekinetic skull-bashery. Buy this ep it is HIGH-ly recommended.
(Thanks to aQ pal Amitai for the killer review!)
We dug the first ep from SF transplants Wildlife, who just so happened to feature our very own Matt in mailorder on guitar and vocals. A blown out tripped out heavy as fuck space rock psychedelic freakout of the highest order. Since then, not only have the band changed their name, to the much weirder and somehow more appropriate Wildildlife but also honed their sound into something somehow more blown out, more tripped out, heavier, weirder, but more importantly, WAY catchier. Hooks and melodies that most bands would kill for, but Wildildlife play it like it's no big thing, burying that stuff under avalanches of processed guitars, throbbing howling bass pedals, metallic Iron Maiden like riffing, insane chaotic drumming, and a fierce white hot wall of sound.
We were pretty much sold from the first track. Beginning with some simple Adam Ant drumming, tribal and pounding, before the glistening reverbed Big Country guitars come in, all swathed in delay and drifting over the tangled rhythmic chaos below. The guitars build into a serious chordal frenzy, and then a strange haunting, and very eighties sounding hook, and that's when the vocals come in. Distorted but melodic, a dangerously catchy hook, that somehow reminds us of Gaye Bykers On Acid. Druggy and tripped out, with a cool guitar/vocal "la� lalalalalaaaaaaa" refrain that sticks in your head FOREVER. Wildildlife are usually described as Butthole Surfers meets Black Sabbath, which while flattering, and maybe to a certain extent accurate, hardly do justice to Wildildlife's cracked pop flecked noise rock heaviness.
Yeah, they're heavy, but there's no massive doom riffing or downtuned metallic pummel, and they are definitely trippy, but not in the same way as the Buttholes.
Take the second track, beginning with a wicked tangle of distorted guitar, when the drums kick in, and the band locks into an angular almost new wave melody, and those vocals return, sort of raspy and crooned, echoed by either a high wavery guitar or a falsetto vocal, and they repeat, mantra like, mesmerizing and hypnotic, relentless and seriously tripped out. The drums a constant rhythmic lock beneath the strange poppiness of the vocals and the guitar, before the whole thing splinters into a Hawkwind free rock noise jam, all super effected vocals, total drum mayhem, and thick washes of crumbling guitars and throbbing buzzing bass, eventually petering out into a gorgeous metallic slowcore dirge, everything still wrapped in thick layers of reverb and delay, a gorgeous mournful doomic sonic deathmarch. While some may hear the Buttholes, we're hearing stuff like the God Bullies, the Cows, Lubricated Goat for sure and still plenty of Gaye Bykers, although all even more souped up and super charged.
The two halves of the record are separated by the longest track, the 18+ minute "Magic Jordan", which begins as a washed out post rock dirge, all shimmery strummed guitars, echoey Jim Morrison vocals, and a simple stripped down rhythm, Eventually, the band erupts into a massive roiling bout of slow heaviness, that sounds like a way more psychedelic Harvey Milk, with killer angular riffs surfacing amidst the endless black sonic swirl, eventually giving way to 10 minutes of tripped out free folkiness, all warped backwards guitars, abstract percussion, fluttering melodies, haunting disembodied vocals, all sorts of random creaks and chimes and whir and hiss. Which is quickly followed by what is easily the catchiest track on the record. The relatively brief seven minute long "Feed", with its abstract delayed guitar harmonic feedback intro, giving way to probably the most Buttholes sounding bit on the record, a tense and intense bit of furious drumming, and throbbing bass beneath little flurries of metallic guitar leads, doused in FX and sent swirling over the abyss, while the vocals croon from WAY down in the mix, finishing off with a cool thick chunk of melancholy riffage, massive low end throbs playing out a gorgeous melody beneath the squiggly guitar chaos above.
The disc finishes off with a massive sonic one two punch, two fourteen minute tracks, the first, a super abstract slow motion noise doom lurch, with anguished vocals, sung from the bottom of a well, the guitars and drums offering up jagged little stabs, before locking into a relentless Swans like crush, nearly suffocating the vocals, until the band again lock into an impossible blissed out drone, where the guitar and bass mesh into a nearly M83 sounding wash of fuzzed out psychdrone, before reverting to full on glacial plod until the end.
While the final track, begins with a thick bit of bassy buzz, weaving a hard to define slow motion melody, the buzzing rich and thick and rife with overtones, metallic, electric and lush all at once, eventually joined by a downtuned guitar mirroring that same slow motion melody, eventually joined by dramatic almost gothic vocals, the drums dropping in like brass knuckled fists to the sternum, the band again almost slipping into some intense Swans like doom, before the riffing slips away leaving nearly six minutes of soaring guitar noise, and cymbal sizzle, eventually building to a super dramatic major key coda, all soaring chords and falsetto crooning, like some sort of alien metallic "Star Spangled Banner" (again reminding us a bit of Harvey Milk), before drifting off into a meandering morning after guitar bass post rock fade out.
Way recommended. Noisy and heavy and poppy and psychedelic and fucked up and catchy in a way few bands can pull of. And the one time we caught them live, we were hanging in a hammock, above the stage, IN A BUS, getting rammed repeatedly by the headstock of the guitar as the two axemen dueled wildly in the outrageous confines of the space below. Barring that sort of intimate and surprisingly painful interaction with Wildildlife, this record will definitely serve as an ideal introduction to their damaged and druggy fucked up metallic noise rock space pop, at least until you too can be battered and bruised by these guys in the flesh!
Recorded by Aaron from Mammatus, released on the always awesome Crucial Blast, and in some seriously amazing packaging, a super fancy mini gatefold sleeve, thick and full color, with an intense bejeweled turquoise skull on the cover, a fucked up masked dirt faced hatchet flag duel photo inside, as well as a full color booklet with liner notes and a bunch more freaky blurry creepy masked wild(ild)life photos...
As a teaser for their upcoming Jennifer Herrema (Royal Trux, RTX) produced full length, psychedelic metallic noise poppers Wildildlife team up with their sludge pop doom noise pals in Flood for a killer two song onslaught.
Wildildlife just keep getting better, their sound getting poppier and poppier, but somehow managing to not get less heavy or any less weird or psychedelic. Their track here explodes right out of the gate with some mathy drum pound and some tangled guitar harmonies, sounding almost like some sort of Iron Maiden / Butthole Surfers hybrid, the sound woozy and distorted and druggy, the vocals processed and all tripped out, hooks galore, but all buried under Wildildlife's blown out glammy noise pop chaos. Swaths of crumbling sound and swirls of spacey effects get wrapped around looped samples, and wild streaks of pop flecked psychedelia, churning, and rhythmic and heavy, and noisy and crazy catchy to boot.
Flood counter with some low slung slithery post rock lope, which gains momentum and finally explodes into a seriously stonery doomy sludge, the brooding minimalism giving way to some epic, majestic hypno doom crush, but with plenty of groove, the sound at one point locking into a long stretch of repetitive and hypnotic chug and churn, sounding like a downtuned doom metal Circle, pounding away beneath bellowed vox and majestic melodies. So good.
Limited to 500 copies, we managed to get a bunch of the colored vinyl. Each one is hand numbered, and comes with a download coupon.
From right here in San Francisco, via Boston, comes this debut recording from Wildlife. And in the interest of being totally up front, we should tell you that we do actually have a vested interest in Wildlife, not only can SF always use another killer band to call its own, but we also got another amazing AQ employee out of the deal, Matt in mailorder, but all of that aside, this shit is seriously cool.
Opening with a hushed soundscape of record crackle (we're sold already!), a swirl of hiss and static and pops, underpinning thick bass thrums that shimmer like black clouds, while above this low end miasma hover simple muted guitars and huge drums way up in the mix (where they belong). Suddenly the sound is some sort of abstract slowcore indie doom, with beautiful drifting melodies, lugubrious tempos, all beneath a simple caveman plod and clouds of little effected guitar squiggles. The song eventually erupts into a massive downtuned crunch, thick waves of detuned riffage pile up beneath howled Stooges-y vocals wrapped in thick swaths of reverb, swaggering over the slippery tarpit dirge underneath. The song ends in a flurry of gorgeous harmonics, with shimmery distant angelic vocals, and strange dynamic shifts all tangled up with shards of angular jagged high end scrape and skree. Phew, and that's just the first song.
After a brief interlude, a strange cloud of ambient clatter, made up of blurred bits of fuzz and hiss, clockwork like rhythms as well as distant booming percussion, the band launch back into the rock, with a muted angular groove, not unlike Sonic Youth or Blonde Redhead with dense reverby guitars and simple tribal rhythms that build into a lurching sea sick stumble, with distorted shrieked vocals, swirls of feedback and moaning guitar wail before winding back down into a swirling dense coda of wild drumming and tangled squalls of blown out psych guitar.
The final track is a spare slab of creepy disembodied folk, thick stabs of tangled steel string dissonance wrapped in a bleak doomy ambience. A slow creeping monotone strum, with simple percussion and snarly vocals. The whole thing very sun baked with lots of reverb, a wild and clattery, Jandekian dirge folk work out that manages to be strangely epic and majestic.
We only have about twenty of these so we may run out quick. A repress is in the works, but it might be a while, so if you don't want to wait (and you definitely don't) then don't dawdle...
In case you're unfamiliar with the In The Fishtank Series, here's a brief synopsis, Dutch label Konkurrent invites a pair of touring groups into the studio to spend a couple of days recording whatever they like. Past artists who have accepted the
Hailing from Detroit, 66 year old Andre Williams plays blues based, ruckusy heartfelt drinking music for fans of The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Mick Collins and the like. This release has noodly guitar leads and old school soul organ. The Lovely Ronnie Spector apears as lead vocalist on one song.
Soul shaking romps from the guy behind "Shake a Tailfeather", but this is a NEW album from 1998, a collaboration with 2 guys from the Gories (including the crossdresser in Demo Dollrods). Very highly anticipated in the indie rock world.
Bad-ass. That's the word Andre Williams' raunchy r&b rock n' roll soul conjures up. Yep, for an old guy, he's bad-ass. Hence all the would-be bad-ass young 'uns eager to help him out on this record, including Jon Spencer & his Blues Explosion, The Cheater Slicks, and The Dirtbombs, The Countdowns, and The Compulsive Gamblers. Plus, Steve Mackay of Stooges' "Funhouse" sax-mania fame makes an appearance. Also of note: nice No Limit/Cash Money rap album parody cover (y'know, that "Pen & Pixel" Photoshop style that every hip hop album cops).
If you've got a soft spot for exceptionally well-crafted charming gentle pop with sensitive lad vocals, here's your (and our) latest crush! Right from the opening track of his debut album Carefree, Devon Williams will surely make you swoon with his sweet boyish demeanor and the comforting sway of the guitars. Most of the songs are quite engagingly reminiscent of the warm jingle jangle of '80s indie pop and the wide eyed innocence of '60s Brill Building pop. Mind you he'll surprise you with little more edge on numbers like "Stephanie City" which some around here thought brought to mind a bit of Pixies. Songs such as those make his recent tour pair-up with Dan Bejar's band Destroyer less of a head scratcher and more of a complementary coupling. Lay on some glorious string embellishments (courtesy of Steve Gregoropoulos of Lavender Diamond) which seemingly alternately inspired by the swirling orchestrations of Flaming Lips and Burt Bacharach, and you've got a breezy summertime keeper!
We've had difficulty with Ms Lucinda's past albums for being overly slick. While we loved many of her songs, the smooth AOR production has left much to be desired, often obliterating the immediacy of her fine songwriting. So this live recording is certainly welcome for its grittiness, but it's an unexpected sort of grit. In fact, this is a totally transformed Lucinda Williams. We caught a startling glimpse of her in a raucous duet with Elvis Costello on his Delivery Man album last year, but thought it to be an isolated excursion. This 2003 performance here at the Fillmore proves otherwise. It comes across as much less melodically inclined and more snarlingly aggressive -- her voice bristling with a near-Tom Waits throaty, throttled hoarseness. In fact, the very first time we played this in the store, three of us separately exclaimed, "Holy shit what is this?!" To boot, her early faves are sorely absent (y'know the ones you look forward to in live encores such as "Passionate Kisses"), but then again those songs aren't really suited to her new singing style as is made apparent in the lone oldie here "Changed The Locks". On a sticker attached to the front of the shrinkwrap, Costello compares her "rock and roll vocal style... to Keith Richards' guitar playing". We're not so sure about that. Perhaps a more direct and appropriate comparison would've simply been between their voices. However, while we're on the subject of guitars, there's plenty of lengthy solos and 'break-it-downs' (prime time for a spoken word interlude that we think she could've taken more advantage of). Nonetheless, the fans in attendance don't seem to mind one bit, fully captivated by her blistered and blistering bluesy Americana, and maybe you won't either. Approach with caution.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Wesley lives on the edge in Chicago, can pinpoint the day he started hearing voices, and is diagnosed as a chronic schizophrenic. He also released something like 10 or more albums the past couple of years (all of which Jello Biafra presumably owns), each of which takes him approximately 36 hours to record. People swear by his wit, his nonsequiters, his innate talent. Another case of fetishized "madness" and/or a creative force to be reckoned with? Discuss.
Another "essential" collection of casio-core rants from Chicago's favorite street performer. Yeah, "Suck A Caribou's Ass", that was a hit.
Not to be missed! Cup was absolutely devastated (in the best possible way!) and seriously moved to tears by this release! Heck, she's been at such a loss for words that it's taken her months to complete this review! This fabulous double dvd set's documentary and live performance present Wilson as the true musical genius he is, situating him alongside other great composers such as George Gershwin, Burt Bacharach and Cole Porter... although he truly belongs in a category all his own. If you have even an inkling of the journey this album and its creator have taken to get to this point (far too lengthy and involved to go into here -- you'll have to do your own Smile studying), it's nearly unfathomable that it should exist at all. To hear and see it all come to life is nothing short of a joyous experience. The live show was performed, recorded, filmed and edited beautifully. It looks and sounds fantastic! In fact, we'd definitely recommend experiencing the work known as Smile via the live performance on this dvd over listening to the studio album which was recorded in some very controlled, self-aware circumstances -- obviously a process of facing long-stored demons and finding closure to a work long unrealized -- and thus it comes across as somewhat stiff when held in comparison to the original Beach Boys' versions which were also much more wild and untethered... all understandably so. That said, Wilson has repeatedly stressed that this incarnation of Smile wasn't intended to be the same album he set out to do back then, that although it has pieces from his past, it's something very different to be taken on its own. The documentary is suitably reverential with remarkably well selected interview subjects (musicians, producers, peers and friends, themselves real artists, not simply celebrity talking heads) including Van Dyke Parks, Elvis Costello, Rob Reiner, Roger Daltrey, Jeff Bridges and George Martin. No folks, it's by no means an overstatement to say that this is a phenomenal triumph. Enjoy! ----* ----* In Stock, Not Yet Reviewed : ----* If you want to order one of these, just cut and paste the info into the comments area on the order form, or just email mailorder@aquariusrecords.org. ANGELS OF LIGHT & AKRON/FAMILY "s/t" (Young God) cd 14.98 ANTONY & THE JOHNSONS "You Are My Sister" (Secretly Canadian) cd ep 5.98 ARFORD, SCOTT "Radio Station" (Antifrost) cd 11.98 ARPANET "Quantum Transposition" (Rephlex) cd 15.98 BADGERLORE "Stories For Owls" (Free Porcupine Society) cd 14.98 BASTRO "Antlers" (Drag City) cd 14.98 BIG MEAT COMBO, THE "Half Of The Last And Some Of The Rest" (self-released) cd 14.98 BLACK DICE "Smiling Off" (Astralwerks) cd single/2x12" 8.98/11.98 BLACK TAJ "s/t" (Amish) cd 14.98 BONGZILLA "Amerijuanican" (Relapse) cd 13.98 BORBETOMAGUS "Barbed Wire Maggots" (Agaric) cd 15.98 BRINCOS "World Devil Body [Mundo Demonio Carne]" (Zafiro) cd 16.98 BRINKMANN, THOMAS "Lucky Hands" (max.E) cd 15.98 CATHEDRAL "The Garden Of Unearthly Delights" (Nuclear Blast) cd 14.98 CAVE-IN "Perfect Pitch Black" (Hydra Head) cd 11.98 CHEVREUIL "Sport" (Sickroom) cd 13.98 CHILDREN OF BODOM "Are You Dead Yet?" (Spinefarm) cd 14.98 CIRCULUS "The Lick On The Tip Of An Envelope Yet To Be Sent" (Candlelight) cd 14.98 CODE "Nouveau Gloaming" (Spikefarm) cd 16.98 COFFIN LIDS "Round Midnight" (Bomp) cd 13.98 CONFESSOR "Unraveled" (Season Of Mist) cd 15.98 CRYPTOPSY "Once Was Not" (Century Media) cd 16.98 DARK FOG "Cosmic Tone" (Original Sound Recordings) cd 10.98 DAVKA "Live" (Tzadik) cd 15.98 DRIVER, TOBY "In the L..L..Library Loft" (Tzadik) cd 15.98 DRONES, THE "Wait Long By The River And The Bodies Of Your Enemies Will Float By" (All Tomorrow's Parties) cd 15.98 FURSAXA "Amulet" (Last Visible Dog) cd 11.98 GRIMFIST "10 Steps To Hell" (Candlelight) cd 15.98 GRIS GRIS "For The Season" (Birdman) cd 14.98 GUIDED BY VOICES "Suitcase 2" (Fading Captain Series) 4cd boxset 45.00 HORSE THE BAND "The Mechanical Hand" (Combat Records) cd 13.98 JELINEK, JAN "Kosmitcher Pitch" (scape) cd 16.98 LANDING "Brocade" (Strange Attractors Audio House) cd 13.98 LANGENUS, COLIN "Living With The Rock" (Corleone) cd 13.98 LAPPETITES, THE "Before The Libretto" (Quecksilber) cd 15.98 LCD SOUNDSYSTEM "Tribulations" (DFA) 12" 6.98 LOGH "A Sunset Panorama" (Hydra Head) cd 14.98 LOPEZ, FRANCISCO & SCOTT ARFORD "Solid State Flesh / Solid State Sex" (Low Impedence) 2cd 16.98 MAGNETOPHONE "The Man Who Ate The Man" (4AD) cd 13.98 MAXIMUM JOY "Unlimited (1979-1983)" (Crippled Dick Hot Wax) cd 16.98 MCBRIDE, BRIAN "When The Detail Lost Its Freedom" (Kranky) cd 14.98 MI AND L'AU "s/t" (Young God) cd 14.98 MIMINOKOTO "Orange Garage" (Last Visible Dog) cd 11.98 MINDFLAYER "Expedition To The Hairier Peaks" (Corleone) cd 11.98 MINSK "Out Of A Center Which Is Neither Dead Nor Alive" (At A Loss Recordings) cd 14.98 MOUNTAINS "s/t" (Staartje) cd 14.98 MOUSE ON MARS "Live 04" (Sonig) cd/12" 14.98/14.98 MR.76IX "Hits of 76ix Par2" (Skam) cd 15.98 MT. EERIE "Singers" (P.W. Elverum & Sun) lp + cd 16.98 MUGISON "Mugimama Is This Monkey Music?" (Ipecac) cd 16.98 MUNLY, JAY "Jimmy Carter Syndrome" (Smooch) cd 11.98 MV / EE & THE BUMMER ROAD "We Offer You Guru" (Child Of Microtones) cd 15.98 MY CAT IS AN ALIEN "The Cosmological Eye Trilogy" (Last Visible Dog) 3cd 16.98 MY CAT IS AN ALIEN / CHRISTINA CARTER & ANDREW MACGREGOR (Very Friendly) cd 14.98 NERVE NET NOISE "Radio Life" (Staalplaat) cd 19.98 NI HAO! "Gorgeous" (Tzadik) cd 15.98 OZZBORN, ONRY "In Between" (Camobear) cd 13.98 SCUM "Gospels of the Sick" (Candlelight) cd 14.98 SEISHOKKI "1975-1977" (Siwa) lp 16.98 SHANKAR, ANANDA "s/t" (Collector's Choice) cd 14.98 SOLEFALD "Red For Fire" (Season Of Mist) cd 15.98 STRAWBERRY PATH "When The Raven Has Come To The Earth" (Radioactive) cd 17.98 STRIBORG "Black Desolate Winter / Depressive Hibernation" (Asgard) cd 13.98 SUSUMU YOKOTA & ROTHKO "Distant Sounds Of Summer" (Lo Recordings) cd 14.98 TAKAYANAGI, MASAYUKI "Action Direct" (Beta-lactam Ring) cd 33.00 TAPE "Rideau" (Hapna) cd 15.98 THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS "They Got Lost" (Zoe) cd 19.98 TRALALA "Falala-la-la With Tralala" (Audika) cd ep 5.98 TRIBES OF NEUROT "Meridian" (Neurot) cd 14.98 V/A "Camping 2" (Bpitch Control) cd 15.98 V/A "The In-Kraut" (Marina) cd 15.98 V/A "Pop Ambient 2006" (Kompakt) lp 13.98 V/A "Stubbs The Zombie Soundtrack" (Shout! Factory) cd V/A "Tony Hawk's American Wasteland" (Vagrant) cd 14.98 WHIP "Atheist Lovesongs To God" (Resonant) cd 17.98 ZOMBI "The Zombi Anthology" (VCO) cd 14.98 ZU "Way of the Animal Powers" (Xeng) cd 15.98 ZU / MATS GUSTAFSSON "How To Raise An Ox" (Atavistic) cd 14.98 _______________________________________________________________________ ABOUT MAILORDER
Alright, Thanksgiving has just passed so we figure we can offically start unfurling the holiday cheer (heck, the department stores started weeks ago!). So start pourin' the eggnog!
Although some Scrooges around here have exclaimed grumpy sentiments such as "What I really want for Christmas is some better album art," who's really gonna deny Sir Brian Wilson the festive merriment that he wants nothing more than to share with us all? Yeah, the digipak case of his new What I Really Want For Christmas cd is really really really sparkly, but it certainly suits Wilson's abundance of good will and good cheer. This is a collection of old yuletide classics ("Deck The Halls", "Auld Lang Syne", "Oh Holy Night" and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas"), a couple of Beach Boys tunes ("Little Saint Nick" and "The Man With All The Toys") and two new Wilson holiday originals ("What I Really Want For Christmas" and "Christmasey") -- all done in Wilson's trademark gloriously harmonious fashion.
Psst, if you're looking for more early bird Christmas-y tuneful treats, we've also just received New York pop youngsters Tralala's holiday album too. And don't forget Bathtub Shitter Xmas 3" cd on Andee's tUMULt label!
This album has been slaying us! Finally available, this long-awaited expanded 2 disc deluxe reissue of Pacific Ocean Blue validates its worthy cult following. Released in 1977 by the first Beach Boy to go solo, many were surprised at how the seemingly least-talented Wilson brother created such a maturely produced and beautifully arranged statement, one on a completely separate musical wavelength than brother Brian. Yet by then he already had a solid track record going with the band. On almost every album The Beach Boys put out from 1968-1974 (their best years, in our opinion), Dennis had writing credit on at least two tracks, some of which like "Steamboat" from Holland and "Little Bird" on Friends were among the best songs on either.
Getting production and arrangement help from Glenn Jakobson and Daryl Dragon (Farm, The Dragons, Captain and Tenille), the overall feel of Pacific Ocean Blue marks the end of that vibrant sun-dappled seventies west-coast sound; a coke and whisky sunset to the sunrise wake-and-bake of David Crosby's If I Can Only Remember My Name. The production doesn't recall Brian Wilson's lost childhood fantasias from Pet Sounds or Smile, but rather the resigned weariness of someone who lived fast and came up empty. With one exception (skip track 2!), the mostly piano-led songs gravitate from mellow groovers to heavy but plaintively restrained ballads with epic swells that would sound right at home on a Wilco, Vetiver or Plush record. While it still feels of the time, like a rare classic FM radio moment where a song comes up that sounds familiar and really good but you can't place it, it's mostly free of those late seventy MOR moments (no wonky sax or guitar solos). It's not so much yacht rock as it is a warm slow sailboat ride into oblivion.
Included on this disc are bonus tracks from the POB sessions including the gorgeous cinematic instrumental, "Mexico". A second disc contains sessions from Wilson's never released follow-up, Bambu, which demonstrate that POB was not a mere one-off. It features strong songs with more Caribbean rhythms and soulfulness than POB, (like if Gary Higgins recorded a late seventies follow-up to Red Hash) but it's less a definitive statement. One of the tracks from these sessions, "Holy Man" (also included as an instrumental) has vocals added by Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins, who remarkably sounds just like Wilson (if we weren't told, we'd never have noticed it was a different singer). Dubious as it sounds it's not a bad thing, as both versions highlight what an amazing instrumentalist and songwriter we have lost. Essential!!!!!
If ya ain't been paying close attention, you might erroneously think that our AQ collective aesthetic runs to whatever is "weird", for the simple reason that it's "weird". But you'd be wrong. Heck, there's obviously no integrity in just being anti for anti's sake. People who're into EVERYTHING weird, regardless of quality, usually are trying to prove something about themselves, it's got nothing to do with music. So, while I can totally appreciate the weirdness of this reissue of the legendary Gary Wilson album, and its first appearance on cd, I can't fully recommend it to you... because it's pretty bad. Not "so bad it's good." This is "so bad... period!" On the other hand, Neil Strauss from the NY Times thinks it's good -- he wrote that big article about Wilson that's largely responsible for the current hype and interest -- so if you actually trust Strauss or whoever, then go for it. If you trust AQ, save yer money. It sounds like a syrupy "slow jams" record made by a complete dork who's kinda bitter about some failed relationship(s). There's no pleasure to be found in listening to Wilson's pitiful attempts at songwriting and performing, no joy in knowing he feels worse than you ever did. The Langley Schools cd, with the Canadian kids singing pop hits, is a great example of rock performed by amateurs who're so earnest, super touching, and poignant... and thus the Langley Schools cd is (to *some* of the AQ staff) Good Listening. But I swear, the Gary Wilson just doesn't deliver. Did someone mash Bobby Conn through the Steely Dan filter?! Sigh. The only way to convince yourself that you like this record is to look at it ironically. And that's no way to listen to music! "Irony." Feh.
This review was written by someone who has owned the Gary Wilson record for, like, seven years. Go figure.
Marcy's alternate review:
First, be warned: every single AQ staffer but me HATES this record (you may remember the exceptionally negative review it received in our list earlier in the year). On the other hand, I absolutely LOVE it. And I know I'm not alone, because quite a few people I've played this for have also fallen head-over-heels for Gary Wilson's incredibly unique, bizarre, charming and disturbing blend of John Cage-inspired experimentalism and 70's chart pop. Almost entirely alone in his parent's basement, wrapped in magnetic tape and new-wave shades, Wilson crafted early synths, organ, tape freak-outs, funky bass and smoove beats into an impressive musical backing for his fucked-up stories of teenage lust. Puncuated by more "woo!"s and "yeah!"s than a Michael Jackson record, the lyrics display a tension between the sort of romantic naivete normally confined to 50's teensploitation films and a twisted, neurotic and dark view of love in an increasingly technological and isolating world. I not a big fan of joke records; I generally have better things to do than listen to records described as "so-bad-they're-good;" my opinion that "You Think You Really Know Me" is absolutely brilliant is as 100% sincere as Wilson's impassioned, pleading vocals. We have here a classic love-it-or-hate-it deal; my co-workers may grimace, but this record puts a huge smile on my face.
"Wilt's new album is also their first as a band, with the electronic experimentation being combined with acoustic walls of bass and noise. Wide, dusty and dark, "Dark Meadows" displays Wilt's new psychedelic and atmospheric approach to its deeply textured ambiances. "Dark Meadows" is one the most rewarding and sombre of works of Wilt, for it marries it organic darkness with an acute sense of melody and an ever-present cavernous bass. A massive, encompassing and profound work of art."
We couldn't remember why, exactly, must have read about it sometime long ago in a krautrock reference book, like the Crack In The Cosmic Egg perhaps, but we knew that as fans of early HEAVY '70s stuff - psych, prog, krautrock, proto-metal, what have you - that apparently the German band Wind's 1971 debut Seasons was one to watch out for. Well, it finally just got reissued via the Long Hair label (who have recently brought us several kraut-prog winners from Cannabis India, Mammut, and Et Cetera, amongst others) and so, already curious about it, we ordered a copy of it in...
First impression, before we even put it on, from looking at the photo on the back: damn, for a krautrock band, these guys have some seriously impressive, huge Afros!!! So, a lot of expectation/anticipation/long hair to live up to. And as it turns out, Wind don't blow it (sorry). This album is fine indeed. It hits our "heavy" buttons but also has enough melodic and groove appeal that some of the folks here at AQ who, y'know, don't spend time memorizing stuff out of krautrock reference books or obsessing about 1971 were into it too! So, we ordered some more, and here's our review...
Wind were a five piece: guitar, organ, bass, drums, the singer sometimes busting out flute (yes!) and harmonica. With the organ, they're in the "heavy progressive" mode of a lot of other early krautROCK bands, sounding as much like Deep Purple as they do Can. Both of which are cool by us, and the DO sound like both sometimes. Another once-popular krautrock band they remind us of is Birth Control (who we love, but sadly have never reviewed, relevant reissues seem scarce right now). So that means lots of thumping organ and fuzzy guitar riffs, which do indeed pound forth, especially on opener "What Do We Do Now", and later on the even heavier "Dear Little Friend", but even those songs have their shades of light as well as dark. Wind featured raw sounds and tight playing, on this record definitely conveying an impassioned feeling, in part due to the singer's often gruff, sandpapery voice, that at his toughest makes us think of Nazareth's Dan McCafferty, though at times he can be quite smooth and soulful. His harmonica blowin' on the 16 minute album-closer "Red Morningbird" gives that song an evocative Ennio Morricone / Spaghetti Western vibe, also sounding a lot like one of Can's Soundtracks tracks, and this album might be worth the price of admission alone just for that epic track. Certainly kraut-fans of Birth Control, Murphy Blend, Dies Irae, Gift, early Out Of Focus, will need to hear Wind's Seasons, and like we said it has also been catching the ears of even those here who aren't the biggest prog and proto-metal fiends.
Liner notes in German and English tell us that prior to the release of this album, the members of Wind were involved in recording an exploito-psych LP by "Corporal Gander's Fire Dog Brigade", and did an ill-fated, six-month tour of Vietnam (where there was a war going on, you may recall). But they survived all that to release this debut and another (much softer, we're told) album in '72, calling it a day not long after, having bad luck selling records despite good reviews and success on stage, having played clubs and festivals with the likes of Can, Family, East Of Eden, Pink Floyd and others.
What would a band composed of members of such notable post-rock / metalcore bands as Isis, Red Sparowes, Anodyne and 27 sound like? Well Windmills By The Ocean answers that question authoritatively, as this shortlived Boston band's sole album, recorded in 2003 but never before released, features musicians who went on to play in all those bands! And it's just about what you'd expect, heavy moody monumental mostly instrumental music, but it some ways it's actually quite surprising, much mathier and more aggressive than any of the bands that would come after.�
Most of the tracks begin soft and shimmery, a sort of Godspeed slow build before the band begins to churn out some seriously vitriolic post rock, heck, a lot of this is straight up metal, chugging downtuned heaviness, but it's the delivery and the arrangements that make it so special, the band will be plowing through dense riffs and blown out space rock when they suddenly lock into a groove and don't quit. Endlessly over and over and over, so deliriously intense, we wish those parts would never end. Little chunks of Gore (the Dutch hypnometallers) pepper the whole record, and give Windmills an amazing and hugely hypnotic vibe. And heavy, man, this is heavy as fuck, the guitars are huge, the drums and guitars locked in mortal battle, often circling each other for what seems like forever. And those are the best parts, the metallic stalemate that results in endless mesmerizing riffage.
At first we though Windmills sounded a bit like a metal Shellac, and it sort of does, mostly because of the�super clinical and LOUD drums, constantly pounding out deceptively complex rhythms, but the sound is so repetitive and circular, it's hard not to hear a bit of Circle in there. Maybe if you crossbred Circle with Neurosis, you'd come up with something like Windmills.�
This�has been pushing all of our hypnometal and epic post rock and dizzying math rock buttons like crazy... The first song alone routinely sends us into paroxysms of unfettered head banging... which of course means WAY recommended!
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Fresh & Onlys' Tim Cohen and Ray's Vast Basement's Jon Bernson have joined forces to become Window Twins! The results are a crazy kaleidoscope of ever-shuffling sounds and moods. If taken literally, we can attest that the twins in their name are definitely not identical, and the window in their name is probably of the bubbly textured glass most found in old office doors. You know the kind that obscures your vision, turning people and things into mysterious figures and abstract shapes? I'm This Tall City keeps the listener guessing. It's an off-kilter, loosely stitched patchwork of loping loops and impromptu songs immersed in hazy soundscapes that shift in and out of focus. Quite reminiscent of the shuffling folk pop shambolics of early Badly Drawn Boy and Elephant Six Collective. but a bit more darker hued and brooding.
We had kind of lost track of Windsor For The Derby over the years, we weren't even sure if they were still around but when this new record arrived we realized that they've been at it all along, releasing a new record every couple years. This doesn't stray too much from what made many of us here dig them so much. Intimate and breezy indie rock with a a dreamlike shoegaze vibe. We really love when they get more into the atmospheric side of of their sound, conjuring up such beautiful hazy and wistful states. Against Love divides its time between those dreamy atmospheres and a more straight ahead intimate indie rock sound. Cool.
Windsor has always had a prediliction for the Slintish moped-down math rock which has taken on an intellect of clinical precision on their aptly titled album Difference and Repitition. The production by M. Gira (ex-Swans) adds a particularly somber quality to the rigid structuralism of metronomic rhythms and slightly shifting plucked chords. Would I dare to say that Windsor for the Derby has created the indie rock version of Thomas Brinkman or Pan Sonic?
"Earnest Powers +" is a collection of long out of print singles and unreleased tracks from this Texas / New York interstate ensemble who traffic in post-rock repetitiveness. Many of these tracks didn't stand the test of time all that well and pigeonhole
"The Awkwardness" is an EP of remixes by Carnival Wave, Pulseprogramming, I-Sound, Calla, and Windsor For The Derby themselves. Very few of these remixes bear much resemblance to the original downer, math-rock sound of Windsor For The Derby. Only Calla
