We loved the Death Grips debut, Exmilitary, and the follow up, Money Store, but to be honest, we never thought we'd see this new-ish one actually come out. Considering it was meant to be released ages ago, but the band went ahead and released it online for free, without their (major) label's consent, which resulted in them being dropped. They also publicly shared private emails from their label. Then of course there's the X-rated cover art, that features the album title written in sharpie on an erect penis. There's also the recent Death Grips 'tour', which seemed like some sort of art punk prank, with the shows consisting of prerecorded music, a projection of a suicide note, and a lonely drum kit. Which often resulted in crowds freaking out, and at least at one show, trashing what little DG gear there was to be trashed. But then really, these guys have been all about stirring up shit, almost to the point where the music seemed more a vehicle for all that shit stirring. But even if that's true, the bottom line is that the music is pretty goddamn great, and weird as fuck, warped and woozy and confusional, and we can safely say, that as damaged and demented as those first two records were, No Love Deep Web still manages to up the ante. Swirling synths, blown out bass buzz, stuttering beats, but it's still all about DG mainman Stefan Burnett's insane ranting, which is even more unhinged this time around, to the point that on the opening track he begins to shriek wildly, his voice cracking hysterically, while the tense buzz and lurching beats add their own sonic pathos. And so it goes, the sonic palette remains pretty consistent throughout, thick swaths of synth buzz, and brittle electro beats, all sorts of FX and electronic filigree, the sound dense and thick and layered, with Burnett going nuts over the top, at some points, his vocals, are captured and looped and sent spinning through clouds of effects into the ether, multiple vocal lines collide, and get all tangled up, dizzying demented and fierce as fuck. A few of the tracks strip it way down, leaving mostly just clipped beats and vox, others sound almost dubsteppy, minus the actual dubstep, thick gouts of fuzzed out bass, and swirling clouds of crumbling, distorted low end, but really, the bulk of the record is just mean as fuck, dark and droney, buzzing and blown out, the sort of super sick, bass heavy, industrial laced, electro-hop we can't ever seem to get enough of... Let's also hope their even newer album, Government Plates, sees a physical release soon too.
Housed in an artless black vinyl sleeve, to hide the sharpied erect cock cover art inside!
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A not so new EP from AQ faves the Decemberists, although it is new to most of us, since it was originally released in a super limited edition. This curiously titled record (there are actually 6 songs) is another winner from this Dickensian/Gorey-ish troupe of wandering minstrels. A sweetly sour mix of acoustic guitars, brushed drums, lap steel and accordian backing up curious tales of love, loss, drinking, sorrow, loneliness, circuses, family and stolen bicycles. So good.
We consulted our calendar and it told us that this month we'd see a new Decemberists dvd, and what do you know, it spoke the truth! Despite the dvd's title which made us think it would be some sort of how-to manual, A Practical Handbook is packed with lots of fan pleasing goodies such as a documentary, a complete twelve song long concert at Roseland Theater in Portland, OR from November 2005, and five music videos for their songs "The Tain", "The Bachelor And The Bride", "16 Military Wives", "The Soldiering Life", and "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect".
Four song ep from our favorite Pogues-meet-Neutral-Milk-Hotel Dickensian / Victorian popsters to hold us over until the next proper record. Two tracks from their most recent full length and two new unreleased tracks. Both gorgeous and melancholy, clever and quirky, with unlikely lyrical flights of fancy, off kilter melodies, vigorously strummed acoustic guitars, drunken Pogues-ish bounce, and frontman Colin Meloy's deadpan faux-Cockney vocals. A nice inexpensive introduction to one of our favorite newer bands.
Andee seems to always find one thing on the list to rave about. This week is no different, here's
Andee raving about this Decemberists disc:
I can't figure out why I like this record so much. On first listen it really doesn't sound like my kind of thing at all. Yet it just sort of grabbed me and I can't stop listening to it. Which is pretty exciting considering how much music I hear everyday and how seldom something just completely takes my breath away. Especially when I'm not expecting to like it! The Decemberists play a sort of mutant hybrid of indie pop and folk. And it is a bit twee, which would usually put me off right away. But for some reason, this record manages to claw it's way out of the twee-pop ghetto. The singer has a very affected, sort of British air which reminds me a bit of Belle And Sebastian (who I'm not a huge fan of), but way less wispy and more gritty and world weary. A bit like Robyn Hitchcock or Dan Bejar of the Destroyer (and the New Pornographers) The music though sounds a lot like Neutral Milk Hotel, all strummed guitars and belted-out vocals, but mixed with the dreamy and pastoral popscapes of Belle and Sebastian and even a little bit of the Pogues sort of celtic campfire stomp/gypsy street music vibe. Lilting and dreamy, but also really sharp and emotional. The lyrics are very bookish and the subject matter is very Dickensian, evoking cobblestone streets and gaslamps and hungry street urchins and idealised Victorian romance. Heartbreakingly bittersweet and once in a while even sort of funny. Like Edward Gorey drawings set to music. A lot of that has to do with the instrumentation, wheezing almost Parisian sounding accordions, ominous rumbling cellos, ghostly theremins, and droning warbling organs that affortlessly create that sort of late night, empty streets, drunk and bitter, wistful and sort of hopeful, broken hearted aura that so much music strives for.
From loping waltzes to bouncing pop to crawling dirges, the Decemberists weave a totally magical spell that totally envelops you and transports you to wherever it is the Decemberists are plying their wares. It's all just so beautiful and catchy and melancholy and absolutely fucking great!
We were looking over reviews of all the Decemberists records, and we pretty much raved about every single one, except maybe the last one, the only stinker of the bunch, and heck even that one, featured at least one killer track.
But back around Castaways And Cutouts and Her Majesty, we could not gush enough about these guys and gals, they were like an Edward Gorey drawing come to life, chimney sweeps ands street urchins, tales of Victorian Squalor, frontman Colin Meloy's distinctive voice and his incredible way with words, these guys were tough to beat, every song a super evocative story sung, with characters loveable, loathsome and tragic, truly epic poems set to music.
Besides the Crane Wife, the band's major label debut and one misstep mentioned above, we can't recommend the rest of their catalog enough. Really. We own and love every one. So now we have their long awaited brand new record, a sprawling and epic concept record. And no half assed concept record, this one is carefully plotted, intricate, we've only listened to it a couple times so we're not quite sure exactly what it's about, but it's lyrical and expansive and there seems to be a girl / boy main conflict (hence the title), there are drawings of the main characters in the booklet, the lyrics are total rock opera, male vocals, female vocals, the instrumentation lush, the sound surprisingly heavy here and there. But, and sadly there is a BUT, this is still pretty polished, pretty mainstream, not nearly as raw or urgent as the older stuff, the lyrics while still heads and shoulders above most rock bands, are just not nearly as magical, or clever, or snarky, before, every line was a tongue twister or offered up a clue about some other line, delivered with a smirk and a wink, Meloy was like the narrator of some Tim Burton film about Victorian England (aren't they all sort of), like we said about the Crane Wife, it feels like all the edges have been rounded and dulled. And the amazing instrumentation, here seems lore like filigree, and afterthought, the sound is definitely more mainstream pop. The best moments are when the wheezing accordions come out, which is sadly not nearly often enough. That said, there are some killer moments, a handful of the tracks are really hard and heavy, crunchy guitars, mean lyrics, sure they fit perfectly in the opera, but taken purely as songs, they sort of kick ass, the buzzy chuggy "The Rake's Song", then there's the very Deep Purple-y "The Queen's Rebuke" with thick guitars and heavy heavy organ jams.
So yeah, it's not a mind blower, or a true return to form, but it is a grower, and fans will definitely want this, however they felt about the Crane Wife. For newbies, we'd still have to recommend Castaways, definitely the best Decemberists record, but heck, we like this one more and more with each listen, so who knows, this might be the record that lures you into the Decemberists' squalid Victorian wonderland, and why the heck not, we've missed visiting for sure.
It's a little unfair for me to have to review this now. We've only had it for a week or so, and unlike its predecessor, the immediately accessible and instantly classic Castaways And Cutouts that we raved about earlier this year, I feel like this one is a little less pop, a little more abstract, and may require some -serious- listening, as all great records do. That said, in the last week, Her Majesty has benefited greatly from repeated listenings and is rapidly becoming one of my favorite new records. All of the Decemberists hallmarks we loved on the first record are firmly in place, the Victorian imagery, amazing lyrical wordplay, the wheezing accordian and loping fey folk, the dark melancholia and occasional Pogues-ish drunken cavorting. But from the first track you know this record is going to be a little different. A creepy crawly dirge, with raspy chords wrung from an antique squeezebox, tortured, anguished vocals, with the occasional kick ass waltzy cadenza. And while the record veers wildly from these dreamy mope-y doom ballads to rollicking, ale-hoisting, tongue in cheek upbeat numbers, it's those slower, more sinister tracks that really hold the whole thing together. Doomed and dismal, but never at a loss for a quick witted barb, or pithy turn of phrase. Gloriously and melodically despondent, occasionally playfully frolicsome, but always so so so good!
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By now, avid readers of the AQ list should know that we love the Decemberists. How could we not? Catchy quirky pop, mournful and melancholy, depressingly jubilant, joyously dour, somewhere between Neutral Milk Hotel, the Smiths and the Pogues, with lyrics that meld Dickensian squalor with Edward Gorey pathos, all delivered in a quavering, affected, lispy faux British accent. C'mon! What's not to love? So then when it came time to review their new record, after only a few listens, we were faced with the prospect, of the usual "Another great album" or "More of that stuff we love, not all that different, but who cares, 'cuz we loved the last record!". And while those statements are most definitely true, having listened to this record over and over and over for the last few days, it's actually become perhaps our favorite record of theirs. Part of the problem seemed to be loading the beginning of the record with upbeat barnstorming footstompers, which are of course great and the Decemberists are definitely adebt at channelling their inner Pogue, but those sort of tracks work better peppered around the Decemberists' more downtempo miserablisms, which is precisely what happens around track 5. It IS after all a concept record, so perhaps the story arc requires that specific sequence, but track five, a brooding dirge of a tale about a spy mouring for his captured partner, and reflecting on the passing of microfilm to his sweetheart and cuddling atop buildings, is where the Decemberists magic really kicks in, and keeps up for the rest of the record. Dark and eloquent, silly and absurd, sweet and sorrowful. And that magic is sort of retroactive, as once the record finished and we returned to the beginning, those first few tracks made that much more sense and the whole record suddenly seemed absolutely perfect.
We love the Decemberists, and their most recent full length, Picaresque, quickly became a beloved AQ favorite. Now, that glorious record has gotten reissued on double vinyl with a WHOLE EXTRA SIDE (5 tracks or "Picaresqueties" as the Decemberists call them) of music not on the cd, as well as a 24 page booklet with all new photos. Here's what we said about the cd:
By now, avid readers of the AQ list should know that we love the Decemberists. How could we not? Catchy quirky pop, mournful and melancholy, depressingly jubilant, joyously dour, somewhere between Neutral Milk Hotel, the Smiths and the Pogues, with lyrics that meld Dickensian squalor with Edward Gorey pathos, all delivered in a quavering, affected, lispy faux British accent. C'mon! What's not to love? So then when it came time to review their new record, after only a few listens, we were faced with the prospect, of the usual "Another great album" or "More of that stuff we love, not all that different, but who cares, 'cuz we loved the last record!". And while those statements are most definitely true, having listened to this record over and over and over for the last few days, it's actually become perhaps our favorite record of theirs. Part of the problem seemed to be loading the beginning of the record with upbeat barnstorming footstompers, which are of course great and the Decemberists are definitely adebt at channelling their inner Pogue, but those sort of tracks work better peppered around the Decemberists' more downtempo miserablisms, which is precisely what happens around track 5. It IS after all a concept record, so perhaps the story arc requires that specific sequence, but track five, a brooding dirge of a tale about a spy mouring for his captured partner, and reflecting on the passing of microfilm to his sweetheart and cuddling atop buildings, is where the Decemberists magic really kicks in, and keeps up for the rest of the record. Dark and eloquent, silly and absurd, sweet and sorrowful. And that magic is sort of retroactive, as once the record finished and we returned to the beginning, those first few tracks made that much more sense and the whole record suddenly seemed absolutely perfect.
We've been in love with the Decemberists since the very first time we laid ears on them. A super quirky, hyper literate, Dickensian jangle pop, equal parts Neutral Milk Hotel, Belle And Sebastian, Robyn Hitchcock, Destroyer, the Pogues and some lost Victorian musical featuring Lords and Ladies and LOTS of chimney sweeps. Like an Edward Gorey drawing come to life. In fact if anyone was ever to make a musical of Gorey's Gashlycrumb Tinies it sure as hell better feature original music by the Decemberists: "Be is for Basil assaulted by Bears... la la la..."
Anyway, the Crane Wife is the Decemberists' first major label release, and we were all a little surprised when we first found out they were making the leap. It makes perfect sense of course. They've gotten more and more popular over the last couple years, so it was sort of inevitable. But we were all wondering how the world would react to such a brainy, unlikely pop combo. Definitely not the sort of thing you hear on the radio or on MTV.
On first glance everything seems intact for some serious subverting from within. A super spare handdrawn, slightly morbid cover, a little bit of blood, the band drawn in full Victorian finery, bizarre song titles, and a couple LONG song suites! Lengthy multi-part epics, a little bit of prog mixed in with their usual dour jangle.
But while the band stood their ground on design, and song structure and the like, they did seem to sacrifice some of their overt musical weirdness. They always had the potential to slip into some mainstream strum and croon, but always stayed just on the weird side of that slippery slope. But on the Crane Wife, lots of the songs sound like the all the sharp edges were filed down, not just musically, but lyrically as well. Meloy got as much press for his hilariously poignant tales of murder and misery as for his clever indie folk pop. But except for the super stripped down lament "Shankill Butchers", probably the best track on the record, just guitar, accordion and a creepy wailing tale of butchery in Meloy's trademark about to crack faux-British brogue, the rest of the record could just as easily be the Crash Test Dummies or Bare Naked Ladies as the hippest indie rock band in the land.
That's not to say the record is bad, it's not. In fact it's pretty darn good, there are just a handful of cringeworthy moments that go down so wrong and make it tough to listen to the whole record straight through. The most egregious example being the cheesy, eighties funky Dire Straits groove of "The Perfect Crime #2" complete with highly inappropriate guitar leads and female background vocals. Ugh. A few other tracks also like either serious missteps or bids for commercial airplay or both. But at least half the record still pushes all the same buttons. A delightfully dour jangle, like a more depressed Pogues, or an 18th century Neutral Milk Hotel.
If you don't have ANY Decemberists records, but have wanted to check them out, for god's sake, get them in this order: Castaways and Cutouts first, then Her Majesty and then Picaresque. If you still need more (and you probably will if you end up being as taken with these guys as we are) there are a handful of ep's as well. At that point, if you're still jonesing, -then- it's time to pick up the Crane Wife, even if it's just to play "Shankill Butchers" over and over and over and over...
Reservedly recommended. Sort of.
A new ep from our favorite Dickensian miserablists. One eighteen minute track called The Tain, a 5 part mini epic based on Celtic myth, that starts off as a creeping, slowed down waltz, all fuzzy minor keys, and mournful guitars before picking up into punk rock Pogues territory, rollicking and rocking with warbly organs, and a super hypntoic groove, and of course Colin Meloy's insantly recognized lisping brogue-ish drawl. As with any epic, moods shift and sounds change continuously taking the listener on a musical/emotional journey. Throughout the rest of the Tain, the sound shifts from lugubrious ballads of mopery and misery to circus flecked nursery rhymes to Parisian folk and back. So good!
Some serious Klaus Dinger worship here from electronic producer Adam Douglas (aka Kemek) whose new Dechirico project employs motorik rhythms to two sunny vibrational pop-kraut instrumentals. While those influences have been mined plenty over the years, there is something still so deeply satisfying in these two buoyant and bouncy tracks that avoid an obvious aping of style but instead get to the sweet core of why that music still matters. Ear-candy!
A few years back, there was a comprehensive reissue campaign for moody atmospheric pastoral eighties jangle poppers Felt, a group we had convinced ourselves we wouldn't like, until we finally heard them, and not only liked 'em but became a bit obsessed. And while most folks are probably familiar with Felt mainman Lawrence (nee Lawrence Hayward) who was the face of Felt and who would go on to front Denim, and less successfully Go Kart Mozart (ugh), it's the lesser known Maurice Deebank who helped create Felt's signature sound, which is evidenced on here, a reissue of Deebank's 1984 instrumental solo debut, which finds Deebank creating lush landscapes of shimmer and jangle, swirling minor key chords, looped, cyclical melodies, and warm whirling layered ambience, introspective and heartfelt, the music here shadowy and dreamlike, lovely and lyrical, reminding us at times of Roy Montgomery, and at others Vini Reilly, but really sounding like our favorite moments on those early Felt records. Deebank would leave Felt in 1986, as Lawrence moved more toward the bubblegum pop that would begin to seep into the later Felt outings blossoming into the pure pop of Denim, while Deebank continued to look inward, creating gorgeous soundscapes of soft psychedelia and glistening guitar shimmer. "Dance Of Deliverance" might be our favorite track here, ominous low end, soft swells of shimmering synths, all swirled into a sort of shadowy new age drift, or it might have sounded new age if it wasn't so dark, a brooding mini masterpiece that is the perfect balance to the rest of the record's more sun dappled crystalline dreaminess. So great!
Deep Jew was one of those good bands with a horrible name; and had they been born a decade earlier, these LA noiseniks would have counted amongst the numerous crustpunks touring alongside Man Is The Bastard or maybe even Corrupted throughout the '90s. Yet, as it stands, Deep Jew released a couple of things including a split single for Not Not Fun and this LP (of which we managed to dig up a few copies!) before calling it quits in 2008. But no matter how you look at it, Deep Jew's slow-motion, dirge-punk, power-violence is a force not to be taken lightly. Even if they do have a questionable name.
Five cuts of post-MITB brutalist sludge and murkscaping distortion grace the A side of Ugliest Man / Dog Blood with howling vocals, caveman bashing drum kit abuse, low-slung bass buried way way down deep, and thick guitar / amplifier pedal noise which might have something in the way of Swans-like riff if all of that distortion hadn't crumbled everything into filthy noise. The flip is a monstrous side-long car-crash captured at quarter-speed with chugging, stumbling dirgecore rhythms that lurch amidst a lock-stepped bass throb all of which tugs and / or pushes against relentlessly overblown amplifier punishment and blister-popped feedback. Silkscreened covers and limited to something like 400 copies.
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Ok, first off, this isn't a new release -- not even a new reissue -- heck it's the remastered 25th anniversary edition of "In Rock", which means it came out in 1995. But we just got some in (to help bolster our embarrassingly small "Classic Rock" section), and while our Classic Rock section remains tiny, at least now it has this extremely excellent Deep Purple album in it! Quite possibly you're already aware of what a monumental slab of early '70s hard rock this disc is, and are happy for this reminder of the opportunity to add it to your cd collection if it's not there already. Or, perhaps you're not familiar with it, but happened to have woken up this morning wondering, hey, that Deep Purple band I keep hearing so much about, what album should I go buy of theirs today? then this is one for you (the other would be "Machine Head", but this one came first so we'll deal with it today). This was the debut of the classic Deep Purple "Mark II" line-up: new vocalist Ian Gillan, guitarist Richie Blackmore, organist John Lord, drummer Ian Paice, and new bassist Roger Glover (as illustrated in the front cover's Mt. Rushmore take-off). Together they made Deep Purple's fourth album (this one) one of the heaviest, most energetic, kick ass rock records ever. Maybe not quite metal, but close. Classic cuts include "Speed King" (with its Blackmore freakout intro), "Bloodsucker", "Living Wreck", and the epic "Child In Time". That song alone, and Gillan's astonishing performance in it, makes this disc essential. And, we wouldn't have one of the best Merzbow discs of recent memory without this album's "Hard Lovin' Man"!
This cd version includes a bunch of alternate takes/mixes, the non-album "Black Night" hit single, and even some studio chat, along with super detailed liner notes and jewel case cover printed with the band members' autographs (which Byram complains about in one of our Neighborhood films). Ok, enough, just wanted to give props to some truly classic rock.
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Envision the seediest alleys of New York and out of the shadows come the Deep Throats (except they're from SF.) Torn fishnet stockings. Dishevelled heads of the blackest and bleachest of hair. Smeared eyeliner and lipstick for warpaint. Sounding at times not unlike The Birthday Party, but with a higher pitched squelch for vocals. Very murky, very turbulent, very brash. Graced by the presence of beloved AQ-customer Chris Johansson.
Andee met up with Pentti from Finnish legends Deep Turtle when he was over there a couple years ago, saw them play and was totally blown away. Now we finally have a couple of killer eps from Finland's masters of grind / prog / punk / pop. Pounding melodic punk rock, with throbbing bass and insane drumming, super melodic and riffy, sometimes heavy and pummelling, sometimes super poppy and almost ska (?) but ocasionally everything switches into hyper complex super dynamic rhythmic mode a la the Ruins. Stops and starts, insane arrangements, and some serious hooks! Even at their most impossible, the songs stick in your head like crazy. Also, the song titles and lyrics are in Spanish! Not sure why Deep Turtle chose to sing in Spanish here but it definitely adds to the off kilter weirdness. All you Finnophiles are definitely going to want this. This record has grown on us like crazy, so even those of you who have yet to dip your toes into the wild and wonderful world of underground Finnish rock might want to check it out.
Second of two recent eps from legendary Finnish grind / prog / punk / pop outift Deep Turtle. Andee had the chance to hang out with Deep Turtle frontman Pennti when he was in Finland and to see Deep Turtle totally destroy live. On Tutina, Deep Turtle bear an uncanny resemblance to AQ faves Uz Jsme Doma! Riffy and super complex, with slithery synths winding all around the notes, impossible time signatures, Ruins-esque dynamics, and lots of riffy weirdness. Sort of like Mr. Bungle if they were more like a death metal Ruins. If that makes any sense. And it doesn't, but neither do Deep Turtle! Wild and perplexing and freaked out and so good.
Okay Finnish music obsessives! We only got a handful of these, so don't be too bummed if we run out lickety split.
Super aggro Finnish tag team action. One side features Finnish Favorites Deep Turtle, spewing out a grinding tech punk blowout. Ultra weird and convoluted, impossibly complicated stop/start arrangements, like Melt-Banana mixed with the Ruins. Wacked and weird and wonderful. Super manic percussion, with strange little interludes, snippets of intercepted radio broadcasts splattered all over truly head spinning technical metallic madness. Oh except for the second track, a weird little shuffling Finnish calypso breakdown peppered with brief blasts of Iron Maiden-ish melodic shred. Woah.
The other side features Valse Triste who counter with multiple blasts of fuzzy, grungy crusty brutality, a fucked up take on Discharge / G.B.H. with some strangely glammy guitar and hoarse shouted vocals. Cool.
Packaged in a goofy AC/DC parody sleeve, the backside folds out and inside is a huge lyric sheet, and two full color postcards.
Anybody remember the excellent Australian indie punk band Venom P. Stinger, circa the late '80s / early '90s? That Melbourne based outfit was guitarist Mick Turner's band before the Dirty Three. Well, turns out that two of Turner's former Venom P. Stinger bandmates, Nick Palmer and Alan Secher-Jensen, are still doing the underground Aussie noise rock thing, in a criminally under-publicized power trio that goes by the ominous name of Deep Where All Drown. They've recorded two albums worth of their powerful music thus far, 2004's The Marianas and 2008's Movement, and you'll find 'em both together here in this gatefold digipack double cd set, released in 2009 (of which we only just managed to track down some copies, as it's barely available at all outside of Australia). Being Venom P. Stinger fans from way back, we were curious, and when we finally heard these Deep Where All Drown discs, we were extremely pleased! Mostly instrumental (there's singing/shouting on only about half the songs on disc one, that's it), both discs add up to 22 tracks total of some seriously intense, ultimately hypnotic post-punk math-rock music chock full of chiming, noisy guitar wrangling, muscular bass, and insistent drumming. DWAD are tight and complex, and conjure atmospheres both grim and beautiful. Great stuff from Down Under! (And by Down Under we mean both Australia and also metaphorically, in keeping with one of DWAD's main themes, the lightless depths of the bottom of the ocean, viz. the Pacific's Marianas trench.)
Hard to believe that before the blown out, guitar hero, indie psych jangle of Dinosaur Jr, J Mascis was actually a drummer, who spent most of his time drumming in Satanic punk metal combo Upsidedown Cross, and legendary punk rockers Deep Wound!
But it wasn't just Mascis, Sebadoh mainman Lou Barlow was there too, both kicking up a shitstorm in this short lived, but kick ass outfit.
This is furious old skool punk rock, but with those two you know things would still be, well, a bit melodic. And it is, Catchy and heavy, fast and furious, the seeds of things to come...
Killer songs, tight musicianship, and yeah, we're still talking about punk rock here. While Deep Wound obviously have a bit of that classic Boston HC sound, falling somewhere between fellow Beantown brethren Siege & DC stalwarts Void, their sound wasn't quite as chaotic or over the top, but definitely just as full of conviction.
Sure, Deep Wound featured some soon-to-be indie superstars, but it wouldn't matter anyway, cuz Deep Wound stand completely on their own -- underrated though they may be -- in the first-wave-of-American-Hardcore. An essential release for sure. Better than the old cd version with new artwork and a bunch of extra songs!
Now somebody sort out a super deluxe Upsidedown Cross reissue and we'll be happy!
And also, we should note that Mascis HAS been back behind the drumkit recently, in AQ fave doomsters Witch!
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Recorded "live" in the studio, this recording expands on the "rock" side of Deerhoof-- those moments from "Reveille" that reminded us of the Who, with drummer Greg pounding mercilessly on his stripped down kit behind power chord outbursts. Those bits were sandwiched between more experimental fuckery, the whole thing rendered somewhat surreal by singer Satomi's high-pitched little-girl-on-acid vocals. On "Apple O," the damaged noise has been toned down somewhat to make way for the aforementioned rock, but there are also some very sweet, gentle and even romantic numbers, with acoustic guitar strum and a bit of lovely fragile falsetto from Greg. They even get jazzy for a minute (damaged Beefheart lounge jazzy, that is). Even amidst romantic sweetness, Deerhoof still retain a sense of the bizzarre, albeit an awfully cute kind of bizzarre. It's their balancing act between fucked-up noise and twisted yet adorable pop, crazy huge rock n' roll and vulnerable beauty that make Deerhoof the best band in San Francisco (at least in Marcy's opinion!). "Apple O" isn't as mind-bendingly amazing as "Reveille," but then it's difficult to repeat perfection. It's still super-awesome, and growing on me with every listen.
Thanks to RSD, back again on vinyl while they last. What we said when this first came out: Recorded "live" in the studio, this recording expands on the "rock" side of Deerhoof - those moments from Reveille that reminded us of The Who, with drummer Greg pounding mercilessly on his stripped down kit behind power chord outbursts. Those bits were sandwiched between more experimental fuckery, the whole thing rendered somewhat surreal by singer Satomi's high-pitched little-girl-on-acid vocals. On Apple O', the damaged noise has been toned down somewhat to make way for the aforementioned rock, but there are also some very sweet, gentle and even romantic numbers, with acoustic guitar strum and a bit of lovely fragile falsetto from Greg. They even get jazzy for a minute (damaged Beefheart lounge jazzy, that is). Even amidst romantic sweetness, Deerhoof still retain a sense of the bizarre, albeit an awfully cute kind of bizarre. It's their balancing act between fucked-up noise and twisted yet adorable pop, crazy huge rock n' roll and vulnerable beauty that make Deerhoof one of the best bands in San Francisco (at least in our opinion!). Apple O' isn't as mind-bendingly amazing as Reveille, but then it's difficult to repeat perfection. It's still super-awesome, and growing on us with every listen.
Another Deerhoof album that makes you feel hella psyched! Some of their last few outings have had a more breezy, almost psych-folk quality to them. Now on Breakup Song, the groove is back, though apparently the members aren't. They've all moved away from San Francisco and dispersed to the four corners of the country, it seems. Perhaps that's what the title is referencing. But even while separated by mountains, streams, cities, and suburbs, this uber-optimistic quartet still exudes the joy of creation. And with this their (can you believe it?) thirteenth record since drummer Greg Saunier formed the band as a duo in San Francisco in the mid-nineties, Deerhoof will take you dancing, dare we say, as some of these tracks are borderline funky, as with "There's That Grin", where Deerhoof sound like Parliament's grandbabies, as much a booty-shaker as it is way the heck out there. Songs like "Flower" carry some house inflections, while "To Fly Or Not To Fly" take off like a damaged club jam before it breaks down into some weird Rick James offshoot. There are bits of cha-cha and French pop mixed in there, too! Through it all, you still get the signature herky-jerky, spazzed-out Deerhoof rawk, the spacey musings of singer Satomi Matsuzaki, and the curious ability to insert small songs within greater songs and then go back to the main part and make you miss the little interloping part all the more. Where did it go? It's a neat trick that gets you putting their records on repeat.
Two tracks, "C" and "Surprise Symphony", from the beloved art damaged SF pop trio.
Not new, but we just got a bunch of this mysteriously hard-to-find debut lp from SF faves Deerhoof. Originally released in 1996, these recordings were eventually remastered and rereleased by Kill Rock Stars / 5RC as "The Man, The King, The Girl". But here it is again in all its lo-fi analog glory! For the unfamiliar, Deerhoof was born under the ashes of Nitre Pit, an SF quartet that
As you probably are aware, they try to have a second Record Store Day every year on Black Friday, with a bunch of exclusive, limited edition releases coming out then, just like on the real Record Store Day in April, which doesn't entirely make sense to us 'cause Black Friday is traditionally about stuff being on sale, right? But anyway, we did order some of the "Black Friday RSD" titles we thought were particularly diggable, this being one of 'em, a vinyl-only document of the mighty Deerhoof, kicking out their electronically-agitated, mathy, spasmodic, avant-pop, indie rock jams live in Japan (as maybe you already guessed from the cover graphics). Recorded at a show in Tokyo, December 2014, this features a dozen terrific tracks drawn from more than half as many Deerhoof albums, pressed on red translucent vinyl, of which we have very limited stock!
So weird and so wonderful! Man, if only the Krofft Supershow was still on the air Deerhoof would be the best house band ever. Sid and Marty's tweaked candy-colored tv show trips are the perfect visual match for this Bay Area band's sounds. Imagine taking your sugar-buzzed ears for a wild rollercoaster ride on which the loops and corkscrews are all twisted into such macrame knots that you lose all sense of which way is up! Delirious thrills and chills galore. Friend Opportunity continues on from where The Runners Four left off with even grander scale productions that wouldn't be at all out of place in some theatrical musical... a very psychedelic one, mind you! We heart Deerhoof!
For Green Cosmos, Deerhoof have kicked things up a notch on their already-deliciously frenetic art-rock quirk-o-meter, and they've done so in impressive style! They've not only branched off in ways that may appeal to a broader audience without alienating their old fans, but also locked into some more out-there planes. Quite a bit more melodic and composed, but also sorta like a tricked-out Beatles' "Revolution #9" mashed up with candy-coated anime soundtracks and of course some Capt. Beefheart and Melt-Banana too. At times very bizarre and epic with its grand assemlbage of tinkly toybox sounds, winky guitar stabs, tight rhythmic progressions and those pussycat-cooing vocals. You can easily imagine this accompanying a giant puppet show. Or if we were to compare it to an amusement park ride, it'd be some sorta mongrel mutant of a rollercoaster and a bumper car. Only seven songs (six new, two revised older ones "Come See The Duck" and "Byun") clocking in at around fifteen minutes, but oh such utterly splendid precision and chaos in every twisted adventure pop bite. Wheeeeeeeee!
Thanks to RSD, back again on vinyl while they last. What we said when this first came out: For Green Cosmos, Deerhoof have kicked things up a notch on their already-deliciously frenetic art-rock quirk-o-meter, and they've done so in impressive style! They've not only branched off in ways that may appeal to a broader audience without alienating their old fans, but also locked into some more out-there planes. Quite a bit more melodic and composed, but also sorta like a tricked-out Beatles' "Revolution #9" mashed up with candy-coated anime soundtracks and of course some Capt. Beefheart and Melt-Banana too. At times very bizarre and epic with its grand assemlbage of tinkly toybox sounds, winky guitar stabs, tight rhythmic progressions and those pussycat-cooing vocals. You can easily imagine this accompanying a giant puppet show. Or if we were to compare it to an amusement park ride, it'd be some sorta mongrel mutant of a rollercoaster and a bumper car. Only seven songs (six new, two revised older ones "Come See The Duck" and "Byun") clocking in at around fifteen minutes, but oh such utterly splendid precision and chaos in every twisted adventure pop bite. Wheeeeeeeee!
Menlo Park, after nearly four years, finally got it together and put out a way outdated second lp from SF art pop faves Deerhoof. Recorded before their sophomore "Holdypaws", prior to the inclusion of Kelly on keys, "Halfbird" continues on the abrasive path
2nd disc on KRS by this cult San Francisco outfit. Featuring one-half of the unfortunately underappreciated and thus long-gone Nitre Pit (who were a kind of Melvins-meets-Caroliner band), Deerhoof experiment with weird, angular, noisy, pop. Slightly reminiscent of the Thinking Fellers, with female vocals, surreal lyrics, and assorted other strangeness.
The first Deerhoof review we ever wrote, for their first cd release, 1997's The Man, The King, The Girl, read as follows: "Amazing blend of Caroliner sludge, and Melvins slop from this local groop. (Includes members of the late great Nitre Pit.)"
Ha. Look at 'em now. Something like a dozen albums later, Deerhoof, these days featuring fewer former members of Nitre Pit, are still at it, but probably nobody would mention the Melvins or Caroliner in reference to this record or other recent output. Sludge? Slop? Nope, more like pop! Still, amazing is the right word.
2014 Deerhoof, on La Isla Bonita, sound a bit like a funkier (rhythmically and perhaps otherwise) Flaming Lips, super duper poppy, with a mathy dash of Melt-Banana in there too - in part 'cause of Satomi Matsuzaki's Japanese accented, sometimes yelpy, sometimes breathy female vocals, but also 'cause of all the angular quirk and curious noise amidst the extremely rhythmic catchiness. Yeah, you don't have to be told that one of the main peeps in the band is the drummer, this can get pretty funky/groovy (though in an often off-kilter kind of way). Very cool! As always.
Not really new, but we have a more consistent supply than when this was first released. Koalamagic collects five tracks of live performances spanning various lineups between 1996 and 2000, two of which are longer, uncut sets. Countless fans have praised Deerhoof as one of the best live acts in America right now, hear what everyone's raving about! If you haven't already seen Deerhoof live, well, this won't necessarily make up for it, nor will it be completely indicative of how they are live now, but it's a nice document of what was and why you might want to get out of the house once in a while. Get this if only for their legendary, frenzied, uninterrupted twenty minute set from Club Hot! in 2000. And if you're still wondering what the heck this Deerhoof is we're talking about, I guess this live album isn't the release for you -- try their album Reveille (or at least read our review of it).
Nice single from AQ faves Deerhoof which has a different mix of "Matchbook Seeks Maniac" from their latest album Friend Opportunity and a b-side which is a charming and enchanting short track that displays their continued push towards even more vividly creative pop. A picture disc whose spinning colors match the brightness of Deerhoof's spirited sound.
Repressed and back in stock!!
Our original review: It is incredible that this prog damaged pop group from San Francisco, which thrives on simplicity, can continually create complexly playful and riddling compositions while maintaining a bashful earnestness that totally offsets any and all chances that their musical prowess and ingenuity will falter into the category of 'wank'. Through Deerhoof's ten year existence, there have been numerous changes in personnel and instrumentation, but even through these variables there is a solidarity and consistency in the songwriting that is uniquely Deerhoof. While not as wildly cacophonous and volatile as 1997's The Man The King The Girl, there has been a return of sorts here (as on last year's Apple O') to a certain looseness that had been held back on the lushly crafted Reveille. Milk Man, their sixth long player, maintains the taut rock sound perfected on Apple O' whilst introducing more sonically diverse elements to the everyday Deerhoof palette (most notably: crackling electronics, horns and/or woodwinds - is that a flute or a pocket trumpet on 'Milking'? - synthesizers and organs, and what sounds like to these ears, a Happy Apple*?) John Deiterich and Chris Cohen's awkwardly perfect harmonizations weave into Greg Saunier's John-French-by-way-of-Keith-Moon drum blasts, emblazoned with Satomi Matsuzaki's mesmerizing vocal ornaments on rockers like the opening title track, 'That Big Orange Sun Run Over Speed Light' and 'Milking'. The lovely 'Desaparecere' is an electronically backed number that evokes the Brazilian work of Joao and Astrud Gilberto (though the lyrics are in Spanish rather than Portuguese...). The previously released single 'C', is reprised here in all its hand-clapping and falsetto glory. As beautiful and bewildering as past releases, what I think shines through most on Milk Man is its cohesive solidarity as a single album.
*for those who are curious (like Allan, who had to ask), a Happy Apple was a children's toy made by Fisher Price in the seventies. It's basically a six inch tall plastic apple with a happy face that, when shaken, makes a pretty polyphonic "chiming bells" sound. Kinda like windchimes, but muted since the elements which makes the sounds are encased in plastic. If you crack one open, you'll see that it's a simple circular design of four or five metal rods of varying length, with a pendulum-like ball in the center that hammers at them when agitated. I have a few of 'em at home, I always pick them up at flea markets. No two sound exactly alike! Anyway, there are occasional chiming sounds on this new Deerhoof record that I suspect are in fact from a Happy Apple, but I could be wrong...
Three new songs of fractured pop dreaminess from the SF trio, including a cover of The Shaggs' "My Pal Foot Foot". Also features Jeff's favorite Deerhoof track, "Sunny Forty Fours", a stripped down prog-pop lullaby with heavy analog synth stylings! Released on XBXRX's Nothing Fancy Just Music label out of Mobile, Alabama.
Our long standing love affair with Deerhoof is still in full force after all these years. Not only do they continue to make fantastic and rewarding music, but they've managed to remain in touch with the wondrous spirit and deep creativity that made them so irresistible right from ther beginning. While their sound has been fleshed out and fine tuned over the years, they have not lost any of the unique and off kilter elements that made their music so special. They're perhaps the only band you can play for your two year old niece AND your weird druggy psychedelic uncle, and chances are they both would be bopping and bouncing and grinning like crazy and loving every sound coming out of the speakers.
Offend Maggie could just be their most effortless sounding outing to date, it's so cool that despite being such precise and proficient players they've found a way to make their songs jump, hop and skip through all sorts of wonderful shapes and colors without ever sounding self conscious. There is a delightful freedom and sense of play and wonder in these songs that has us falling in love with Deerhoof all over again. Much like the most recent outing by Stereolab, the songs on Offend Maggie really start blossoming after repeated listens and we're pretty sure we'll be spinning this over and over for the rest of the year. It's almost a decade since they were our little San Francisco secret, and now they've shared tours with the likes of Radiohead and The Flaming Lips, and earned a spot as one of the more popular and respected bands in the indie rock world while keeping their music so innovative and inspired and original!
Gosh. What can I say? This is absolutely the finest moment of Deerhoof's recorded output. At 34 minutes, there is absolutely no filler on Reveille: it is an astonishingly precise and accomplished half hour of some of the most challenging, interesting avant-rock we've heard in a long long time. Jeff loves this album so much he almost started a record label just to put it out! The local trio of Satomi Matsuzaki, John Dieterich and Greg Saunier are old school; you can hear in their music the lessons they learned from vintage Bay Area weirdos like Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 and Caroliner, and from the famously avant garde Mills College music program -- all of which have resulted in a great, eccentric band whose aesthetic is fully formed, mature and confident. Satomi's light, singsong vocal delivery (similar to Boredoms' Yoshimi, Blonde Redhead, Yoko Ono) careens from stereo left to stereo right, a dose of melody and almost j-pop sweetness that plays perfectly against the macabre repeating guitar lines and the great, unpredictable, muscular drumming. Sudden stops and starts punctuate eight minute songs against one minute collages of noisy audio squiggles. Much like the Thinking Fellers did, Deerhoof juxtaposes melodic passages against weighty, distorted guitar a la Sonic Youth; they rarely descend to all-too-easy verse/chorus/verse trad songwriting, yet amazingly enough the album is quite accessible. Experimental music that everyone can enjoy. Wonderful. This record is perfection.
In delicious kool-aid orange vinyl! The title of Deerhoof's first track on this 7", "Se Piangi, Se Ridi" -- translation: "If You Cry, If You Laugh", is a sparse number, with delicate but damaged vocals and an intermittant drum hit recorded so it sounds like someone's getting hit with a hammer. Almost like this song is more about the process than the final piece, which is nice, but it made me want to cry. Apparently, it's a collage-ish interpretation of an old Italian pop-song by MINA. On the flip side, "Strawberry Bananas" is a like a Turkish pop tune, Deerhoof style! It's pretty amazing. Like, a beautiful scoop of joy that sadly melts away like strawberry-banana flavoured ice cream...
Amazing blend of Caroliner sludge, and Melvins slop from this local groop. (Includes members of the late great Nitre Pit.)
This record is so much fun! It makes us feel as though we were eating mochi ice cream and then swinging from the monky bars with long lost friends. The Runners Four starts off a bit slooower than some earlier Deerhoof material, but that's not to say it's lacking at all...just less, how you say, hyperactive and chaotic. The Runners Four still has the child-like candy-bright sheen that you come to expect from Deerhoof, and it comes across as refreshing and lively. There is beauty in their animated quirkiness and their unique method of coloring/scribbling -- with passionate and precocious disorganization and wonderful semi-sensical flourishes -- a little outside the lines with every crayon in the box. Not as bold in its musical hopscotching as their previous Reveille album, but definitely recommended.
