This is the perfect sort of split record. Two bands who have very little in common sonically, but who both completely destroy! The first track is 5/5/2000 which is AQ pal Nathan, formerly of grind metallers Creation Is Crucifixion, and Travis who is currently in Cattle Decapitation. That pedigree doesn't really prepare you for the epic 20 minute droning soundscape this duo whipped up live a few years back. Dreamy but sinister, creepy and hypnotic, with rumbling tones, short wave broadcasts, buried melodies, and throbbing pulses, all of which occasionally erupt into swirling sheets of noise. Drone-heads will love this. I actually thought it sounded like a more brutal and satanic Kitaro record. Which may sound dubious but is in fact a great thing! Trust me. The smattering of applause at the end just makes you grateful that such an intensely powerful performance is getting heard by more than the handful of folks that actually witnessed it. And of course none of this prepares you for the utter chaotic brutality of Pizurlaun. A hyper-distorted avant-grind juggernaut. Buzzing guitars careen from speaker to speaker, while various noises and rhythms, cut out, or stutter like a skipping cd and all sorts of really affected and bizarre production turns what would have been an amzing grind metal record anyway, into a splattery, grinding metallic masterpiece. And apparently the drums tracks were made by recording real live drums, and then having a non-drummer assemble them on a computer. Which only adds to the freaked out weirdness, and utter mayhem. Like a Locust tape, that you left in your back pocket for 6 months, accidentally washed, and then taped Suffocation over. Then played it back on a malfunctioning tape player. It's that fucked sounding. And that great.
The latest dose of super high energy power-chord-laden music has dropped from the sexy Andrew W.K.. If you haven't heard this guy before, try the soundclips -- it's ridiculous how anthemic, epic and positive such ultra-simple exhortations like "you're doing all right", "don't ever give up", "tear it up all night", "I love music", etc etc can be! It's kind of amazing that his message lies more with the positivity his music makes you *feel*, rather than lyrics that are about anything in particular (cos, um, they're not). More keyboard driven than previous efforts, this is a ridiculously fun listen, if a little dumb, er, in a good way. There's even a full-on lighters-aloft love ballad. Party.
The fourth full length from local darlings Beulah might just be their best album. Miles Korosky's songwriting is more remarkably mature than ever, with unpredictable chord changes and smart arrangements that convey intense emotion but executed with careful precision. This is perfect pop with a rocker edge and clearly delivered lyrics. Embellishing the usual indierock instrumentation, pedal steel, baritone and tenor saxophones all add a welcome dose of very pretty minor key sincerity. So much to like here, especially for fans of the Elephant6 bands.
It seems the Last Visible Dog label can do no wrong of late, now bringing us this wonderful album of mellow, melancholy music full of folkish, creaky ambience from Black Forest/Black Sea. It's tailor-made for the Terrastock Nation, if you know what we mean. If you read Broken Face 'zine, or scarf up Jewelled Antler cdrs, or dig what the Wire calls "The New Weird America", or liked their track on the "Invisible Pyramid" compilation, well then this disc of psych-folk action ought to suit you like that shaggy beard suits Kawabata Makoto.
Black Forest/Black Sea are the Providence, RI duo of Jeffery Alexander and Miriam Goldberg (is one the forest and one the sea? dunno). Jeffery plays guitar and Miriam plays cello, primarily, but there's more than just guitar and cello in the mix. We know a couple of their friends help out at times with some shortwave, sax, and general knob-twiddling. But these songs mostly start with melodic guitar picking, oftimes unaccompanied, that may then be joined by doleful cello drone, wavering electronic organ, or perhaps some slow, steady percussion rhythm -- even, on one track, primitive electronic beats from a Casio or something -- always stirring echoes of old world folk and underground '70s kraut jamming. Much of this is instrumental, with what vocals there are -- it must be Miriam singing -- being quite haunting, sometimes simply lurking in the background, wordlessly, melding with the glitchy reel-to-reel tape noises and other non-instrumental, extra-musical textural effects this band employs that add depth and mystery to their simple but effective songs. From spacious droning, possibly improvised passages to downright tuneful 'folky' hooks, this works and works well. We can't see how any of AQ's psych/folk fan customers would want to pass this up. Recommended.
Yes, 'tis Brassy starring Jon "Blues Explosion" Spencer's kid sister Muffin back for a second full length - basically picking up the party right where Luscious Jackson left off back in 2000. Distinctly girl-powered, Gettin' Wise is filled with funky beats and samples, groovin' bass, punchy guitars with sassy, slightly snarky spoken-sung vocals that show glimpses of the raw bluesiness of her older brother and also bring to mind those of throaty Peaches or Solex -- much less foulmouthed and less quirky respectively though! Definitely not forging ahead into any unchartered territory, but granted, Brassy doesn't lay any claims to doing so. This is just plain feisty fun very well done. My only gripe would be that the fifth song "Feeling Sorry" veers a little too close to Smashmouth's "Walkin' On The Sun" for my taste. Fourteen tracks plus a bonus disc that contains three remixes and one additional song. Now get movin' and party down!
Into weird psych/folk/drone/indie stuff? Well if you didn't know it already, for you The Broken Face is just about as essential as a magazine could be. From Sweden, with many contributors far far afield, Mats Gustafsson's The Broken Face interview and reviews all your favorite underground artists, whether you know 'em already or not. In this issue: Reynols, Devendra Banhart, Tim Barnes, Birchville Cat Motel, Climax Golden Twins, Sandoz Lab Technicans, Armpit, and more. The reviews section is massive, and will add quite a few cds and cd-rs to your 'want' list for sure. Need we repeat: essential?
A fine return for Clark, "Empty the Bones of You" will certainly be a relief to fans who loved Clark's first full-length "Clarence Park" and who were maybe a little disappointed by his interim EP. And no doubt it will win over some new converts as well. The tracks on "Empty" harken to a time, not too long ago, when Aphex Twin and Autechre ruled supreme; smart, playful and yet infinitely musical electronica. Smart and playful, the way Autechre could wrassle up some crunchy rhythms and construct eminently catchy melodies out of fairly unmelodic glitch and buzz, and musical in the way that Richard James' could turn jagged, stuttering freakouts into hooks that would stick in your head forever. Imagine the melodic elements of Boards of Canada or Bola, but with a harder rhythmic edge and a more organic sound palette. Really nice!
Just when you were thinking that the next installment in the Jewelled Antler Library was, um, overdue, comes this new 3" cd-r in the series. Volume 8 hails from New Zealand -- it seems Jewelled Antler have found some kindred souls Down Under, no not Gandalf and Frodo but in this case Antony Milton (who runs a cd-r label himself, Pseudoarcana) and Clayton Noone (C.J.A., Armpit) who together are known as Claypipe. Repetition and drone and field recording grit coexist with lovely acoustic guitar -- it's real nice. With wistful, earnest vocals, some distorted and layered, this is neither indie-pop nor environmental ambient, but a hybrid that totally fits with Jewelled Antler 'groups' like the Blithe Sons and Child Readers, while possessing that special New Zealand magic we all adore. Seven tracks, 20 minutes, and you're left wishing it were longer.
Crescent's fourth album By The Roads And The Fields veers towards jazz territory, though their origins began in the Bristol, UK version of post-rock which also spawned Flying Saucer Attack, Amp, and Movietone, whose members circulated through each project. Hints of the Crescent jazz persona were noticeable on their preceding albums Electronic Sound Meditations and the sublime, if overlooked masterpiece Collected Songs; however, those two albums were so encrusted with a thick patina of antique tape echo that the songs themselves decomposed into mere fragments of disembodied organ stabs, slow motion groovy stutters, and monotone vocals. By The Roads And The Fields leaves that tape echo machine in the corner, occasionally kicking it on, but mostly as a flourish to the new direction of Crescent -- a lazy meandering through Spanish guitar chords, sultry Latin jazz rhythms played at an incredibly slow pace, maudlin clarinet skronk, and the vibrato charm of an old electric organ. This isn't full-on Blue Note jazz, but is like a gypsy band of art rockers forgetting and remembering jazz standards while attempting to perform on a sunbleached, empty plaza overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. While holding little actual resemblance, Crescent's push into jazz parallels the loungecore jazz of Bohren and Der Club of Gore and the turgid atmospheres of Labradford. If you don't like jazz at all you might not care for it, but there is something special in this record that a lot of people are going to like.
Fresh from their split cd and tour with Japanese pop-psych shamblers Maher Shalal Hash Baz, The Curtains release their first full-length cd. On it, this Bay Area trio of synthesizers, guitars and drums make a precarious heap of quirksome dissonance... and it's really no wonder since its members are Chris Cohen, Andrew Maxwell, and Greg Saunier. These gents also make sounds with such groups as Deerhoof, Natural Dreamers and Open City. On Flybys, melodies are introduced and seemingly take root, only to have the notes scatter like a disturbed anthill. A tangles of plucked guitar strings. Woozy synthesized heaves. A tumbling snare drum. The three are joined on a number of tracks by their former Curtains comrades Jaime Peterson (electronics) and Trevor Shimizu (synthesizer and guitar). As the album progresses the tracks seem to teasingly approach a slightly more traditional song structure, but you'll find with The Curtains you're seldom on completely stable ground. 22 tracks in all with the longest one clocking in at 3 minutes and the shortest at sixteen seconds (most are around one to two minutes)!
Bowed bass tones, sustained pipe organ chords. "Lichtgeschwindigkeit" is another attempt at attaining the drone supreme, and it's a good one, evocative of absolute darkness -or- blinding light, either way totally all-encompassing. This disc from Austrians Werner Dafeldecker (whom we've encountered before playing with the likes of Dean Roberts, Taku Sugimoto, Christian Fennesz, Jim O'Rourke, Kevin Drumm and many others) and Klaus Lang (whom we haven't) is a slowly developing, moodily pulsating, hour-long dronescape broken into seven tracks. Blissful, yet haunting. Gently soothing, yet massively ominous. There's enough variation soundwise to hold one's interest for the full hour -- for instance, the foghorn sounds and whistling blips of track five stand apart from the depths-of-space hiss of track six. We're told this was recorded in a church, on a snowed-in winter night. That seems about right. Recommended to all drone/improv fans for sure!
As heavy psych guitar power trios channelling the lost '70s krautrock vibe go, well, these guys are the current champs of the US of A (and rival the heavy hitters like Acid Mothers Temple from Japan as well). Of course, they're from the hippie coast up north here in California, though their guitarist/mastermind Steven Wray Lobdell has connections in Germany -- he plays in Faust too y'know! This latest DRT album takes their spacey, drugged out, droney psychedelia into some aggro areas, while remaining totally dreamy at other times. The single misstep occurs early in the album -- we'll be hitting the 'skip' button at track two in future after hearing it once, as it's based on a pseudo-beat poetry spoken word thing by The Baseball Astrologer. He's a cool old dude, sure, with some right-on sentiments about "America, my violent stupid friend" but we prefer the music to do the talking. Which it does on the rest of the disc, instrumentals stretched out to the horizons of your inner consciousness, man. The centerpiece to the album, "Mellowed For Over 80 Million Years", takes the listener on a 15+ minute blissed out trip, while other tracks are much heavier and freakier. It's mind-expanding, lava-lamp goodness. Recommended.
You wanna know what we mean when we talk about "grind"? This band could be the dictionary definition of grindcore. Not 'cause they're the most typical or generic, but rather because they're an exemplary grindcore band in so many respects. They'll certainly give you a good idea of grind: short, sharp, stop start songs with screamy grrrrrrr vocals, angular metallic riffs, and insane drumming (on most of the material here, by the godlike Dave Witte, ex-Human Remains, also of Burnt By The Sun and Melt-Banana). A political lyrical stance is also part of the equation, although these guys are also obsessed with information theory and Japan-fandom (the culture, not the band).
This disc is a "perfect edit" reissued collection of stuff from this NJ "ninja grindcore" unit. Their first album Ulterior, live stuff, unreleased recordings (their first rehearsal!), tracks from split releases and comps and singles...approximately one gazillion tracks total, including sometimes multiple versions of the same song, like any good grindcore discographical release. All packaged in a DVD case, like their masterpiece Inalienable Dreamless, which allows for a big thick booklet of lyrics, art, and commentary. The self-deprecating liner notes are revealing and funny, great reading for fans, for example:
"Our policy has always been if anyone likes any of our slow parts, we make them shorter or cut them entirely" and "The title track and yowza is it lame". The booklet is great, but it's the disc that (at proper volume) will really get your attention. It's a grind cornucopia, lurching from blasting beatdowns to quirky noise to almost-post-rock, even including a cover of Black Flag's "Gimme Gimme Gimme". Essential for anyone who is or wants to be grind-savvy.
Newset release on the so far flawless Lex hip hop label, and while this is of course another winner, it's way less OUT THERE than the first few releases, and way more pop. Which is not a bad thing. Not at all. Just means if all things were fair, this shit would be HUGE and all over MTV. I mean c'mon, the DJ, Dangermouse, wears a huge furry mouse costume! How cool is that. And the tracks he comes up with are amazing, bizarre sample, soaring strings and angelic choirs, all layered under funky basslines and simple BIG beats. And Jemini's flow is so smooth, but still manages to be really unique, spitting all sorts of random madness. And there's plenty of actual hooks and REAL singing. Reminds me a lot of Outkast with their penchant for writing real songs instead of the tired old looped sample/beat structure of almost all hip hop. But as much as I do like Outkast, I like DM and Jemini way better. It's just a little bit weirder, and catchier, and more fun. Which is saying a lot. Features guest spots by Tha Liks, Organised Confusion and the Pharcyde! And of course there's the packaging....Lex's packaging is easily the best we've ever seen. But this record is just unbelievable, even for Lex. Embossed, metallic gold ink on weirdly textured black paper of a huge pile of crystals/jewels, a cat jeweller, and a reclining mouse with some swiss cheese bling. Really hard to explain. But pretty much everyone who has seen it says something along the lines of "Holy fuck!"
Surprise! Here's the new album from East River Pipe aka one man band F.M. Cornog. Once again an ERP album has been looonnnng in the making - four years this time around. Its predecessor The Gasoline Age took three. At this rate, we should expect the next in 2008! That said, this album proves that good things come to those who wait. The splendid, but oddly titled Garbageheads On Endless Stun should satiate ERP fans for quite a while. Let us savor what we have in front of us, shall we? The album kicks off with the lush wistful beauty "Where Does All The Money Go?" and continues steadily on from there. If there's one thing you can say about Mr. Cornog, it's that although he may take his sweet time crafting each album, once it's comin' out of your stereo it all seems very natural. Not at all overdone. His slightly ragged voice - a little bit like a cross between Wilco's Jeff Tweedy and The Replacements' Paul Westerberg - brings a nice contrast to the somber, dreamy proceedings.
The shadowy chamber pop and hushed folky twang scene that surrounded his vocals is one of swirling string sounds, heaving accordion, and twinkling guitars. A very fine fifth full length!
Check out this emotive power pop EP from this Bay Area quintet who, as hinted at in the title, clearly enjoy a drink or three. This is the follow-up to their well-received album A Far Distant Parade. Although the very Devendra-Banhart-meets-Violent-Femmes'-Gordon-Dano high nasal male lead vocals might be considered an acquired taste, particularly on the first song, things seem much more locked in when other vocalists join into the slightly trippy, energetic fray. These are three solid, well-crafted and dramatic songs, the third brings things to a close with a solemnly meandering piano outro.
You probably know artist Andy Goldsworthy -- the British 'sculptor' (I guess you'd call him a sculptor?) who works with materials found in the natural environment, creating amazing pieces constructed from leaves or sticks or rocks or ice, on site? If not, check out his books -- for his works often exist only long enough to be photographed -- they're certainly some of the best, widely available volumes to hit the coffee tables of the world in recent years. Last year, a beautiful, beautiful documentary film called Rivers And Tides took viewers into Goldsworthy's world. Hopefully you saw it. When that film was basically taking over San Francisco (it was at the Roxie for a loooong time), we got many requests for the soundtrack, which didn't yet exist. We knew though that if it ever did come out, we'd sell a ton. Composed by the amazing Mr. Fred Frith, it was a big part of the film's appeal, no mean feat considering that the visuals were so great already. And now at last, we're happy to announce, here it is, the highly anticipated soundtrack to Rivers And Tides. And yes, it is as good as you remember it -- not some uninspired background music this! The album draws you in immediately, the main melodic theme slipping out effortlessly within the first 30 seconds of the album and repeated throughout. Running water gives way to highpitched soprano sax only to be subsumed under the surface of Frith's calm, stilling guitar, plucked Brazilian berimbao, and other, droning ethnic instrumentation. Tension and calm ebb and flow like, er, the tide. The reed instruments interweave, sprightly and evocative. Even if you haven't seen the film, this soundtrack rates as major highlight of one of our favorite experimental composer's ouevre. Highly, highly recommended!
The packaging is also gorgeous as per Winter & Winter's norm, with heavy duty digipak, letterpressed cover, and full color multipanelled foldouts of Goldworthy's works.
A furious fifteen minute blast of unholy blackened war metal from France. Four tracks of grim chaotic lo-fi evil. Buzzing blasting brutality tempered by occasional midtempo dirges and old school thrash metal. Howled blasphemies and Burzumic buzz over galloping drums and swarming stun guitars. Only have a few of these so act fast!
Aaah, '60s garage rock will never die, shimmy-stomp revivalist bands will keep on resuscitating the sock hop each decade. Back in the '80s, Montreal, Quebec spawned some of the best trashy garage surf combos, and perhaps none more notable nor more cool than The Gruesomes. They sported some of the best uniform mushroomy, bowl-cut 'dos this side of the Ramones, and were graced with one of the best snotty voices around courtesy of frontman / personality Bobby Beaton. Well, you know what? They got back together a couple of years ago! Yup, fully fueled, engines revved and ready to roll with an album called Cave In! And now, perhaps to celebrate their return -- or just 'cause what with the current garage revival these guys deserve some props -- Sundazed has released a kick-ass retrospective compiling selections from Beaton and co's previous three obscure albums Tyrants Of Teen Trash, Gruesomania and Hey! plus an assortment of EPs, comp tracks and -- the staple of any self-respecting retro rock band -- some stellar cover versions, including a track originally performed by "The Way-Outs" in a Flintstones cartoon! Raw, fuzzed out electric guitars, a primal drum beat, a steady walking bassline, vocals snarled and shouted, and a heck of a lot of fun. Truly a garage rawk treasure.
This classic GBV rarity finally makes it onto cd. And it's about time. You can ask any Guided By Voices obsessive what his or her favorite release is, and I bet at least half of the time the answer would be Get Out Of My Stations. From the keening vocal-and-guitar melancholia of Scalding Creek to the twangy garage throb of Mobile to the bouncy perfect pop of Melted Pat to the swaying sweetness of Dusty Bushworms, this ep demonstrates everything about Guided By Voices that made us all fall in love with them. Somehow simultaneously REALLY lo-fi and perfectly lush and rich sounding. Lots of fucked up 4-track detritus only adds to the charm, which faded as their finesse in the studio grew. But back then, Pollard and company could weave perfect pop out of a sweaty basement, a busted 4-track, and a case of shitty beer. Relive the magic! Features four live bonus tracks not on the original ep.
The much-loved Wino, grizzled underground doom-metal guitarist and vocalist extraordinaire, who first gained fame with the legendary bands The Obsessed and Saint Vitus and more recently fronted the popular Spirit Caravan (R.I.P.), is back, riding high in the saddle again in not one but two new bands.
OK, Place of Skulls isn't actually new (more on them in a sec) but The Hidden Hand is. Basically they're the continuation of Spirit Caravan by other means it seems. Wino recruited a new rhythm section -- one without overt substance abuse problems -- that really allows him to fire up his trademark heavy stoner rock into punkier, more aggro realms than before. They really kick ass with some complex instrumental stuff goin' on. Definitely further out on a limb musically than the Caravan. Lyrically, Wino indulges in a lot of ridiculous conspiracy-theory -- he's really gone off the deep end with post 9/11 paranoia. But his heart's in the right place, politically revolted with the Bush/Cheney/Ashcroft coup. It's redneck radical rock for X-files fans. Heavy riffs, heavy concepts, there's even a reading list.
Meanwhile, Wino also joined up with Place of Skulls, the band of ex-Pentagram guitarist Victor Griffin (whoo-hoo! supergroup!). Their first album Nailed came out last year on Southern Lord and we gave it a bit of mixed review, criticizing the vocals particularily. But they had potential, and now with Wino in the band they're much much better. It's a funny thing, actually, 'cause they already sounded a lot like Spirit Caravan or The Obsessed, but I guess they needed the talents of the man himself to really shine. His vocals help a lot. Victor still sings, too, but he's somehow better now thanks to Wino's example I guess! Dunno if they're still a Christian band, I'm not sure how Jesus fits into Wino's conspiracy theories... but he's certainly a 'spiritual' dude, so it works. Anyway, both Place Of Skulls and The Hidden Hand worthy successors to Wino's previous projects, with Place Of Skulls more straight-up doom metal for doom heads and The Hidden Hand harking back in ways to The Obsessed's DC punk roots, Bad Brains jazz fusion lurking in the grooves, though neither band would exist if not for Black Sabbath of course. And the Place Of Skulls album cover wouldn't exist if it weren't for Steppenwolf's "7"...
By now this 3-song EP's title song (the radio edit of "Bandages") has already been hammered into indie (and quite a few non-indie) ears around the globe for months... which is not entirely a bad thing! Heck, it's a darn swell song. However, the other two songs have not been previously introduced. They're fresh and new. The second song "Apt.101" has HHH donning their crunchy, angstful and guitar-driven suits, while the third calls to mind their more mod janglin' leanings a la The Jam. Solid tunes both of them, and definitely not your typical b-sides. We'd bet that if you truly dig Victoria, BC's Hot Hot Heat, you won't wanna miss this! And it actually makes for a pretty good intro to the band for those still unfamiliar. Although if that's the case, you might as well just grab a copy of their right-on full length Make Up The Breakdown.
Hard to know exactly what to say about this record. I gushed endlessly about the full length, and it being one of my 2 or 3 favorite records of the year. And like any great record, you're always left wanting more. So here ya go. MORE. More of the same. Five more songs of sun dappled, melancholy strum and twang, totally understated, but all the more powerful because of it. Wistful and heart wrenching, dreamy and soulful, mournful and completely perfect. Simple acoustic guitar strum and plucked banjo weave simultaneously lush and spare, perfect little folk masterpieces. Lyrics of surprising depth and intimacy are given subtle urgency by Sam Beam's gorgeously smooth croon, equal parts Elliott Smith, Joe Pernice, and Nick Drake, with a melodic sense that is uncannily Bread like. And that is NOT a bad thing. Everyone who bought the full length definitely needs this, and those who didn't, it's an inexpensive way to convince you that you need BOTH. The perfect addendum to one of the best records of the year.
Yay! This is Kid Koala doing what Kid Koala does best, taking recognizable genre musics and just tweaking them enough to add a woozy modern effect, a li'l bit of scartching here, some pretty glitching there. This is a song taken from his forthcoming album, and is a New Orleans style jazz number made even more poignant and sweet with his signature touches AND it comes with a fantastic video you can play on your computer. The video, made by Monkmus, features an animated funeral procession that turns into an unlikely street celebration with a surprise ending. The other track, which presumably won't be on the album, is called "Vacation Island" and features the Kid doing that magic again, this time to an old Martin-Denny-ish tropical exotica, but with beats. So cute and nice. Not many left either...
It would be a considerable understatement to say this new Killing Joke album is a sobering listening experience --Y�it's a fierce, visceral, and bleak call to battle. It rocks and rages withY�echoes of theirY�1981 debut (and first self-titled) album'sY�feel and spirit. Yes, genuinely punk, andY�yes, genuinely metal... although those stifling labels can't and won't adhere to this band. Frankly, very few artists today can capture the pure seething energy that this, Killing Joke's second self-titled album,Y�has harnessed.
Jaz ColemanY�tears out of your speakers likeY�a man possessed. His deeply inspired vocal performanceY�delivers some ofY�his most inhuman gutteral growls, anguished howls and demonic hisses. Brilliant. His lyrics, brutally direct, are steepedY�in immense disgust and despair,Y�with hard-hitting political critiques -- cross-hairs unquestionablyY�zeroing in onY�Bush, September 11th and America --Y�interestingly, a lot of theY�heavy duty ones are omittedY�from theY�liner notes.Y�
Geordie Walker'sY�thunderstorm of guitars drillY�and grind, at once both tightly clenchedY�and loosely slung -- pelting your ears with metallic shards and sinewed debris. original bassists Youth and Paul RavenY�consume any remaining air withY�glowering lines that boil and stew.Y�With each song, the unrelenting roar of Killing Joke closes in around you.
Drummer Dave Grohl -- apparently not busy enough with Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stoneage -- does an excellent job immersing himself in the Killing Joke realm,Y�closely resembling the pummeling precision andY�tribal thrash of Martin Atkins. HopefullyY�Grohl's presence (his name is stickered prominently on the front of the cd) will draw younger audiences to this venerable band.Y�
UnlikeY�other bands from the past who've regrouped recently for one last hurrah or to cash in on the latest retro trends, it's clear Killing Joke have resurfaced because they truly have something vital to convey (just as they did back in 1990 with Extremities...dirt... etc). They don'tY� churn out albums year after year to fulfill record contract obligations- they make music with a piercingY�focus when they feel the need and when it is needed.
Andy Gill'sY�production is beautiful andY�huge (but not tooY�'modern rock'), making for a generally accessible and current sounding albumY�(although some of the tracks are overly long) -- one that should haveY�hard music fansY�clambering.Y�
If you were ever into Killing Joke, check out this album! If you're new, this is aY�pretty goodY�place to start.Y�
As good as the previous three Kontakt Der Junglinge records are, "N" is perhaps the most perfectly realized synthesis of the aesthetics of Thomas Koner and Asmus Tietchens, the two artists who comprise Kontakt Der Junglinge. In their respective solo careers, both artists have developed exceptionally strong sound signatures, with Koner preferring an edgy isolationist quality in his cinematically grand drones, and Tietchens honing the language of cosmic electronics which he pioneered alongside Cluster, Conrad Schnitzler, and Brian Eno back in the '70s. Where the previous albums had either alternated between the two distinct styles or positioned each other's sounds in a dialogue of polite conflict, this album quietly merges the two voices into a singular expansive voice. Archetypally Tietchens-tones encapsulating a sterile plasticity, expand and collapse slowly throughout the album, while Koner's cavernous bass frequencies cradle each of Tietchens' sounds with his arctic atmospheres and lulling soundscapes. As with all of the Kontakt Der Junglinge album,"N" is a live recording; this time, the performance was held at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam and happens to also be the quietest of their collaborations, which certainly helps to achieve the album's delicate balance. Highly recommended to all fans of dronemusik.
The usually academic-oriented XI label ventures into the "underground" with this release from the singular New York guitarist/critic/sometime indie-rocker Alan Licht. A New York Minute sees Licht exploring two muscial approaches, with one of these two discs revolving around studio-only projects and the other documenting live work. The studio compositions are, we must confess, a mixed bag of conceptualism, opening with the title track, a tape collage of weather reports broadcast by a NYC radio station during the month of January 2001. Licht's intent was to reveal that these weather reports are mediated experiences far removed from the actuality of the weather. Perhaps too obvious an idea, and it really just sounds like you've got the radio on. But things get much better for the remainder of the disc, as Licht ventures into a more satisfyingly "musical" zone of fragmented minimalism scribed from multi-tracked guitar, organ, and bass drones.
Disc two is where Licht really shines, live with no overdubs. Here he presents a series of guitar based compositions/improvisations that suggest the maturation of indie-rock into minimalist mantras. Unlike the guitar symphonies of Rhys Chatham or Glenn Branca, Licht's pieces are incredibly intimate and quiet meditations, with repeated phrases from his chiming guitar occasionally accompanied by a dissonant fuzz or a whistful minor chord tone. These two very long pieces are pleasant recapitulations of the drone-rock godhead prowess of Thurston Moore (as per his "Psychic Hearts" avant-jangle mode, not his big muff improv freak out mode), the monochromatism of Henry Flynt, and even the spartan blues solos of Loren Mazzacane Connors, with whom Licht has collaborated on a number of occasions. These transcendent drones of jangliness more than make up for the conceptual inadequacies found on disc one. Really nice.
There's nothing new about hip hop headz stealing wholesale from the Blue Note catalog. Never has there been a collection more ripe for the sampling, And years of funky jazzy hip hop can attest to that. So what's all the fuss about? Why is this new Madlib Blue Note record getting so much attention? Not sure exactly. On the surface, it sounds like it could be any group, with a knack for simple funky beats and a deft hand at sampling. I think maybe the key is choice of source material. In the case of Shades Of Blue, it's totally impeccable: Donald Byrd, Horace Silver, Herbie Hancock, Andrew Hill, Bobby Hutcherson, Wayne Shorter and more. But Madlib is more than just a competent sampler. He's managed to transform classic jazz and funk into a strangely appealing modern hybrid, by enlisting a bunch of musicians to flesh out the original recordings, many from nicely worn records (replete with snaps and cracks and that warm old record fuzz), adding some scratching, and funky beats, as well as some rapping on a few tracks, and then weaving all of those elements into a catchy, jazzy, funky whole. Nothing ground breaking here, but it is definitely a great party record or laid back late night listen.
Somewhere along their three record history, the Mates of State boy / girl team of Jason Hammel and Kori Gardner got married. For a band with emo roots singing their signature love songs with triumphant giddiness, this turn of events seems awfully adult of them, signalling that they might turn towards settling down, raising kids, and slowly growing old. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that; yet Mates of State is a project that yearns for the energy of youth and the providence of love. For better of for worse, "Team Boo" the couple's third album stays the course set by the previous outings, with the lovely boy / girl vocal harmonies belted over the cute but oh-so-clever chords from a vintage Yamaha organ and drum rhythms that meander through time changes as freely as the spirited vocal deliveries. If you've ever had the pleasure of seeing Mates of State live, their stage presence is entirely wrapped up in their mutual gaze upon each other, as if they had just fallen in love with each other all over again as they walked on stage and belted out these passionate love songs with a remarkable freshness. They've been touring almost constantly for the past several years; and this lovesick gaze remains the same. The romantic in me wants to believe that this is indicative of their love for each other; but like all emo (or in the case of Mates of State, post emo) bands, the ability to emote is crucial to success. It could all be a fairy tale for Mates of State, but it's quite a magical one.
Second missive from this mysterious Ukrainian ensemble exploring the dark and cobwebby corners of free folk, shuffling rhythmic tribalism, space-y dronemusic, and splattery free rock ambience. A dreamy and expansive travelogue of endless soundscapes, glassy sheets of crystalline shimmer, warm and smooth, with melodies woven subtly throughout. Metallic glistenings, tinkling guitars and glitchy crunch struggle to disrupt the ambient dreaminess while occasional machine like rhythms chug tirelessly over atonal melodic clusters and urgently strummed angular guitar chords. Even though the band themselves describe their music as 'personal folk music', the actual sound is much closer to the drone music of AQ faves Jonathan Coleclough, Mirror or Organum, and occasionally the free ambient clatter of the Dead C or Skullflower. Really gorgeous stuff.
Best sketch comedy show ever. Hard to know what else to say. Everyone here has been OBSESSED with Mr. Show since it first aired on HBO years ago. To the point that some of us even spent a fortune buying crappy quality bootleg tapes on Ebay just to be able to see the show again! So we were SO EXCITED that HBO finally planned on releasing all four seasons! FUCK YEAH! A crazy mix of video and live sketch comedy starring Bob Odenkirk and David Cross. Cross you might recognise from his numerous guest appearances: Men In Black 2, Scary Movie 2, and about a million TV shows as well as his comedy record on Sub Pop 'Shut Up You Fucking Baby.' Mr. Show is brilliantly twisted, offensive and foul mouthed, ridiculous and unbelievably clever, obsessed with sex, drugs, rock and roll, reality police shows, old folks, streaking, British people, and of course cock rings! This is season three and features the amazing Sid And Marty Croft spoof Drugachussetts which is worth the thirty five bucks all by itself. And if you decide you are as obsessed as us, we can also order you the first and second season DVD set!
Very lovely! Odessa Chen is quite a one-woman band, composing, singing and performing nearly all of the instruments for this, her debut album. Her voice soars gracefully from childlike whisper to haunting wail to crystal clear heights over the dramatic waves of guitars, keyboards, strings and percussion. Charles Denison provides backing vocals on the fifth song "Fringe" making for a nice earthy counterpoint. The atmosphere is filled with heartache and yearning. Definitely for fans of the impassioned voices of Tori Amos or Sarah McLachlan.
Hot on the heels of their split cd with the lovely Ms Julie Doiron, Okkervil River offer up their third full length. The title is Down The River Of Golden Dreams, but it just as well could be Down The Country Road To Downerville. This is the earthy music of despairing hearts and troubled minds. In-store play has drawn divergent vocal comparisons to Ray Davies and Jarvis Cocker, although it must be noted that neither of those two fine chanteurs would be tarnishing the tuning fork quite as much as Okkervil River do. I'm sure they're shooting for the I-can-barely contain-myself kind of expressiveness, but sometimes it drew winces. Still, when you're practically singing into the wrong end of a shotgun, who's gonna do multiple takes to get in key?
Justifying the price of $13.98 for a seven inch with 8 minutes of music can be difficult. David Jackman continues to release tiny editions of his music in bite sized portions. Obviously, he's banking on the fact that both his solo work and his project Organum is fascinating enough to entice his loyal customer base to gobble up anything that he releases. "Die Letzte Musik Vor Dem Krieg" is the latest from Organum, a project that specializes in the timbres and drones from bowed and scraped metals. Jackman, who appears to be the only member of this permutation of Organum, has always been a master of this artform, collaging multiple layers of these sounds on top of each other to create a swarming minimalism that's almost always better than anything that Tony Conrad or LaMonte Young could muster. Jackman mixes things up a bit, by throwing in a couple of solemn piano notes on one track, and mournful Tibetan horns on the other. Being pressed at 45 rpm, this single sounds great at slower speeds, thus balancing out the dollars per minute ratio a bit more.
Be warned, we only have 5 copies of this, and these will be gone soon. Don't delay, or you may end up spending $25.00 on Ebay for a copy. And you know what, it's probably worth it!
At last! This 1995 Oxbow opus, the third album from our favorite San Francisco fucked rock geniuses, has been reissued, with two never-before released bonus tracks appended. A Steve Albini production, the album proper features special guests the Rova Saxophone Quartet, while the bonus tracks see Oxbow collaborating with the late Kathy Acker, the feminist/punk writer. For those unfamiliar with the wonders of Oxbow, this album would make a fine introduction, and fans of course MUST OWN it. It shows off their weirdly catchy brand of aggro art rock, totally heavy and, what's the word, transgressive? When they're not kicking your ass, they can get into some hauntingly gorgeous droney territory as well (as on bonus track#1). But their forte is sliding seasick Led Zeppelin guitar riffage with wailing mental-breakdown vocals, songs loaded with hard-hitting, post-post-rock dynamics and complexity. Let Me Be A Woman, like all of Oxbow's best work, radiates a shuddering vibe of despair, angst, and seething violence. Terrible beauty indeed. Originally on Dutch label Brinkman, this now appears via the French label Ruminance, testament to the superior tastes of Continentals we suppose!
Yes, this is a Jack Palance album. You know, that scary Ripley's Believe It Or Not guy. Plus he was in some movies and stuff. Of course, you know him, you love him. Back in 1969, someone at Warner Bros. though it would be a good idea for Jack to make a record. Maybe 'cause he'd been in some westerns, or maybe 'cause he dug Lee Hazlewood and Johnny Cash, or maybe 'cause the country-rock thing lends itself well to a semi-spoken word delivery when you can't really sing all that well, Jack grew a moustache, went to Nashville and, with the help of some studio pros, cut this album. Now it's been reissued on cd with a big ol' booklet of liner notes and everything. And it is pretty entertaining, totally orchestrated, with backing singers and so on, Jack Palance recognizable as himself, playing upon his sinister, tough guy screen persona with ballads like "Meanest Guy That Ever Lived" (that one he wrote himself, in fact). Now we wish somebody would reissue the Telly Savalas LP!
The much-loved Wino, grizzled underground doom-metal guitarist and vocalist extraordinare, who first gained fame with the legendary bands The Obsessed and Saint Vitus and more recently fronted the popular Spirit Caravan (R.I.P.), is back, riding high in the saddle again in not one but two new bands.
OK, Place of Skulls isn't actually new (more on them in a sec) but The Hidden Hand is. Basically they're the continuation of Spirit Caravan by other means it seems. Wino recruited a new rhythm section -- one without overt substance abuse problems -- that really allows him to fire up his trademark heavy stoner rock into punkier, more aggro realms than before. They really kick ass with some complex instrumental stuff goin' on. Definitely further out on a limb musically than the Caravan. Lyrically, Wino indulges in a lot of ridiculous conspiracy-theory -- he's really gone off the deep end with post 9/11 paranoia. But his heart's in the right place, politically revolted with the Bush/Cheney/Ashcroft coup. It's redneck radical rock for X-files fans. Heavy riffs, heavy concepts, there's even a reading list.
Meanwhile, Wino also joined up with Place of Skulls, the band of ex-Pentagram guitarist Victor Griffin (whoo-hoo! supergroup!). Their first album Nailed came out last year on Southern Lord and we gave it a bit of mixed review, criticizing the vocals particularily. But they had potential, and now with Wino in the band they're much much better. It's a funny thing, actually, 'cause they already sounded a lot like Spirit Caravan or The Obsessed, but I guess they needed the talents of the man himself to really shine. His vocals help a lot. Victor still sings, too, but he's somehow better now thanks to Wino's example I guess! Dunno if they're still a Christian band, I'm not sure how Jesus fits into Wino's conspiracy theories... but he's certainly a 'spiritual' dude, so it works. Anyway, both Place Of Skulls and The Hidden Hand worthy successors to Wino's previous projects, with Place Of Skulls more straight-up doom metal for doom heads and The Hidden Hand harking back in ways to The Obsessed's DC punk roots, Bad Brains jazz fusion lurking in the grooves, though neither band would exist if not for Black Sabbath of course. And the Place Of Skulls album cover wouldn't exist if it weren't for Steppenwolf's "7"...
This album is billed as featuring alternate takes and beats from his recent One Word Extinguisher album, but don't let that fool ya -- this record might even be better than its fabulous "source". On thisrecord Scott Herren lets it all hang out. Much less precise and song oriented, this is glitchy and schizo and thus even more interesting, to me (Windy), than the previous album. It never get boring, the stops and starts are gently jarring, not confusing. There's funny vocal snippets, warm cellos, rough buzzes, fun beats, a heavy dose of hip hop, even a split second Dinosaur Jr sample. Recommended for fans of Amon Tobin, DJ Shadow, Unagi, Kid Koala, etc.
Since their one and only swan song "Rivers Without Roads" found on their debut "A Negative For Francis" the bass centred Rothko has been far more interested in mood engineering than the joys of songsmithery. This project has long reveled in an overcast gloom typically created by wrapping each sound and note in sheets of cathedral reverb. Mark Beazley, the only remaining member of Rothko, has retained those sentiments for this collaboration with Blk W/Bear, the chosen moniker for Washington DC based artist and AQ pal JS Adams, who offers a description of his work as "concurrent transgressions and turntable deconstructions, recordings of failed communication and decomposed transmission, archival reconstructionism." Implicit to the allegories in the work of both Beazley and Adams is the pathos of antiquity -- which is far more physical in Adams case with his mechanical devices producing a creakiness similar to Philip Jeck or Saule, where Beazley's atmospheres emote their sadness through space and spartan melody. Thus, these two artists work very well together, often alternating between each other's signature styles. Thunder cracks of shortwave boom with echoing reverb, lugubrious fingerpicking recalls the empathic notes of Loren Mazzacane Connors, and requiems for piano evoke their lilting melodies. "Wish For A World Without Hurt" is a very beautiful recording.
That said, I could do without the information that this record is a dedication to 9/11. The realization of any musical connections to the tragedies of September 11 are a little shaky; but like the other elegy for 9/11, William Basinski's epic "Disintegration Loops," the music transcends the earthly confines of that specific event and bears witness to the universal fear and awe of the sublime.
A few years ago, Markus Popp, in the guise of Oval, gave us something completely new and different, original and stunning. A gorgeous, fluid soundscape that betrayed its source material: scratched and skipping cds. A dreamy, droney, slippery, stuttery chunk of shimmery, underwater electronica. This was well before the laptop replaced the guitar as the instrument du jour with the now all too regrettable "anyone can play..." mantra that supposedly so liberated music. Just like with the glut of shitty punk rock bands years ago, so too came an endless series of kids with more sound programs than good ideas. But that Oval record, Diskont, remains to this day a milestone in experimental electronic music. So it was a little bit disappointing that Popp began to tread water creatively, re-hashing the sounds and ideas that on Diskont sounded so inspired, but that on subsequent releases just sounded, sort of familiar. And now, eight years later, Popp finally moves on, progresses and offers up a whole new side of his Oval sound. The key difference, and probably the most appealing new element is the addition of vocalist Eriko Toyada, whose vocals are all whispery and breathless and intimate, recorded so closely that you can hear every breath, every lip smack, every nuance. All adding to Popp's gritty, fuzzy, glitchy backdrop. Think: your favorite Bjork record dropped in the shredder, and then left to soak in a warm, tranquil pool , before being reassembled, all smeary and indistinct. So completely mesmerisingly beautiful!
After gettin' pretty steamed by the jewelcase's sticker that let us know that "the hit single" was included within (really, the album just came out... thanks record label for deciding that for us!), we gave this record a spin... Seeming almost as though she just popped right out of a time capsule dated '92, Juliana Hatfield is back. Seriously, wearing her stone-faced stare, she doesn't look a day older than she did back then (although she does look alarmingly thin). Anyways, she's got a new band called Some Girls staffed by two similarly just-outta-their-teens lookin' gals... but wait! Those aren't just any young misses, they're her former Blake Babies bandmate Freda Love and her friend Heidi Gluck. Although the overall tone is noticeably subdued by Hatfield standards, fans will be happy to hear her still singing in her unmistakable breathy childlike voice about those familiar topics: prettiest girls, relationship confusion, etc. For sure, if you were a Blake Babies and/or Juliana Hatfield fan you'll wanna check this out. Includes a cover of Robert Johnson's "Malted Milk".
This has actually been out for a while now and even though we were asleep at the switch, figured a bunch of you would still be psyched. However, of all the Sonic Youth records that could deserve the deluxe multi-disc reissue, very few of us would have chosen Dirty. How about Daydream Nation? Or even Goo? I guess it does make sense since Dirty was their commercial breakthrough record or whatever, so ultimately it really depends on where you hold Dirty in your personal SY pantheon. But this reissue is super nice, fully tricked out with a fancy double digipak, a slip cover, tons of photos and a big booklet. Contains the original album as well as 8 b-sides and 12 rehearsal recordings, 11 of which have never been released until now! Good stuff. Now how about a deluxe reissue of Sister or Evol?!?
Seems like hip-hop mixes had disappeared for a while there. All those sloppily pressed 7"s just dropped off the face of the earth. But we're fortunate to have locals still devoted to the art of fusing dancehall vocals to hip hop beats. What's refreshing about the four tracks on Sound Killers is that while most of the dancehall vocals are from fairly well known tracks, some of the hip hop rhythms are from older and otherwise less obvious tracks (ie: R.I.P. "One Minute Man" and Get Yr Freak On"). Included on this 12", two tracks to a side is Cutty Ranks "Limb By Limb" vs. Silas "The Jump Off", Capleton "Tour" vs. Baby "What Happened To That Boy", Supercat "Scalp Dem" vs. Eric B. & Rakim "Paid In Full", and Beenie Man "Girls Dem Sugar" vs. Erykah Badu w/Common "Love of My Life".
This is my second favorite Spacemen 3 record, second only to the breathtaking Playing With Fire (which we just listed last time and is still in stock). But the more I listen to this, the more it inches closer and closer. It follows the same sonic path as Playing With Fire, with shimmery, hazy, druggy garage rock drone scapes and occasional squalls of fuzzed out buzz-saw riffs, and while it lacks some of the dreamy summery ambience of PWF, it makes up for it in gritty urgency and bleary, cloudy atmosphere. Some of these songs appear elsewhere, but these are the definitive versions, the way the band had always intended them to sound, adding layers and layers of guitars that were impossible to replicate live. This double disc reissue collects demo versions covers, and previously unreleased songs, all of them amazing. From the opening track 'Things'll Never Be The Same', a blast of thick Stooges-y sludge, to the Velvets-esque 'Walking With Jesus', a fuzzy, sun-spangled, lo-fi drone-y ramble, all shimmery strum and sing-songy vocals, to the bluesy swagger of 'Come Down Easy' sounding like Delta blues broadcast from outer space and dipped in LSD, this stuff is all so good. Yet another band that allows a straight edge goodie-two-shoes like me to dabble in dark and dangerous, dreamy and druggy excess!
It's funny, there are so many Spacemen 3 records, but ultimately it seems like they only had maybe 10 songs, and every record just featured different versions of the same songs, edits, extended mixes, demos. But they sound so good it almost didn't matter! As it is, most Spacemen 3 songs are so blissfully buzzy and hypnotic that I kind of wish they would go on forever. So maybe they do. Sort of. This ep was originally available only via mail with a coupon from their Playing With Fire record. Recorded live in Amsterdam in 1989, this is PRIME Spacemen 3. Walls of thick guitar, sun dappled and effevescent, sheets of feedback, and that unmistakable, throbbing pulse, that makes all Spacemen 3 tracks lull you into a druggy psychedelic trance. So good.
Jason Pierce is back, taking the gospelized space-pop of his band Spiritualized into the most rawked-out Stooges territory he's traipsed since his days in the legendary Spacemen 3. Seriously, even the vocals on here sound a bit (too much?) like Iggy! It's Brit pop gone bad -- Windy quipped that this sounds like an Unhappy Mondays. So, if you're looking for the blissful sounds found on Spiritualized's classic Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space you'll have to look harder. But if you can dig some punky, psychedelic rock bombast then you'll dig this, and you'll also find some nicely slow, sparse, sad songs on here too. Indeed, while your first impression is gonna be Raw Power, the distorted guitars give way to the kind of raw (heavenly) power you can only evoke with the help of choirs and horns and stuff. Pretty nice overall.
[Btw, Windy has a question: has Pierce ever spoken publicly about his Christian beliefs? There's a lot of flirting w/it on this album (name of band, duh... title, duh) -- but one wonders how much of it is admiration for gospel style vs genuine devoutness. Just wondering.]
We remember when Supersilent 1-3 came out, and we were like, who the heck are these guys with a debut triple cd?? After listening to it, of course we became fast fans. And Supersilent 4 and 5, which made interesting stylistic shifts, only served to deepen our appreciation of this Norwegian quartet. Now Supersilent 6 is upon us, and it's been eagerly anticipated -- we sold a whole bunch the day we got 'em in! On this disc, Supersilent continue to creatively pursue their own unique Nordic mind-meld of improv, electronics, jazz, and what we might describe as live musique concrete. Maybe we should call it glitch-fusion? Maybe not, but there's gorgeous Frippertronics guitar one moment, breathy trumpet the next, all with electronic drones and scattered drum-beats underneath. Delicate, shimmering soundscapes build into mammoth sound-masses, still shimmering. Their music still holds a great deal of mystery, even if the band is at last getting the exposure they deserve, such as a feature in the new issue (#228) of The Wire. Others have observed that it's amazing that Supersilent's music is totally improvised and without overdubs, and we'd have to agree. Supersilent 6 is a disc thick with noise of great beauty, and comes highly recommended.
Die Stadt marches on with the second in the series of CD reissues documenting the unique career of German electronic musician Asmus Tietchens. "Biotop" was originally released in 1981 on Sky Music, marking the second album in Tietchens' self-professed 'pop intermezzo,' before unleashing a torrent of emphatically abstract electronic recordings. Tietchens' definition of pop music was always a bit suspect, as his Moog synthesizer melodies while playful and cheeky are often stiff and lacking in basslines. That said, "Biotop" is a charmingly naive record that is far more suited to the ironic listening experiences within Jean-Jacques Perrey, Dick Hyman, and even some of Atom Heart's clever recapitulations of dorky electronics. Comes with two bonus tracks of likeminded material not found on the original vinyl version.
