Originally a solo side project of Versus' guitarist James Balayut, Plus/Minus has swelled into a full blown trio with fellow Versus member Patrick Ramos and Chris Deaner hopping aboard. They present their full length follow-up to Holding Patterns, the blissful +/- five-song debut from earlier this year. You Are Here is for the most part quite an understated affair, but it's not without dynamic and stylistic range. Slightly jazzy, touching on almost all shades of Chicago postrock. The result? A finely blended sound that's reminiscent of a hybrid of Tortoise, The Sea And Cake and Versus too. Soft, often near-spoken male vocals, warm tendrils of tremoloed guitars, bendy groovy cyclical basslines, plenty of crash cymbal punctuations. That said, quite possibly their catchiest pop song to date -- the soaring guitar-driven "Trapped Under The Ice Floes" -- makes a welcome "redux" reappearance here (it was the second song on the EP).
Throughout their beloved mockumentary movies Spinal Tap, Waiting For Guffman, Best In Show and now A Mighty Wind, Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and co. have done a smashing job faithfully replicating musical styles right down to the most miniscule detail. You might even say that quite often it puts the 'real' thing to shame. Pssst... if you've yet to see AMW which focuses on three very different fictitious embodiments of folk music - the squaresville upstart New Main Street Singers, veteran trio The Folksmen and beloved duo Mitch & Mickey - what are you waiting for?! Perhaps one of their most astute skills is in knowing when to apply humor (either subtle or over-the-top) and when to play things totally straight. They locate just the right moment to give your funny bone a wallop or tug gently at your heartstrings. The latter is so fully realized in Mitch & Mickey's bittersweet duet "A Kiss At The End Of The Rainbow". Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara's voices ring so clear and true as the former sweethearts. Sigh! Of course, this is a must-have for those of you who've seen (and re-seen) the movie and/or the fabulous live production that came to the Warfield recently.
BACK IN STOCK!
What a find! This is a record made in 1969 by The Aerovons, a St. Louis quartet led by the talented 17-year old songwriter/producer Tom Hartman. But except for one 7" single that had 2 songs on it, The Aerovons' full length was NEVER released. This is its first proper showing, and it's a doozy. Made by fanatical Beatles fans, who even used the same model instruments their idols did, this record at times sounds just like a late-'60s Beatles album, especially in "Say Georgia" which sounds like "Oh! Darling" and "Resurrection" which sounds like "Across the Universe" and Tom's voice is just like Paul McCartney's. This is a good thing! It's a real pity the band never saw their debut released, cos for a while they had everything going for them. They were hits in their hometown, journeyed (with Tom's mum!) to London, got signed to Parlophone, jammed with the Hollies, hung with George Harrison, got Paul's autograph, even borrowed the Beatles' tambourine while recording at ABBEY ROAD. Can you imagine how stoked these kids were?
Not just a hell of a backstory, but a fine Beatlesesque treat. Some folks might find some of the songs (like the aforementioned two) just a little TOO close to Beatles originals for comfort, actually, but we were charmed. After all, it takes a certain sort of teenage nerve to go ahead and rip off "Across The Universe" when it hadn't even been released yet -- the band simply got an Abbey Road engineer to play the Beatles' latest tapes for 'em, and then promptly repaired to their studio suitably inspired! Perhaps this doppelganger aspect is why the album never was released, or perhaps the label backed out fearing that the group would not be able to promote the album properly after one of the Aerovons split for the US due to personal problems. So goes a footnote in rock history, what could've been a major band. Still, thanks to RPM we've got our first chance to hear this real pleasure of a record, complete with copious liner notes, photos, article clippings, and four bonus tracks. The Aerovons. Who knew?
Heads up for another wallop of very angular barebones post punk. Yes, Aframes wear their love of early 80s Wire, The Fall and/or Gang Of Four prominently on their sleeves, and they capture the sound and energy very well. Although you might guess their hometown to be San Diego or Providence where many likeminded bands are based, this trio is in fact from Seattle, WA. Deep, deadpan vocals much like those of Nick Forte (Rorschach, Computer Cougar, Beautiful Skin) brood and proclaim while the very front'n'center chunky, choppy guitars jab and saw atop the simmering rhythm section. At times in their music as well as their lyrics and song titles ("Ionic", "Archaeology", "Modula", etc), they bring science, sci-fi and rock together -- also calling to mind the less surfy, more art-damaged side of Man Or Astro-Man?. Note: this was originally released on vinyl earlier this year in a short-lived limited pressing of 1000.
People tuning into this new Alias, looking for another dose of that Anticon off kilter whine-y avant hip hop we all love so much might be a little disappointed. Hopefully not to much though, as Alias has taken the Anticon sound to a whole new level. Other Anticon members have dabbled outside of hip hop with fairly dismal results, mostly of the tepid bedroom indie rock variety. This Alias record is something else entirely. Muted sounds like it could have just as easily been released on Morr Music or French electro-shoegaze-pop label Gooom, a gorgeously lush melange of chopped, loping beats, dreamy instrumental rhythmic workouts and glitchy avant pop. Think Massive Attack meets the Notwist. In fact Markus Acher from the Notwist sings on one song that sounds like it came straight off the Notwist's genius Neon Golden album. And actually, Neon Golden is probably the record that comes to mind most when listening to Muted. Imagine a less techno, more beat heavy, hip hop flecked, mostly instrumental new Notwist album. Hooky and epic, dreamy and hypntoic and totally amazing. Hip hop does surface once in a while, with big ol' beats, some human beatbox, brief snippets of somebody rhyming, but it's all subsumed into the gorgeously hazy and deliciously narcotic whole. Hip hop headz may be shaking theirs, but this could be the best Anticon record yet.
Seminal Krautrockers Amon Duul II are captured here on film doing what the title says, playing their debut (and perhaps 2nd best, next to their masterpiece Yeti) album. It's about a half-hour long, a psychedelic transmission from a far off time and place: Munich, Germany 1968. Fans probably need this, but we should give you a little more info. First off, it's more of an art film (Wim Wenders was one of the cinematographers!) than a live-in-concert document. In fact, while the soundtrack is very definitely a live performance of the mind-blowing hippie hoedown that Phallus Dei is, it's not exactly synched to what you see the band doing on the screen -- they're two different performances of the same material. Apparently the reason the audio and visual don't match up is because the band refused to stop playing, or do anything over, even when some of the cameras malfunctioned. So edits were necessary. But in a way it doesn't matter -- the weird disconnect just makes this all the more psychedelic, as you hear the violin before the musican starts playing it, or the bongos continue even when the drummer stops to get his hair out of his face. Not that this needs much help to be super psychedelic -- the colorful light show alone will trip you out, superimposed as it is over the long haired hippies in the band grooving out. Messing with your mind still further, the first part of the film (after a lovely opening sequence of the rising sun, later mirrored by shots of the sunset) is a fairly close up shot of just the band's two singers, and remains fixed on them even during a largely instrumental portion of the song. Renate Knaup looks bored (but sexy), while Shrat does his best to freak out on a tamborine which you can't hear. Then there's the portions of the film that show scenes of an artifically blue-toned German countryside as the camera drives past, that's fairly mesmerizing. The overall effect is enhanced by the scratches and spots on the time-worn film -- freeze-frame the opening sunrise sequence with your DVD pause button and you'll find many wonderful abstract compositions. Anyway, it's a historical musical document as well as an intriguing art flick -- when it screened at the 1969 Edinburgh Film Festival, American director Samuel Fuller (Shock Corridor) was quoted as saying "It's rough, it's vicious, it's drama". And here's what that festival's program guide had to say, to put you in the mood: "This film will be shown without titles or credits. It is in colour and you will see the German rock group Amon Duul II -- which, apart from Amon Duul I, is the only true progressive and outstanding group from Germany -- on stage with their celebrated light show...Their sound is very heavy, weird, and wild. Imagine a cross between Hapshash, Spooky Tooth, Dr. John and Jethro Tull."
As a sort of bonus, this dvd also features a slide-show style discography featuring album artwork and snippets of songs from each of their umpteen releases. There's nothing else in the way of special features except for the surround sound in place of original mono option.
The follow-up to The Books' 2002 debut Thought For Food provides another dose of eclectic, playful, folky sound collages. Each track of the baker's dozen offered up on The Lemon Of Pink is a delightfully rumpled, snipped and reassembled sonic patchwork quilt of acoustic guitar, violin, banjo and lovingly embroidered samples. This time there's a distinct Asian feel to many of the tracks -- Japanese dialogue, koto-esque string plucks -- as well as more of a hushed spoken-sung vocal presence throughout than on their previous album (often very akin to Devendra Banhart). A highly enjoyable, loping, off-kilter journey.
This amazing and absolutely incomparable recording of Cedric Im Brooks finally gest reissued by Astralwerks via Honest Jons. Those of you who've picked up copies of the Trojan Nyabhinghi Box Set have already gotten a taste for Mr. Brooks. Born in Kingston in 1943 Cedric Brooks had been involved in Jamaica's music scene since the early sixties, playing both clarinet and saxophone for several groups and recording some successful instrumentals for Coxsone Dodd, along with working as a session musician at Studio 1. It was two subsequent events that really sharpened Brooks' musical aesthetic though: the first was a trip to the United States where Brooks almost had the opportunity to join Sun Ra's Arkestra (the birth of his daughter back home in Jamaica thwarted this). The other was his introduction to rasta percussionist Count Ossie. Ossie & Brooks teamed up, forming the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari, to produce the holy grail of reggae/nyabhinghi recordings "Grounation". After parting ways with Ossie, Brooks formed his own orchestra "Light of Saba" in 1974 and recorded several albums worth of material with them. This compilation of 18 tracks here are absolutely amazing, a truly bizarre amalgam blending roots reggae, jazz, afro-funk, soul, calypso and even disco -- all glued together with pounding nyabhinghi drumming (not to mention bass, guitar, organ, horns and flute). Those beginning to feel squeamish about such shameless genre blending fear not: this is not some half-assed world-beat record cum marketing gimmick. This is perhaps one of the best "reggae" (though it doesn't completely fit the genre) reissues we've seen through these doors in a long time! This is heavy, rough hewn, beautiful and potent. This is one of those gems that, when we play it in the store, everyone either wants or wants to know just what the hell it is and when the hell it was recorded. Timeless and crucial. Highly recommended!
Smashed drum kits, blown bass amps, band and audience, drums and guitars, mic cords and stands, tables and chairs, all in a bloody, sweaty, writhing pit in the middle of the club. The return of the four headed hydra, Burmese, San Francisco's grind/noise/sludge behemoth. Cutting a swath of mayhemic brutality and entropic dissonance through the stale SF scene, Burmese make their table-tossing, audience-baiting, tantrum-throwing peers look like charm school graduates. Punk rock Gallants to Burmese's skull crushing, soul poisoning, ear shredding Goofus.
Now with an extra drummer and a renewed, dangerously unhealthy obsession with Whitehouse, Burmese have slowed things down a bit. Gone are the hyperspeed blast beats and in their place are midtempo dirges, stumbling drunkenly through nihilistic, grinding sludge, spewing bile and ultraviolence. Pounding militaristic beats demarcate vast expanses of throbbing feedback, guttural growls, tarpit washes of bowel loosening low-end and 16 rpm grindcore. Things do speed up occasionally into blurry bursts of static and skree, but even then, they eventually devolve back into some sort of primordial and glacial caveman stomp, all murky thud and swampy roar, thick and suffocating and massively heavy. This is some seriously scary shit. Grinding and pounding. Punishing and pummelling. Relentless and brutal.
MPEG Stream: "Ladykiller" [/audio/burmeseladykiller.m3u]
Furious blast of political punk rock / grind, with ultra complex arrangements, weirdly atonal licks, thick, downtuned riffs and incomprehensibly wicked drumming courtesy of drum god Dave Witte from Discordance Axis, Melt Banana and about a million other bands. BBTS stretch their wings a bit this time around with lots of midtempo groove, some almost-straight-ahead punk rock, and some Neurosis-y sludge, but it all comes back to the grind eventually, with wild bursts of blazing blast beats and buzzing riffs.
Second album from these Swedish melodic metalheads. There's no Merzbow remix this time, but it's still great. Straddling the line between crushing metal core a la Coalesce or Converge, and high energy punk rock ala their fellow country men the Refused, Burst write super catchy songs, constructed from super complex, mathy post rock, death metal riffs reconstructed into hooky little melodies, acoustic breakdowns, super high energy rock and roll, stoner rock grooves, Neurosis-style apocalyptic dirges and a vocalist with a howl that sounds remarkably like Mudhoney's Mark Arm. Both Allan and Andee can't get enough of this band!
Simply put, Flying Saucer Attack kicked ass. This was especially true for their first couple of albums and their almost endless amount of singles. FSA's oversaturated guitars and breathy Nick Drake-ish vocals made the band sound like the unkempt little brother of far more polished shoegazer bands like My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, and Ride. Where as the distortion, delay, and reverb of the shoegazer sound was smooth and blissed-out, the FSA sound was jagged, unruly, and primitive. Yet, the line-up which paired David Pearce and Rachel Brook with a handful of Bristolian post-rockers, was eventually reduced to just Pearce, after Brook departed to found Movietone. With Pearce alone at the helm, he often threatened to terminate the project, but would still occasionally produce another record. Although it did seem that 2000's Mirror would in fact be the final FSA record, and that Pearce would never record again.
Fortunately, such speculation proved to be premature, as Pearce began a trans-Atlantic collaboration with Jessica Bailliff, resulting in the Clear Horizon project. Alternating on vocal duty, Pearce and Bailiff have crafted a sleepy set of songs, principally played on acoustic guitar, but accentuated by the smoldering layers of Pearce's hazy feedback and luminous effects. Clear Horizon is a very welcome return for Pearce, and there is already talk of the two working together again, maybe actually recording together in the same studio next time.
Ok, when you think of harmonica, maybe you think of someone like Bob Dylan wearing one of those orthadontic-like apparatus thingies that lets you play guitar and harmonica at the same time. It's bluesy, it's rootsy, it's kinda square. But Anla Courtis' Harmonica F'ever will make you forget that sort of harmonica. This lil' 3" cd-r solo disc released by Jewelled Antler off-shoot Pink Skulls features Courtis taking harmonica playing into a multi-tracked realm of insanity and abstraction. Courtis is of course 1/3 of the bizarro Argentine out-rock troupe Reynols, so its no surprise that his approach to harmonica playing is about as far from Big John Popper as you can get. The disc starts off with a track that crams what sounds like random blowing/breathing by maybe a dozen harmonica players into 6-7 minutes. But then, when you think you've got Courtis' concept figured out, track two comes along. It's much less readily identifiable as being sourced from harmonia (though of course it is), and it's a much sleepier, spookier affair than track one. Droney and abstract and really quite lovely. The third and final track on this lil' disc switches focus to the higher register harmonica sounds, sounding like the harmonica version of a happy flock of birds. Overall, probably the ONLY nothing-but-harmonica recording you need to own.
It's been a while, way too long actually. And we were starting to get the shakes, jonesing for some new noise from our pals at Fflint Central. And as if they heard our poor neglected ear drums calling out to them from across the sea, what should show up on our doorstep but a box of the new Fflint release by Cousin Silas! Where as Silas' last release was a demented downtempo masterpiece, a sort of more damaged Boards Of Canada, things on this new one get way more abstract and spaced out, maybe like The Orb for the fucked up, noise rock set. Burbling, acid tinged spacescapes, with sinister gurgles and swooping blooping Hawkwindiness, Goblin-esque doomscapes and chopped up, rhythmic throbs, searing sci-fi synth splatter, and alien, almost house-like four on the floor pulses, creepy Whitehouse-ish free noise and delicate spider webbed melodies all coalesce into a nightmarishly soothing, gorgeously creepy late night chill-out record. All hail Fflint!
On album #2, Crack W.A.R. have tempered their bad girl electro-sass wild side in favor of a more brooding, dankly industrial sound. Still very energetic tempo-wise, but somewhat less in-your-face in the vocal department. The haphazard cut'n'paste fashion of their Silent Fantasy album and rambunctious live shows were what stirred a fun, messy, funky ruckus in the local hipster scene last year. On Cosmic Mind Flight, they seem to have opted for less noise and spectacle and shifted their priorities to honing their songs and sound. As a result, it does sound 'better' but you might find it a bit lacking in the C:W.A.R. bizarro personality that drenched their debut.
You know you need this! All of Chris Cunningham's best videos, including the two he did for Aphex Twin, the completely demented and super un-sexy Windowlicker video, and the pants-shittingly terrifying video for "Come To Daddy". Also includes the gorgeous Bjork-as-sexy-robot video for "All Is Full Of Love", and videos for Autechre, Portishead, Madonna, Leftfield, and Squarepusher. Bonus footage includes a making of the Bjork "All Is Full Of Love" video, two video installations with music by Aphex Twin, commercials for Playstation, Nissan, and Levi's, a "bleeped" version of the "Windowlicker" video, and a huge book with photos, storyboards, drawings, record art and interviews.
By now we've listed numerous recordings from Bali already, and with good reason: the people of Bali live and breathe music and art. It's no wonder that they've been the source of fascination from artists dating back to Walter Spies and are currently inundated with the clumsey feet of foreign tourists who flock to the island every year. Much like the beloved Indonesian Soundscapes, Night Recordings From Bali is a collection of field recordings -- made by Alan Bishop and Manford Cain in 1989 -- of the sort not likely to be captured by traditional "ethnomusicologists" or found on the likes of an Explorer or even Smithsonian Folkways disc. For instance: "Rubber Television", a recording of a television drama or soap opera accompanied by gamelan, dripping water sound effects that warbles pathetically like they were being recorded with a dying cassette deck (courtesy of Bali's notorious humidity maybe?) While many of the other recordings are of Bali's numerous, well exposed gamelan and sundry other music ensembles like anklung, kebyar and kecak, the man-on-the-spot style recording fuses the sounds of the frogs and insects to the performances where another recordist might have isolated the ensemble. Additionally, there are recordings here of wild life segueing between musical performances and even a recording of a cremation ceremony where the surviving loved ones battle in a traditional tug of war between those wishing to bring the body to the pyre and those resisting the inevitable final journey.
Did you know there were Vikings in Italy? Yep, these guys, who are back with an excellent new disc. They're just as obsessed with swords and glory, axes and honor as Manowar, but with a bit more of a serious historical slant (though that doesn't stop them from taking cool noms de guerre like Deathmaster and The Forger).
Let Battle Commence takes up where their last record, Resound The Horn, left off. It's a concept album of sorts, concerning itself with Danish King Ivar The Boneless's conquest of York on November 1st, 866 AD, apparently one of the few pagan triumphs over Christians, according to the band. With lyrics like "We shall fill the air with spears to turn black this Christian sun" and "Odin guide my sword!" you might think you know what side Doomsword is on. But, even then, other songs acknowledge the horror and loss of warfare, showing ambivalence by the victors in lines like "Of this land / Of glory, battle and death / All I recall is the look in the eyes of the dead" and "Woman I never saw / I am sorry if you can believe me / I killed your man in my last fight" (from "Deathbringer - Blood On My Hands").
Still, these are stirring heavy metal anthems that could certainly be used to lead men into battle. I can imagine the helicopter gunships in Apocalpyse Now blaring Doomsword instead of Wagner, just as effectively.
Brandon Labelle and Ken Ehlich offer a number of open-ended questions in forming the thesis for their book Surface Tension, which is centered on the nature of site-specificity and the conceptual ramifications of such cultural productions. As the ideas behind this book can get pretty heady, we'll just quote liberally from Labelle's and Erhlich's shorthand description found on the book: "This anthology explores site-specific practice and its legacy through critical and creative essays by leading theorists, architects, and artists from around the globe, including an insightful interview with Gordon Matta-Clark from 1976, an essay by Juli Carson on the linger controversy of Richard Serra's 'Tilted Arc,' and Kathy Battista's uncovering of London's women artists groups in the 1970s. These are complemented by historical and contemporary documentation of [sound] projects, including a rarely heard audio work by Bruce Nauman from 1969."
The list of writers included in the book is an impressive selection from academia as well as the art world with contributions from Lucy Lippard, Kim Abeles, Carol Brown, CopenhagenOffice, Octavio Camargo, Jeremiah Day, Dispute Resolution Services, Jennifer Gabrys, Jen Hofer, Melissa Dyne, Colette Meacher, and many more.
The accompanying CD is also packed with an allstar cast: Yoko Ono, Paul Panhuysen, Atau Tanaka, Stuart Dempster, Terry Fox, Bruce Nauman, undo, Alison Knowles, and more.
On Eltro's third album Past And Present Futurists, it's nice to find that their sound is still very very sweet and soothing, but they seem to have ventured out into slightly darker, more trippy and expansive territory. This is definitely no less pretty, but much more active than the comparatively even keeled gentle drone'n'pulse dream pop of their previous record Velodrome. During a spin here at AQ, a customer likened them to a more languid and lil' bit druggy Stereolab. This was particularly in reference to the album's fourth song "On One". While we can certainly hear what he meant and if comparisons are to be drawn, then this album as a whole seems to be much closer to the undulating grooviness of Laika and the quirky pop beats of Solex or Cibo Matto. Laidback female vocals, trumpet blasts, funky melodies, percolating rhythms, smooth'n'steady basslines? It's all here, presented in fine, smoky latenight fashion.
A side note in the "maybe I'm crazy but was that...?" department: one thing that caught our ear in the third song "Fram" was a recurring melody that bore a striking resemblance to the Charlie's Angels theme. Odd!
A new EP from AQ fave the Flaming Lips with 4 brand new songs as good as anything on their most recent full length Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots (re-listed and reviewed again elsewhere on this list). The opener "Assassination Of The Sun" is one of the best Lips songs in a while. Wonder how it managed to get left off Yoshimi. Gorgeous sweeping strings, an unbelievably catchy hook, and Wayne's sweetly cracked falsetto. So good. This is gonna be on mixtapes everywhere befor you know it. The second track "I'm A Fly In A Sunbeam" is a dreamy instrumental slab of fuzzy, waltzy Lawrence-Welk-on-LSD sentimental sweetness. Which smoothly segues into the classic Lips epic dream-pop of "Sunship Balloons". Our advice is to skip the next three tracks, totally LAME house/disco/dance remixes that just suck. Maybe their recent foray onto the dancefloor with their tweaked cover of that Kylie Minogue song made them think they should givee it another try. They were wrong. But the finale redeems them, as it's a Christmas song, and if there's any band who should be allowed to do a Christmas song, it's the Flaming Lips, since most of their songs sound like Christmas songs anyway, all chimes and strings and fuzzy snowy harmonies. That and the fact that they have a full length film coming out this Christmas called Christmas On Mars. So definitely pick this up, but stay away from the dancefloor. You have been warned.
Normally we scoff at the ongoing fleecing of music lovers by re-releasing albums with a DVD of bonus crap forcing fans to buy the album twice. And we're not sure why this Flaming Lips DVD couldn't have just been released by itself, but it wasn't, so once again, fans are faced with the choice of buying the record again, or missing out. Thankfully, the stuff on the DVD is actually pretty great, so it might be worth getting rid of your old Yoshimi and picking up this new one. The cd is virtually unchanged, and the full review is below. The DVD contains the full album, but mixed in 5.1 surround sound. Two different videos for "Do You Realize?", the making of "Do You Realize?", "Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Pt. 1" video, a making of the "Yoshimi" video, "Fight Test" video, "Phoebe Battles The Pink Robots" video, a trailer for the Flaming Lips upcoming Christmas On Mars movie (that looks deliciously low budget), and a making of this here DVD. Also there are two animated DVD-Rom tracks, and 6 unreleased tracks (4 alternate versions and two new tracks). There's also a weird sort of trippy video jukebox. Hard to know what was all on there because the DVD was sort of hard to navigate, but it's pretty jam packed with goodies that most Flaming Lips fans will not want to be without. Now here's what we had to say about the record itself:
The Flaming Lips return with yet another gem and it's beginning to look as if they are only getting better with age. We used to think that about Tom Waits, Stereolab, and (some here think) Radiohead, but all those folks have released mediocre (perhaps bad?) records, whereas Flaming Lips' career-long consistency through 12 albums is pretty amazing. Certainly many of their indie rock, pre-Warner fans have long since abandoned their current efforts just as many who discovered them via their hit "She Don't Use Jelly" (or possibly more recently with "Waitin' For A Superman") probably don't find much to enjoy in their early drug addled, psychedleic bombast. But with such a continually evolving yet uncompromising sound, they're bound to alienate some. There's a striking resemblance on Yoshimi to the recent works of Radiohead, but then again there's definitely much that parallels the Lips' career with that of our faves from across the Atlantic. Like Radiohead, The Flaming Lips have chosen ever more increasing studio experimentation, combining electronic music elements with lush arrangements and cohesive album-oriented productions. But more significant perhaps is that Yoshimi, a semi-concept album, shares a similar paranoid and alienated angst that Radiohead has been honing these last several albums. But where as Radiohead takes a decidedly maudlin Orwellian-like approach in their song writing, the Flaming Lips work in an absurdist, comedic fashion more akin to Philip K. Dick. "One More Robot / Sympathy 3000-21" could have been cut straight out of a P.K.D. story: "Unit three thousand twenty one is warming / makes a humming sound -- when its circuits duplicate emotions -- and a sense of coldness detaches as it tries to comfort your sadness..." All this arranged about as close to a Sade song as Coyne and the Lips can conceivably get (which I also see as a friendly jab at the sterile audiophile machinations of modern "soul".) The humanization of machines vs. humanity stripped of love and hate is the theme that's mulled over throughout. Most of the songs on the album are in direct reference to a painful breakup (either real or concocted) and the fictional battle between Yoshimi and the Pink Robots is more of a parable for struggling in the aftermath of having one's heart dashed to pieces. The two themes are intertwined on the album, but loosely enough so that you aren't forced into a Pink Floyd Wall of a concept album. While not as completely rife with hits as The Soft Bulletin, there's a lot to warm up to with Yoshimi. At first listen it seemed as though the Lips and Mercury Rev-ifier Dave Fridman had produced nothing but 45 minutes of studio wizardry and ear candy, but continual listens finds these songs opening up like a veritable flower blossom. "In the Morning of the Magicians" with its recurring, heart rending instrumental bridge will even bring a tear to the most desiccated of eyes. And "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" (Part 1, *not* part 2) will have you singing along in your best cracked falsetto soon enough. We're not sure of the significance or if the title and her appearance on this record are mere coincidences or -gasp- something more, but AQ fave/crushworthy drummer/vocalist Yoshimi of the mighty Boredoms is a musical guest!!
One word for you. Eyehategod. Or is that three words? Anyway, it's pretty obvious that Goatsblood are gunning to take EHG's place as the reigning masters of slow motion doom/sludge. And Goatsblood seem to have a much better chance than most comers, as they don't just ape the dirges that have come before, they add all sorts of random detritus to the mix, short bursts of chaotic blast beats and total spastic freakouts, punishing grind, genuinely somber melodies, creepy ambience and one of the most caustic guitar tones ever, searing white hot, serrated, dripping acid and thick as a pool of week old blood. Think Eyehategod meets Brutal Truth meets Khanate. That good.
Awesome collection of videos from director Michel Gondry. You may not know the name, but you definitely know his work, the White Stripes Lego video being probably the most talked about. But you'll also immediately recognise the 6 videos he's done for Bjork, the two other White Stripes videos, as well as videos for Kylie Minogue, Chemical Brothers, Foo Fighters, Daft Punk, Cibo Matto, the Rolling Stones, Massive Attack and more. The DVD also includes a 75 minute film about Gondry, tons of shorts, live concert footage, and a huge 52 page book full of stories, interviews, drawings and photos.
Figured that since we were listing the FINAL Guided By Voices album we'd relist the amazing Hardcore UFO's box that is at once a greatest hits, a rarities collection, a super introduction to the band and so much more. Check it out:
Not sure how much needs to be said about this monstrosity, Guided By Voices' THIRD BOXSET! That's if we're counting correctly. And even if we're not, HOLY CRAP! And that's on top of 40 albums and 800 singles and 3000 side projects. How do they do it? But the thing is, they do it. And do it well. Even after all that, they're still writing great songs! For some reason we never get tired of it. Fans will obviously need this. If you're new to Guided By Voices though, odds are you're not going to want to spend $50 to get acquainted, although it would be the perfect introduction, greatest hits, rarities and b-sides, live performances, a documentary. But then again that might be a bit overwhelming. As if a band with thousands of songs, many less than a minute long, wasn't overwhelming enough. Anyway, if you're curious, but feeling thrifty, you can pick up the greatest hits disc by itself elsewhere on this list. But for the more brave among you, let's dig a little deeper. Five cds, a DVD and an 80 page book with photos and liner notes and all sorts of extra stuff! Disc one is 32 of Guided By Voices greatest hits, for a more complete rundown on this see the review elsewhere on this list. Needless to say, it's chock full of that stumbling, rocking, jangly, lo-fi inhumanly catchy indie rock that GBV do so well. The second disc is a collection of out of print singles and B-sides and is quite a testament to GBV's pop acumen as it plays like an alternate greatest hits. A lot of the glaring omissions from the actual Greatest Hits show up here. Disc three is all unreleased recordings, including a handful of unfinished tracks, some so good you wonder why they never saw the light of day until now. Some not. The fourth disc is a collection of live recordings spanning the band's whole career, and demonstrating the band's knack for rocking out, and getting unbelievably drunk. Disc five is the first appearance on cd of GBV's 1986 debut Forever Since Breakfast. And finally, the DVD is the Watch Me Jumpstart documentary (that yours truly, Andee, has a line of dialogue in! Three words, see if you can find em!) which is really entertaining and funny. For the DVD reissue, they tacked on ALL of the bands music videos, some extra short films, and a bunch of live footage. Wow. It may seem overwhelming, but once you get your feet wet, you'll be up to your neck before you know it. And loving it.
Does this sound familiar? Middle Eastern tinged psych rock laden with electric oud circa 1967? From Greenwich Village? Sounds like an album we wrote about some years back that we totally creamed over. Cream, as in Disraeli Gears, as in Felix Pappalardi, as in Devil's Anvil. You wanna know something weirder? The Gurus, who's seminal Are Here! album was shelved the same year as the Devil's Anvil's, also got their start at the same cafe in The Village: Cafe Feenjon. Unlike the Devil's Anvil, who were an existing band that was retrofitted through the brilliance of Pappalardi, The Gurus were, in a way, more of a contrivance by Feenjon co-owner Bob Englehardt and music lover at heart, jeweller by trade Ron Haffkine. And while their album Are Hear! might not reach the levels of sonic brilliance of Hard Rock From The Middle East -- none of the members of the Gurus were actually of Arabic decent, merely "fakin' it" -- it's none the less a great album, demonstrating the natural ease with which Eastern melodies fuse so nicely with rock. Along with the sonic resemblance to The Devil's Anvil, The Gurus' sound is peppered with shades of The Monks, and Love, and other good '60s stuff.
This is some serious grim and brutal business, this here new Halo record. So slow, and chaotic, and sludgy and crushing. With feedback spraying wildly from beneath the hyper-dense black hole riffs, tortured vocals, clawing their way up in the mix, fingers bleeding and bruised, a bass sound that is like puncturing your skull and filling it with concrete, and drums that sound like John Bonham trying to beat his way out of a tar pit. Think Godflesh, Swans, Skepticism, but then slow it down, drug it, down tune it, and get the fuck out of the way. This is doom metal played by crusty punks, industrial music played by Eyehategod, the Butthole Surfers covering Earth. The almost industrial precision of their first record has eroded just enough to let the band sort of sprawl, and throb, the sound is psychedelic, but not in the traditional sense, this is dark and druggy and hypnotic, and lulls you to sleep as much as it makes you want to overturn cop cars and set them on fire.
Ready for some harmonies and heaviness? Pure, prog-tastic METAL for the long, dark winter? We know you are, 'cause it's been a long while. But now, it's here. The Hammers come down for the second time with this long-awaited new album, the follow-up to their acclaimed (and already out-of-print, for now) debut The Bastard released on our own Andee's tUMUlt label back in 2001. Whereas The Bastard was a full-on rock opera, The August Engine only *sounds* like a rock opera, it isn't actually one. There's no narrative, unifying concept to the songs this time, which puts HoM's eclectic metal mixture in danger of losing focus, being too unpredictably psychedelic and epic for their own good. Wait, what are we saying? That's no problem! As diverse as their songwriting and sonic palette can be, everything here sounds like Hammers and nothing else (well, except Slough Feg), which can only be the mark of a brilliant band.
Bursting out of the gates with an adrenalized instrumental opener that thrashes like Megadeth while remaining as gloriously 'classical' and over the top as anything on The Bastard, we can't say The August Engine never lets up. It does, but only in the sense that some decidedly unusual, and sometimes mellow avenues are explored. But for every non-metallic moment of sweet singing and pleasant acoustic guitars, you get plenty of shredding electric ones, with pounding drums, dramatic male and female vocals on a grand scale, and headbanging riffage. Advanced metal mastery here folks. Pretentious? Indulgent? Arrogant? No, simply mighty. The 10-out-of-10 review this album has already garnered from veteran metal scribe Martin Popoff likened them to a psychedelic version of the best of Iron Maiden, who are we to argue?
Hammers still consist of John and Mike from The Lord Weird Slough Feg, plus drummer Chewy. On this recording, Janis Tanaka plays bass and sings like an angel, though when you go see Hammers live now, they have a new lineup including not only a foxy new bassist/singer but another female vocalist who plays Hammond organ as well!
The vinyl (on tUMULt) has different cover artwork than, but the same tracks as, the compact disc version, released in a black-and-silver digipak edition by upstart Italian metal label Cruz Del Sur. Both sport cool Voivod-ish liner art by mastermind John Cobbett himself. Of course, recommended.
Aaron Turner should win some sort of award or something. He's not only the leader of post-rock metalcore masters Isis, and also one of the contributors to the genius of both Old Man Gloom and Lotus Eaters, but he also runs the excellent Hydra Head label, AND never fails to buy stacks of stuff here at Aquarius whenever he's in town. Not only that, but his art and graphics have graced some of our other favorite releases of late. So of course we're happy to present this new 2nd album from House of Low Culture, another outfit featuring Aaron and friends, including other members of Isis, Old Man Gloom and Lotus Eaters. HoLC is in fact probably closest to the droned-out ambient sounds of Lotus Eaters. Unsettling, illusory soundscapes, haunted and desolate. Edwards Lament! starts off in a realm of industrial, boiler room drone, before ghostly strummed guitars infiltrate the mix. Their distorted, slowly unfolding melodies are buried in shallow grave of reverb, accompanied by backwards-tape-fuckery, low-end rumble, echoey effects, dragging chains... You'll hear some voices, but this remains a mostly instrumental affair, and an extremely sombre one. We don't know who Edward is, or what it is he's lamenting, but this does sound sad. Weirdly, while not overtly 'Americana' or at all 'country', somehow this still does keep making us think of an abstract, phantom echo of Woven Hand or Souled American. Maybe Edward counts Blind Joe Death among his friends.
Stompin', rockin' new 45 rpm blast of grit and groove from the fabulous trio of Sarah, Sadie, and Nikki aka The Husbands, San Francisco's latest and most successful export in the marketplace of hot female retro garage bands that like to party with vampire zombies. Sides A & B are both raucous originals, fast and fun ones that you'll be flippin' over and over again.
What to do with the most hyped band in the land (except for maybe the Strokes) while the world waits for a new album to drop? That's right an EP of alternate versions of tracks we already love! Six tracks, the first, "Say Hello To The Angels", from their brilliant full length Turn On The Bright Lights, the second, NYC, a demo version from 2001. The other 4 are from the Black Session, live recordings for French Radio, of the tracks "Obstacle 1", "Specialist", "Leif Erickson", and "PDA". The live versions are a little sloppy and the vocals aren't always 'on' but it's fun to hear the band let down their hair, loosen their ties, and rock a little. Definitely for hardcore Interpol fans. And if you're not, get their Turn On The Bright Lights and you soon will be.
Invocations of Surrealism have come to reflect a Frank Zappa or Dr. Bizarro form of 'weird,' with little understanding and even less appreciation for the truly revolutionary nature of the Surrealism that dominated avant-garde culture in the early 20th Century. Fortunately, a few sound artists have truly succeeded in manifesting the spirit of Surrealism in their work. The most obvious being Nurse With Wound in keeping true to the Surrealists bawdy appropriation of Victorian aesthetics in exploring unsettling horrors; and to a lesser extent, there's the Hafler Trio who took the intense interrogrations of Surrealism to a gnostic conclusion. Somewhere in between these two giants of sound art is the work of Irr.App.(ext). For the past eight or nine years, Irr.App.(ext) has been toiling in obscurity, and producing a body of work that easily rivals his more well known compatriots.
Some of you may remember a stunning art exhibit here at Aquarius records back in the early spring of 2003 with all sorts of obtuse collages, exquisitely rendered nightmarish drawings, and shadow boxes loaded with peculiar juxtapostions and mixed messages. That was the work of Matt Waldron, who also happens to be the man behind the musical project Irr.App.(Ext) along with a couple of likeminded delinquents. Unfortunately, Matt has had a ridiculous spell of bad luck with labels folding before releasing his work, or not being able to find the funding, or just being jerks. His luck has finally changed with the release of Dust Pincher Appliances, which in turn reissues a very early 10" originally released on Sigtryggur Berg Sigmarsson's Something Weird label back in 1995. Waldron has extended the original recordings with those of a follow-up 10" which was never actually released.
Though some eight years old, the recordings on Dust Pincher Appliances are still stunning. The album unfolds as an ever changing drama of Surreal events, evolving through time to reveal startling revelations, disquieting progressions, and atypical juxtapositions of sound. Eerie drones and atmospheres dominate the majority of the album, haunted by distant voices bathed in reverb or unrecognizable events that scurry malevolently like tiny monsters or robotic insects. Carnivalesque episodes often interrupt the proceedings with cackling sound effects, brash trumpet blurts, and toy piano discord.
Dust Pincher Appliances is a marvelous album and should be the harbinger of a wonderful catalog that the world needs to embrace.
Those expecting a documentary in the traditional sense, wherein a huge film crew with lighting rigs and hired security take over a small village while an authoritative voice-over gives you a blow by blow account of what unfolds before your eyes may be disappointed. This is a one man, one camera production. Shot entirely at night, relying on the good will of the participants, and leaving the interpretation up to you, the viewer, filmmaker Hisham Mayet takes us on a tour of Marrakech, Morocco's Jemma El Fna -- "the central square of the final outpost before one ventures into the great beyond of the western Sahara desert". All along the square people, mostly men, gather in circles around individual and groups of musicians. playing oud, banjo (!!!), various bowed instruments and percussion, the performers are accompanied by singers ranging from seasoned veterens working the crowd to youthful amateurs. In one section a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old sings and dances as an envious peer looks on. Perhaps one of the coolest moments though is when our cameraman stops by a gentleman set up in the square with his portable turntable and classic 7"s, sampling for us some of his favorites, crackly with age, and carefully wiping off the beautiful but worn jackets for us to see. Clocking in at 50 minutes, there's not a dull moment on this disc. While we forwarn those living overseas that this disc is NTSC, it is also region-free for those with multi-region players.
Finally, all the Spike Jonze madness that we sit through hours of MTV dross hoping to see, all gatherered in one place! You got the Beastie Boys "Sureshot" cop show homage, Wax's running man on fire video for "California", Weezer's "Happy Days Buddy Holly" video, Fatboy Slim's "Weapon Of Choice" featuring a dancing/flying Christopher Walken and "Praise You" featuring an inept dance troupe performing on the sidewalk in front of a movie theater, Bjork's classic musical styled "It's Oh So Quiet", the Pharcyde's "Drop", the Breeders' "Cannonball", Daft Punk's Da Funk, Weezer's "Undone (The Sweater Song)" and a bunch more. Bonus stuff includes interviews, the making of the Pharcyde's "Drop" video, a bunch of crazy rarities, short films, documentaries, and audio commentaries from the Beastie Boys, Weezer, Daft Punk, Christopher Walken, Puffy, the Pharcyde, Fatboy Slim, the Chemical Brothers and more. Also includes a big ol book full of photos, drawings and interviews.
Like we mentioned last list, we have been going Sixteen Horsepower CRAZY, with a recent archival 16HP release, two Woven Hand records (the apocalyptic, biblical side project of 16HP singer David Eugene Edwards) as well as last list's Lilium record, the side project of 16HP bassist Pascal Humbert, a dark and harrowing, instrumental, swamp folk epic, that if you haven't picked up yet, you should, 'cause it's as good as the Woven Hand records, and is mighty tough to get, so we can't be sure how long we'll have them or if we run out, how long it will take to get more. This time around, we are lucky to have tracked down record number two from Lilium, which is brand spanking new and is a slight departure from the growling, rumbling, creepy sinister-folk of their previous record. Fear not, there's still plenty of atmosphere, rickety campfire strum, and moody darkness, it's just much smoother and it's a bit more traditionally pretty. Humbert has recruited his 16HP bandmate Jean-Yves Tola for this record making this essentially 2/3 Sixteen Horsepower, so to a certain degree you have a rough idea of what this sounds like. The big change is the vocals. Or should I say the vocalists. That's right vocalists. Unlike their instrumental debut, which was sort of more 'sound' than 'song', they really flex their songwriting muscles on Short Stories and craft some gorgeously dark and melancholy pop songs, sung beautifully, and swathed in that dark hazy atmosphere we know and love so well. Maybe the nicest surprise is vocalist Kal Calhoone, a dead ringer for Cat Power's Chan Marshall, but with a little PJ Harvey swagger thrown in. And PJ Harvey is kind of an apt comparison for some of these tunes, smoldering and moody, emotional and urgent, with Calhoone's husky whisper weaving tales of sorrow and despair. 16HP's David Eugene Edwards sings on one song and since that basically makes it Sixteen Horsepower, it might just be the strongest cut on the record, as good as anything they've ever recorded as a proper band. The rest of the record follows the same brambly path, with lush, and dreamy, slightly doomy tableaus, fingerpicked guitars, shuffling percussion, wheezing accordions, rumbling cellos, organs, slippery slide guitar, raspy, drawled vocals, and heavily reverbed pianos, totally mesmerising and sweetly melodic. Very reminsicent of Black Heart Procession, Calexico, Low and American Music Club. Highly recommended as was the last Lililium. Features guests from Morphine, Deus, and the Czars.
We sure have been under the spell of all things Sixteen Horsepower lately. Especially the amazing Woven Hand records, the solo project of 16HP frontman David Eugene Edwards. But don't think for a minute that Edwards is solely responsible for the creepy, dark, backwoods ambience of 16HP and WH! To prove that point, we've finally tracked down the first release from Lilium, otherwise known as Pascal Humbert, bass player for Sixteen Horsepower. Although this has been out for a while, we were only now able to get enough copies to list, direct from Germany, hence the import price. But it's worth every penny. All you folks who went mad for the Woven Hand will be equally enamored of this delicate and gauzy, spare and mournful cinematic swampscape, equal parts deconstructed country, skeletal folk and shimmering, ominous drone. The opening track is a rickety, bluegrass crawl, sounding like the dueling banjos from Deliverance, slowed down, caked in mud and leaves, and broadcast on a warbly victrola from the bottom of a well. The rest of the record follows suit, wallowing in darkness and shadow ranging from rumbling, reverberent drones woven from slowly shifting layers of oscillating tones and warm chordal washes, to shuffling, reverb drenched, Calexico-ish desert rock twang, to fuzzed out, keyboard drenched, hypno-minimalism, to almost-indie/post rock instrumental workouts, to dangerously forboding Sixteen Horsepower-ish Southern swampfolk. The whole record is swathed in a warm, dense ambience of melancholic mystery, grim gloom and eerie unease. Anyone who bought the Woven Hand records NEEDS this for sure. And folks who love the likes of Sixteen Horsepower, Calexico, Souled American, Scott Tuma, Court And Spark, Califone, Giant Sand, Black Heart Procession, or even Morphine, will find this bleak and beautiful twang, and these deep and doleful drones, will hit the spot perfectly.
Got a handful of these not-so-cheap new Melvins singles, not sure what the occasion is for this release is but we know anyone named Kevin Willis might not be so happy about the cover photo.
Kiyoshi Mizutani began his career working in Merzbow (when Merzbow wasn't just Masami Akita alone). After parting ways with Akita in the late '80s or so, Mizutani released a number of solo recordings, most recently focusing on field recordings. His first foray in his search for natural sounds was the less than perfect Bird Songs, but since then Mizutani has blossomed into an exceptional contextualist of found sounds. Garden is his collaboration with Portland noise veteran Daniel Menche, who has been struggling for several years now to calm his work, but can't quite seem to shake his preternatural talents for explosive noise. On this recording, Menche handled all of the low frequencies, while Mizutani was responsible for all of the high frequencies. The source material was a finely captured field recording of Japanese locusts and crickets, presumably from the Mizutani archives. The slow organic chorus of those insects starts out with a very hypnotic, natural introduction; but Mizutani offers small clues to his manipulation by first repeating the choral phrases which would never be so precise in a natural setting, and later by filtering out everything but the timbral roots. Mizutani's gradual shift from these environmental sounds to almost mechanical ones is particularly unsettling, especially in communion with Menche's ominous bass plod which slowly emerges over the course of this recording. Within this metamorphosis of sound, Mizutani and Menche rewrite insect languages as metallic, inorganic, and alien ones where apocalyptic implications abound. Really gorgeous. Released on Randy Yau's immaculately designed Auscultare label.
If you're at all familiar with the AQ gang, you already know very well that Cup gives the heartiest of thumth-upths to lisp-friendly Stephin Merritt and his various projects (Magnetic Fields, Sixths, Future Bible Heroes, etc). If you're at all unfamiliar with the man and his music, consider this your prime opportunity to get acquainted. We haven't seen the movie yet, so we can't comment on the music's relation to the film. However, we can say that in comparison to his previous soundtrack album for the film Eban & Charley which included a varied selection of songs and instrumental soundscapes, this is solely a collection of songs. It's a great sampling of previously released Magnetic Fields and Sixths songs (from 69 Love Songs and Hyacinths And Thistles respectively) as well as previously unreleased MF and solo Merritt works. Actually one of the two Sixths songs that's included -- "You You You You You" sung by Squirrel Nut Zippers' Katharine Whalen -- is indeed one of Cup's absolute faves. Aaah, such consistently top notch, achingly pretty, sweetheart songs. No one pinpoints the many matters of the heart from first blush to cold shoulder to brutal heartache in such wonderfully droll fashion as Mr. Merritt.
Note: Please be forewarned this cd tips the scales at just over 26 minutes, but oh what a splendid 26 minutes it is! Very recommended.
Around these parts, new music is always welcome from any of the individuals who've participated in this ever-evolving group -- mainman Scott McCaughey (formerly of the criminally unsung Young Fresh Fellows), REM's Peter Buck, Jon and Ken from AQ faves The Posies, Wilco, etc. When they assemble as The Minus 5 the gloriously trippy pop blossoms flourish again and again. It's much like a visit from an old friend... one who comes bearing gifts of song laced with the sweet melt of ice cream and the smooth burn of bourbon. Drawing from pages of pop's history books (particularly those of the Beatles, Beach Boys and Big Star), they skillfully succeed in being warmly familiar while seldom being redundant. Check out the mellow "Queen's Head". These fellows are truly kickass veteran songcraftsmen with well-oiled, wry senses of humor to boot, and on this their contribution to the German Return To Sender series they keep 'em coming. (limited pressing of 2000)
Not sure how many of you remember Richard Davies, but on his own and as one half of the duo Cardinal with Eric Matthews, he made some of the most totally brilliant, lush and orchestral pop records of the late nineties (even touring at one point with the Flaming Lips as his back up band!). Even those of you, like us, who totally loved all that stuff, may not remember Davies' first band the Moles. Originally from Australia, Davies quit law school in the late eighties to play music. The Moles moved to America but broke up in 1993 remaining relatively unknown. Their two albums remain masterpieces of shimmery, jangly indie pop. This collection includes cuts from their classic Untune The Sky record as well as several singles. The sound is sweet and spacious, dreamy and melancholy. Warbly organs, jangly rickenbacker guitars, sunny, reverbed harmonies, Davies' strange Robynn Hitchcock-sh vocals, all sorts of psychedelic production, and of course perfect, perfect pop songs. Fans of Belle And Sebastian, and similarly bittersweet pop should definitely check this out. Includes a bonus disc of rare and unreleased songs.
Hail. Album number H from inimitable Morbid Angel. Featuring as always the squiggly guitar stylings and wacky philosophy of death metal maestro Trey Azagthoth, the inhuman drum performance of Pete "Commando" Sandoval, and the brutal barking and bass playing of Steve Tucker. This trio never disappoints, though some will remark that Heretic does not sport their best production job (which may have to do with recording at home with their sound guy at the helm, though this self-production does prevent any outsider from stifling any of their extreme eccentricity). As you might expect, Heretic is full of complex, staccato song constructs bursting with monstrous bpm levels, which can be simply mesmerizing -- and jaw-dropping. Amazing athletically, and intellectually. After all, someone has to compose and arrange this stuff! Plus, their usual selection of off-the-wall instrumentals includes one called "Drum Check" which demonstrates Pete Sandoval and Morbid Angel's sense of humor. Not to be outdone, Pete's insane drum solo is followed by an equally insane solo guitar piece from Mr. Azagthoth. And if, after that, you had any doubts that the man isn't totally demented and silly, be sure to check out his thanks list inside the cd booklet. The metal tradition of album-sleeve thanks lists has been taken to another absurd level of art by Morbid Angel, one of the many extremes to which these all-time-greats can lay claim. Hail. Also, currently we've got the version that comes with an extra bonus disc of crazy solos and outtakes, but we don't know how long it will be available!
Punked-out garage stomp done by three fellas wrapped in bandages. Do you gotta be good when you've got a gimmick like that? Well, I guess they think so, that is if your idea of good is the same as theirs -- crazy raw manic distorto rawk with song titles like "Die!" and "Food, Sickles & Girls". Lo-fi, low-brow, and proud. They never cross that line into truly absurd avant-garde mayhem a la Guitar Wolf, they're just a little too vulgar and frat-house for that. But their brand of sickness is still gonna always sound good with a beer cracked. This disc collects 22 or so tracks taken from rare out-of-print 7" vinyl, dug up from the Mummies' Daly City, CA tomb for your pleasure.
Like the Jemaa El Fna DVD on Sublime Frequencies, the Nat Pwe DVD also contains no voice over, authoritative or not, to mis-guide you through the festivities. Instead, using the camera in the same way someone might make a field recording in the traditional auditory realm, you are led merely by the camera angles and edits chosen. As a way of background, here's what Sublime Frequencies writes about the event contained here: "In Burma, many people believe in ghost spirits called NATs. These spirits are historical figures who met tragic or violent deaths. They are said to possess the power to assist or devastate the lives of those who recognize them. A PWE is a ceremony held to appease a Nat. Pwes are arranged daily throughout Burma for many purposes including the achievement of success in business, a happy marriage, or improving one's health. A Nat is summoned through a Kadaw; the flamboyent and charismatic master of the Pwe dressed in elegant costume. The Kadaw is a spirit medium, dancer, storyteller, and magician who exposes the crowd to a living incarnation of the Nat brought forth through opening ritual and careful observance of tradition. Many of the Kadaws are male crossdressers performing the role of female Nats and the Nat culture attracts the homosexual, occult, artistically expressive and more outgoing elements of the Burmese population. Cash money is thrown and cigarettes and whiskey are hand delivered by the Kadaw to the willing faithful. Audience participants are often ecstatic, spontaneously launching into trance as the Nat spirit possesses their bodies while the melodically ornamental and thundering sound of the Nat Pwe orchestra plays on as perhaps the last, great unknown musical juggernaut existing anywhere. Each Pwe has its own mood and Nats can dictate a variety of happenings and unpredictable phenomenon. Since the 11th century, there have been 37 officially recognized Nats and every August, in the village of Taungbyon, there is a festival dedicated to two of them. This festival is one of the greatest spectacles on earth. At the peak of the Taungbyon celebration, there are dozens of very intimate venues holding continuous Pwe's for 48 hours without interruption bubbling with excitement and intensity all within the narrow alleys of bamboo shelters amidst a vibe of mysterious, electric charm. What results is the magnetic, unexplainable concoction of conservative tradition, free expression, music, dance, spirit possession, and anomolous synchronicities of Burma's Carnival Of Spirit Soul." Insane stuff. The film begins in the daytime following hundreds of pilgrims as they make their way to the event and ends late into the night after the festivities have reached a zenith of frenzied performance and audience participation. The camera wanders from tent to tent, each one containing a Kadaw, a Nat Pwe Orchestra (a completely crazed percussion ensemble about as removed from Burmese Harp music as you can get) and crammed with people making offerings (mostly pinning money to the Kadaw's head dress and blouse). There's really no way to do it justice in describing this event. If there were ever a comparison in the U.S. it would have to be like a transvestite tent revival held in a New Orleans graveyard with musical accompaniment by the Ruins. Running 85 minutes, I've found this disc also works nicely just as an audio recording. For those of you with a multi-format disc player, it makes a truly cool CD as well. While we forwarn those living overseas that this disc is NTSC, it is also region-free, so if you can handle the format you're in like Flint. Comes with an 8 page booklet of notes and photos.
Here at Aquarius, you might say that 2003 could have been called The Year Of The Necks. Sure, that sounds a bit funny, but what we mean is that this year is when everybody here either discovered or re-discovered this amazing band. We gave rave reviews to four of their older records, after falling in love with a four-cd live box of theirs back in December of last year. And judging from sales, a lot of you have gotten acquainted with The Necks this year as well, and liked 'em. This Aussie trio of piano (and/or organ), bass, and drums can't be easily catagorized: they're not exactly jazz, not ambient, not rock, not post-rock, not electronica...but they are some of the above, and more. Less too, 'cause what they do is so understated, and so specifically Necks.
So, what better way is there to celebrate The Year Of The Necks 'round these parts than to revel in the release of this brand new Necks opus, Drive By? And it's definitely the equal of any of The Necks' prodigious output, doing all the things we now expect from them...creating a mesmerizing, hypnotic musical trance-state over a lengthy playing time (in this case, one track, 60 minutes and seventeen gorgeous seconds long). Drive By is a pulsating wonder, steadily building over an hour, the drums becoming more active and restless but always "on", underpinning the constant throb of the bass. Drive By is bejewelled with bright tinkling piano, electronic effects, and other sonic elements, including what sound like crickets joining in around the 11 minute mark. 45+ minutes later, The Necks are still in the groove, channelling ancient rhythm into their extremely modern format. I'm beginning to think that the compact disc is too limiting for these guys. They need a DVD-audio release, so we can hear 'em play for seven hours straight!
So, what comparisons can we stretch to make? Some sort of NPR-ized Circle? A prettified Bohren? Steve Reich meets Miles Davis? Ah, hell with that. It's The Year Of The Necks. No comparisons necessary. Just check 'em out.
Dim those lights and sink into Plaid's deeply haunting and richly hued newest full length. Perhaps their smoothest album to date, Spokes begins with glimpses of low soulful vocals through resonant musicbox-esque chiming. Much less skittering and quirksome that previous works, but still very unmistakably Plaid. Andy Turner and Ed Hanley deftly craft tracks that are at once kinetic, lulling and enveloping... not to mention steeped with emotion. It's particularly the latter which sets this duo apart from most other electronic artists, and this their fourth album proper is certainly no exception. Lovely.
Depending on who you ask, the name of this Pacific Northwest band holds its origins in either the lyrical bombast of Morrissey or the work of Jack Kerouac, where Morrissey probably got the quote to begin with. Musically speaking, Pretty Girls Make Graves are another welcome throwback to the triumphs of '80s post-punk, falling comfortably between contemporaries like Hot Hot Heat and Interpol. With Washington State as their stomping ground, Pretty Girls Makes Graves gets a lot of comparisons to Sleater Kinney. This only makes sense in their similarities in songwriting, as both bands have an excellent grasp of dynamics and how to create tension in their anthemic blasts of feminist punk. However, the voice of Pretty Girls' Andrea Zollo is a far cry from the theatrical tremolo of Corin Tucker. Simpler, but just as effective, Zollo's delivery alternates jagged barbs and spellbinding coyness, while the rest of the band cranks up another epic of buzzsaw guitars spiralling against a tight rhythm section. Zollo also has the added support of the backing male vocals from Nate Thelen and Derek Fudesco who combine to sound an awful lot like Minor Threat era Ian MacKaye. Yeah, there are plenty of precedents to Pretty Girls Make Graves, but this Frankensteinian creation is seamlessly put together.
Everyone who bought that Soundmurderer drum and bass comp cd on Violent Turd from a while back should just buy this too. Wicked old school drum and bass. Simple and dumb, with lots of Amen breaks and sirens and clipped samples, bass bin rattling lows, tweeter twitching synth stabs, time stretched ragga toasting and just all the big dumb jungle you can handle. This totally brings me back to when the whole AQ crew would go to the only local bar in SF that played jungle, and we would just sit in front of the speakers and LOVE IT. There's a bunch of classics on here (a few that were on the Soundmurderer comp), and there's some brutal 'soul diva' stuff too, but basically this is just classic fucking jungle / drum and bass, that we never get tired of hearing!
UK label Miskatonic, supporters of true underground doom metal, bring us this disc by the semi-legendary Revelation from Maryland (of doom). Featuring Revelation's 'new' line-up, this disc consists of eight demo cuts plus two live tracks circa their 1995 European tour supporting Saint Vitus and Solitude Aeturnus. It comes as a prelude to a brand new fourth album on which this long dormant band is now, at last, at work. To certain doom fanatics, these 'demos' are going to be more thrilling than many proper albums from other bands, such is the regard in which this band is held. If you've never heard Revelation before, expect doom metal (or, alternatively, depressive stoner rock) along the lines of The Obsessed and Place Of Skulls -- heavy, slow, Ozzified.
The latest from downtown NY jazz guitarist Marc Ribot manages to sound as much like a Ribot record as any of his other recordings while sounding totally alien and beautiful. The liner notes mention Ribot's "world of atavistic horror", and then mentions that the compositions touch on Ayler, Feldman and obviously the Italian composer Giacinto Scelsi mentioned in the title, and while you can definitely hear those influences on this record, Ribot douses them in plenty of Goblin/Argento darkness and drone-y doomy clatter. From the opening track, with it's haunting distorted guitar, scrabbling over a brambly bed of chaotic percussion, with thorny tendrils of Klezmer woven throughout and sounding not unlike a free jazz Tom Waits number, the record gets dark and sppoky and keeps the creepiness coming with throbbing pump organ, pulsing bass notes, moaning low end and rumbling drones, noisy, clattery clangy free form guitar over a militaristic framework of tribal tom toms, occasional squalls of machine gun guitar and splattery percussion, stumbly bass and tinkly piano, heavily affected guitars, buzzing and shimmering, all culminating in the music concrete drone of the 12 minute centerpiece 'Geese', with accordion, pump organ, violin, viola, clarinet, bass clarinet and of course guitar, stretching a 20th century composition into occasional atonal Nitsch style fugues and Reichian repetetive motifs. Quite possibly our favorite Ribot record yet, and one that definitely hits the spot for you drone loving, free clatter creepiness afficianados.
