Really, what is it about Scotland that for years has fueled such a steady fountain of wonderful wispy folky pop (Belle & Sebastian, Camera Obscura, The Delgados, Heavenly, etc)? Scones? Cock-a-leekie soup? Haggis? Whatever it is, it's cemented their corner of the market. Now along comes this new band o' Scots with their debut album that's gone and knocked the needle clear off of our twee-meter! Broken the darn thing, dagnabit! Seriously tho' if your sugar tolerance is anywhere near 'low', you should probably steer very very clear of Aberfeldy. Even folks around here who have brawny sweettooths (uh, sweetteeth?) have been having a hard time with it. But for those of you who can't get enough perfectly precious twee pop a la the above mentioned bands, well, then by all means, this just may well be the perfect fit!
On their newest cdep/12" and first release on Thrill Jockey, Detroit electro-punk duo Adult. sure have got a bee in their bonnet. Continuing to move further from their icy, true electro origins into an increasingly raw'n'aggressive punky territory, vocalist Nicola Kuperus whoops and sneers her way through the lead-off track "Hold Your Breath" -- definitely in line with Glass Candy or Le Tigre -- while her partner Adam Miller churns out the dank, brooding bass and bristling guitars that punch through the unrelenting programmed beats. Actually this might've served as a better transitional follow-up to their fine compilation Resuscitation (which collected together a bunch of their singles) than was their last full length Anxiety Always. D.U.M.E. more cohesively bridges their electro past and recent more punky leanings. Really, Adult. comes across as much more focussed, infectious and potent on shorter format releases (12"s, EPs, etc). Not only are the songs more structured, but the lyrics are also more fully fleshed out (like Resuscitation's songs than A.A.'s more repetitive one-liners). Kewl.
Holy shit, this record destroys me. Within 30 seconds, this record had already given me chills, unnerved me, and literally made me want to cry. On the first listen even! Just listen to the first sound sample and you'll know just what I mean. It's all about Antony's voice. A rich throaty tenor, that slips effortlessly into a keening falsetto. A luxurious vibrato, trilling and wrapping itself around every note. Equal parts Nina Simone, Tiny Tim, Tracy Chapman, Jimmy Scott and even a little Elvis Presley. The instrumentation is minimal, piano, upright bass, shuffling jazz drums, occasional electric guitar. Some songs sound like jazz standards, some like lost gospel classics, others like timeless spirituals. Soaring and maudlin, without becoming overwrought or overly dramatic. He's sort of like an otherworldly, avant-garde Rufus Wainwright. Or the sort of singer you would find in a piano bar in your strangest dreams. Not sure what it was that kept us from getting into Antony And the Johnsons in the past, whether it was the overplayed Coil / Current 93 connection or the whole gender bending novelty aspect, but this record has definitely turned us around. Totally chilling, absolutely haunting and completely beautiful. Features guest performances by Rufus Wainwright, Boy George, Lou Reed and Devandra Banhart.
It's funny how suddenly every one has a doom drone dirge project happening. The popularity of Sunn 0))) and Earth and Corrupted and Boris not only has record collectors scrambling for their wallets, but seems to have other musicians scrambling as well, buying bigger amps, more distortion boxes, trying to tune lower and play slower, all of this evidenced by the sudden glut of bands whose influences don't extend much beyond Earth and Sunn 0))). We're not complaining mind you 'cuz you know we can't get enough of that sludgy downtuned dirge! And, you can't give Asva too much grief as bass player Stuart Dahlquist (brother of Silkworm's Michael Dahlquist) was there in the early days, having played in doom dirge metal outfit Burning Witch, and Asva actually feels like a logical extension of his old band. Dahlquist is joined in Asva by guitarist John Schuller and ex-Mr. Bungle guitarist / current Web Of Mimicry head honcho Trey Spruance, as well as an organist (!) and a female vocalist (!). It's these last two elements, as well as a flair for incorporating melody into a sound usuallylight on the melodic end of things, that makes Asva a much more interesting prospect. Of the four extended tracks here, it's the first and the last that hue closest to the Sunn 0))) / Earth template. Huge slabs of ultra distorted guitars, working their way through slow motion riffs, a ponderous plodding metallic crush. On the final track, vocalist Jessika Kenney belts out a one woman chorale, adding a strangely angelic vibe to the proceedings, minor key, but soaring over the slow motion Sabbath beneath, beautiful and haunting in a way few bands like this have managed. The two tracks in between are much more abstract and spare, not in the least but heavy, but still creepy and droney. Track two is all minimal whir and shimmer, slowly shifting and subtly moving through a minimal almost melody. Track three again features Kenney's voalisations, this time though, it's ALL about the vocals, the musical bed is a hushed doomy organ driven drone, endlessly sustaining with occasional super reverbed bass and sizzling barely-there percussion, while Kenney wails and trills, swooping through strange alien melodies, her multi tracked vocals harmonizing with themselves, creating a very bizarre, but thrillingly creepy soundworld. Fans of the genre (sludgedoomdirgedeathdrone) probably already know about this record and know they need it, but folks who have yet to get into this stuff, might find Asva just melodic enough and weird enough to merit further investigation.
Okay, those of you Albert Ayler obsessives / vinyl collectors who felt left out by the recent release of the Ayler Holy Ghost 9cd boxset, can now rejoice, as Revenant will finally be releasing the the Holy Ghost box on vinyl, spread out over several multiple lp sets. This is volume one, and while not quite as elaborate as the totally extravagant cd box, it's still quite nice, gorgeous thick threefold gatefold cover, printed inner sleeves and clear vinyl! While we imagine only Ayler obsessives would probably need this, since many of his recordings are readily available and much cheaper, here's a brief thumbnail description of the man for the Ayler neophytes out there:
Albert Ayler was a master on the tenor sax, who decided to forget everything he had ever learned and approach his instrument in a completely different, way more spiritual way, hoping to channel the divine through his music. And goddamn if he didn't succeed. One of the most influential players and composers in the history of free jazz!
So yeah. While this may be a bit overwhelming (and pricey) for someone who has never heard Ayler, for fans of Ayler, free jazz fanatics, and vinyl obsessives, this is absolutely ESSENTIAL.
After his deliriously beautiful and crushingly romantic last album Sea Change broke many a heart back in 2002, in what musical direction could the lad head next? We very well knew to expect something completely different from Mr. Eclectic, and that's certainly what we got. Indeed, Guero's the answer, and by all indications it's a return to the land of Odelay... but the ol' slacker town's been all sleeked up into a shiny urban center. When the album kicked things off with some mild nu-metal riffin' and Sir Beck bustin' out a slouchy almost EMF-ish vocal rap, we sorta went "uh oh!", but after that, things settle into that trademark Beck funkiness, but with lots of nifty sound processing effects applied throughout. Despite the album's overall hi-tech shininess, stuff like the hootin' and hollerin' of the second track "Que Onda Guero", as well as the occasional slackly loping acoustic guitar, harmonica and cheesy casio-style bleep-blop sounds keep things feelin' suitably casual and off the cuff. The album's pace is an unhurried groovy slow-to-mid-tempo... y'know, one that your dashboard noddin' head doggy can easily keep time to. And actually that's sorta the pace at which you might find Guero growing on you. Its songs are definitely not the kind that'll immediate bowl you over. Great for those lazy days when you've got nowhere to be anytime soon.
It's been almost three years now since our little musical community has been terorrized by everyones favorite serial dronesters Berkowitz Lake and Dahmer. And once again, the guys at Fflint Central, our favorite UK electronic / experimental / noise / drone label, have come up with an absolute killer (um...pun intended actually). BLD just so happens to be the duo of Barry and Tim, the men behind the Fflint curtain, and so it makes sense that BLD are probably the most musically powerful and fully realized Fflint entity. Tar Weasels is as good as anything BLD has done, the difference this time around, being that there seems to be much more of a focus on melody and texture, melodic swells, dreamy drones, gone are much of the abrasive noise and squelchy rhythms of past releases, with Weasels being a far more tranquil affair. There are rhythms, but they tend to be minimal little seismic events, or squeaking alien weirdness, present, but only in the background, while in the foreground, the world is a slow motion snapshot of an alien landscape, all shifting swirls and slow building swells, ambient, but an active ambience, static sheets of drone demarcated by little sonic imperfections, somehow wrangled into a marked musical path, guiding us through a dense and darkened world of crumbling drones, and billowing waves of rumble and rattle, a murky otherworldly vacuum, where each sound is frozen in time, and then hurled into a black hole, but instead of being swallowed up and lost, each sound is stretched into infinity, every sound pulled apart and stacked into a single, slowly slithering, gorgeously thick shimmer, occasionally cracking, sonic shards dropping onto the surface below, creating more barely-there, off kilter rhythms for BLD to bury under their warm thick blankets of bowed drones and reverberating fuzz. What else can we say at this point? If you're already a member in good standing in the church of Fflint, then you already know you need this latest Fflinty sacrament, and it you have yet to be converted, well, you can only resist for so long...
Blueprint's first solo album pays homage to 1988, a year that brought us so many amazing hip hop records (from the likes of Eric B and Rakim, Biz Markie, Stetsasonic, Public Enemy... and so many more). Now, his use of samples of past hip hop classics is a little gratuitous, though the songs on a whole are well written, well recorded and well produced. And all by Blueprint himself! Two guests on 1988 are Aesop Rock (on "Lo-Fi Funk") and CJ the Cynic (on "Kill Me First"). Personally, the last song, "Liberated", is my fave. Solid beats, solid rhymes, awesome lyricism, no obvious or extraneous samples... it's totally rockin. Check it!
Here's the latest full length from Bottom Of The Hudson (their follow-up to 2003's The Omaha Record), and it reveals a transformation of sorts. While they're still deeply immersed in their studies at Robert Pollard's School of Fine Indie Pop, they've tempered and toned things down considerably. Gone are the pounded piano lines and crunchy guitars in favor of slower, more contemplative folksy acoustic numbers. Perhaps they've been (re)visiting Pink Floyd's Meddle album? Be sure to stick around 'til the final two songs 'cuz they're definitely the stand-outs (although when the second to last song started we thought it was a cover of k.d. lang's "Constant Craving"... which in itself is a fine song, innit?). And if this isn't enough B.O.T.H. for ya, expect a new ep sometime this summer!
Stooges. That's not what these guys are, but it's who they'd like to be! As in Iggy and the. They wanna be your dog and do a damn good job of it. A couple years ago we reviewed an import album and single from this band, the "stuporgroup" brainchild of psych rawk aficionado Julian Cope (of The Teardrop Explodes, now equally well known for his expertise in such subjects as krautrock and megalithic Europe), featuring Cope plus collaborators Thighpaulsandra (of Coil) and some pseudononymous guys from Spiritualized (Doggen and Kevlar). This domestically released cd compiles the key tracks from Brain Donor's 2001 Love Peace & Fuck album (the one we listed) and their Too Freud To Rock'n'roll, Too Jung To Die album from 2003.
As we said before, they play propulsive, heavy Stooges-style punk rock (Iggyish vox, loads of distorted psychedelic/metal guitar skree), packing a lot of rock action into these tracks. Pure Detroit worship, done by guys who know what they're doing! With amps set to 11, titles like "My Pagan Ass" and the band done up in full glam regalia, it's hard to say this is more than dumb, good fun, but really that's enuff isn't it? Hopefully they'll follow up this release with a new album soon (supposedly being recorded here in San Francisco with members of Monoshock!)...otherwise we'll be left waiting for the next Mudhoney, or a Thee Hypnotics reunion, to get our Stoogey rock fix.
For their second album, British Sea Power remain totally 'British', decidedly less 'Sea'-faring (does that make them more landlubbing!?), and we've yet to determine quite where they're at on the 'Power' side of things. They've roamed from their initial sailing theme concept in pursuit of new paths to explore -- a wise move, we think, so as to not slip into mariner schtick-dom. Instead of the predictable 'Open Seas', we get 'Open Season', but who's huntin' whom? Heh heh! Lead singer Yan (nope, still no first names in sight) continues to brood and croon like a cross between David Bowie and Psychedelic Furs' Richard Butler singing for Echo & The Bunnymen. Noble's guitar tone on the lead-off track is a deadringer for the Bunnymen circa "Bring On The Dancing Horses". And as far as the whole band's sound goes, the past comparisons to Interpol certainly still hold true, perhaps even more so than on their last album. Whereas Decline Of British Sea Power was a darkly tumultuous affair, Open Season is much more even (albeit gloomy) tempered. There are plenty of moments on this album that stir mega-twinges of nostalgia for '80s Brit rock. Really, BSP execute this music style amazingly well with such suave aplomb. In fact, while "Please Stand Up" was playing, it had Andee believing he was in Sixteen Candles or Pretty In Pink. Oh Ducky!
Mathy, almost jazzy, instrumental post-rock from a band who manage to be as melodic as they are complex and quirky -- which is to say, quite. Lotsa warmth and emotion here, suffusing their dynamic and dramatic crescendos and deft musical twists and turns. Not so metallic as we'd been led to believe -- although they do rock out a bit here and there (apparently, on a child's drum kit no less!), this is pretty darn soft and sensitive at the same time. One of those bands that's definitely really good, but don't break out of the widdly post rock mold either. However, well worth it to fans of the genre! (That is, they fall somewhere amidst Mogwai, Don Caballero, Sonna, Thee Speaking Canaries, Lynx, Cheval de Frise...not bad company!)
This disc clocks in at five tracks, 30 minutes (which by the way is just long enough to make you go, dang it's over? and play it again when its done).
Washington, DC has been a cold and miserable place these days, hmmmm... maybe just a little colder and more miserable than usual. Though in the face of this, musicians from the area have been creating some pretty incredible music over the years. These DC'ers, Calibos, harness the energy of their surroundings and make some rockin' tracks in the vein of Sonic Youthian fuzz. The last track strays away from the rest of Me And The Window, into amazing deep-funk bass territory alongside a strolling and thoughtful guitar melody. It is awesome! Trans Am's live sound engineer, Nihkil Ranade, plays drums and also recorded the album in his Arlington, VA home-studio.
Their live set is a ton heavier and more distorted than this cd, but also worth checking out. Now, I know some of you reading this online live around there, so from time to time these guys play at The Galaxy Hut, one of the DC Metro area's night-time saving graces. So go check em out! Beware, they are L O U D!!!... Awesome, but skull-crushingly loud.
For a few releases this fellow (given name Dan Snaith) formerly went by the moniker Manitoba -- geography lesson: that's the Canadian province located between Saskatchewan and Ontario -- but he's recently switched over to the name of both a heavily antlered wilderness creature and a mountainous region in another province, British Columbia. Okay, now that classtime is over, let's move on to the music... this electronic-pop-trician has crafted a trio of tracks from playful but not excessively twee sounds that make you think he's been rummaging around in the toybox. But don't worry, none of the toys... oops, we mean sounds are gonna spring out and sock you in the nose. I mean, yeah, the live drums get a little rambunctious near the end of the title track as well as the third, but then it sinks back into his more typical mellowness with acoustic guitar plucking, and rounds from a lil' flute or recorder that's sorta like a mini ode to Wickerman. Furthermore, let it also be known that this has nothing to do with Amon Duul II's classic kraut-psych album of the same name. No, this is a much gentler beast. Dreamy, softly pulsing, gauzy and almost Christmas-y in its shimmery frosted chimey-ness! A promising prelude to his forthcoming album, The Milk Of Human Kindness (due out very very soon).
My goodness. 57 songs that span the full twenty-one year career of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds (not including any of the Birthday Party or the Boys Next Door material that preceeded the Bad Seeds). Most all of these tracks have been released in some way, shape, or form as flexi-disc tracks for Australian magazines, b-sides to singles, compilation tracks, soundtrack contributions, etc; but unless your rabidity about Nick Cave is all-consuming, the likelihood of you having all of the previously released tracks is slim to none. Given Cave's dedication to the craft as a singer / songwriter, the acoustic versions and alternate takes that would soil most every other rarieties retrospective appear with new perspectives upon his recurring grim themes of love, death, and God. Pretty essential for Nick Cave fans.
A remarkable precursor to the current fascination with all things acid-folk, Our Bed Is Green came out as a self-released 90 minute cassette back in 1992. Then a couple of years later after Charalambides earned considerable praise and adoration for the Market Street 2LP (which still ranks as their best work), the Charalambides duo of Tom and Christina Carter reissued Our Bed Is Green in a condensed version as a single cd on their Wholly Other label. Now as Kranky has undertaken a campaign to reissue the bulk of their early work, Our Bed Is Green sees the light of day once again, with all but the two covers songs featured from that cassette release. Within this sprawling set of minimally composed sketches and song fragments, the Charalambides conjure a drug-addled haze that settles gently upon their fuzz guitar psychedelic stupor, replications of early Americana folk, and post-Fahey improvisations. In their doped-up introversion, the Charalambides have always had a knack for rapturously free-falling moments rendered in slow-motion, and it's clear from Our Bed Is Green that they strongly developed this aesthetic from early on. Certainly fans of Six Organs of Admittance, Animal Collective, and the Skygreen Leopards would do well to check this out.
A very different Chicks On Speed greets us when we press the play button. For the first track, the aptly titled "Household Song", it seems like they've taken ample cues and inspiration from the seminal minimal art-punk of The Raincoats' Ana Da Silva (whose fine solo debut album they just released on their own label), stripping away their usual clutter and tidying things up a whole bunch. However for the second song they revert back to their raucous angular selves with crunchy rudimentary guitars, throbbing bass, clunky drum machine rhythms, cryptic samples and barked-out hystrionic vocals shouting out their socio-political lyrics. Yes, their sonic sisterhood with Le Tigre is still in full effect, but they strike us as being far less self-important and much more willing to cut loose and do whatever tickles their fancy... no matter how retarded, like naming a song "Wax My Anus". That said, the second song "Mitte Bitte" did sorta make us wanna bounce around the living room like a delirous Muppet. Some of this is genuinely fun, while some of it is just plain painful. Ah, but some folks have a penchant for painful. 'Tis an acquired taste.
Nope, never heard of 'em before either. Glad we have now though! The oddly-named Classical M were a psych-pop trio (consisting of brothers Guy and Andre Maruani, and Henri Bratter) who flourished in France circa 1966-1970. Well, maybe flourished isn't quite the word. They did play on TV, and opened for Steppenwolf once, but only sold a meager number of the handful of singles they released, before heading off in separate musical or non-musical directions and disbanding. A crime really, since they were so good!! I mean, the singles tracks they left behind, as documented on this collection, are awesome. Songs like "Love, Love Is There", "Music Of The Rain", "Gog Magog" (with lyrics originally written with hopes of King Crimson using 'em!), "Such A Lovely Voice", and others are a '60s psych pop fan's dream. "Such A Lovely Voice" could be a lost Colin Blunstone/Zombies classic, and there's also a definite, well-put-to-use Beatles influence at play here. These tracks are intimate and adventurous, with Guy's strong voice and superb psychedelic instrumentation including flute, 12-string guitar, oud, violin, congas, a variety of exotic instruments.
It's interesting to note in Guy Maruani's confessional liner notes that they didn't do drugs, or even smoke or drink. "Music being for us perfectly psychedelic in and of itself". Hear hear. This disc convinces.
Vincent Tornatore of Lion Productions is especially thrilled about this release (saying Classical M are "perhaps the best, and certainly the most intriguing French band of all time"). Not sure if we can go that far (ahem...Magma) but we can see why he got so excited n' enthused when these tracks showed up out of the blue, the former band members soliciting a label for a reissue. Blown away is probably the size of it. What loveliness! What atmosphere! Press play and immediately be enthralled by the melody, the melancholy, the creativity this band displays.
Lion did an nice job packaging this, with a thick booklet of lyrics, notes on each song, photos, and reminiscences. There's 24 tracks total -- singles, demos, rehearsal recordings, live stuff. And the first ten or so with the English lyrics are the truly crucial cuts, almost all of 'em amazing... but nothing on here isn't at least enjoyable, the rest of the disc ranging from groovy, orchestrated French-language "chanson-pop" to ethnic improv stuff. Too bad they never got to do a real, entire album, but we're still lucky to have these tracks. Highly recommended.
Man, what is it about Daft Punk that makes me want to take my clothes off and freak out like a retarded art-school girl?! Actually, I kinda wish this record, their third, was as dynamic as their last album, Discovery. Some of the tracks on Human After All, however, quickly get into their perfectly produced ironirock/electro groove, then just kind of sit in em for a while, then it stops and a new song begins this process again. But whatever, HAA maintains that awesomely big, totally sexy, electrorockified sound. Robot Rock might be my fave, like a perfect blend of Eddy Grant's Electric Avenue and Def Leppard. Oui c'est bon!!!!
Our French duo, Guy-Manuel de Homem Christo and Thomas Bangalter, obviously enjoy what they do and make music for the sake of making music, sorta like post-modern musical-pharmacists. So tune-in, turn-on and drop-out man.
Death Comet Crew (aka Arena Sex Death, aka Death Star Crew) were experimental New York club DJS in the late '70s / early '80s which is pretty key when thinking about the context surrounding the DCC sound. New York was in the midst of a serious recession, hip-hop was breaking out of Harlem, all-city trains were bombed and tagged and almost everyone was reacting against disco -- violently. The city was a vibrant gritty dirty trashy outrageously rocking Hell. In all its years of being a virtual toilet, New York at this time was at its most aggressively funky. Scene set. DCC fed off pioneering Detroit DJ's that were slamming together Kraftwerk, Parliament and Tangerine Dream which laid down some preliminary ground-work for techno, New York bands like ESG and Liquid Liquid, and other artists embracing the type of deconstructive / reconstructive experimentation of the time. The DCC sound was dirty dark Frankenstein funk. Live electronic drums and long layers of sound-collage created a schizoid sonic atmosphere. They worked on deconstructing the rigidity of breakbeat and loop structures set up by hip-hop, while simultaneously providing inspiration for Public Enemy's production team, The Bomb Squad. Special guest vocals were often provided by MC and graf artist Rammellzee, adding a bit of human tangibilty. Overall, this is an awesome time capsule of New York, musically-speaking. Thanks to Troubleman for dusting off these tracks recorded live from The Pyramid Club in 1984 and presenting them for some historical consideration.
Now here is indeed a deliberately odd release... from the French/Japanese label that last brought us that Tabata und Guilty Connector collaboration comes an even more absurd team-up, a three-way remix-and-mismatch conjunction of the following international audio fiends: Chris Dodge (guitarist from the goofy American "fastcore" band Spazz), Solmania (Japanese noisician who builds his own mutant guitars), and the UK's DJ Speedranch (of Phantomsmasher and Speedranch & Jansky Noise). Three artists, from three continents (or islands near continents), all sharing a "what the heck, let's make some noise!" aesthetic.
Chris Dodge's dozen tracks are a blend of punk/metal and electronically-assisted, noisy chaos. Something along the lines of Melt Banana comes to mind. Then, Solmania's 11-minute "Ice Cream" is a crunkly, lurching, seasick soundscape of dirge, distortion and feedback. Lastly, Speedranch wraps things up with three tracks of distorted beat mayhem whose source material derives from both Chris Dodge's stuff earlier on the disc, and the Solmania album Trembling Tongues. Chaotic and crazed as you might imagine, Speedranch samples various spoken non-sequiturs and sci-fi fx into something along the lines of what we used to call "industrial" music before the rise of the DJ.
For some (the more serious-minded?), the more textural Solmania track will be the stand-out, for others who love low-attention-span-spazz the Dodge and Speedranch constructions will be the real ear-ticklers. A pleasantly maddening experience for fans of all forms of severe noise-fuckery.
Combine equal doses of Brit pop (Pulp, Supergrass and Blur) and danse-punque (The Faint, Franz Ferdinand) and maybe a dash of Iggy Pop's "Lust For Life" for good measure, and what do you get? Well, not quite a mojito, but more like the debut EP from this new SF band! Five sleek, stylishly coiffed, appealingly infectious songs composed of all the ingredients for a good time -- lanky electric guitars, arpeggiated bleep-blops and synth strings, cocky (we assume faux?) Britboy vocals and an omnipresent thumpin' beat. Sure to fit very nicely alongside those bands mentioned above as well as current hip bands like Kaiser Chiefs and Bloc Party. After just one listen, I could already tell this'll make for some great dancin' and drivin' music (and I don't even drive!).
Like Ali G's German fashion maven, Bruno, says, "Marianne Faithfull gets a... Wattschhupp." And actually, much to the credit of her co-writers this round (PJ Harvey, Nick Cave, Damon Albarn, and Jon Brion) these songs are good. Real good. Faithfull weaves her vocals around each song's style and rhythm. With Harvey, the tracks are punkish and throbbing or slow and moody. With Cave, melodramatic and artfully tragic. With Albarn, big and britpoppy. Brion's nursery-lullaby, "City of Quartz", closes the album with a scattering of kinder-esque instruments, faux-glockenspiel, toy piano, etc. Indeed. Faithfull and company offer a grand performance of the highest caliber! Mmmyes... Bravo.
Odyssey... the new eau de parfum... er, eau d'album from the fashion house of Fischerspooner. They've revamped their formula since their audacious debut -- holding onto those tried and true arpeggiated basslines and rocking things up with electric guitar, live drumming and... flute! They've apparently even given the diva singer the boot, drawing the spotlight more to Casey Spooner's vocals which come across as much more sing-song-y and sensitive guy (think: a more 'pumped' Neil Tennant of Pet Shop Boys), but please excuse us for being more than a little wary of their sincerity and substance when the group's career thus far has been unabashedly fabricated from truckloads of gloss, glitter and gall. This time when soliciting contributions the unapologetically shrewd and calculating duo shunned the fading electro-clash fashionistas and approached the likes of Susan Sontag, Linda Perry and David Byrne for assistance. Plus here's a head-scratcher for ya: they close the album with a cover of a Boredoms song -- a strange, truncated but oddly effective synthesized transformation of "Circle" from Vision Creation Newsun! There's two bonus tracks: one is a remix of "Just Let Go" and the second is an incongruous swirly pop song sung by Lizzy Yoder. Hmm, dare we guess that they're testing that genre's waters for a potential next new direction? Something to consider 'cuz it just might be the best song on the album. Sure had us scratching our heads a second time, goin' wtf!? though.
Split ep between Olympia, WA trio Growing and former Get Hustle member Mark Evan Burden with each contributing a 16 minute track. Growing's track "Firmament" begins as a bubbling analog synth warble, progressing to ever more dark and ominous waters, but stripped of the guitar and bass parts that made their full length works remind us of Sunn 0))) or Earth. Burden's piece, "10724/02", is a striking contrast. His electronics accompanied piano improvisation ranges between the maniacal pounding minimalism of Charlemagne Palestine and the atmospheric soundscapes of Harold Budd (sans the nuage tendancies). Quite nice!
Ladies and gentlemen, may we direct your attention to the center stage for... The Petra Haden Singers! Well, not quite... make that singular not plural, but the classically trained lady's tackling a full chorus' worth of parts. This is Ms Haden's COMPLETELY acapella performance of the COMPLETE The Who Sell Out album. We've gotta give the gal props not only for her vocal arrangin' skills but also for the thoroughness of her savvy cover art replication job. Check out those photos! They're a total hoot! Nonetheless, we'd wager that whether or not this cd finds a permanent place in your library will ultimately depend not on your love for The Who, the original album, nor Ms Haden, but rather on your appreciation for acapella music. Each song is pretty much simple and straight up, somewhat generic female-sung acapella. Y'know the kinda bland but pleasantly out of the ordinary stuff they might have on some TV talk show to spice the afternoon up a little. So, although she's unarguably accomplished an impressive feat, unfortunately the end results make for much less remarkable listening than anticipated or hoped for.
As much as Andrew McKenzie of The Hafler Trio likes to present little bits of Gnostic wisdom in the titles of his records, Being A Firefighter Isn't About Squirting Water is oddly lacking in cleverness, weirdness, obtuseness, Hafler Trio-ness. In case you might think that McKenzie is loosing his mastery upon allegorical puzzles, metaphorical misdirections, and megalomaniacal obsessiveness, he does boldly claim that this record is "a product that will allow you take charge of your destiny completely." How 20 minutes of subtle wafts of feedback can provide what self-help gurus have been claiming to do for centuries is the precise location for the art of the Hafler Trio. Lest this (or any other Hafler Trio album) be construed as mindless New Ageisms, these wispy fragments of rippled drones have plenty of shadowy forms lurking in the distance, and at least the sense that a profound intellect has constructed this body of work.
Being A Firefighter is the fifth CDEP published by Important Records. As with the rest in the series, this is woefully limited; and as with all Hafler Trio albums, there can be no MP3 samples.
The title, translated from the Japanese, means something like "Tangled up in the universe, my pain" and so of course it's the latest from Japanese musical shaman Keiji Haino of Fushitsusha. Wherein he plays the theremin. Yes, theremin, of "Good Vibrations" fame. It's almost a running joke here, about how Haino, though best known (and loved, or not) for his unique and high-volume guitar-wrangling and also his banshee-in-anguish vocalizations, can make himself, in his own way, the master of ANY instrument. He's been recorded playing acoustic guitar, tamborine, wave-drum, drum machine, hurdy-gurdy, piano, and even turntables (turing in an amazing "DJ set" on the recent Tokyo Flashback 5 compilation). We even thought of making up a Keiji Haino rap album for our April Fool's edition of this list, but then who would believe us when we reviewed this new, entirely real, album of Keiji playing the theremin? To be precise, this is Haino's "first ever all-electronic album" and it finds him using/abusing a plethora of electronic gadgetry (as depicted on the uncharacteristic color cover pic adorning this lovingly packaged cd) that include quite a few hands-off, theremin-like instruments (digital theremin, air synth, air FX) that in the live setting doubtless allow Haino to indulge his penchant for dramatic dance-like movements, waving his arms and contorting his body to conjure sounds from the ether. Probably a sight to behold. On disc, though, these are just another set of devices for processing Haino's deep sonic urges. In, or rather, near, Haino's hands, the theremin (an instrument already associated with both sci-fi and haunted house sound effects) is both spacey and scary here, to the extreme. More Merzbow than Clara Rockmore for sure. Four long tracks. Dark, fluttering, hissing blackness. Monsters inhabit the void. Beware.
Whooahh man. Hella's latest (and third) release is an overwhelming, two hour long, double solo album exploration. Drummer Zach Hill's Church Gone Wild battles guitarist Spencer Sein's Chirpin Hard. Church seems to be a dismembered hour-long noise mantra in 12 parts. It's pretty driving and kinetic, a swirling maelstrom of free-noise muddied by pitch-shifted vocals and tape manipulation.
As for Sein's contribution, imagine the pixelscapes of Nintendo NES' Tennis, Joust, Tetris, Zelda, Double Dragon, Mega Man, Golf and Cobra Command all meshed into one massive super-game being played at a warehouse free-noise show and we could have it's documentation here with Chirpin Hard. Hella fans will lovingly dive into this behemouth double album without hesitation.
Really? The Last Recording Album from the not merely long-running but legendary Japanese guitar-destruction, electronic-overload and vocal-screech noise outfit Hijokaidan? Well we're not exactly sure if that means that this is truly the final album that they plan to unleash before unplugging their amps, selling their effects boxes on eBay, and enjoying a well-deserved retirement after 25+ years of eardrum abuse (what does a retired Hijokaidan do? golf? take guitar lessons? what?) or, if it's simply their last album...before the next one. We'll see. In any event, either way, fans of Hijokaidan / Japanese noise will find this quite a satisfying experience. The line-up for this disc features the usual Hijokaidan core duo of Jojo Hiroshige (guitar) and Junko (voice), along with both members of Incapcitants (T. Mikawa and F. Kosaki) on electronics and also Nao Shibata on drums. So they've got a lot of noise/rock/more noise firepower here! DISTORTION. FEEDBACK. SCREAMING. And pummelling percussion too. It's a beautiful thing. If you're into it, that is. And if you aren't, a paragraph from us saying it's great won't change your mind. So, Hijokaidan fans, here's five tracks, about 70 minutes, of what you love. Maybe for the last time.
Recently we reviewed -- and have been selling hella copies of -- the debut album by Om, the band formed by two-thirds of local revered stoner rockers Sleep. Om are just two guys, just bass and drums, dealing out the pot-fueled heaviness. Well coincidentally (?) we also just got these, the absurdly-long-awaited reissue of the truly legendary Population II album by guitarist Randy Holden, recorded in 1969 shortly after his brief but fruitful stint in San Francisco's Blue Cheer, playing only on the killer side two of that band's third album, New, Improved!
The connection? Well, as you might guess from the album's title, Population II is also a two-piece effort, just Randy on guitar (bass also on the album) and Chris Lockheed on drums (and bass pedals live). Beyond some sort of spiritual bond of two-piece heaviness, though, there's of course one major, obvious difference: Om's got NO guitar, whereas Holden's album is ALL ABOUT guitar. Heck the first track is simply called "Guitar Song". And he's a self-proclaimed 'guitar god' for a reason. On "Guitar Song" the lyrics are basically all about how he's in love with electric guitar playing, and loud. And as much as we enjoyed the Om album, Population II definitely reminds us that WE love guitar too!
Randy, with his trusty guitar and an ominous array of amp-stacks, conjures up some of the heaviest rock n' roll sounds heard on Earth up to that point in time for sure. Blue Cheer of course are a close comparison ("Fruit & Iceburgs" from side two of New, Improved! is reprised here) as well as Hendrix and Iron Butterfly...and soon enough Black Sabbath would up the ante further. But in the history of heavy, this album deserves some major recognition.
It's super trippy, doomily plodding, Randy's reedy vibrato voice calling out over the wail of his guitar. This rocks in the sludgiest sorta way for the day. And speaking of loud, you want Sunn amps? Randy's got Sunn amps! Check out the live shot on the back cover, these two assuredly blowing the roof off some San Francisco ballroom.
Not just a reissue, but actually the record's first OFFICAL, Randy Holden-approved release. And they're hand numbered and autographed by the man himself in gold marker just to make it really, really offical. Limited to 2000, pressed on 180 gram wax, this is a holy grail (or facsimile edition of a holy grail anyway) for all of you for whom "heavy" is akin to religion.
"Clowns have always existed as mirrors of the human comic tragedy. They have always served mankind by making us laugh at our dark side. From the political parody to the hobo mocking the rich and famous, clowns have been there to remind us of our basic heart and soul � to remind us of our vulnerability. But what about the hospital clown?
There is a place inside I go when I get into character. My clown is my inner child. Putting on the red nose gives her permission to come out and play, which I think makes Shobi more fun than funny. The clown is the joke. A little smile, a funny gesture, a tipping of the head � people will just look at me and smile. In the hospital it is my rule, no one gets by me without smiling. I tried this in the San Francisco financial district once. Not so easy, I'd say only three out of 10 would smile. That means that 70 percent just walk by me as if I were the norm. Brightly colored Shobi Dobi certainly was not the norm amongst the business suits. (There is a Bag Lady Clown, being created in my imagination, dressed in elegant patches of silk and velvet, who goes to the financial district and hands out nickels.) That Bag Lady Clown would not go over that well in the hospital, nor would "Dick E. Dude" my construction worker clown character (Shobi's revenge on the circus' washer-women clown skits)." -- taken from a Google search for "san francisco hospitals rich people."
We return to our regularly scheduled program already in progress.
The Hospitals latest ep features a new song, "Rich People" on side A. And I have to say I like it! Mike Donovan (Sic Alps, Big Techno Werewolves) offers seemingly room-mic'd vocals with a ton of delay within the spaced-out no-wavey noise-fest. Side B contains six digitally crunchy covers (of The Who, Royal Trux, Harry Pussy, The Kinks, The Fingers and a special mystery track) that sound like they were transferred from a copied cassette tape. Mmmmmm... Released by French 12" label, Yakisakana.
Damn, the cool pop playing field suddenly got even more crowded! Let's run through the roster again: Maximo Park, Franz Ferdinand, Killers, Futureheads, Kaiser Chiefs, Bloc Party, British Sea Power and now here's Hot Hot Heat's second full length (and major label debut). Your cd player's gonna be mighty packed with so many toe-tappin', blood pumpin' pop hooks, it's gonna be difficult choosing which to play first. Oh, 'tis such a burden, isn't it?! Take the best songs from those bands and you've got yourself one absolutely killer mixtape!
Anyways for their sophomore album, HHH have wisely broadened their scope a bit while still retaining their catchy retro pop core. There's the prerequisite sweet jangly guitars, crunchy angular electric guitars, '60s organ keyboards (although sadly much less present than previously so) and pouty boy vocals, but they also toss in some other elements (check out the funk in "Shame On You"). It's a much more polished album than its predecessor. Obviously the major label funds have clearly afforded them more studio time to apply more attention to details ("Island Of The Honest Man" and the title track). But it also seems like maybe they spent a littleless time and attention on the actual songwriting, and the Dave Sardy production seems to have unexpectedly smoothed away some of the breathless urgency and edginess that made Make Up The Breakdown so great. The resulting tameness comes as something of a letdown for folks who dug the band's past kinetic punchiness, although repeated instore listens have turned Andee into a new fan. Probably the biggest positive change on this new record is in the vocal department. Oozing with total goin'-for-it enthusiasm, lead singer Steve Bays seizes his mic duties with such vigor that his vocals occasionally threaten to crowd out the rest of the band. Actually prior to the album's release we heard a live version of the single "Goodnight Goodnight" and umm... we don't want to be harsh but let's just say the performance (marred mostly by oversinging and sloppy drumming) had us wincing and fearing for the worst. However, fortunately the studio recorded version of the song fares much better. So although our initial reaction to this album is indeed one of maybe mild disappointment, we're hesitant to totally mark this Elevator 'out of order' because despite its not being immediately addictive, we have a sneaking suspicion that it may prove to grow on you/us. We shall see.
A side note: In keeping with the elevator theme, the album begins with the sound of elevator music playing in the background as well, the song listing on the back of the cd cleverly has the fifteenth and final song at the top and the first at the bottom.
Here's a little four song cd ep for those of you who don't have the inclination to pick up the 7" version of this on eBay. Since Swami only pressed a few hundred of em, they're fetching "hype-induced" prices on ye ol' auction internets thingy, so here's your chance to buy em cheap and digital-like. Includes their rockin "Automatic Midnight" and "This Mystic Decade" tunes plus two others recorded in November of 2004 at the BBC, with that wonderful recorded-at-the-BBC sound.
Been waiting a long time for this one. The last two Hwyl Nofio's were and still are all time AQ faves, and judging from how many we sell, you all most likely feel the same! And a cd-r of Anatomy Of Distort has been on CONSTANT repeat play at home. Which makes sense since we described an earlier Hwyl record as being our "absolute favorite bliss out, late night, chill out record ever!". And Anatomy Of Distort takes HN's sound even farther in that direction, if that were even possible. All of the more traditional song like elements present on the first two records have been stripped away, leaving a ghostly trace, a wavering sonic imprint of some mysterious sound that once was, but that is slowly and purposefully revealing itself to us, bit by bit, slivers of sound slipping into our line of sight, distant melodies, slowly materializing at the farthest reaches of our perceptible sound field. Haunting, drifing clouds of lower register thrum,
faraway pizzicato melodies, percussion built from expansive empty room clatter, the thud of ghostly footprints, the creak and bump of rarely opened doors. Occasional slow motion monster piano plod, gorgeously suspenseful and dimly lit, over an ocean of reverberating, bowed metals, creating ominous smears of dark and indistinct sonic haze, all ocasionally engulfed in massive, warm washes of molten guitar feedback, at once fierce and full of fury, but somehow still completely dreamy and mesmerizing. It's always hard to not slip into hyperbole on the AQ list, but even harder when we're dealing with a record this good. Having said that, this is probably one of the most beautiful drone records you will hear this year. Ever maybe. So completely dense with hidden sounds and rich with sonic layers, totally blissful and perfect for drifting off, but complex enough to reward close scrutiny and active listening. Most certainly for fans of Jonathan Coleclough, Andrew Chalk, Deathprod, Total, Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sunn 0 ))), Earth, Nurse With Wound, and folks who recently picked up recent releases by Unicorn, Lugosi, Birchville Cat Motel, BJ Nilsen, and Monos will NOT want to miss this. Packaged in an oversized, slimline style DVD case, with a nice photographic insert and LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!!
Can the No Colours label do no wrong? Inquisition's Magnificent Glorification Of Lucifer is definitely Allan's favorite black metal release of the YEAR. So grim, so eerie, so very metal, and weird in a weird way. That is, there's nothing else out there quite like this band. They do that thing that the best black metal bands do: they're both totally of their genre (a formulaic genre, to be extra-redundant) yet manage to be utterly their own thing too. Fans of the elite likes of Burzum, Graveland, Mutillation, Xasthur, and Immortal ought to immediately bow to Inquisition whilst also recognizing just how different a band they are. And it's also the sort of black metal I might spring on an extremity-friendly music fan even if they were unaware of the above mentioned artists.
Although this was the first I'd heard of Inquistion, it's actually the third album from this American (Seattle-based, but with Columbian connections?) Satanic black metal band. Redundant again? Sure, all black metal by definition is supposed to be Satanic. But these guys are so SERIOUS about it (well, I don't know for sure... the Inquistion duo of Dagon and Incubus do look kinda silly in the cd booklet photos...but I don't think that's intentional). That they go so over-the-top in their Satan worship is part of what moves them beyond mere stylistic formula and into a realm of obsessive uniqueness.
This record works so well 'cause it's simultaneously weird as fuck (hypnotically croaking vocals, the aforementioned Satanically overloaded lyrix, and strange, keening high-end guitar parts that make this the EERIEST black metal I've heard in aeons) while being fully metal with a rock n' roll backbone: slow-to-mid tempos, memorable riffs, and killer old-school fuzz guitar tone. Indeed, were it not for the love of Lucifer they express with every breath, Inquisition could just has easily have opted to call this album The Glorious Magnificence of Fuzz (though a strain of fuzz quite different from the '60s garage fuzz as heralded elsewhere on this week's list in our review of the Plastic Cloud reissue)! Sonically, that's a big part of what satisfies here, a crucial factor in of Inquisition's equation of extremity. It's truly a heavy, buzzing, trance-like blurr.
It's got to mean something when I (Allan) play something over and over and over again, considering how much (too much) music I'm getting every week. But this was -- is -- in heavy rotation in my home and even though I put it on my iPod I still took the cd itself along with me on vacation as a talisman/token/icon/fetish object just to look at... good thing I don't actually believe in Satan! I even had to go and track down their harder-to-find first two albums, also both excellent, though I do think this is their best... and if you want someone to back me up, note that Leviathan's Wrest himself is a big Inquistion fan, partial to their second album but also of the opinion that this one is brilliant too. So, an AQ black metal rave, make no mistake! Mesmerizing, crushing, gloomy, fucked up, beautiful, genius.
Wonderful! Damien Jurado works his magic once again. Although make no bones about it, Jurado is wholly his own man, on this album, both his songs and his performances bring to mind other top notch singer/songwriters past and present. Perhaps an indication of a broadening of his scope, the fourth song "Lion Tamer" is strongly reminiscent of Lou Barlow's slouchy introspection, while later in the album "Northbound" captures the brittle lilt and beauty of Nick Drake, and the very next one titled "Icicle" bristles with the sullen angst of Interpol. On the closer "A Jealous Heart Is A Heavy Heart" Jurado almost out-Palaces Will Oldham. So, what is the common thread that ties all of these artists together? The ability to absolutely nail the breadth of a man's despairing emotions from the precarious and fragile to the near-suffocating and burdensome. A lush, gorgeous downer.
Hey, got your copy yet?! LCDS raise the roof a few more storeys on their self-titled debut double disc, but it's not all cowbells and arpeggiated basslines. For example, on the insistent fourth track "Movement", James Murphy does his best Mark E. Smith impersonation, then immediately shifts gears into a slower, prettier swoon mood for "Never As Tired As When I Wake Up". Throughout the album, the group revisits these two detours from their usual rump-bumpin' and visit a few others too. The seventh track is totally "Warm Leatherette". Hmmm, maybe the question is: Is it a rip-off or an homage? And ditto for the closing song of the first disc "Great Release" which takes on a *very* Brian Eno wistful pop feel. Sorta makes you think that LCDS might be the clubland incarnation of a cabaret singer who can ape any other singer's delivery or maybe a bar band who can recreate any other band's sound... really a skill unto itself, innit? Aaah shit, why are we gettin' all serious with such criticism 'n' skepticism and shit when there's a paaarty goin' on?! Just look at that glistening disco ball on the cover, man.
This release includes all of their previously released singles to boot. Yup, that means you get both versions of their track "Yeah" with its lyrics that go something like "Yeah yeah yeah yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah yeah yeahyeah yeahyeahyeah".
It's been a very slow process, but the massive catalogue of cassette only releases from Maeror Tri appears to be making its way into the digital realm. Back in the early '90s, the Italian label Old Europa Cafe had released a very interesting tape series including two albums by this legendary German industrial drone outfit. It is a shame that in their recovery of these archival Maeror Tri recordings, OEC released the two cassettes as a double CD-R instead of giving them a proper CD release. No matter, it's still nice to see these recordings back in circulation. How long they'll be around is, of course, another matter. Hypnobasia (1992) is one of the noisiest manifestations of Maeror Tri, as trio of guitars spew volcanic slabs of distortion upon their signature low-end drone work and deep space ambience. Ultimate Time (1994) featured a bunch of tracks that had originally been commissioned for compilations, which for whatever reason never materialized. The flanging bass drones, metallic scraping, phased delay patterns, backwards masked screeches, and eerie crashing noises buried in digital reverb make for a much bleaker, more nightmarish version of the Krautrock antecedents in Popul Vuh and Kluster, but with ample references to Zoviet France and Lustmord thrown in the mix.
VERY LIMITED!! We only have a handful of these, and assuming we -can- get more it might take us a while.
Regardless of under which moniker he chooses to release his music, you'll usually find Mr. Jason Molina's recordings falling into one of two baskets -- his threadbare, rumpled melancholia or his considerably more fleshed out tavern rock. For this, the official studio recorded debut of his new band Magnolia Electric Co., he's found a fine middle ground. Molina mellows out the Co's electricity ever so gently on What Comes After The Blues, and the results are a startlingly Neil Young-ish album. For those of you who were looking forward to more Magnolia Electric Co. bootstompers like those on their recent now-out-of-print live album Trials & Errors, sorry, these are more along the lines of mid-tempo weep-in-your-beer numbers. The already-heavy-hearted songs are made even more achingly lovely by the addition of the equally forlorn trumpet, violin and guest female vocals courtesy of Jennie Benford of Jim & Jennie And The Pinetops. Definitely check out the Jennie-sung second song "The Night Shift Lullaby".
Whoa, this is really... something! This cd is subtitled "40 one minute BIO-VIGNETTES by BILL MORRISON Recorded in 1971". And yes, it certainly is.
So, who the heck is The Balloon Man? Well, we're certain that he's not Bill Morrison the filmmaker who made Decasia, nor is he Bill Morrison the videographer/musician who plays with Skinny Puppy. Nope, they're different fellows altogether. This Bill Morrison was a real 'one-of-a-kind' -- a peculiar nightclub performer who back in '71 concocted the idea of pre-taped one minute long radio shows. He believed they would make for a lucrative career move. Problem was, no one else at the time agreed. And it's not really all that hard to see why. But we know as well as you, that there's just not enough stuff like this in the world. If only we were around (well AQ was, but WE weren't) to stand up and proudly proclaim the... um... brilliance of this wacked and damaged disc.
A Morrison minute can range from a totally focussed yet still absurd commentary to a completely oblique bizarre tangent. Along the way he touches on subject matter such as cars, brain tumors, coats, rectal disease, Leonardo DaVinci, wanting to stay in the womb when he was being born, and yes balloons. Hear him chuckling to himself about the how-to's of balloon blowing, getting himself riled up about blowing up balloons in different social situations, hollering a short phrase like "I sometimes think I should be! Y'know!" or "Oh oh oh oh oooh oooooooooh!" repeatedly until he's filled up the 60 seconds, and assorted other funny voices, noises and yuks. Sometimes he even continues to rant right over the cheery banjo'n'horn theme music that ends each vignette. Be sure to read the segments' titles, they're a hoot all by themselves! "Leftover Turkey", "Simple Balloon Animals: a Sequence", "Sex Between The Big Toe", "Make A Balloonskin Coat", "Bleeding Salmon", "In The Water But There's Something But You"!
So yeah, you might've guessed the shows never aired. A year later along came Mal Sharpe (of the inimitable, 1960's absurdist men-on-the-street Coyle & Sharpe -- if you haven't done so yet, please do yourself a favor and familiarize yourself with this duo... seriously!) who decided to make a short film about this Balloon Man. Now jump ahead over thirty years, and Sharpe's daughter Jennifer has just released those long-unheard recordings on cd. Whew! These forty unrelenting minutes could almost be a fairground attraction. How much can you take? Last 'til "Leftover Turkey" win a pencil! Last 'til "Go Climb A Rock" win a pair of socks! Last 'til "Balloon Man Take Me To Wherever You Are Going" win a date with Balloon Man! Okay, not quite. One thing though, be sure to listen to it in a relatively quiet setting 'cause if your space is even remotely noisy you'll probably only be able to hear random mumbles, hoots and guffaws between the much more, ahem, stable crystal clear theme music.�
Very limited edition of 300 packaged in very sharp lookin' (oops, no pun intended) letterpress printed covers.
Aloha Mountain Goats fans! Some of your oldest and dearest faves have finally been reissued on cd and lp! This one, their first studio recorded album Nothing For Juice (originally released back in 1996), has been out of print for years, so it's definitely time to do a little celebratory hollerin' from the hilltops. Now, we all know that Mr. Darnielle is one darn tireless artist and this jam-packed early album bears the bountiful fruits of his and his singing partner in crime Rachel Ware's labors. They do a couple covers (including a super hushed one of Robert Johnson's "Hellhound on My Trail"!) revisits a older MG fave "Alpha Double Negative: Going to Catalina" and even fits in a trio of collaborations he did with Graeme Jefferies (of The Cakekitchen and This Kind Of Punishment). Almost without exception, each Mountain Goats song is imbued with a comforting old friend presence, well-worn and dearly heartfelt. And we welcome these ones back with open arms and ears!
Aloha Mountain Goats fans! Some of your oldest and dearest faves have finally been reissued on cd and lp!
Perhaps most notable is the re-release of 1994's Zopilote Machine. It holds particular historical significance in that it marked John Darnielle's first step into the realm of the LP. Yep, up until Zopilote Machine his Mountain Goats music was only available on cassette and 7" singles. Generous and prolific soul that he is, he took full advantage of the 'long' in long-player, packing it with a whopping nineteen of his trademark homespun, storytellin' songs. These intimate lo-fi bedroom-style recordings stand in stark contrast to his recent studio works -- super casual, somewhat muffled and murky with just him singing his heart out and furious strumming his acoustic guitar -- but regardless of how high or low tech he goes, Darnielle never fails to hit your heart's bullseye. Wonderfully genuine and genuinely wonderful.
This went out of print almost as soon as we got the original Total Holocaust import version in four or five months ago but has now been resurrected and re-pressed domestically thanks to the dark souls at Southern Lord, who apparently like this stuff as much as we do. Here's what we had to say about it first time around:
We barely even have to review this. Just the names of the two artists should be enough. Nortt, whose "Pure Depressive Black Funeral Doom Metal" was a massive favorite around here, and of course Xasthur, who rivals Leviathan as perhaps the most brilliant and important of the modern USBM hordes. Nortt offer up four tracks of miserable drone dirge, with mournful piano over a swirling abyss of black riffs and simple drumming, each chord slowly dissipating into nothingness before the next chord hits. Depressingly gorgeous and wrist slittingly sorrowful. Reminiscent of Corrupted's Llenandose, albeit way more grim and dismal!
Xasthur gives us three tracks, equally depressive, but here, instead of tarpit tempos and drone-like dirges, the depression and misery is communicated through creepy minor key riffing, mournful melodies and what sounds like clean chant-like singing, almost choral, but buried so low in the mix it almost sounds like just another instrument. Xasthur has totally perfected the swaying seasickly black metal waltz, with relentless double kicks, anguished vocals struggling to communicate from beyond, and warm and woozy, arpeggiated guitars. So good.
Nice to see that some branches of the Elephant 6 Collective are still bearing pretty blossoms and juicy pop fruit. In addition to the debut from A Hawk And A Hacksaw (the solo project from Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeremy Barnes), stalwart E6ers Of Montreal have released a new album. While those Apples In Stereo folks remain on hiatus, Of Montreal's Kevin Barnes has kept the flame aglow on their Brian Wilson torch, assuming the E6 pop helm with plentiful ability and enthusiasm. Amid the tilt-a-whirl glee of their predominantly sweet, jangle perkiness, the band doesn't shy away from funking things up (on the third and seventh songs), strange-ing things up (on the twelveth track) or diversifying in other ways. Much like on their previous album Satanic Panic In The Attic, they've continued to keep their musical scope set to 'panoramic view' with heavy doses of piano, thick synthesizer textures, dance-y beats, soaring near-operatic vocal grandeur and ultra wordy song titles. Sometimes however it can be almost too heavyhanded, threatening to topple and crush the more delicate aspects of the band. Definitely check out the two brief song samples though, but keep in mind that they can't really do the breadth of the Sunlandic Twins album justice.
Now thanks to Okay's two new albums, you can choose to take the High Road AND the Low Road... Haha! Ahem, this is the new project of Mr. Marty Anderson (also of Dilute). Both albums are filled with bright slightly eccentric folk pop songs a la Donovan, or more recently Destroyer's Dan Bejar, Devendra Banhart or Frog Eyes' Casey Mercer. Vocally this also sounds a lot like a younger sibling of Marianne Faithfull or Nico (i.e, the gravelly warble of a lifelong smoker). The backdrops to Anderson's off-kilter vocals are breezily swaying, ultra pretty arrangements. So nice and gentle! If we had to choose one to start with, it'd really be a hard choice to make -- they're pretty evenly matched -- but we'd probably go with the High Road 'cause it might just be our imagination, but it seems to be just a little bit more lush and fully realized (particularly the third and fourth songs "Have" and "Compass").
Now thanks to Okay's two new albums, you can choose to take the High Road AND the Low Road... Haha! Ahem, this is the new project of Mr. Marty Anderson (also of Dilute). Both albums are filled with bright slightly eccentric folk pop songs a la Donovan, or more recently Destroyer's Dan Bejar, Devendra Banhart or Frog Eyes' Casey Mercer. Vocally this also sounds a lot like a younger sibling of Marianne Faithfull or Nico (i.e, the gravelly warble of a lifelong smoker). The backdrops to Anderson's off-kilter vocals are breezily swaying, ultra pretty arrangements. So nice and gentle! If we had to choose one to start with, it'd really be a hard choice to make -- they're pretty evenly matched -- but we'd probably go with the High Road 'cause it might just be our imagination, but it seems to be just a little bit more lush and fully realized (particularly the third and fourth songs "Have" and "Compass").
Have you been missing Sleep? No, not your forty winks, we mean the mighty stoner metal behemoth that was San Francisco's Sabbath n' sweet leaf worshippers Sleep. The endlessly repetitive riffs, the swinging molasses sludge jams, the massive, mantric starscapes of drugged-out space rock drone and dirge? Yeah, we've been missing Sleep too. They broke up after their magnum opus, the one-hour/one-song album Jerusalem (aka Dopesmoker), members eventally resurfacing in The Sabians and High On Fire. And now Om, the closest thing to the Jerusalem of olde! So if High On Fire's loud and speedy Motorheaded heaviness hasn't quite been giving you that same Sleepy feeling, then here's -another- post-Sleep outfit that might just do the trick.
First get rid of the guitars ('cause this is just Sleep's rhythm section, bassist Al Cisneros and drummer Chris Hakius). All they really need is a drum kit, a bass guitar and about 10,000 watts of amplification. Then set the controls for the heart of the sun, and ride all the way there seemingly on a single churning, hypnotic mesmerizing riff, stretched over three long tracks. A super distorted, fuzzed out magic carpet ride into oblivion. The main difference between Sleep and Om (besides the lack of guitar) are the vocals by Al Cisneros. Lots of vocals. And not screaming or growly, we're talking clean, chanting, trance-like vocals, WAY up in the mix. Well, they do sound a bit like the singing in Sleep, just way more prominent. It may be the single thing that keeps folks from getting into Om. But the vocals definitely grow on you, and the laconic sort of slurry sing song-y delivery just further enhances Om's druggy mesmerism. Al's stiffly delivered, endless nasal incantations are in fact now being imitated by the staffers here at Aquarius in our everyday conversations. They definitely give the whole thing a definite Hawkwind / Pink Floyd vibe, which is a VERY good thing. This is most definitely not 'metal', although metalheads will probably dig it. Electric Wizard fans especially! This is relentlessly riff heavy, ultra repetitive, simple, spaced out, hippy drug rock of the highest order. Musically it almost sounds like a Lightning Bolt record played at 16rpm, that effortless bass / drum interplay slowed down to a loping lumber, a slow motion slither, a creepy crawl. Head nodding music for head bangers. A swirling, fuzzy, spacy, mesmerizing, drone rock trip! No wonder ol' Julian Cope wrote it up as a record of the month on his great Head Heritage website...
Admittedly there are some folks around these parts whose response to the title would simply be an emphatic "Um, ok!", while there have also been others who've totally championed the band. So, which camp do you side with? Do you hear this as vacuous, lackluster and unoriginal? Or do you hear it as creative, funky, booty-shakin' fun? Anyone seeking brain stimuli and musical innovation will prolly wanna sidestep this, but they're probably not the ones making a beeline for the dancefloor, are they? For those who're just looking for a non-mind-taxing album that's sure to trigger the boogie woogie fever reflex, Out Hud have provided your escape mobile! That said, they've prettied up the place a bit since we last visited with the addition of soft breathy female vocals (last time it was a considerably more guy-ish affair). File right next to your LCD Soundsystem for sure.
Those who own the Charley Patton "Screamin' And Hollerin' The Blues" box set on Revenant can probably skip this, as you got all these tracks already... But maybe you should read along anyway. For this collection producer Richard Nevins searched far & wee for the best extant copies of Patton 78's and made an esthetic decision not to gouge away at the original recordings so much with the audio restoration software that's been all the rage with reissues of early recordings of late (as in for the last ten or so years.) For those of you who couldn't shovel out the dough for Revenant's definitive collection, Primeval Rags... is a great substitution writ small. Almost any 23 tracks by Patton would have been a fine anthology, as there's hardly a track ever recorded of him was anything less than stellar. This is the man after all that the legendary Robert Johnson -- along with myriad other blues and bluegrass musicians alike -- could name as the biggest influence on his playing. They just don't make singing voices like this anymore. Both soft and subtle and powerful enough to knock the doors off your barn and bottleneck guitar playing that will have you sobbing out of pure respect.
