For those of you who just skim the list or only read the first few sentences of reviews, let us get your attention real quick. Lurker Of Chalice, in case you didn't realize, is the work of one WREST, aka SF black metal overlord LEVIATHAN. Paying attention now? Good. let's proceed. Lurker Of Chalice has existed in one form or another for several years now, but outside a cassette or two this is the only recorded evidence and man will it blow your mind. Originally conceived as a less black metal, more experimental musical outlet (and possibly inspired by Leviathan / AQ faves Benighted Leams) Lurker Of Chalice is constructed from lots of black metal parts as might be expected, but lot of very un-black metal bits as well: arpeggiated post rock guitars, martial percussion, simple propulsive krautrock rhythms, swirling droning ambience, strange haunting vocals, obscure found sounds and samples, doomy slow motion dirges, reverb drenched, almost sun dappled melodies over creepy warbly soundscapes, warm thick keyboards, heavily strummed steel string guitars, rich throaty crooning, super overblown distorted guitars, all smeared into a warm fuzzed out, dreamy and melancholy, mostly midtempo blackened doomscape. Occasionally, Lurker blasts into full on black metal, like on the second track "Piercing Where They Might", but even in a BM context, things are beautifully way off kilter, rumbling bizarrely affected vocals, dizzying riffs that swirl and slither and make it impossible to focus, huge jangly guitars over miltaristic snare drums and warbly Michael Gira like vocals. So weird. But so perfect. Imagine Leviathan and Benighted Leams and the Swans and Ved Buens Ende, all somehow mixed into some darkly evolving, gothic tinged expanse of moody metallic melancholia. This is maybe the best sounding record Wrest has made which is saying a lot. And it's definitely the weirdest, and most certainly the saddest. The whole record is dripping with intense emotion, minor key and slowly stretching toward some bleak future of broken promise and crushed spirit. From slowly evolving, almost cinematic instrumentals to massive and majestic dirges to woozy effect drenched post rockisms to ultra bleak ballads to damaged black metal crush, Lurker Of Chalice evokes total and utter misery, a musical invocation to the lost and alone, wandering in search of hope, under the suffocating black cloak of night, crushed beneath a starless sky and adrift in a soulless universe, exposing every raw nerve and dark corner of Wrest's twisted musical soul. So fucking good!
Sticking with his Magnolia Electric Co. moniker, Mr. Jason Molina (aka Songs: Ohia) follows up his last full length What Comes After The Blues with this new five-song EP. The first four tunes are of his trademark beleaguered, drown your sorrows folk stylings, while for the fifth Molina does his best Warren Zevon on a rendition of "Werewolves Of London". Aaawoooooo!
Runar Magnusson hails from Iceland, although he is now living in Copenhagen where he has quietly been producing some of the oddest electronica to pass through the store. Certainly if you've been infected by the viral sounds of Fflint Central or the electro-absurditites of Stilluppsteypa, Magnusson's work is something to check out. That said, the album opens on unsteady grounds as fellow Icelander Asmundur Asmundsson warbles drunkenly through the words to Lou Reed's "Walk On The Wild Side," but as grim drones absorb the voice into the folds of grey vibrations, distant rumblings, and creepy electro-acoustic spasms, The Art Of Dying begins to live up to its name. An isolationist drift and shadow continues for a bit more than 35 minutes before Magnusson introduces a tumbling post-New Wave kaleidoscope of arpeggiated electronics that sounds like the dark sides of Fad Gadget and Heldon melded into a radioactive rhythmic cascade. After this incredible crescendo to the album, Asmundsson returns with another a capella clunker; for his finale, "We Are The World." Disturbing in more ways than one.
Now re-released as a dualdisc with all sorts of extra video footage and goodies. Here's our review of the cd first time around:
Ok, let's see how we can put this without offending anyone. Modest Mouse, they're really popular, we know a lot of folks love this band. And...well, we know a lot of folks (maybe not the same ones) who love the Red Hot Chili Peppers. So, we're not trying to say anything bad about either band -- just that, well, this new Modest Mouse sounds a hell of a lot like the Red Hot Chili Peppers! We were kind of hoping they would shed their ill advised funkiness and revert to their sweetly off kilter indie jangle of old, but alas, it was not to be. But by all means, Modest Mouse fans, don't let that stop you from enjoying this record.
In lieu of the long rumored 3cd, 3 hour, single song Corrupted record (that may be a rumor but we WILL have the new single disc, single hour long track cd El Mundo Frio in the next week or two!) all you drone doom sludge freeks can hold yourself over with this black hole heavy slab of utter crush and total annihilation. Two discs, almost ninety minutes, THREE TRACKS, of impossibly downtuned, ridiculously slow, creeping crawling funereal sludge doooooooooooooooooooom (that's right TWENTY o's, this is some serious doom). This French three piece (four piece at the time this was recorded) trudges the same long, slow and blackened ultradoom path as Khanate, Burning Witch, Corrupted, Boris, Bunkur, Moss and the like. Sounding a bit like Eyehategod, trapped in some sort of dimensional time rift, so each riff is stretched out into an entire song of chugging tarpit riffs, squealing solid state feedback and pounding percussion, each beat so far apart, it's unclear whether the drummer actually plans on coming back with another. And of course insane vocal chord shredding shrieks. Howling banshees and hellish demons ain't got nothing on Monarch's vocalist, who, it might be interesting to point out, is in fact a woman. Not that you would necessarily guess from hearing her demonic screech. But there is definitely a feminine sensibility going on with Monarch. The sort of cutesy heart album cover. The cartoony artwork and website. The random bits of Sanrio silliness, and lots of taking the piss out of black metal and corpsepaint and the whole macho metal thing. Monarch are most definitely the slow motionist, crust sludgiest, satan worshippingest, Sanrio obsessed, Sabbath fixated, cute girl fronted band in the world!
This was super tough to get, each of the three runs of 500 copies selling out before we could get enough to list. So we got a huge chunk of this pressing, but we can't be sure what will happen when these run out, so as always, if we run out, we might not be able to get more.
As some of you already probably know, this limited 12" is a split release on both NYC based post rock label Temprorary Residence, and now-L.A. based thinking man's metal label Hydra Head. Accordingly there are about 7 or 8 different versions, some on Hydra Head, some on TRL, some with different colored labels, but you know what? That's just tough. We have to draw the line somewhere, and it's now right here. We have about 30 copies of the Temporary Residence version, which is already out of print. When we run out of these, we might get some of the HH version(s). Not sure which ones. This collectable vinyl business is beginning to obscure the whole reason we all buy records, because we love music, and we love to hear amazing music, and this record is absolutely fantastic. So try to stop worrying about the color of the vinyl or the number pressed or any of that stuff and just pick this up because it's so damn beautiful. Pelican deliver a massive slice of gorgeously grandiose post rock, sweeping and emotional, melancholy and but weirdly hopeful with its minor key arrangement. Not a trace of 'metal' to be found here. Which is fine by us. Imagine a slightly heavier version of the song that plays during the final scene at the end of the movie, after the boy has gotten the girl and we finally realize everything is going to be okay. It sounds a little like that. Really beautiful. The second track makes up for it though, as James Plotkin (Khanate, Joy of Disease) takes Pelican at their dirgiest / sludgiest and adds tons of extra grind and grit and grrr and effects and crumbling distortion and malfunctioning electronics. Like your favorite Pelican song dipped in blood and rolled in the dirt. Wow.
Mono, who are often touted as being metal, stick closer to their mighty epic post rock sound with a sidelong track that is as Godspeed You Black Emperor as a non-Godspeed band is likely to get. Brooding and melancholy, building to a huge explosive coda, before drifting back into a creeping maudlin dirge, that sort of drifts and fades into the dark. So nice. And as we mentioned before, far too limited.
You would think that the more you listen to a record, the easier it would be to write about, but for us sometimes the exact opposite seems to be true. The more a record seeps into your consciousness, the more it takes on all these ineffable qualities that are incredibly hard to describe in words. It's a rare record that can do that, but when it happens, it's all about feeling and emotion, the way the record affects you, makes you think, makes you feel, even if it just makes you want to jump around and sing along at the top of your lungs. Or drive with the stereo blasting, in a goosebumpy fume thinking sad thoughts. Or walk around in the fog and mist, just wandering aimlessly. Or just rock out and forget everything. And it's the record that can make you feel all of those things and then some that's even more rare. This is most definitely one of those records.
Being the sort of store we are, we get super obsessed with ultra weird records and bizarre niche genres, all of which we love to bits, be it drones or found sounds or sludge or power pop or black metal or whatever. But sometimes it takes a good ol' rock record to kick your ass and push all those buttons that without realizing it, have remained relatively un-pushed for years. 2003's Let Go, Nada Surf's first record since they were chewed up and spit out by the major label / MTV machine in the late nineties (after a huge hit in 1995) was a breath of fresh air at the time, a gorgeous indie rock record, full of impossibly catchy hooks, wry, bittersweet lyrics, perfect jangle guitar, just some of the best fucking songs we'd heard in ages. Songs that so far surpassed their former incarnation as a major label MTV rock band it was a little hard to believe it was the same band. A record so good in fact, that lots of metalheads and punk rockers we know even LOVED it. And around these parts it was one of the most listened to records of the last few years.
So we were super psyched when we heard there was a new Nada Surf on the horizon. On first listen though, it sounded just a bit too happy. But why wouldn't it, they had reinvented themselves, and were on a super hip indie label, and folks (the right folks this time) loved their band. Made sense that perhaps it would be a little less cynical and jaded, especially after the cathartic bile and vitriol of Let Go. But the more we listened, the more we realized, it was just as bitter and dark if not more so, just more self assured, better produced, songs that were even catchier, but in that way that classic songs are catchy, they take time to grow, and as they do, they become ultra personal, every song, and every favorite part having some direct correlation to your life, or some special meaning for everyone who listens. Each melody makes you want to sing along, or just close your eyes and think along in your head. We still thought the first record was better, until we went back and listened, and realized, that while the old record was still great, this new record took everything they were shooting for with the that one, and hit perfect bullseyes with every track on The Weight Is A Gift. Not a weak song anywhere, not a bit of filler. In fact some songs have so many killer parts, and so many hooks, any other band would more than likely turn every song here into two, or even three. All the parts are the stuff of classic indie rock, jangly guitars, sometimes roaring into a distorted big chorus fury, sometimes fading into a moody near ambient strum, simple basslines, drumming with fills as catchy as any of the songs' hooks (think Nirvana), gorgeous vocal harmonies, and really intense and clever and heartfelt lyrics, and most importantly, some of the catchiest songs ever. From dreamy, dreary slow building ballads, to full on rocking barnburners, to straight ahead sounding nineties style college rock, to more modern indie pop, Nada Surf while sounding totally unique, should definitely fit comfortably in your collections and in your ears, right alongside the Wrens, Yo La Tengo, Neutral Milk Hotel, Sparklehorse, Interpol, Olivia Tremor Control, New Pornographers, Flaming Lips, Pavement, Now It's Overhead, and all the other modern indie 'classics'. But for us, there's something about Nada Surf that makes them stand out, even among such an elite indie crowd. Again, it's that impossible to describe something, so personal and intimate, even at their most rocking, that just hits us right in the heart. And the soul. The true test for us though as always, is how often you find yourself listening to something. Sure we've been loving all sorts of doom and drone and black metal, but we always find ourselves throwing this back on, again and again, all the time, every day. And loving it more and more every time.
Packaged with a cool die-cut cityscape sleeve with lyrics, and while supplies last a bonus disc including two unreleased tracks, a demo version of the opening track, and a Francoise Hardy cover!
How do you like this amazing bargain? Two jam-packed discs of Gary Numan live recordings for only $10.98, and it's by no means at the expense of quality! All three volumes of his Living Ornaments trilogy are fantastic live documents not only of Numan in his prime as a fine composer and dynamic showman, but also of analog synthesizers being performed in the rock arena. They (and the bandmembers playing them) were seriously put through a workout during these concerts. Keep in mind that analog synth sounds aren't preset, and those instruments also had a habit of drifting out of tune. So that means if the synth player required a different sound he would need to specifically dial it in each time (adjusting all the necessary parameters... often quite a complex process). Certainly makes these performances all the more awesome and a blast to hear a quarter of a decade later! Not to mention Numan's unmistakable, expressive vocals and masterly compositions. This is the real deal! It's definitely none of that lame preset arpeggiated excuse for synth music that's been plaguing our ears of late. It's unfortunate that Numan gets lumped in with the vacuous '80s new wavers 'cause music has so much more depth, both compositionally and emotionally. Seriously, if "Cars" hadn't been such a big hit (and thus thereafter unfairly condemning Numan to 'one-hit-wonder' status), his body of work would be viewed in a much different light (probably more critically lauded, and albeit probably much less widely popularized). An added bonus are all of the live photos of the spectacular stage and lighting set-up. He truly reciprocated all the love his fans bestowed upon him. Stunning! Completists will probably want all three volumes (there's some repeating of songs throughout), but if you think you only want one then this is the one to get!
How do you like this amazing bargain? Two jam-packed discs of Gary Numan live recordings for only $10.98, and it's by no means at the expense of quality! All three volumes of his Living Ornaments trilogy are fantastic documents not only of Numan in his prime as a fine composer and dynamic showman, but also of analog synthesizers being performed in the rock arena. They (and the bandmembers playing them) were seriously put through a workout during these concerts. Keep in mind that analog synth sounds aren't preset, and those instruments also had a habit of drifting out of tune. So that means if the synth player required a different sound he would need to specifically dial it in each time (adjusting all the necessary parameters... often quite a complex process). Certainly makes these performances all the more awesome and a blast to hear a quarter of a decade later! Not to mention Numan's unmistakable, expressive vocals and masterly compositions. This is the real deal! It's definitely none of that lame preset arpeggiated excuse for synth music that's been plaguing our ears of late. It's unfortunate that Numan gets lumped in with the vacuous '80s new wavers 'cause music has so much more depth, both compositionally and emotionally. Seriously, if "Cars" hadn't been such a big hit (and thus thereafter unfairly condemning Numan to 'one-hit-wonder' status), his body of work would be viewed in a much different light (probably more critically lauded, and albeit probably much less widely popularized). An added bonus are all of the live photos of the spectacular stage and lighting set-up. He truly reciprocated all the love his fans bestowed upon him. Stunning! Completists will probably want all three volumes (there's some repeating of songs throughout), but if you wanna start with one then Living Ornaments '79 is the one to get first.
How do you like this amazing bargain? Two jam-packed discs of Gary Numan live recordings for only $10.98, and it's by no means at the expense of quality! All three volumes of his Living Ornaments trilogy are fantastic documents not only of Numan in his prime as a fine composer and dynamic showman, but also of analog synthesizers being performed in the rock arena. They (and the bandmembers playing them) were seriously put through a workout during these concerts. Keep in mind that analog synth sounds aren't preset, and those instruments also had a habit of drifting out of tune. So that means if the synth player required a different sound he would need to specifically dial it in each time (adjusting all the necessary parameters... often quite a complex process). Certainly makes these performances all the more awesome and a blast to hear a quarter of a decade later! Not to mention Numan's unmistakable, expressive vocals and masterly compositions. This is the real deal! It's definitely none of that lame preset arpeggiated excuse for synth music that's been plaguing our ears of late. It's unfortunate that Numan gets lumped in with the vacuous '80s new wavers 'cause music has so much more depth, both compositionally and emotionally. Seriously, if "Cars" hadn't been such a big hit (and thus thereafter unfairly condemning Numan to 'one-hit-wonder' status), his body of work would be viewed in a much different light (probably more critically lauded, and albeit probably much less widely popularized). An added bonus are all of the live photos of the spectacular stage and lighting set-up. He truly reciprocated all the love his fans bestowed upon him. Stunning! Completists will probably want all three volumes (there's some repeating of songs throughout), but if you wanna start with one then Living Ornaments '79 is the one to get first.
Over the past few years, we have made quite a fuss over the free-noise / dronescraping scene out of New Zealand, as perenially great artists such as the Dead C, Birchville Cat Motel, Flies Inside The Sun, Surface Of The Earth, RST, Eso Steel, Seht, Peter Wright, and many others form a population that is proportionally way larger than countries many many times the size of New Zealand. Amongst all of those NZ artists we mentioned, there is another artist who gets name-checked from time to time: Omit. At one time back in the mid-90s, Clinton Williams -- the sole knob twiddler and tape-splicer behind Omit -- put all of today's hyper-prolific cd-r artists to shame with his own stream of releases through his own cassette and lathe-cut imprint Deep Skin. An artist whose paranoiac aesthetic was completely wrapped up in the bunker mentality of '70s analogue electronics, Omit never really made the logical transition by updating from cassette to cd-r, having only re-released a fraction of his old tapes on disc, the Rejector reissued on Anomalous, the Quad boxset released on Corpus Hermeticum and now the monumental double disc set Tracer, rescued from obsolescence by The Helen Scarsdale Agency.
While Williams calls the tiny farming comunity of Blenheim, New Zealand his home, there is very little in his work that latches upon the gristled noise and feral folk tunes heard in many of his fellow New Zealanders. Instead, his work sprawls from the sci-fi bleakness that ran through the post-psychedelic explorations of German electronics, most notably Klaus Schulze, Conrad Schnitzler, and Cluster. At the same time, Omit's kosmische homage stands as an eerie parallel to the Raster-Noton sound that ripples with Omit's millenial horror, albeit through the sterility of digital production. Comparisons have also been made to early '80s Cabaret Voltaire, but Omit is infinitely better in executing his ideas than CV ever were. It could be said that Mr. Williams is a man in the wrong time, in the wrong part of the world; and all things considered, Mr. Williams would probably like it that way. Perhaps the best way to make the world's most isolating music is to be thoroughly isolated oneself.
Following his previous work on Anomalous and Corpus Hermeticum, Tracer demonstrates a finely crafted execution in these bleak, isolationist recordings. The slow moving synth sweeps, creeping electric atmospheres, unnerving loops of mechanized clamour, and low-slung rhythmic austerity have all of the trappings of industrial culture strategies in using technology to critique technology's alienation over mankind; yet, Omit has never really stated what this is about, instead leaving hints that Omit is merely a reflection of Clinton Williams' soul expressed through blighted electronic hypnosis. Emotive expressionism isn't something you think of when it comes to Cabaret Voltaire or Throbbing Gristle, but that's the ground where Williams has consistently tred. You would be hard pressed to find an electronic album as majestic, melancholy, and profoundly human as Tracer.
Probably some of you have seen this movie. I (Allan) have not (Andee has, and LOVES it)... but I do have an idea of what it's about. Don't think I'll be seeing it anytime soon, although by all accounts Italian director Roggero Deodato's horrific 1979 'mockumentary' (or 'shockumentary' perhaps) Cannibal Holocaust is a classic of '70s Italian horror films, said to be super intense, ultra-violent, and gorily realistic (so much so that it was falsely rumored to be an actual snuff film). But I am enjoying the soundtrack by Riz Ortolani, which by itself is unlikely to give anyone any nightmares, unless kitschy '70s film scores somehow frighten you, mixing (as this one does) maudlin string orchestration for lush romantic themes, wakka-wakka funk vamps, and eerie synths a la Goblin. Check out the porno-groove of "Cameramen's Recreation" or the jazz/disco numbers like the one called "Drinking Coco" that also boasts a pretty wild distorto-guitar solo. Meanwhile, one of the loveliest tracks is entitled "Crucified Woman"! Titles like that (which Andee says is indeed appropriate), and the raw, menacing electronic creep-out soundscapes that filter into the disc amidst the brighter and more melodic material, will remind you that this is music for a horror movie after all. Plus the cover picture of course.
We're pretty sure this soundtrack is on a lot of fans' wish lists, so it's nice that this has finally been properly released on cd, remastered and complete with bonus cd-rom video material including the theatrical trailer and an interview with Ortolani.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY. A super limited release from James Plotkin of Khanate, Joy Of Disease, Flux and OLD. He's also the mixer and re-mixer of some of your favorite heavy records. Recorded live in 2003 at Tonic in New York, Kurtlanmak features Plotkin performing solo using guitar, laptop and various electronics, unfurling thirty minutes of gorgeous processed guitar, that slips seamlessly from dreamy backwards processed melodies, to Fennesz like warm snatches of sepia toned riffery, to the distant drones of what sounds like rumbling creaking machinery, or a midnight stroll through a long abandoned tunnel, to super percussive, heavily delayed guitar weirdness, to rich almost folky strumming (albeit still a bit twisted and strangely affected) to full on, warm and rich, smeared guitar bliss out. Limited to 200, we tried to order 50 but only got 20 so act fast. Packaged in a cool cardstock sleeve, with a silkscreened and hand numbered paste-on frontpiece.
We're still hearing the "residual echoes" of this Santa Cruz based band's self-titled debut record from earlier this year ringing in our ears...and now, here's their follow-up release already. No complaints about that though, we love these guys!!
Phoenician Flu and Atlantic Ocean offers up all the druggy, damaged psych-rock fans of the band could hope for. Blasting off with the deleriously lo-fi, Sabbath-on-SST stomp of "Death Comes For The Archbishop" its evident right away that this record is gonna be a heavy one, indeed this track gets totally ripping metal (in a Seventies way) in spots. But then, you'll also find some rather folky stuff on here as well (borrowings from Nick Drake and the Carter Family are both credited in the liner notes). It's a blend that anyone into Residual Echoes' pals Comets Of Fire will already dig, though if anything, the Echoes are even more shambolic than the most fucked up Comets stuff! This record is a wrestling match of the boogie vs. the drone and it doesn't much matter which one wins.
Yes indeedy, Holy Mountain has put out some great releases. But we'd say that an adventurous listener scaling the Holy Mountain's heights would probably find Residual Echoes rockin' out at one of the toppermost peaks! Recommended!
We were totally blown away by the last Rigor Sardonicous record, a massive crushing black hole slab of funereal doooooooom (WAY more than two o's!) with its slow motion sludge, impossibly guttural vocals, but more importantly (to us at least) was what we dubbed "the most evil cymbal in the world", a huge trashcan like crash, that punctuated almost every measure. As we reasoned, it HAD to be the most evil cymbal in the world, why else was it so frigging HIGH in the mix?! To praise the Dark One of course. And while the ridiculous aspect certainly appealed to us, the 'evil cymbal' only added an extra element to what undoubtedly would have been a completely amazing doom record anyway. But add the evil cymbal and we've got a metal record of the year contender for sure. But now we have a brand new record, or more accurately a brand new recording, as these tracks are re-recorded versions of the band's pre-Principia Sardonica demo. So now, if the weirdly mixed cymbal was a fluke or a recording mistake, here's a chance for the band to fix it, change the levels, record it correctly. But they didn't!! In fact just the opposite! Which most definitely proves the 'evil cymbal' theory!! The cymbals, yes there are more than one, are EVEN LOUDER, clanging and clanking even more dark praise to the most evil one. In fact every aspect of Apocalypsis Damnare pushes all the stuff we loved about the first record even further. The riffs are thicker and slower, hugely sludgey and downtuned. There's more bizarre stuttering double kick drums, and the vocals are SO low, they are dangerously close to dipping below the boundaries of human hearing. A rumbling subsonic gurgle that sort of just drips like tar all over these tracks. And that would already be enough to kick our asses for sure. Maybe the heaviest slowest 'funereal doom' record since Skepticism's Stormcrowfleet or Thergothon's Stream From The Heavens. But then there's those 'evil' cymbals. Holy fuck?!?! Like giant dented trashcan lids, a massive clattery crash demarcating the ponderous plodding rhythms. Imagine UK ultradoom outfit Esoteric, jamming in the garage, spewing that thick viscous doom we love so, while neighborhood kids stood outside throwing bones and sticks at the metal garage door. So weird. And so completely genius.
Steve Roden is the man who coined the term 'lowercase sound' to describe his own strategies in constructing a delicate minimalism out of very quiet sounds, subtle melodic phrases, and subtle looping structures. While many sound artists operate under the lowercase banner, Roden alongside Bernhard Gunter have long remained at the vangarde of this aesthetic and conceptual art form. With Gunter moving further and further down the path of improvisation, Roden's intuitive constructions of gossamer electrons are still as modest as ever, but have clearly developed into one of the strongest artistic statements in modern electronics.
Airforms was commissioned for an installation at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art in 2004. Inspired by the spray concrete architectural forms of Wallace Neff who in turn drew inspiration from nautilus shells, Roden designed an installtion of concrete sprayed balloons as an homage to the Neff houses. While these objects -- which sort of looked like a Dr. Seuss variation on Eva Hess sculptures -- were not used to construct the accompanying musical score, they succeeded in communicating an empathic delicacy and sadness along with the music. For the CD release of Airforms, Roden reconstructed the sound elements for stereo listening. As beautiful as it is modest, the Airforms CD ripples with a slow procession of of abstracted pipe organ loops periodically scratched with distant crackle.
We were quite lucky to have Jack Rose perform an instore last year, and it was amazing to see these steel string ragas performed live. We were all mesmerized by his unique take on Fahey-esque neo-Appalachia. It's unbelievable how in the right hands just a guitar can conjure up such a massive sound and so much emotion and Mr. Rose is definitely one of the finest examples currently practicin'. If you're familiar with the music of John Fahey you have a good idea of Rose's basic sound (he even covers Fahey's "Sunflower River Blues" here), but his years spent in the free drone group Pelt has definitely informed not only his guitar playing, but also his song writing. Some of the tracks on Kensington Blues are straight up stompers, sounding like they have to be standards, foot tapping hand clapping classic backwoods frontporch folk/blues. But others are dark and brooding, with intricate finger picking, producing all manner of buzzing overtones, and subtle harmonic coloring. Those are the tracks where Rose shines the most, when he digs deep, and explores the darker side of this music, and lets the notes stretch and buzz, sliding and scraping, letting notes drift and hover and eventually blur into shimmery drones and hypnotic stretches of cycle and repetition.
Whoa! We were taken by surprise (in several ways) by the sudden appearance of a new album from Japanese black metal mavericks Sigh. We all loved the avant garde, psychedelic, stoner rock horror show of their 2001 disc Imaginary Sonicscape but we hadn't heard much about them since. Well, the press release for Gallows Gallery explains that this sixth Sigh opus was recorded last year but Century Media, previous label, refused to release it because it allegedly makes use of experimental, illegal "sonic weapon techniques" developed during World War II! Warning is given that this album could be hazardous to the listener's health -- in fact, supposedly one of the members of Sigh was hospitalized during the recording sessions due to the effects of this sonic weapon stuff. But... we're having a hard time believing all that! If you're expecting some sort of bowel-rupturing, flesh-decaying subsonic rumble you'll have to get a different cd (I'm sure we can find you something). Listening to this record is more likely to leave one puzzled rather than sickened.
Having heard it, our guess is that the REAL reason that Century Media dropped Sigh is that, even by Sigh's previous standards, this is just so darn eccentric, confusing, and (to us) amusing. We're thinking that if this "sonic weapon" stuff exists, it operates in the realm of psychological warfare, 'cause it does seem possible that this music could drive a person insane. IT certainly is! Kind of like the way a catchy jingle might drive you crazy. They've definitely upped the pop element of their sound here. That's right, POP. But not normal pop that could ever be, uh, popular. No this is weird...weird....weird. And it's still metal of course. Just not black metal really, more like European "power metal" with speedy drums and hooky choruses. But their voices are kind of chipmunky, and there's weird effects, psychedelic organ jamming, throat singing, sitars and saxophones... Yup, their genre-fuckery is still in full effect. This might sound like Dag Nasty punk one second, Iron Maiden metal the next, with a schmaltzy lounge-jazz interlude following that! And the James Bond theme gets hinted at as well. Totally the sort of thing that should be on Trey Spruance's Mimicry label, though it's on Baphomet instead.
Apparently whatever Japanese insane asylum wherein the guys in Sigh reside allows visitors, as this album features members of the Meads Of Asphodel (who are about the only band in the world that we'd say are all that similar to Sigh!), Necrophagia, The Red Chord, Yakuza, Dark Tranquility, Firewind, and Thine, helping out with the shredding guitar runs, dramatic narration, saxophone solos, and things like that. Someone else also contributes a trancey techno remix of one of the album's songs at the end of the disc, preceeded by the untitled electronic noises of track ten, which we suspect might be the "weaponized" one. So...be careful, especially since it's gonna require repeated exposure to ever figure this album out.
WE LOVE THIS BAND!!! Those of you who have been with us since the beginning will no doubt be well aware of our love affair with these UK power poppers. They played one of the best instores we've ever had, Andee's old band P.E.E. toured with Silver Sun when they were here (Silver Sun's first US tour, P.E.E.'s last tour ever!), and we sold tons and tons of their other two records. And it's no surprise. Silver Sun write unbelivable songs, with super crunchy kick ass guitars, and maybe the best harmony vocals we've ever heard. It's been six or seven years since their last full length, the band even broke up for a while, until frontman James beagn recording a new Silver Sun record and realized that it wouldn't be the same without the rest of the band, so they got together and came up with Disappear Here. Their first record was a buzzsaw blast of Beach Boys, Queen, Supertramp, Jellyfish, Zumpano and the Posies. The second record, Neo Wave, appropriate to the title was was more angular and eighties and, well, new wave. But for Disappear Here, they've gone back to their power popping of old, maybe even going a bit farther, adding even more sugar and sweetness to their musclely pop. In fact they sound a lot like later Redd Kross (with maybe a bit less of RK's kitsch obsessed jaded hipster vibe) which is a VERY GOOD thing. So take the above list of bands, add Redd Kross, and maybe some Banana Splits, some Xanadu perhaps, even more harmonies, and still more big ultra catchy choruses, and you are looking at THE power pop record of the year. Can't figure out why these guys aren't HUGE!
Yay! Yaaay! Finally the long-overdue domestic release of a bunch of albums by one of Andee and Cup's all-time fave Canadian pop bands... SLOAN! Yaaaaaaaaaay! Before the New Pornographers, before Arcade Fire, before Hot Hot Heat, before Godspeed You Black Emperor, Bassist Chris Murphy, drummer Andrew Scott, and dual guitarists Jay Ferguson and Patrick Pentland were rockin' and representin' for the land of the maple leaf! Twice Removed is by far Cup's favoritest album of theirs. She pretty much knows it by heart. So does Andee in fact! Perhaps you'll wanna get geekily acquainted too -- y'know, be able to distinguish a Chris song from an Andrew one or be able to recognize Jay's guitar playing from Patrick's? A general rule of thumb: the oft-falsetto-piped Murphy writes a lot of the more bombastic power pop songs such as the lead-off track "Penpals" which reportedly was based on a sneak peek at their former DGC labelmates Nirvana's fanmail, the angelic voiced Ferguson pens the peppier boyish pop tunes such as "Snowsuit Sound" (a definite album highlight if you had to single one out and maybe one of the greatest pop songs EVER!), bespectacled Pentland's contributes many of the slower heartfelt romantic numbers, and the drollest of the bunch Scott inserts a bit of slightly eccentric artiness. And that's not even taking into consideration how they support one another, fleshing out each song with great multi-part harmony backing vocals which elevate things to a whole 'nother level. Soooo good! With each of the four bandmembers contributing an equal share of the songwriting and singing, it's not difficult at all to imagine each of the fellows leading his own band, but fortunately for us they haven't 'cause of course their chemistry does add that significant intangible extra 'something'. While other bands frequently go through line-up changes with varying degrees of success, the founding foursome have stuck together for over a dozen years and maintained their high pop standard and their seemingly inexhaustible fountain of hooks that balances brains and balls. Ultra highly recommended, and if you disagree, well then you'll have to face the wrath of Cup (and Andee too)!
Could a band have a more perfect name? And an album a more perfect title? In this case, no. Slomo's The Creep is EXACTLY that. Creepy, creeping, slow motion music. One hour, one track, improvised and recorded live with minimal overdubs and "zero eye-contact" (it kinda sounds like it was recorded in total darkness, in fact). The ominous subterranean echoing seismic sounds of Slomo are the work of the UK's Chris McGrail and Howard Marsden. McGrail, as you might have guessed, is also the main guy behind heavy psych-dronesters Holy McGrail, whose Collecting Earthquakes was highlighted here last list. This heavy-lidded, cave-dwelling creature is a different, more somnolent beast, but if you liked that Holy McGrail disc we think you might like Slomo's The Creep too. It's something akin to a narcotized Earth or Black Boned Angel, but played with the spacious, quiet restraint of Bohren & Der Club Of Gore. The crunchy feedback on offer is both spooky and soothing. Appropriately, the cd booklet contains an old rhyme on the subject of this duo's namesake, a folkloric character known as Slomo for his generally slow and slothful ways. The final line says of Slomo: "Whose detractors do call static... but whose champions call Ecstasis?" Clearly McGrail and Marsden are of hold to the latter opinion, as do we.
This is a professional duplicated cd-r with quite lovely artwork, released in a limited edition of just 100 copies on Julian Cope's own cd-r label. We did get a bunch, but that's it, when they're gone we won't be able to get any more...so you'd better not be a Slomo yourself if you want one!
Back in the spring we received a mysterious email that read as follows:
"We would like to introduce to the most radical band in Humboldt county and maybe North America---Starving Weirdos. You're probably pretty busy but we have TEN full length albums recorded and they are fucking good. So we figured what the hell, maybe you could listen to 1 or 2."
I have to say we were a bit impressed with these guys' moxie! Ten full lengths, all fucking good? So, we bit. Told them to go ahead and send a couple for us to check out. A few days later we received a big ol' box in the mail with ALL TEN full length cd-rs with a note explaining that they couldn't decide which two were the best since they were all so good. Well, alright. Must admit we were a bit skeptical based soley on the name, a little goofy, but Andee decided to go for it and listen to all ten (actually all FOURTEEN, as they sent a second batch a few weeks later!). And you know what, they WERE all fucking good. Fucking great in fact. But ten discs is a bit much for most folks to swallow, so the 'Weirdos put together this three track cd-r with their favorite tracks just for sale at AQ. So what's it sound like? It's gorgeous and droney, abstract and extremely actively ambient. Maybe somewhere between Sunroof!, the Dead C, Fflint Central, and Avarus. They would be right at home on Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, or Pseudoarcana, or any of the other killer cd-r labels everyone freaks out about. In fact if any of you cd-r label types are reading this, get in touch and help these guys get all their records into the ears of people who need them! The first track sounds a little like Sunroof and Birchville Cat Motel playing live in a gymnasium DURING basketball practice. Extended peals of feeding back guitars, streaks of white hot upper register shimmer, wheezing toy instruments, reverberating high end scrape and squeal, with random abstract rhythms constructed from heavily reverbed slaps and whaps, like foot stomps and rubber ball bouncing. The whole thing wrapped in gauzy reverb and all warm and thick and creeping along like a big fuzzy caterpillar in the noonday sun. Track two is a similarly abstract and spacious soundscape, but less sun drenched and a little bit more claustrophobic, a dense swirl of blurred vocals, and rumbling machinery, and tinkling chiming percussion that sounds like a railroad crossing gate gone haywire, and that over the course of its twelve minutes manages to become simultaneously more and more epic, and more and more dark and dismal. The final track is a twenty minute free noise, tribal ambient workout, reminiscent of No Neck Blues Band, Anaksimandros, Avarus and Sunburned Hand Of The Man. A slow shifting framework of super distorted chiming plucked guitars, that on closer listening could instead be a blown out recording of some ramshackle gamelans, random and clattery, but all warm and fuzzy, with haunting high end melodies, cobbled together from various whistles and wheezes, tweets and trills. About halfway through the track shifts abruptly into a more subdued soundfield: subtly shifting layers of high end buzz, swoop and slip over and under each other, a constantly moving high pitched drone, pulsing and fluctuating, completely mesmerizing.
Absolutely essential listening for fans of Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Birchville Cat Motel, Sunburned Hand Of The Man, No Neck Blues Band, Avarus. Burning Star Core, Double Leopards, Hwyl Nofio, MCMS and all things CPsiP, Pseudoarcana, Rhizome, Lal Lal Lal, Last Visible Dog and the like.
And if you find yourself particularly smitten by the Starving Weirdos and decide you need all 14 of their cd-r's, drop us a line and we can probably put you in touch with those guys.
We're big ol' Thrones fans here, and so the arrival of a third Thrones opus the other day was pretty darn exciting! It's been five years since the magnificent Sperm Whale, after all! And we're happy to report that Day Late, Dollar Short, despite its title, does not disappoint in any way (though, it's not exactly an entirely new album, more on that in a sec). Now, you know that the double necked guitart/bass wielding Joe Preston -- for he is Thrones and Thrones is he -- has quite the heaviness pedigree. He's played in the unholy heavy trinity of Earth, the Melvins, and SUNNO))), and he's currently the bassist for stoner metal lords High On Fire. Thus, from his one-man-band project Thrones you'd expect nothing less than H-E-A-V-Y, and you'd be right. But it's more than merely heavy. Thrones ain't just rubbery, head-caving bass, lotsa feedback nastiness, machine beats, and throat-rasped vox. Thrones is also really, really weird. As you'd expect from Joe, who used to be in the Melvins after all. There's certainly plenty of Melvins style fuckery going on here!
I mean, after the sheer noxious pummel (we like!) of track one, "The Suckling", you'll wonder what's going on with track two, "Young Savage". Punky and uptempo, with a gang-vocal chorus, it threw us for a bit of a loop until we figured out it was an Ultravox cover. That's then followed by the disarmingly gentle (but disturbingly child-voiced) "Algol". What's going on? Whatever the heck Joe wants, basically. And that's okay 'cause what he wants is to unleash a torrent of creativity that encompasses such things as utter sludge drone dirge, Buttholes Surfers-ish mania, indie rock pop (with some non-effected, clean singing even), drum machines kickin' old school hip hop beats, crazy prog structures, all-out rawk, thrashy riffs, electronic filtering, etc... almost all of which you'll hear in, say, track fifteen, "Obolus", which starts off doing the Melvinsy doom thing but with Bruce Haack/Electric Lucifer robot singing before segueing into a soundscape of bird twitters, bells and chimes, and waves of white noise (this from the "soundtrack" to La Foresta Della Norte). Then there's all the crazy covers that Joe tries his hand at: along with the Ultravox, this includes a Residents cover, a Blue Oyster Cult cover, and yes, unreleased track "A Quick One" is indeed a cover of a portion of the Who's "A Quick One While He's Away". Wow. Not afraid of a challenge, this guy.
And we do mean "unleash a torrent" -- there's 19 tracks here, almost 80 minutes of Thrones insanity, much of it compiled from rare, out-of-print singles, cassettes and comps, with some previously unreleased tracks as well, spanning the years 1994-2001. The lovely, bunny-adorned packaging (Mr. Stephen O'Malley, take a bow) also features personal notes on each track by Joe hizzelf. Here's hoping that he'll find time away from his regular gig in High On Fire to do a real *brand new* Thrones album... but in the meantime we're happy to have this "incomplete collection of smaller projects" all on one handy cd.
It's been several years since we last heard from Finland's mysterious drone ensemble Tiermes, and even then it was an ultra limited (100 copies) cd-r packaged with a sheet of rusted metal. So odds are a lot of folks have yet to discover the mystickal black drone beauty of Tiermes. So a last here we have their only actual in-print cd release and it's nothing short of astounding. Again lovingly hand packaged, this time the cd is housed in a thick cardstock sleeve, wrapped in an unbelievably gorgeous two sided poster (so ultra detailed and intense, very reminiscent of Nick Blinko's artwork for Rudimentary Peni), the whole thing wrapped in thick black paper and tied up with twine. A dark and mysterious package that perfectly reflects the music within. Three lengthy tracks, the first, a glistening shimmer of minimal drone, like delicate layers made up of the overtones of struck bells or Tibetan bowls, a slowly radiating reverberation, that drifts and fades, like ripples in a black pond. The second track hints at Tiermes mainman Jussi Saivo's Finnish rock pedigree (an early member of Circle and a member of Ovalki with the -other- Jussi from Circle) with ten minutes of ultra distorted electric bass, and a strange minimal squelchy rhythm, very Circular and hypnotic, the same figure repeated over and over. a gorgeous ultra simple meditation in dirge drone. Might hit the spot for adventurous SUNNO))) / Earth / Boris / Corrupted fans. The final track is a massive 40 minute track, or shimmering crystalline drone, very similar in makeup to the first track, but stretched even further out, with even more overtones and distant drones added to the mix as well as some strange minimal percussion. A truly otherworldly ambience, darkly dreamy and absolutely lovely. As beautiful and breathtaking as anything by Chalk, Coleclough, Basinski, Mirror, Monos, Ora or any of our other favorite dronologists.
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The one real drawback with the AQ list and the website and the reviews, is that there are so many new records, more and more every week, that it makes it quite difficult to go back and try to review releases that for one reason or another never got listed. In the case of the first volume of Revenant's amazing American Primitive series, a collection of rare and lost pre war gospel music, covering the years from 1926-1936, it was originally released in 1997, way back when the AQ list was still in it's infancy we weren't quite so thorough as we try to be now! Which is a shame as that was probably one of the most gorgeous documents of gospel and blues we had ever heard. We kept planning to review and list it, eventually it went out of print (fear not though, it's due to be reissued soon).
Here we are eight years later, and volume two is finally here, bigger and better then the first in almost every way. It's sadly one of the very last releases compiled and assembled by John Fahey right before his death. Volume two is a double disc, with a HUGE booklet, with extensive liner notes on each track and each artist. Most fascinatingly, this American Primitive installment takes us even farther back, all the way back to 1897 in the case of the comp's earliest track. The rest of the tracks were recorded between 1926 and 1939. And as you might imagine, this is absolutely stunning, haunting, beautiful stuff. Emotional and heartfelt, haunting and otherworldly, some tracks cloaked in record static and murky mystery, some joyful and jaunty and crystal clear. An amazing glimpse into our musical past.
The liner notes constantly refer to this collection being full of ghosts and spirits and phantoms, and it really is, literally, each song is the legacy of a life, their loves, their spirituality, their legacy, but sonically as well, the whole compilation is a ghostly, long faded musical photograph of a time that once was, washed out, sepia toned, faded and browned around the edges, each track viewed through a broken old screen door, or a yellowed window pane, all of their musical hope and despair, a hundred plus years of life and death, love and loss, heaven and hell, audible in the rough patina of hiss and static and fuzz and buzz that lovingly wraps each note, every voice raised in praise, in a warm fuzzy, hazy cloak. Gorgeous and timeless rhythm and blues, folk and gospel, rich with the sort of sonic imperfections and recording inconsistancies we love so much, the sounds and textures modern musicians toil endlessly to recreate (think Basinski, Jeck, Saule, Tim Hecker). Essential for fans of all things Smithsonian Folkways, Yazoo, and Arhoolie, but also in its own unique way, a gorgeous fuzzy soundscape of rhythm and blues, like sitting in a snowbound cabin, around a roaring fire, with Philip Jeck and Christian Marclay, spinning old '78's on a vintage victrola. So so perfect!
This is most definitely a lost corner of old timey rhythm and blues music that we had not really thought about too much, let alone even considered there could be a huge amount of lost and undiscovered music worth collecting and releasing. But all we can say now is WOAH. It would take a lot for any collection to rival the also recently released second volume of American Primitive early 20th century gospel recordings, but this one comes darn close. Unlike American Primitive, with its haunting otherworldliness, the tracks here are more about fun and entertainment. This was post Civil War, before radio, or TV, when folks often got their entertainment (as well as elixers and whatnot) from travelling medicine shows. Two discs of fun and funny, playful, foot stomping, catchy and kooky, even a bit randy and risque. Twangy guitars, banjo, fiddle, even kazoo woven together into rollicking blues vamps underpinning tales of no good women, no good men, food, money, cars, cats and dogs, sickness, cops, parents and anything else folks might worry or obsess or want to hear songs about. Packaged in a beautiful six panel digipak, with a MASSIVE seventy page book packed with liner notes on each performer and every track, tales of old medicine shows, an eyewitness acount of travelling in a medicine show, and an amazing batch of rare and never before seen photos!
Like prog? Like psych? Well hey, check it out, the bands on this comp are all what the compilers consider to be "prog/psych", a hybrid that flourished circa '69-'72 as the psychedelic sixties transitioned into the progressive rock era of the seventies. Give a listen and you'll see what they mean, even if such musical taxonomy is a generally vague pursuit. The deal there is that even though prog is known as an album-oriented genre, that didn't stop bands who hoped to make the Top of the Pops from cutting some killer singles, obscure though they may be (fortunately each track is annotated in the cd booklet with a few tidbits of information). The bands, all from the UK, include: The Rats, Rescue No.1, Triconderoga, Eire Apparent, Rumplestiltskin, The Imposters, Glass Managerie, The Open Mind, Nancy, The Montanas, Raw Material, Opus (who do a dead-on rip-off of Led Zep), Putney Bridge, The Fruit Machine, Andromeda, Rumble, Rare Bird, and Walrus. Many of 'em we've never heard of before, though we certainly do remember the Triconderoga track ("Speaking My Mind") from the excellent Cherrystones Rocks compilation Lo Recordings put out a while back. If you liked that comp, or the "hairy funk" of Andy Votel's Vertigo Mixed cd, this may also be up your alley. Lots of organ grooves, wailing vocals, fuzzed out guitars, and catchy beats make the scene here. Bombastic horn sections, sweet melodies, and heavy riffs all coexist in these tracks. Maybe the so-called "prog/psych" documented here truly is a long-lost hybrid genre of music, nobody does stuff like this anymore do they??
Finally someone has seen fit to re-press and re-release all the amazing early French black metal, precursors to everything we now hold grim and true and cult. Mutiilation, Belketre, Togeist, Vlad Tepes and more. Vlad Tepes, might be the most legendary (outside of Mutiilation who seem to be the only one of those bands to still be playing / recording) perhaps due to the scarcity of recordings or maybe the ridiculous monies fetched by originals on eBay. But the music is as vital and brutal as ever, even a cursory listen reveals plenty of sonic similarities to current BM bigwigs Xasthur, Leviathan, Nachtmystium and the like. Thick swaths of blackened buzz abound, but all wrapped around mournful minor key riffing and all sorts of fingerpicked melancholy melodies. There's also some serious eighties true metal worship going on, with some almost NWOBHM sounding riffs and LEADS, you sure won't here most modern black metal bands letting loose way up on the fret board. But it suits the shound, a sloppy, ultra distorted, buzz drenched blurry black metal, recorded white hot, loud vocals (that's sometimes seriously freaked out, swerving from growl to rasp to falsetto screech and back again), loud drums, all wrapped in thick distorto guitar, oozing the sort of evil that most bands spend their entire careers trying to manufacture. As it says in the liner notes: "This is Cletic and Barbarian Black Metal ruled by the voice of the Black Legions Spirits."
This reissue includes the ultra rare War Funeral March ep as well as an even more rare 1993 rehearsal tape.
Finally someone has seen fit to re-press and re-release all the amazing early French black metal, precursors to everything we now hold grim and true and cult. Mutiilation, Belketre, Togeist, Vlad Tepes and more.
This is a reissue of an ultra rare split released originally in 1995. The is definitely the best sounding Vlad Tepes recording we've heard, nice and thick and heavy, a buzzing swarm of black metal fury, but there still are plenty of lo-fi-isms and some weird mixing (really loud drums), but here the strange mix actually works in the band's favor, with the guitars at the forefront, huge serpentine riffs, sometimes churning out an almost NWOBHM sound, but more often buzzing and twisting and giving the whole thing a very drone-y washed out feel, definitely looking forward to modern black metal outifts who would stretch their riffs into extended, near drone-like hypno-BM.
Vlad Tepes are teamed up here with their way more obscure black metal countrymen Belketre, who are so buzz soaked and so fast and so blown out that their blazing buzzing black metal becomes a superdistorted white hot smear of prickly fuzz guitar, lightning fast blasts, and a thick fog of low end rumble, all tangled up in a swirling streak of chaotic mayhem. Ther are brief stretches of midtempo swoon, with seasick rhythms and clean guitar melodies, but they are quickly subsumed and obliterated by burts of face melting blackend blur. Belketre are quite possibly our favorite new (old) black metal discovery.
Swiftly following up their terrific collaborative release Ciautistico! with Larsen, Xiu Xiu offer their own Life And Live... yes, it's a live album which was recorded on their tour with Devendra Banhart. Mainman Jamie Stewart's vocal delivery once again swings madly from anguished banshee-like shrieking to unsettlingly hushed almost spoken word. Their distinctly dishevelled instrumentation of electric guitar, clatterous percussion and mysterious handmade instruments keeps pace with his tormented vocal meanderings and explosive outbursts. We do question their decision though to include the false start at the beginning of the fourth song in which Stewart starts singing only to stop and a spoken voice (his or someone else's) interrupts and totally breaks the band's character and spell. Odd, but then again when does this band ever follow the rules? The fifteen tracks includes two renditions each of "20,000 Deaths For Eidelyn Gonzales, 20,000 Deaths For Jamie Peterson" and "I Broke Up" as well as a cover of The Smiths' "Asleep".
Yay Yob! Ever since our doom-lovin' hearts here at AQ first went pitter-pat for the heavy sounds of Portland Oregon's Yob, we've been wanting to sell you this here record, their debut from 2002. But, until now, we were never able to get any. By the time we reviewed and raved about their second album of super-doomy space sludge, 2003's Catharsis, Elaborations Of Carbon had already gone out of print. They've done two more awesome albums since Catharsis (and we'd witnessed some great shows too), so we're bigger fans that ever and it's nice to finally be able to stock the entire Yob discog, now that this is back in print. So if you've been loving their latest, The Unreal Never Lived, as well as The Illusion Of Motion and Catharsis, and you don't have this one, here you go! Thank you 12th Records for finally getting off the couch and putting away the bong long enough to get this repressed.
This debut is definitely the Yob we know and love -- the Sabbathy riffery, the psychedelic drones, the unique, weirdly soaring vocal style, it's all here. If we were reviewing Yob for the first time, we'd probably say something about how this sorta sounds like stoner legends Sleep, but with even more creepy atmospheres and a unique vocal approach that sounds like Geddy Lee doing an Ozzy impersonation through a ton of effects (that's a good thing, really!). And being the band's first record, you know it's gonna have some of their best riffs on it. Compared to their subsequent releases, this one also is notable for having more, shorter songs in its 70 minutes... though there's still only six and most of 'em exceed ten minutes, with two over 15 each. Now they write, like, half-hour songs, but it's not like the head-nodding doom on this disc seems cramped for space. Recommended to Yob fans of course and anyone who hasn't yet checked them out but likes Ufomammut, Corrupted, Electric Wizard, Sleep, and the rest of the doom brigade of which Yob became definite members in good standing as soon as this album was originally released.
