RAGE! This is the brand of blazing fast, berserker black metal that, if you were perhaps a less civilized and controlled person than we'll assume most readers of the AQ list to be, would perhaps result in you throwing yourself bodily about your room, thrashing, trashing, destroying things until your cd player suffers a critical blow and some semblance of reason returns to you with the sudden silence. Well let's hope that scenario never takes place (or if it does, nobody blames us for recommending this album). But listening to this frenzied blackness can certainly be cathartic even if there's no physical (only psychical) reaction. It's exuberant and extreme corpsepainted carnage up there with the best of 'em -- we're reminded particularily of the fiercest tracks by Immortal.
Yes indeed, the high expectations we had for upandcoming Norwegian black metal battle cruiser 1349's third outing, are met or exceeded in spades with the release of Hellfire, which features as always the inhuman drumming of Satyricon skinbeater Frost, who slows things down for some well-deserved headbangs only occasionally, but mostly drives the album forward faster than an Aquarius customer pouncing on a new limited edition vinyl Boris release! The blurring speed of Frost's drumming is well-matched by singer Ravn's angry, raspy throat abuse and the jagged riff shrapnel flying from the guitars. Swathed in an atmospheric cloak of evil, buzzing, distorted near-melody (especially the album's final, title track, which somehow clocks in at exactly 13 minutes and 49 seconds!), Hellfire is hyperspeed ultraviolence of the highest calibre. If you already like 1349 you know what to expect. Everyone else, watch out.
Intense, intentional hiss and distortion masking a lovely, minimalistic folk music is what we have here. Or, on some tracks, gentle acoustic folk derived from Welsh tradition, and on others, purely piercing tones and grating electronic drones. This split release from inter-related outfits Alphane Moon and Our Glassie Azoth is haunting and gorgeous, but not for those whose ears aren't also in the mood for some isolationist noisescapes... Seemingly on the same (distorted) wavelength as fellow pastoral experimentalist Richard Youngs, the Wales-dwelling duo of Ruth and Daf are both AM and OGA (which the liner notes admit "have always naturally been mixed up"). This cd brings together previously unreleased material as well as music that has appeared before only on comps or limited vinyl releases. The first half of the disc (tracks 1-5) are the work of AM, the "folkier" of the two groups perhaps -- one of their selections is a traditional Welsh number, "Cyngor Y Biogen" ("The Magpie's Advice"), whose delicate vocals and acoustic guitar stand in contrast to the noisier textures found elsewhere... Like, on the disc's 2nd half (tracks 6-8) which is dominated by OGA's 26 minute "The Magican's Heavenly Chaos", more of an industrial, sci-fi soundscape.
Besides putting out one of the year's best albums I am a Bird Now, Antony also put on one of the most moving and brilliant live shows of the year in his SF appearance at the Palace of Fine Arts this fall. Like myself, so many people I know were brought to both tears and laughter that night. We left knowing we would never forget that night and of course wanting more Antony as soon as possible. Well here are three NEW songs as well as "You Are My Sister" a great single from the last LP with Boy George lending his vocals. If you're like us and you need an Antony fix to remember what's really important then this EP will hold you over for a bit.
This is not actually new, but this is the first time we've been able to get this, and the moment we heard it, we knew it was something we had to list! Recorded in 1999, and orginally released in 2002, The Wheel Of The Law compiles three epic pieces of gorgeous minimalism from Russian composer Anton Batagov. Three discs, three tracks composed for organ, glockenspiel, xylophone, piano and percussion, inspired by Buddhism and the Quest for Nirvana, and the practices involved: peace, meditation, deep thought, breathing, conciousness. Repetitive and melodic, lush and so so beautiful. Someone once referred to Batagov as sounding "like Reich on vodka", not sure we hear the vodka, or even any sounds distinctly and immediately recognizably Russian, but there is certainly plenty of Reich here, as well as Riley, and most definitely some Harold Budd, especially in the delicate, spare piano arrangements. The first disc, "Circle Of Time" is four long movements of warm rich swells of organ, flowing lazily beneath delicate cyclical chimes and abstract piano figures, very dramatic and hypnotic. The second disc, the 4 track Voidness cycle: "Appearances And Voidness", "Clarity And Voidness", "Bliss And Voidness", "Mind And Voidness", introduces the same delicate chimes found on the first disc, but this time over a repeating series of haunting moaning violin melodies. Minor key and mildly atonal, the melodies are spread out over a spare background of complex overtones, all drifting dreamily into space. The final disc: "Liberation Through Listening In The Between" is again a massive sprawl of lush static organ drones, wavering and subtly pulsing, with simple three and four note melodies played out over minutes instead of seconds, chiming and ringing, resonating above the organ's mesmerizing drone, the whole thing supported by a barely there framework of simple percussion, so subtle and simple that it's basically a single drum, muted and way down in the mix, offering a sort of pulse for the piece, a musical heartbeat, slowed down, as if in meditation or contemplation.
So completely an utterly breathtaking.
I know we've said this before, but the more crazy animal sounds we here, the more we wonder why musicians even bother. Sure, you'd be hard pressed to get a pop song out of a sled dog or a purring kitten or an insect or a croaking frog, but for any other sounds all bets are off. Be it rumbling or clicking or squeaking or whirring or chirping or some impossible mix of all of those, or even (especially) those sounds we're not exactly sure how to describe, the animal kingdom has us beat. Thousands of years of evolution, technological advances, every manner of sound making device imaginable, and somewhere, there's some little furry thing that can make those same sounds with its mouth or by rubbing its legs together, or using some parts only they possess. That's what makes records like this totally fascinating and completely humbling.
Most of us have seen bats at one time or another, flitting overhead, barely visible in the dark, or maybe at the zoo. But who among us has ever really heard a bat, until now? And these recordings aren't the mewlings and scratchings and other various sounds that small animals make, no these are the sounds of the bats' ultra sensitive sonar, recorded by expert Michel Barataud using a heterodyne detector and a simple tape recorder, culled from a study that lasted from 1988-1995 and covered 251 different bats of 20 different species! The neat thing about this collection is the fact that there are two discs, one with the original recordings, the other with those same recordings slowed down 10 times (we we can hear what the bats are "hearing"). So cool!
The first disc is an expansive series of creaks and clicks, percussive knocks and thumps, strange melodies that sound like analog synths, high pitched pulses, shortwave-like squawks, chattering, sputtering Geiger counter-like rhythms, all very minimal and totally hypnotic. Sounds so much like a record on ultra-minimalist label Raster-Noton it's not even funny. One can almost imagine Ryoji Ikeda or Alva Noto, after spending years locked in a pressure sealed white cube of a studio, packed with state of the art sound modules, liquid cooled speakers, hard disc recorders, every bit of sound recorded and played back in a perfect listening vacuum, each click and tone painstakingly crafted and carefully placed, stepping outside with finished disc in hand, and then upon hearing the delicate fluttering pattern of clicks and chirps of the bats' sonar, throwing their disc to the ground and stomping it to bits, uttering in their best Simpsons Comic Book Guy voice, "Oh... I've wasted my life."
Gorgeously spare and hauntingly musical, an uber-minimal intricate rhythmic soundfield with impossibly abstract barely there melodies and surrounded by the sounds of no sound. Lovely.
On disc two, those very same sounds are slowed down, and thus become less like percussive clicks and more like melodic chirps. The slowed down versions sound remarkably like bird calls, but unlike the trills and songlike elements of birdsong, each note here is suspended all by itself, floating in a soundscape of ambient whir, before it is supplanted by the next. An extended melody spread out over minutes instead of seconds, like a 45 rpm record of bird calls played at 16 rpm. The sped up sounds on disc two are occasionally joined by the sounds of insects and the surrounding landscape, filling out the sound with the chirp of crickets and the croaking of frogs, a distant cacophony underpinning the bats' mysterious melodies.
Included is a 50 page oversized book which contains all of the field notes, recording details, notes on each track and each animal, complete with charts and graphs, very dense and scientific, and there's even a page with a blank chart so you can go out there and take some field recording notes yourself!
More gorgeously lush neo-Appalachia from James Blackshaw, finally released on a real cd instead of an ultralimited cd-r, which makes perfect sense as this is way too good to be so limited. Two tracks, the first an extended thirty minute epic, a lush and completely gorgeous steel string raga, huge dense sweeps of intricately finger picked guitar, dense with reverb, accompanied by sarod, harmonium, Farfisa organ, glockenspiel, bells and bowed cymbals. Overwhelmingly beautiful and impossibly otherworldly. Expressive and aggressive but completely delicate and introspective at the same time. The end of the track is especially powerful when the guitars fade out and all that is left is the thick wheezing drone of the harmonium and a cloud of tinkling bells. The final three minutes is a very Fahey-esque, steel string guitar workout, gorgeous folky twang, simple and so lovely.
Packaged in a gold metallic paper sleeve with a small printed insert.
A very limited (and very expensive) lp version (pressed on nice thick vinyl and housed in a gorgeous sleeve) of the two most recent releases from guitarist James Blackshaw (one a new cd reviewed elsewhere on this list, the other a cd-r release from earlier in 2005). We only got a handful of these and once they are gone, they are probably gone for good.
Here's what we had to say about the Celeste cd-r:
Celeste is made up of two 15 minute tracks (one played in open C major tuning, the other in open C minor) of totally mesmerizing Appalachian raga folk, performed mainly on 12-string acoustic guitar with occasional farfisa organ and cymbals. Fans of John Fahey, Jack Rose, Matt Valentine and all things free folk will be completely blown away. There's still an element of drone in the repetitive raga-like riffing, but this is mainly and most definitely a weird and wonderful modern avant bluegrass / folk record. Lovely!
And here's what we have to say about Sunshrine:
More gorgeously lush neo-Appalachia from James Blackshaw, finally released on a real cd instead of an ultralimited cd-r, which makes perfect sense as this is way too good to be so limited. Two tracks, the first an extended thirty minute epic, a lush and completely gorgeous steel string raga, huge dense sweeps of intricately finger picked guitar, dense with reverb, accompanied by sarod, harmonium, Farfisa organ, glockenspiel, bells and bowed cymbals. Overwhelmingly beautiful and impossibly otherworldly. Expressive and aggressive but completely delicate and introspective at the same time. The end of the track is especially powerful when the guitars fade out and all that is left is the thick wheezing drone of the harmonium and a cloud of tinkling bells. The final three minutes is a very Fahey-esque, steel string guitar workout, gorgeous folky twang, simple and so lovely.
Wrest from Leviathan had been bugging us forever to carry records by local black metal horde Bone Awl for ages. And we usually trust him when it comes to all things black, However there were a few problems, the first being that we always thought he was saying Bonall, or some other one word variation. The other problem was as far as we could tell they didn't really have any proper releases. Well, we finally managed to track down the guys in Bone Awl and discovered that they did indeed have a bunch or releases, they just happened to consist of several out of print 7"s and a couple cassettes. So we figured what the hell, cd-r's may be the cool cult format, but if that's the case, then it's time to head back to cassettes, the true underground format. So we managed to get a handful of Bone Awl's last two cassettes, and we're happy to report that they're both packed with minimal blackened thrash, 'goat metal' Wrest would probably call it, murky and primitive, simple riffing smeared into dense droney slabs of galloping black metal crush, from just a two piece band of guitar and drums (played by He Who Gnashes Teeth and He Who Crushes Teeth!). But while the lineup is minimal the sound is still thick and snarlingly fierce. Imagine a stripped down Darkthrone (if you can): a single riff pounded mercilessly into submission, gruff gargly vocals buried in the mix, sloppy and raw recorded super hot and totally blown out. This is true underground black metal for sure. By Ropes Through Dirt is the older title and was limited to 500 copies. We have about ten copies and that's it, it's already out of print. Up To Something is the most recent, released last year, and is also limited to 500 copies, we have a bunch but they're going fast and will most likely be gone for good pretty soon.
Wrest from Leviathan had been bugging us forever to carry records by local black metal horde Bone Awl for ages. And we usually trust him when it comes to all things black, However there were a few problems, the first being that we always thought he was saying Bonall, or some other one word variation. The other problem was as far as we could tell they didn't really have any proper releases. Well, we finally managed to track down the guys in Bone Awl and discovered that they did indeed have a bunch or releases, they just happened to consist of several out of print 7"s and a couple cassettes. So we figured what the hell, cd-r's may be the cool cult format, but if that's the case, then it's time to head back to cassettes, the true underground format. So we managed to get a handful of Bone Awl's last two cassettes, and we're happy to report that they're both packed with minimal blackened thrash, 'goat metal' Wrest would probably call it, murky and primitive, simple riffing smeared into dense droney slabs of galloping black metal crush, from just a two piece band of guitar and drums (played by He Who Gnashes Teeth and He Who Crushes Teeth!). But while the lineup is minimal the sound is still thick and snarlingly fierce. Imagine a stripped down Darkthrone (if you can): a single riff pounded mercilessly into submission, gruff gargly vocals buried in the mix, sloppy and raw recorded super hot and totally blown out. This is true underground black metal for sure. By Ropes Through Dirt is the older title and was limited to 500 copies. We have about ten copies and that's it, it's already out of print. Up To Something is the most recent, released last year, and is also limited to 500 copies, we have a bunch but they're going fast and will most likely be gone for good pretty soon.
You know 'em, and (a lot of) you love 'em! Aah, those Canadians! Yup, finally here's a new studio album from Broken Social Scene... almost doesn't need an introduction, does it? But for those who want one... If what you've loved about Broken Social Scene was their jumbled musical allsorts that comprised their 'breakthrough' album You Forgot It In People, hope it doesn't disappoint you to discover that this comes across as a more clearly defined album. It's certainly poppier and more energetic too, like one of the BSS offshoot band Metric. That said, as we've come to expect from the shape-shiftin' BSS, as you listen to this album you'll still be continuously reminded of numerous beloved ol' '90s college rock bands like Dinosaur Jr. Seems to be pretty intentional though, especially if you consider many of the song titles -- for instance, the second song titled "Ibi Dreams Of Pavement" sounds just like, uhh... Pavement, the third one "7/4 (Shoreline)" could easily be a Tsunami tune, etc. A nice way of describing this would be "pleasant in a warm, nostalgic sort of way... like an indie rock quilt". A somewhat harsher way of doing so would be "indie rock muzak". Ouch. Which will it be for you?
Jon Brumit's last audio outing was a a sonic tour through the city dump, a dark delirious soundscape of found sounds, rickety malfunctioning equipment, all manner of scratched records and discarded tape decks, broken down computers, all cleverly and gorgeously woven together into one of the coolest weirdest records we've heard. On Vendetta Retreat, the soundtrack to a yet to be released film, Brumit seems to have honed those already impressive organizational and compostitional skills, resulting in a record that had both Allan and Andee running to the front of the store to see what the heck was playing. In fact everytime we play this in the store everyone wants to know what we're playing as well. Vendetta Retreat starts off as a super minimal slab of "skipping cd" style plunderphonia, a super intense and spare soundscape of ultra brief fragments of found record, bursts of electric guitar, the briefest snatch of a vocal line, tiny frgaments of record crackle -- not sure if Brumit's sound source is still the junkyard, but it definitely sounds like maybe it is. These sparse musical fragments create a strange disembodied melody, jagged and compellingly imprecise. Eventually, the empty space behind these bursts and shards fills up with a darkly propulsive electronic framework, minimal and murky, a distant framework for the Brumit's strange Jeck-style broken turntable workout.
The second track takes the rough edit sound collage of the first track and fills it out with wild octopoidal tribal drumming, massive swells of cymbal sizzle and percussive bombast and wave after wave of layered drones, guitars thick with distortion and other effects, hiccupping loops buried beneath, barely audible, adding more texture than anything else, a huge swirl of rumble and whir like a noisier more abstract Growing, or Finnish hypnorockers Circle at their most unhinged and densely ambient. The final track is the logical extension of the track before, taking a dense swath of droney dirge as its fundamental loop, a repeating hypntotic stuttering krautrocky groove, that goes on and on and on (and if we had our way would keep going on and on forever). Imagine your favorite Circle record or some classic Faust track, with a scratch right in the middle, so it skips repeatedly, an unintentional loop, the perfect pulsing hypno riff, the best chunk of hazy repetitive riffing you can imagine, then over the top drape bits of gentle guitar filligree and clouds of disembodied notes. So amazing. One of those tracks that need never stop, we'd be happy to just drift off and bliss out until the end of time. The track evenutally falls apart, the riffs fade and dissipate, the jagged bursts of sound fragments return, this time even more strangely obtrusive, and wreathed in dense halos of echo and delay that send those shards reverberating into the ether, while underneath, the original minimal groove returns, also a bit more affected and damaged, until the whole thing fragments into its constituent parts before finally blinking out with one final blast of disembodied sound. Wow. Can't wait to see the film. And actually the film will be a compilation of clips and shorts collected over the next year, there's information on how to submit footage inside the cd. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!
Strange how many vocal-oriented releases there have been lately. Grouper, Inca Ore, Lichens. And now we have the most recent release from Christina Carter of Charalambides and her partner / group Gown. This half hour track recorded live on the radio is really fucking creepy. Simple minimal guitar beneath swooping, soaring almost operatic vocals. Okay. And Carter's voice is as lovely as ever, but the other voice accompanying her is SO DEMENTED. And loud! Going from an atonal Jandekian howl, to a near painful Keiji Haino like wail, and proceeding to hoot and shout and swoop in wildly, squealing and groaning and careening wildly all over the place. Really crazily out there. Pushes this from being free psych folk to some sort of experimental vocal music. Sort of beautiful sure, but mostly way way WAY damaged and demented.
Packaged in an embossed wallpaper sleeve with a small printed insert.
Okay, they may not have a non-human vocalist, but they do have a gross animal name, and gross animal artwork and they do support animal rights, so we can't really think of another band more suited to take on the pitbull grindcore of Caninus than San Diego's Cattle Decapitation. For those of you unfamiliar with Caninus, imagine a furious grinding metalcore band, with two pitbulls on vocals. 'Cause that's exactly what this is, for real. Seems daft maybe but it works, Budgie and Basil growl and bark and make some seriously pants-shittingly scary sounds, way scarier than any death metal vocalist grunting and burping out his vocals. Maybe it's also just knowing that these two vocalists could literally rip you to shreds! Caninus's canine fronted death metal grind is matched perfectly by the new and improved Cattle Decapitation, whose new drummer and steady intake of black metal (especially Leviathan) has turned their death metal into an ultra technical blackened grind metal, impossibly complex and so so brutal.
Packaged in the most amazing die cut sleeve we've seen in a long time. Cartoonish and creepy and sick! Cool colored vinyl too!
Every time I sit down to review this record, I just can't seem to put into words what makes it so great. But as this is the last list of 2005, and this record is absolutely my favorite record of 2005, it seems like it can't be put off any longer. But it's true, I listen to this record every day, all the time. And even after months of non-stop listening I still can't get enough of it.
I'm a bit embarassed to say I first heard about Chiodos in some magazine touting them as a 'band to watch' or 'next big thing' or something. And rarely do I pay much attention to those sorts of things, but a few things definitely caught my eye. They were described as being really heavy, really ridiculously prog, a little emo, and with a vocalist who sounded quite a bit like a woman. And you know what, that's not really that far off the mark. Imagine the over the top prog of Coheed And Cambria and the proggy bombast of the Mars Volta, the angular art rock of a band like the Blood Brothers, some super intense Slayer style metal guitar, lots of piano and keyboards, ranging from delicate ballady bits to full on Cradle Of Filth style bombast, extremely emo lyrics, and a completely amazing vocalist who can go from a throat shredding howl to an impossibly high wail. Wrap all that stuff around super complex multi part epics chock full of killer riffs and unbelievable hooks, amazing drumming bizarre arrangements, and vocals that are just so completely are gloriously over the top. Some parts of this record are just SO massively punishingly crushing. Full on headbanging brutality. The opening riff to "The Words 'Best Friend' Become Redefined" would make any thrash metal band proud. Just check the sound sample.
This is also one of those records that has lots of THOSE parts, you know the kind, the parts that give you chills EVERY time you hear them, or make you use every ounce of self control to not wildly air guitar or drum madly on the steering wheel while you're driving. One of which just might be THE part, maybe the ULTIMATE part. Freaks me out every time I hear it. Makes me want to hear it over and over and over. Makes me wish I had written it, makes me wish I was in a band just so I could play it. Check out the sound sample for "Baby, You Wouldn't Last A Minute On The Creek" and see if you can tell which part I mean. Shouldn't be too difficult. The fact is, this whole record kicks my ass that hard. Rare that a record can pull off being this heavy, this complex, this emo, this over the top all at the same time. Without devolving into something impossible and confusing. And it is wildy all over the map, sonically schizophrenic, but somehow every part just sounds completely perfect. The more I listen to it the more perfect it sounds. Anyway, not sure what else to say. It all comes down to the music, so a quick listen to the sound samples should tell you all you need to know, is this indeed the best record of the year, or is Andee full of shit? Well, just so you know, this IS the record of the year, and if for some crazy reason you don't agree, you're probably just mistaken. Or wrong.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
What really needs to be said by now. Other than... A NEW CIRCLE RECORD!! And a live one to boot. And ask anyone who saw Circle live on their recent tour, and they'll berate you first for missing it, and then go on and on and on about how fucking great Circle are live. Which as we can most definitely attest to is the absolute truth! So for those of you who missed out, or those of you who didn't but can't stand the thought of missing out now, we present to you General! On vinyl only, and already sold out at the label, we have 50 copies and then that is it!
The first track(s) is a weird one, starting off with a bit of noodly electric piano, over a thick staticky haze of backgroud whir, segueing quickly into a strange lite prog, like Gentle Giant or Gong maybe, but unlike those bands, Circle's lite prog is buried in effects, the vocals are freaked out and splinter into mad echos, the drums careen wildly into the ether, the whole thing a swirling prog rock acid-drenched freakout. Eventually things settle into that instantly recognizable Circle groove, a throbbing hypnotic krautrocky workout. Then Circle pulls a Skynrd on us by fading out a track on side one and then fading back into it on side two. So awesome. Haven't really noticed anyone pulling that one off in ages.
Most of side two is taken up by a much heavier Circle, with a thick fuzzy serpentine bass line underpinning simple repeated guitar riffs, the drums pounding out a basic, impossible to resist rhythm, everything building in intensity, eventually melting down into a full on low-end freakout, a wall of distortion and splattered drums, super effected wailing vocals all burning bright before drifting back to black. Woah.
And let's not forget to mention the amazing cover art featuring a blurry 3-D style photo of a shirtless Jussi flexing with chains in his hands, Janne in some sort of bondage gear, and Mika and Tomi in spikes and helmets. NWOFHM! Fuck yeah!
Here's a long lost gem of a concert film -- anybody remember concerts? We mean CONCERTS!! Full on pull out all the stops, real rock and roll show concerts!!
In 1973 the Alice Cooper Band were a hard-charging unit that packed just the right sort of killer riffs and creepy crawly sleaze that would make them one of the biggest tour draws that year, out-grossing Grand Funk and even the Rolling Stones (and we do mean out-GROSSING, um... sorry)! This "midnight movie" shows the band onstage plowing through the hits with plenty of power and tightness to spare. Alice wears the filthiest of stage outfits, at one point sporting a big dirty toothbrush chasing down and trying to 'brush' some leggy young ladies all dolled up like "female teeth"! Hmmm...
We probably oughta mention too, that this is not -just- a concert film, there IS a plotline to the film. Well, kinda.
Seems there is a German Film Director and Alice and his gang don't like the production and proceed to trash the set, and much hilarity and chaos and all out weirdness ensues. The film goes from a few minutes of this stilted storyline improv back to a few songs performed live, and then back again to the "acting". Lucky for us the DVD has a "play concert only" option so after viewing the movie in its entirety, you can just enjoy just the music, as the band fires up and totally delivers the goods to a very "saucer-eyed-for-some-reason" young audience who just eat it all up, the props, the theatrics, the power riffs and the chaotic insanity for which Alice "the Eighth Wonder of the World" Cooper was legendary.
Also included on this (the original cut) of the film is a new surround sound mix of the audio as well as some theatrical trailers that feature that guy who did all the stark & scary voice-overs from the horror thriller previews back in the day as well. Good to see you again, Alice!
This record is so much fun! It makes us feel as though we were eating mochi ice cream and then swinging from the monky bars with long lost friends. The Runners Four starts off a bit slooower than some earlier Deerhoof material, but that's not to say it's lacking at all...just less, how you say, hyperactive and chaotic. The Runners Four still has the child-like candy-bright sheen that you come to expect from Deerhoof, and it comes across as refreshing and lively. There is beauty in their animated quirkiness and their unique method of coloring/scribbling -- with passionate and precocious disorganization and wonderful semi-sensical flourishes -- a little outside the lines with every crayon in the box. Not as bold in its musical hopscotching as their previous Reveille album, but definitely recommended.
Although it's definitely NOT what's on their minds, these rutting deer could make great death metal vocalists, with their astonishingly lower-than-low utterances. I mean, a band with a rutting red deer on the mic would really give such animal-fronted bands as Caninus and Hatebeak a run for their money! One of my housemates certainly thought so (as he demonstrated by "lip-synching" along to these loud, belching cries while crouching with an imaginary microphone and making death metal singer faces). But no, these braying bucks are less interested in lending their talents to the service of brutal death metal than they are in attracting the ladies. Speaking of ladies, my girlfriend found this to be so disturbing she made me turn it off... it was giving her a headache. I guess she's lucky that she's not a female red deer!! Meanwhile, I actually find this rather entrancing...hmm I wonder what that means? Well, the misty, desolate background ambience of the forest is definitely nice, with birds twittering and hooves tromping through the underbrush. And despite her reaction, I knew instantly that we definitely needed these for aQuarius (she, knowing the sort of stuff AQ folks dig, like the Thai Elephant Orchestra and the Sounds Of North American Frogs, agreed).
Anyway, as you can see, I've been playing this for a lot of people. It's impossible not to. You'll be like, "Check this out!! Yes, that's a deer!" A real deer, not some monstrous behemoth, or a creaking door, or a sick cow stuck in a well, or a Wookie, or something sampled from a Fflint Central cd-r... Though their deep, echoing, weirdly stretched-out-sounding mating calls really sound like they have some sort of electronic effect on them! Nope, these are just pure, unadulterated field recordings from a forest in France of some lonely deer looking for love.
This 70+ minute disc has 16 tracks, acquainting the listener with all manner of roars, belches, barks, coughs, and other sounds produced by these stags during the rutting season (roughly September/October, as the weather cools). Some are solo performances, others feature choruses of other deer roaring in response...there are the bellows of a stag asserting dominance over his "harem", and there are recordings of male deer in competition -- including one track of clashing antlers (which is kinda their version of the infamous AQ "pipe-fight", a term we like to use to refer to the sounds of certain experimental recordings).
This cd comes with liner notes in both English and French that are extremely detailed, telling you everything you'd care to know and more about the sexual behavior of these deer and the noises they make, including a glossary and even sound spectrographic analysis of individual rutting calls. Such throughness is typical of the Sittelle label, the same folks that also brought us this week's Record Of The Week, The Inaudible World - A Sound Guide Of The French Bats. As you might guess, there's a lot of other cool environmental recordings on this label, and now that we've gotten into the swing of importing 'em from France we'll be listing more in the near future!
First outing from Seattle based sound sculptor, Reita Piecuch, who weaves together thick, overblown, super saturated guitarscapes, all fuzzy and dense, with deconstructed melodies that seem to melt into each other. An ultra dreamy, smeary, looped gorgeousness, like a lo-fi version of Basinski's Disintegration Loops, if the loops were made of white hot slabs of My Bloody Valentine guitar. Or Philip Jeck with a room full of guitars instead of turntables. Lots of crackle and degradation and crumbling distortion and melodies buried in murky fuzz, pop songs smeared into loping loops of stuttering feedback soaked riffing, and guitars so distorted and white hot it feels like listening to the sun. ONLY THERE ARE NO GUITARS!! Huh? So fucking good. Hands down the best cd-r we've heard all year.
SUPER LIMITED AS ALWAYS!! NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
Neil Diamond at AQ??!! What is the world coming to? But before you start nodding your head and thinking the end has come, guess what? This is actually a really good record unlike anything else he's done in forever (Diamond fans just back off! No need to send us hate mail, we love Neil Diamond as much as you do, but you gotta admit it's been years since he did anything worthwhile). Thanks to the vision of Rick Rubin the world actually gets to hear Neil Diamond stripped down and raw for the first time. No multitrack schmaltzy vocal overdubs, no glossy production. Instead Rubin has actually stripped away all the bloat and corniness and gotten to the core of Neil Diamond, a performer you maybe never knew existed. At times it's almost like you're listening to Neil Diamond's take of a Giant Sand record! With a super solid cast of musicians playing on the record including the distinct organ sounds of Billy Preston, 12 Songs is not only by far the best thing Neil Diamond has maybe ever done, it's also a testament to the vision of Rick Rubin. Who else can say they've made great records with Johnny Cash, Run-DMC, Slayer and now Neil Diamond??
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Sheer rawk powah. Just tune into the first cut "Strange Trangressors" from this, the third and best album yet from Oakland-based hard rock throwbacks Drunk Horse, and get blown away by the power of riff and sweaty rhythm section action (and some tasty slide work courtesy of our pal Josh who used to play in Drunk Horse, after leaving The Champs). It's sophisticated riff rock, a bit more clever and complex than you might realize, when you're busy hoisting beers to their boogie as you should be.
Though titled In Tongues, this album certainly seems less overtly tongue-in-cheek than Drunk Horse has in the past... The jokey element is here pretty much limited to slightly humorous song titles like "Reformed Asshole" and "Nice Hooves". Drunk Horse have always taken themselves and their music seriously, but now they're letting us know it too. For sure Drunk Horse have grown, and gotten even better. One major area of improvement would be the vocals, Eli took a lot more care with his singing this time around and it shows. The band has always had a lot of chops in other areas, so now they're even closer to becoming the new millenium's answer to the classic likes of ZZ Top, Humble Pie and Thin Lizzy. In Tongues is bursting with clever arrangements, wicked leads, gorgeous twin guitar harmonies (there's the Thin Lizzy...), and pop hooks. And that aforementioned sheer rawk powah. Unbeatable.
The French buzzing black metal cult of Eikenskaden ("Oaken Shield") returns with a new album, their fourth, the follow up to their numerically-titled 2004 release, 665.999, which appeared on our own Andee's tUMULt label! So of course we're excited. Eikenskaden is one of those genius one man BM bands (that one man being Stefan Kozak, also the main guy in Mystic Forest). Both Mystic Forest and Eikenskaden specialize in blending almost-classical, melancholic melodies with some of the most distorto-buzz Burzumic black metal out there, with Eikenskaden being the darker and harsher of the two acts. And, as the title of There Is No Light At The End Of The Tunnel already indicates, this cd is certainly dark! Quite "necro" and yet grandiose, this boasts some truly memorable compositions, which has always been one of Kozak's strong suits -- he writes actual songs, not relying entirely on atmosphere even though Eikenskaden's got plenty going on in that area too. Somehow he's got a knack for writing material that's both driving and depressive, with many interesting details amidst the distorted wash of sound. Recommended, especially if you like both Xasthur and Khold, for instance (and don't you?).
NOW ON VINYL!
This new 37 minute release from psychedelic Philly folksters Espers isn't exactly their eagerly-awaited second album proper (which remains tantalizingly on the horizon). Instead, with The Weed Tree they offer up a sort of "teaser" disc that consists almost entirely of cover songs, with the only Espers original being the the grand and morose "Dead King" that closes the album. The covers include a couple of traditional tunes ("Rosemary Tree" and "Black Is The Color") alongside an eclectic but in the end utterly appropriate mix of material from the likes of the Durutti Column, Nico, Michael Hurley, and even Blue Oyster Cult. Although that might seem like a diverse bunch, in the hands of Espers these songs all do seem to belong together in one natural organism, the roots and branches and leaves of this Weed Tree. Echoing '70s artists like the Incredible String Band, Linda Perhacs and Vashti Bunyan, Espers' music (or here, their take on other people's music) is delicate and dreamy, sad but lovely acoustic folk with a lurking psych presence coming from the humming organ drones and acid guitar flashes... and these songs all lean heavily upon the band's sweet female vocals and harmonies.
Their folky, vaguely madrigal-like take on BOC's "Flaming Telepaths" builds into a freaked-out (but far from hard rock) climax, sounding the most of anything here like something from Espers member Greg Weeks' Awake Like Sleep album (beloved here at AQ). As are Espers themselves! Really nice. If you haven't heard Espers before, but like the other current acid-folk stuff happening such as Josephine Foster and Six Organs and Vetiver and P.G. Six and so forth, this would be a fine place to start! And of course fans will be pleased, as this helps tide us over until the true full-length follow up to their debut appears.
Fresh from the "Wizard's Convention" show/dvd release wherein they appeared alongside Boris, Green Machine and Church Of Misery, now Japanese stoner metal throwbacks Eternal Elysium have a new album out (import only) on the label that did that DVD, also home to those other bands. Eternal Elysium certainly fits right into such company, maybe coming closest to Boris and CoM at their most seventies n' psychedelic. Song titles like "Reefer Happiness" and "Twilight High" should give you some idea of their focus, stoner stuff somewhere between Sabbath and Soundgarden. They're fairly eclectic though, so you never know totally what to expect...acoustic interludes, spacey jams, riffy rockers, and more, from the tripped-out to the totally heavy. The album ends with the sprawling sixteen-minute-plus monster "Green Song", which some of you have already heard since it was used on that Jamnation disc we listed not long ago!
A customer turned us on to this Vermont-based group who have quietly been making their own brand of druggy hippy psych folk, releasing loads of cd-r's and this here lp, and it seems like only a matter of time before the rest of the world catches on and they'll be psych-folk household names like Joanna Newsom and Devendra Banhart. Simple strummed guitars, sweet sweet harmonies, banjo and occasional acid fried guitars, simple and insistent tribal drumming, very reminiscent of seventies British folk a la Incredible String Band, Shirley Collins, even Comus (but not nearly as psychotic). However, they do occasionally wander down a darker path, exploring moody and minor key acoustic dirges, each one curiously ominous folky swirl beneath a brooding strum and thump. There's also an old timey element to Feathers, the tracks sound so old, but timeless at the same time, almost otherworldly (assuming the other world had banjos and folk music and record players) sounding a lot like sitting in a dusty room listening to old 78's.
Comes with a big poster of the band all painted up and luxuriating in the tall green grass.
Feist has a voice that you can't help but fall for. You may remember her from her vocal contributions on records by Broken Social Scene and Kings of Convenience. She even toured with Peaches adding back up vocals (they used to live together). This, her solo debut showcases her totally pretty voice matched with songs that are smartly written and totally well executed. So smooth and catchy but so much more smart and interesting then everything you hear on commercial radio. Makes us think a little of Dani Siciliano. A perfect sunday morning kind of record. Imagine someone holding Sade hostage and taking away all the gloss and overwrought production but keeping an inkling of her smooth voice while turning her on to an indie aesthetic and maybe you get close to what Let it Die sounds like.
From the same label that brought us The Lamp Of The Universe, James Blackshaw, Robert Horton and Rameses III comes the equally amazing Unda from The Floating World, the work of a Canadian flautist named Amanda Votta, who uses her affected and electronically altered flute to conjure music drawn from some mysterious lost religious rite. An ethereal folk music of the ages. One can imagine wandering through the hillsides in some far off country, and being lured by the haunting melodies drifting like tendrils of smoke, only to find the ruins of a church, where the music can somehow still be heard. It's that heavy and emotional and timeless. Every melody is wreathed in lush reverb and diffuse sonic overtones, drifting and floating, barely there but at once heavy with the weight of a million souls, soaring effortlessly over a strange backdrop of barely audible rumbles and shimmers. Some of the tracks are a little bit droney giving those tracks the feel of some sort of raga, but the sound of the flute and the arrangements are too delicate and airy, and at the end of each phrase it feels like the wind carries it heavenward where it is lost in the clouds before the next phrase begins. Absolutely lovely.
Packaged in a hand glued digipak.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
Almost to the fortieth issue mark, and those Giant Robot Mag folks are showing no signs of slowin' down. Not a grey hair in sight, from what we can see (mind you they're in L.A. while we're here in SF, and admittedly our eyesight isn't bionic). In recent years they've increasingly drawn their subject matter from the latter half of their subtitle (it's 'Asian Pop Culture And Beyond', by the way), but that hasn't deterred the GR devotees. Head honchos Eric Nakamura and Martin Wong like cool stuff, and like to share their latest faves and interests with their readers. Issue #39 features their Giant Robot Awards for 2005, artist Souther Salazar, fimmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa, king cobra fights (yes, that means the actual snakes, not the beer or its drinkers), skateboarder Daewon Song, and their usual plethora of reviews covering all sorts of music, books and other neat treats. Psst, will someone please get us one of those Domokun photo holders? Sooo rad! FYI: As of next year, the mag will be going bi-monthly... that means six issues instead of twelve.
Woah, it's like the day before the day before Christmas, so if we're ever gonna list this we'd better do it now, eh?! Although, this specially-priced, hour-long disc from ex-Comets On Fire/Gargantula/Exploding Crustaceans member Chris Gonzalez, despite its rather over the top Xmas theme, could be enjoyed at other times of the year as well. We suppose. It's funny ha-ha and also funny weird too. Probably playing it in July would make it more of the latter. Basically, Chris, seemingly intoxicated with the Yuletide spirit, has decided to have his way with a bunch of traditional holiday songs (including "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer", "Winter Wonderland", "Silent Night" and "Little Drummer Boy"... indeed all but one of of the twelve tracks are traditional Christmas tunes, see if you can guess which one isn't). However, several are barely recognizable when he's through with 'em! He tackles each song differently, but you've gonna hear a lot of chaotic, distorted, deranged lo-fi lounge and hard rock stylings, recorded on a four-track, with various "guests"... some of it in front of a (fake) live audience, complete with heckling. It's all about as ridiculous as can be. Christmas comedy doesn't get much more silly and surreal -- or noisy. The hip-hopped version of "Jingle Bells" that morphs into a Slayer song might be the low point...and the high point too. Or maybe that would be the "all star celebrity jam" version of "Simple Having A Wonderful Christmastime" that allegedly features Lars Ulrich, Eddie Vedder, Jah Rule, and Donald Duck, among others! Will Santa think Chris has been naughty or nice with this lil' cd? Well it's hard to judge. He's probably just asking "why?" But for a mere six bucks this might be a fine last-minute novelty stocking-stuffer for the wacky music fan on your list.
A couple customers suggest we track this down, the debut record from the Goslings, and from what we heard about it we were expecting yet another record of downtuned sludge doom drone, SUNNO))) / Earth worship, but man is this anything but. It's definitely heavy, but not typically heavy, or really sludgy even, which probably has a lot to do with the way this was recorded, ultra blown out and super distorted, sheets of crumbling high end and maybe the harshest crunchiest guitar sound we've heard in forever, but the Goslings take this white hot heaviness, this blown out brutality and somehow make it pretty, lovely, gorgeous even. Drifting female vocals and sweet sweet melodies are buried beneath a dumptruck of fuzz, like the a Mazzy Star record, covered by the Melvins, recorded by Merzbow or Masonna. Every track is hiding a secret center, a streak of lush melodicism that sound like bits of My Bloody Valentine, Jesus And Mary Chain, and huge slabs of warm and wonderful dream pop, all roughed up and dipped in tar and rolled in dirt and sent staggering through a minefield of razor sharp guitars, pounding Teutonic drums, all tangled up into a machinelike throb, trudging relentlessly at a snails pace, a head crushing plod wrapped in barbed wire riffs and a thick haze of violent whir, but still you can see a little glimmer, a shiny little wink from within the massively suffocating clouds of drum dirt and guitar grime, all tape hiss and recording grit and musical chaos, a glowing orb of crystalline shimmer, buried and barely visible, almost like someone was tossing bright shiny pop hooks into a pit filled with snakes and nails and used syringes and garbage and soiled diapers and rocks and dead animals. So is this the most gorgeous ugly record ever? The ugliest lovely record ever? The harshest, sludgiest pop record ever? The loveliest harsh noise-sludge record ever? Maybe all of the above. So good!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We already loved the Grails. Then they have to go and cover Flower Travellin' Band. What the hell are we supposed to do now? Love them more?? Okay, fine. We love them more. Any band that has the balls to take on "Satori" deserves all the respect you can give them. This is volume 4 in Southern Records' Latitudes series, the first three of which (William Whitmore, Shit & Shine, Ginnungagap) we were only able to get a handful of each, which of course sold out in no time. We managed to get 25 of these, but there is no guarantee we'll be able to get more, so be prepared to be disappointed. Sorry. We tried to order 50, but what can you do?
So anyway, "Satori"! What a completely amazing song, those of you who for some reason don't already own Satori by the Flower Travellin Band, please remedy that immediately, you will not be sorry. And the Grails do an amazing job of turning "Satori" into a Grails song, it's still heavy, and it's still got that Eastern vibe, In fact it sounds a little bit Sun City Girls with its fiddle parts, but it's a little more mellowed out, and post rocky, and they wisely forgo the vocals which would be pretty darn hard to emulate.
The second track they take on is the Byrds' "Space Odyssey", a brooding twangy dirge, with dubbed out drums and absolutely dreamy lapsteel and slow building washes of cymbal sizzle, gloriously dark and hypnotic.
FInally, it's on to the UK (remember, this record is titled Interpretations Of Three Psychedelic Rock Songs From Around The World) to tackle "Master Builder" by Gong. The first half is a creeping crawling fog of shimmering guitar overtones and rich chordal swells, eventually building to a full on wild and wooly prog attack with wild drumming, mad fiddle sawing and major guitar freakout. SO AWESOME!
Comes packaged in a super intricate hand screened die cut fold over sleeve with a full color insert. Each copy hand stamped and numbered. Limited to 1000 copies worldwide.
Not too long ago we made Austalia's Grey Daturas record of the week with their killer Dead In The Woods record (now available again for a limited time, we got the last copies! See elsewhere on this list), a perfect mix of churning metallic rock, New Zealand style free noise, freaked out psychedelic space rock and buzzing rumbling drone rock. So so good. We knew there were other Daturas recordings floating around but we couldn't figure out how to track 'em down. Finally the band returned from tour and managed to dig up their last copies of their two previous releases, their debut record and a 30 minute ep, so we took all of 'em and they finally showed up. So act fast as these will be gone in no time.
This is a single song, 30 minute ep from last year, and is half an hour of drifting abstract ambient guitar bliss. Really pretty, with melodies floating to and fro, while other guitars sort of spread out a warm fuzzy blanket beneath, you can also hear voices and people talking, hard to tell if the voices were placed there or if this was a live set and that's the sound of the crowd, but either way it adds another subtle layer to the track. There is a sense of building and intensity, but before it really takes off, everything just sort of drifts back to earth and blisses out. A gorgeously druggy late night swirl of otherworldy guitars and subtle strummy ambience.
SUPER LIMITED. THESE ARE OUT OF PRINT AND LONG GONE. WE HAVE THE LAST 25 COPIES. ONCE THESE ARE GONE, THEY ARE GONE FOR GOOD.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Not too long ago we made Austalia's Grey Daturas record of the week with their killer Dead In The Woods record (now available again for a limited time), a perfect mix of churning metallic rock, New Zealand style free noise, freaked out psychedelic space rock and buzzing rumbling drone rock. So so good. We knew there were other Daturas recordings floating around but we couldn't figure out how to track 'em down. Finally the band returned from tour and managed to dig up their last copies of their two previous releases, their debut record and a 30 minute ep, so we took all of 'em and they finally showed up. So act fast as these will be gone in no time.
This is the band's first full length from way back in 2002, and finds the band in a much driftier dronier place. The first two tracks are extended guitar workouts, slow shifting waves of distorted guitar and rumbling bass, alternately ominous and atonal, and lilting and lovely, it's not until track three when the drums kick in, just sort of offering a bare bones framework for the super saturated sludge guitar, a SUNNO))) worthy guitar drone indeed. Not long after that the band gets seriously revved and kicks out the drug addled psych space jams, with wild super nova guitars, acid fried riffs and pounding relentless drumming. The last two tracks, clocking in at 20 minutes each, are pretty much the core of the record. The second to last track "I Talk To The Voices" is a haunting soundscape of heavily affected guitars, simple percussion, that builds and builds and builds into a swirl of psychedelic fuzz, before splintering into a sixties freakout of delay and splattery free drumming. The final track "Bloodcloth", is about as heavy and harsh as the Daturas get, a full on freaked out ultra noise deconstructed Dead C sort of racket, strangled squealing guitars, weirdly atonal piano, layer after layer of fuzz and feedback and noise and hiss, all mixed up into a dizzyingly chaotic swirl.
SUPER LIMITED. THESE ARE OUT OF PRINT AND LONG GONE. WE HAVE THE LAST 30 COPIES. ONCE THESE ARE GONE, THEY ARE GONE FOR GOOD.
Best known as the bearded, kinda imposing guitarist/vocalist/viking in the art-metal institution known as Neurosis, Steve Von Till is always working on other projects as well... Harvestman being his latest musical incarnation (with help from friends, including members of Amber Asylum), devoted to making psychedelic, electronic spacerock with a traditional folk heritage. It's like pagans were picked up at Stonehenge by an alien spaceship and deposited on some far off planet aeons hence to make music on futuristic instruments (that we call electric guitars and synthesizers). Lashing The Rye is mostly instrumental, with just two female vocal visitations and (on one song) the sampled voice of Bert Jansch. Also SVT "narrates" on one track, a la Current 93 or something. The twelve tracks here may have titles like "Scarborough Fair" and "Sheep-Crook and Black Dog" (Harvestman's renderings of those two inspired by versions recorded by John Renbourn and Steeleye Span, respectively) but while many of the tunes here may be traditional, Harvestman's interpretation and instrumentation sure ain't! Though there's some delicate guitar and piano (and searing bagpipe) this isn't all that "acoustic" -- there's also plenty of droning electronic spaciness and heavy waves of distorted electric guitar. It's calm, and quite pretty, but massive. Folk-drone for giants. Imagine Amps For Christ teamed up with Kinski. Parts even hint at the density of SUNNO))) or Boris. Recommended!
Holy crap, it seems like the Hototogisu is taking cues from the almighty Acid Mothers Temple as far as release schedules go. What is this their 5th, 6th, 10th release this year? Not that we're complaining. In fact we wouldn't mind a new one very week, just a little amazed and overwhelmed. Part of it is that they're all good. All great in fact, and Prayer Rug Exorcism is no exception. Hototogisu seems to be getting harsher and noisier with every release. The brooding droning shimmer of earlier excursions has given way to thick spiky walls of coruscating feedback, incandescent streaks of supernova guitar, keening high end skree, all layered on top of one another into a huge glacial wall of brain melting guitar pummel. A lot more Total than Sunroof! for sure. All four tracks on Prayer Rug Exorcism quickly build into chaotic squalls, and then hover there, not really building or shifting, just sort of spinning wildly in place, shooting sparks in all directions, a massive ball of super hot guitar fury, fierce and furious, like a transcendent six stringed sun, slowly growing hotter and hotter, not really changing in size or in color, just building pressure until finally the whole thing bursts into a million sparkling pieces, and we're left laying in silence, our hearing a thing of the past, the sound of Hototogisu permanently burned into the back of our skulls.
A new record (or sort of new, as the A side was originally on a super limited out of print cd-r released on the Yellow Swans' Jyrk label) from Inca Ore, aka Eva, a frequent collaborator with the Yellow Swans, and it's another gorgeously murky swirl of affected vocals, as vocals are the main sound source here, but not regular old singing, no, Eva takes her haunting sing song vocals and drenches them in reverb and echo and delay, letting them pile up and swirl aimlessly, a rich thick soundscape of melody atop melody, vocals moaning and keening, all smeared into a super primitive, yet somehow super lush expanse of creepy psychedelic dreaminess, drifting and shifting and nearly ambient at points, but just as often buried beneath a fuzzy layer of downtuned guitar grit, a thick morass of ghostly sounds and sludgy atmosphere. Like hearing some lost transmission from the other side, broadcast from another plane, through your crappy beat up old radio, wraithlike music, seeping like smoke through that tiny speaker, the original transmission muddied and hard to recognize, wrapped in fuzzy indistinctness and ectoplasmic detritus. Real nice. And limited to 450 copies!
We never would have expected this sort of record from the always difficult Jackie-O-Motherfucker. A downright pretty folk record. And no, not psych folk, or new weird America folk, just gorgeous and dreamy, lilting and delicately lovely folk. A bit of droney strum, a little shimmery atmosphere, male and female harmony vocals, a lush instrumental backdrop of double bass, cello, pedal steel, reeds, occasional slow burning post rock rhythms, rich and lush and really quite lovely. Some of the old JOMF surfaces toward the end of a few of the tracks, and on some of the longer tracks, where the floating folk implodes and becomes a sort of abstract free rock meander, with hiccuping turntables, snippets of spoken word, warbly melodies, all drifting in a woozy soundscape of drone and shimmer. But for the most part this is definitely the most song-oriented, and loveliest JOMF record to date. Probably has a bit to do with the fact that four of the seven tracks are traditionals. But even when the songs are being stretched and twisted and pulled apart, it's never harsh, instead it's all warm and muted, lush and dense, lilting and hypnotic, a deep, rich gorgeous sound world of dark and dreamy folk, washing over you and filling your ears with sweet soft sounds.
Cool bandana cover art too!
Jonathan Kane was a founding member and drummer of the Swans, as well as a collaborator with La Monte Young and Rhys Chatham. This his new solo record is sort of similar to the idea of Young's Forever Bad Blues Band, an intense and focused foot tappin' blissed out blues sizzler. Repetitious guitar riffs and pulsating percussion that draws you in and leaves you in a frenzy. You can practically hear the sweat dripping off of Kane's body. But don't be expecting any Swans pummel or Teutonic crush, this is pretty much basic blues rock through and through, but of course played with an intense and fierce focus. Includes a Glen Branca cover, "Guitar Trio". And as always, there's totally beautiful packaging from the folks at Table Of The Elements.
So here it is! Hard to believe it's finally here -- some of us have been waiting forever for this record, or at least ever since we discovered a tiny, super compressed, thirty second long sound clip on the internet over a year ago. In all of half a minute, we became OBSESSED. Completely captivated by this band's totally alien, lush, organic 'world music' weirdness. We eventually tracked down a (great) live record by Konono No.1, which we listed here a few weeks back, and then after tons of internet sleuthing and a bunch of emails we finally managed to get in touch with someone at the Crammed label in Belgium who was willing to sell us this brand new studio album directly, since they are without US distribution. Phew! So was it worth it? Hell yeah! Anyone who heard that infamous sound sample (which was from this album), or who got to hear the live record, knows that this band is totally amazing, and indeed this record is beautiful, wild and wonderful, chaotic and festive, totally perplexing but completely mesmerizing. For those who missed out on the live record (which we've also just restocked!) or are new to the wonders of Konono No.1, here's the story: twenty five years ago, Konono formed in Kinshasa, an area between Congo and Angola, performing their own version of traditional Bazombo trance music, incorporating the then-unwanted distortions of their haphazard homemade sound system. They left the bush and settled in the capital where they were forced to compete with the harsh sounds of the city: cars, trains, buses, shouting, etc. So with very little to work with they fashioned pick-ups, microphones, loudspeakers and amplifiers from stuff they could find on the street -- old car batteries, pots and pans, magnets, even branches. Their main instrument is the likembe, a kind of thumb piano. Konono features three of 'em (bass, medium and treble) and the sound of the electrified and amplified likembe is what defines their sound. Accompanied by dancers and percussionists, the likembes wail and drone, buzz and moan, totally overblown and distorted, sounding a little like sixties fuzz guitars, turning a glorious high life jam into something much more strange and wonderful. Super rhythmic, and thick with the buzzing melodies of the likemebe's, Konono weave a massive sound. It's the wildest weirdest street party you've ever been to. Throbbing with energy and emotion, rambuctiously rollicking and totally infectious. Seven lengthy tracks that all sort of bleed and fuse into one epic world-psych jam. The African high life Hawkwind? So so great!
Check out this video clip:
KONONO [http://www.crammed.be/craworld/movies/konono_promo.mov]
Mr. Lescalleet, besides being a loyal aQ customer, is also quite an amazing experimental musician with loads of releases on labels like RRR, Chloe, Cut, Erstwhile and others. To The Teeth is his first release on Campbell Kneale's Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label, and it's a pretty darn good match. Lescalleet definitely traffics in NOISE, but he has a deft touch and his noise is filled with all sorts of subtle shadings and strange dynamics. The first track on To The Teeth starts off with a subtle rumble, which grows into a hiss, and then builds into a thick wall of whirring which finally transforms into a churning pulsing battering ram of white hot staticky fuzz. Track two is a harsh expanse of overloaded circuits and rumbles, all turned into full on rrrroooaaarrrs, the whole track sounds like a trip to hell (if hell was a bottomless pit filled with white hot crackle and analog synthesizers set on fire), where a game of Pong is slowed way down and played for eternity, every blip so distorted they sound like pokes in the eye. The final track is another beast, a bit like laying on a bed of nails while tons of grinding circuitry and huge sonic black holes are dropped on you from above, until eventually a huge barrel of molten white noise is upended and dumped over your bruised and bloody body. Not for the faint of ear!
SUPER LIMITED AS ALWAYS!! NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
Lubelski has been on Tower Recordings albums and this is her 2nd solo outing. Very pretty orchestral pop with a slight breeze that hushes all the way through. Armed with an excellent cast of players including P.G. Six and Tim Barnes. Sure to please fans of Isobel Cambell, Camera Obscura and when Georgia sings for Yo La Tengo. So nice and pretty.
For the listener who craves the deep, warm, dark green and forest brown, fog-drenched Indian influenced psychedelia that chartered its way out of San Francisco in the late sixties / early seventies, this reissue of the Magic Carpet�s debut record will ring a true chord. True, the band hailed from the UK” nowhere near the flower children of the Haight, but their brand of "Eastern Psych Folk" is close kin to After Bathing At Baxter�s era Jefferson Airplane (a seriously underrated record) and calls to mind the Bay Area folk revival scene going on today. In a time of Devendra Banhart�s elfin freakiness, Joanna Newsom�s evil-angel resurrections, and the resurgence of interest in Vashti Bunyan, the Magic Carpet�s 1972 lost classic could not sound fresher. Alisha Sufit is a resurrecting chanteuse whose dark voice is crystal clear and mesmerizing; Clem Alford�s sitar playing is top notch and truly psychedelic. The songs come as old friends (our favorite: "Father Time") and hang in the air as mysteries, leading to the sweet 20+ minute instrumental raga not found on the original release. Top notch rainy day music, and for those so inclined, a perfect bong stuffer for the holidays. (Review courtesy of AQ pal and Birdman label boss David Katznelson.)
Wow. This is a strange one. When we last heard from Magnetophone, they were a warm fuzzy electronica outfit along the lines of Boards Of Canada or Two Lone Swordsmen. Muted and dreamy and sort of spacy. While The Man Who Ate The Man still has plenty of that warmth and fuzziness, and is still basically a blissed out dreamy electronic record, it's much more 'pop' this time around, and not just more pop, but more eighties pop. Shades of EMF, the Cure, Gene Loves Jezebel, INXS, Howard Jones, Jesus Jones, Depeche Mode, all those groups you loved way back when, but some how filtered through some strange gauzy 4AD elctrobliss filter. Warm warped organ fuzzscapes over strange bloopy bleepy eighties funkiness, super reverbed vocals, and lots of strangely familiar melodies. That may sound like a bizarre and maybe not entirely appealing mix, but the results are actually really quite gorgeous. The end result sometimes sounds a bit like Stereolab or some similarly inclined Too Pure band, sometimes not unlike your favorite modern rock station from the nineties, broadcasting all the hits into the ether, which are then intercepted by a satellite and sent back to earth, getting fuzzier and fuzzier as they struggle to make it back through the atmosphere, where they are then broadcast through the amps of a shoegaze-y Neu! worshipping rock band, the whole thing given a fuzzed out indistinct blissy patina by Tim Hecker or Philip Jeck. Good stuff!
Another bleak and black slab of experimental drone in metal's clothing, and as always totally fucking great. From Campbell Kneale's (Birchville Cat Motel, Black Boned Angel) experiMETAL Battlecrusier label comes the mysterious Mirag (whom it is suspected might in fact be Matthew Bower of Skullflower, Sunroof!, Total, etc.), whose wash of fuzzed out guitar grrrrrr is as swoonsome as it is brutal, a warm woozy swell of icepicks to the ear, as soothing and hypnotic and droning as it is fierce and furiously fuzzy. Huge churning swaths of mega-distorted guitars, moaning and grinding, rumbling and squealing, wrapped in all shades of grey and black, a desolate industrial fog, whose harsh and oppressive vibe is reminiscent of late eighties, early nineties NYC knuckle dragging thud and pound: Swans, Cop Shoot Cop, Unsane. But the sound itself has more in common with Total and Burning Star Core and Hototogisu and that sort of warm soft noise, huge walls of slow shifting vaccum cleaner guitar, thick and pulsing, nearly static, with occasional flares of melted melodies that are swallowed up almost as soon as they appear.
SUPER LIMITED AS ALWAYS!! NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
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Here we go again. Remember that really limited cd-r that came out a few years ago, the one that was practically impossible to get, and maybe you bought on eBay for way too much, remember how bummed you were that you missed out on it? You really wanted it. REALLY. So now you have the gun loaded, the rope over the beam in the living room, a bottle of whiskey and a handful of pills on the counter, the note is almost finished. HOLD UP!! C'mon, if we've learned anything by now, as frustrating and annoying as it is, pretty much EVERY cd-r, will at some point be reissued on a much sturdier, longer life-spanned actual compact disc. Especially as there are labels that seem to exist exclusively to re-release albums that have already been released on cd-r. Okay, so maybe that was a bit snarky, but what the heck is the point of a limited cd-r when it will just be re-released in an unlimited version later on? Why not skip the cd-r step and just make a cd to start with? There's nothing entirely wrong with cd-r's, we LOVE cd-r's, we all buy cd-r's like crazy, and you know what? Some records are meant to be limited. A couple hundred copies is all the world needs. But for bands that are popular, with fans all over the world, a cd-r limited to 100 copies is just ridiculous, especially when fans will no doubt be expected to buy the actual cd version (most likely with bonus tracks) later on. We're not complaining (well, we sort of are) because heck, any record good enough to compose, record, and release, probably deserves to be heard by more than 50 or 100 people (not in every case, obviously!), we just wish bands and labels would have the foresight to realize that a handful of copies won't be enough and it's just as simple and cost effective in that case to make real cds! Ok, enough ranting... So we have the The Cosmological Eye Trilogy from Italian free noise siblings My Cat Is An Alien. Most definitely the kind of epic and beautiful music that definitely deserves a wider audience. So kudos to LVD for making these discs available again. The original versions of these discs came packaged with original artwork from Roberto of MCIAA and thus were pretty nice and worth owning, and certainly made a limited run necessary. While the paintings are only present in photgraphic reproductions here, the music more than makes this 3cd reissue worthwhile. MCIAA's musical world is populated by huge expanses of sound, broad minimalist soundscapes woven together with all sorts of guitars: electric alien guitar, astral alien guitar, electric nebulae guitar drone, as well as mini-xylophone, spacee toys, whirlpool, toy mic, percussion, metal sticks, cosmic cymbals, helix cymbals, Plutonian percussions and of course astral percussions. All recorded live with no overdubs, these spaced out sonic explorations are pretty amazing, from clattery, gritty industrialism, with scraping percussion and distorted vocals, to delicate barely there expanses of swoosh and waver, with distant foghorn-like moans, minimal drones, strange machine like whirs, almost inaudible chimes and melodies, to tribal space rituals with swirling blooping bleeping synths slipping and sliding around manic percussion, to strange alien sounding free jazz noise hybrids, shuffling cymbals, lots of dubbed out reverb, peals of feedback, and little bits of clatter and clink suspended in fields of looped fuzz and repeating cycles of hum and drone.
A completely overwhelmingly brilliant assemblage of outer space free jazz drone rock minimalism that will most definitely hit the spot for all you free-ambient-noise-drone cd-r hounds, but will probably also appeal to fans of Acid Mothers Temple style space rock, twentieth century minimalism, "new weird America" (Italy?), and all stops in between.
Packaged in a strange triple fold plastic sleeve that is unfortunately not ideal for keeping cds from gettins scratched...
100 percent pure fun! All your favorite early 80's new wave and post-punk classics done bossa nova style by a couple of French producers with some wonderful female vocalists from France and Brazil. The story goes that the producers (Marc Collin & Oliver Libaux) found singers who were unaware of the original versions in order to capture a totally fresh cover version. And they did! Joy Division, XTC, The Clash, P.I.L., Dead Kennedy's, The Undertones, etc. get the treatment. The perfect soundtrack for when you want something that will make you smile and dance around your house. This moves beyond guilty pleasure and ranks right up their with one of the most fun and well executed cover records in a long long time.
Another brief blast of hate fueled fury from Norwegian black metal horde Orcustus (which just so happens to feature folks from Gorgoroth and Enslaved!). This is grim "anti human, anti life, true Norwegian black metal". Old school, buzzing squirming blackened thrash a la Sarcophago, Possessed and all that sort of stuff. Heavy and hateful, fuzzed out and fast as fuck. We only got a handful of these, limited to 1500 worldwide, on Southern Lord, you know the drill -- once these are gone, they're most likely gone for good, so act fast!
Back in stock! We've now got the French version of this classic Oxbow album. No, it's not IN French, we mean now that the original SST cd is out of print, we've imported copies of the cd edition released in France on the Ruminance label (home also of Cheval De Frise and Chevreuil). Here's our review from when it was an Aquarius Record Of The Week back in 1999:
A masterpiece of dark, cathartic, emotional rock cabaret from this great San Francisco band. Heavy slide guitar, baby-like wailings (from Oxbow's large, scary, nearly-naked body builder frontman Eugene), Nick Cave-ambience & math-rock technicality. Kind of like the Jesus Lizard meets Marianne Faithfull, except that Ms. Faithfull actually does appear on this record! (and the Lizard do not; Oxbow slaughters them...) I might also mention the cover pic by Richard Kern and the production by Steve Albini, but Oxbow are their own special thing, original and amazing, and those celebs are mere hangers-on.
These two crucial Pentagram discs were reissued earlier this year and we figured we'd better (at long last) get 'em reviewed for our site, what with the immense popularity of Swedish retro-doomsters Witchcraft (seriously, we sell a TON of Witchcraft records and that's how it should be) and also their friends/countrymen/doppelgangers Burning Saviours, both of whom utterly absolutely obviously *worship* Pentagram. Black Sabbath too of course, but it's Pentagram who provide them with more of a "cult" thrill and inspiration -- Witchcraft has recorded several Pentagram covers, and Burning Saviors are even named after a Pentagram song.
Now, Pentagram's been around for a long time (almost as long as Sabbath) in various incarnations, and we've previously reviewed both collections of '70s era Pentagam material as well as their several recent albums. But the two records that really put 'em on the metal map were these, which date from the mid 1980s. Originally self-titled, Relentless was the band's debut full-length from 1985 (yep, about a full 15 years after they first formed!!) and 1987's Day Of Reckoning was their second. Both are classics of doom metal, up there with the other great '80s post-Sabbath doom LPs by Trouble, Candlemass, and Saint Vitus.
On these albums vocalist Bobby Liebling is at the height of his powers (he sounds kinda like Ozzy, but something about his voice and delivery indicates that maybe he's got even more first-hand knowledge of the dark side, like he's one of the evil creatures that Ozzy would just warn you about!) and current Place Of Skulls guitarist Victor Griffin riffs with the best of 'em. Drummer Joe Hasselvander and bassist Martin Swaney round out this era's Pentagram line-up. Penta-classic tracks found here include "Death Row", "Sign Of The Wolf (Pentagram)" and "20 Buck Spin" (on Relentless) and "When The Screams Come", "Burning Savior" and "Madman" (on Day Of Reckoning), among others. Both discs are great, buy the pair!
Reissued in digipacks, cd booklets replete with lyrics, photos, and brand new jive-talkin' liner notes by the still-kickin' Bobby L.
These two crucial Pentagram discs were reissued earlier this year and we figured we'd better (at long last) get 'em reviewed for our site, what with the immense popularity of Swedish retro-doomsters Witchcraft (seriously, we sell a TON of Witchcraft records and that's how it should be) and also their friends/countrymen/doppelgangers Burning Saviours, both of whom utterly absolutely obviously *worship* Pentagram. Black Sabbath too of course, but it's Pentagram who provide them with more of a "cult" thrill and inspiration -- Witchcraft has recorded several Pentagram covers, and Burning Saviors are even named after a Pentagram song.
Now, Pentagram's been around for a long time (almost as long as Sabbath) in various incarnations, and we've previously reviewed both collections of '70s era Pentagam material as well as their several recent albums. But the two records that really put 'em on the metal map were these, which date from the mid 1980s. Originally self-titled, Relentless was the band's debut full-length from 1985 (yep, about a full 15 years after they first formed!!) and 1987's Day Of Reckoning was their second. Both are classics of doom metal, up there with the other great '80s post-Sabbath doom LPs by Trouble, Candlemass, and Saint Vitus.
On these albums vocalist Bobby Liebling is at the height of his powers (he sounds kinda like Ozzy, but something about his voice and delivery indicates that maybe he's got even more first-hand knowledge of the dark side, like he's one of the evil creatures that Ozzy would just warn you about!) and current Place Of Skulls guitarist Victor Griffin riffs with the best of 'em. Drummer Joe Hasselvander and bassist Martin Swaney round out this era's Pentagram line-up. Penta-classic tracks found here include "Death Row", "Sign Of The Wolf (Pentagram)" and "20 Buck Spin" (on Relentless) and "When The Screams Come", "Burning Savior" and "Madman" (on Day Of Reckoning), among others. Both discs are great, buy the pair!
Reissued in digipacks, cd booklets replete with lyrics, photos, and brand new jive-talkin' liner notes by the still-kickin' Bobby L.
