This fella can't be stopped, can he? When does Ryan Adams sleep? When does he eat? Crikey! This album's title could very well reflect the number of releases the man has put out... well, not quite! Yeesh, he's no Jandek nor Bob Pollard, but you get the picture. Released in very early January 2006, it almost marked Adams' third album in one calendar year (and actually if you're goin' by mere number of months, it is his third in eight!). That said, as has been somewhat problematic with Adams' musical output in the past, there's always the sticky issue of quantity over quality. As such, 29 is definitely the weakest of his past three albums. Geez, and he was doin' so well... the first of the trio, the excellent Cold Roses double cd, truly resurrected our long waning appreciation of Ryan Adams. Things were sounding... er, rosy (groan!). Next was the more country rockin' Jacksonville City Nights, which wasn't nearly as solid as Cold Roses, but was quite good nonetheless. Now we reach 29, and frankly it's pretty darn lackluster. There's a few sparks here and there but overall it comes across as tired and uninspired. As the first track begins we find Mr. Adams playin' the blues, but that dour mood doesn't linger too long. The rest is rooted in the old country folk earthiness and seems almost like leftover tracks from the recording sessions for his last album. Really, the best thing about this album is the cover art -- a drawing of the Grim Reaper approaching a gate. Too bad it was wasted on such a disappointing album. A damn shame!
Akimbo are another one of those new breed of heavy bands, sort of straddling that line between heavy metal love and heavy metal parody. Whenever you have a bunch of young guys, kicking up a serious metallic skree you have to wonder if those guys truly have souls of metal or if they're just johnny come lately's who realize that maybe it's okay to play metal now. Especially when they mix distinct metallic elements and imagery with goofy over the top artwork and dorky song titles ("Rockness Monster", "Spooning With Disaster", "Ground Control To Major Bummer"). But the sound, while indeed metallic, owes much more to post rock and heavier indie bands -- Karp, Unwound, that sort of thing -- the overall vibe is still pretty metal, with some seriously metallic riffs, plenty of 'evil' artwork, an inscription that reads "Sharpen swords, polish the armor, it's feeding time", but metal or not, this is just a fucking kick ass blast of sludgy pummeling RAWK, big fuzzed out riffs, pounding drumming, throat shredding vocals, their sound incorporating Neurosis-y crustsludge, Unwound post rock and grooved out Kyuss-y stoner rock into one massive crushing black (w)hole! Definitely for all you folks who dig stuff like Buried At Sea, Conifer, Tides, Dazzling Killmen, Warhammer 48K, etc.
Originally released as a super limited 10", local moody metallic chamber ensemble Amber Asylum's latest Garden Of Love is now available on cd, again limited, this time to 750 copies, packaged in a mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve, and includes the previously unreleased bonus track "Serenade" available only on this here cd. Four brand new tracks that take Amber Asylum's gothic strings and vocals sound even further out, having now expanded their lineup to include former members of The Gault and SF black metal legends Weakling. The opening track is quite possibly the best thing we've heard from them, a brooding dramatic soundscape of intensely moody strings, and anguished melodies. Locked in by simple almost programmed sounding rhythms with haunting operatic vocals drifting ghostlike through the mix. Sounds a bit like Skepticism with a string section, and you know that is a very good thing. The second track heads into almost Goblin territory at points with super aggressive pizzicato strings, bows sawing away at the strings emitting truly ominous melodies. The rest of the record is far more tranquil, expansive, romantic, epic, melancholic yet hopeful, with delicate crystalline piano figures, very subtle strings and sweetly plaintive vocals. So nice.
Finally, the seemingly impossible to get full length release from this amazing Icelandic organ-synthesizer-keyboard combo gets a proper widespread release! Think Stereolab, Trans Am, Kraftwerk, M83, mix in a little Add N To (X), a little Postal Service and you'll be in the ballpark. From straight-up Stereolab worship, the first track is the best Stereolab song that never was (albeit with a Speak And Spell on lead vocals), to full on synth-rock with buzzy guitars and huge thick burping fuzz organ basslines with cool Kraftwerky computer vocals, to blissy M83 style romantic fuzzscapes, to goofy burbly loungy bleep and bloop, to some distinctly Kraftwerkian krautrock. AOQ's quadruple organ attack is tough to beat. You know how when a band had two guitarists, maybe three, it just made the guitar sound that much thicker and in your face, well, just imagine FOUR ORGANS rocking full on! Woah! And one of the organs just so happens to be manned by AQ fave Johan Johannsson (who also produced the record). In the past various AOQ members have worked with the likes of Marc Almond, Hafler Trio, Sigur Ros, Barry Adamson, Stillupsteypa, Mum, Pan Sonic and even Hermann Nitsch! But you won't find any blood soaked cacophony here. Nope, this is all warm and warbly, dreamy and bouncy, fun and fuzzy.
Gorgeous cover art featuring oil paintings of the various members of the band as Playmobile figures!!
The Canadian avant-drone guitarist Aidan Baker has been popping up quite a bit at Aquarius in recent months. While he has been quite active in producing numerous drone-based releases, we first took serious notice of his work thanks to the atmospheric doom of his project Nadja. He also turned up on an exceptional 4-way split alongside John Duncan, Z'ev, and Fear Falls Burning. Arc is another project from Baker, finding him working alongside a couple of percussionists in this pastorally psychedelic, improv ensemble. The Circle Is Not Round began as a series of live recordings that Baker blurs into a concoction that lays somewhere in between the spiralling melancholy of a non-aggressive Troum and the '70s prog-ambience of Popul Vuh. Baker's impressionist guitar drones are at the center of these recordings; and while the original live sessions probably slanted more towards the hippie and less the psychedelic end of the spectrum, Baker abstracts all of his sounds with enough backwards masking, tapeloops, and shimmering delay patterns to transform the improv noodling into slow burning dissonant crescendos, earthen throbs, and kosmiche soundscapes with more than a few references to Fennesz, Growing, and even Kompakt's Pop Ambient sound, if you can imagine a guitarist doing his best impersonation of that very digitally constructed ambience.
Sometimes metal is about more than just the music. Especially black metal. The sound, the look, the attitude, the lyrics, the artwork, the spikes, the corpsepaint, the upside down cross / pentagram / triple six logo, the pen and ink renderings of demons fucking angels, the bullet belts, the blood splattered band members, the Satanic pseudonymns, all contribute to turning this heavy metal record into a dark Satanic ritual, a musical invocation -- it's dramatic and theatrical and over the top and fucking killer. This picture disc is a reissue of a 1993 ep by legendary Finnish black metallers, Archgoat. Blood Desecrator, Lord Angelslayer and Ritual Butcherer spew forth a vomitous smear of black thrash, galloping and blasting furiously through the dark fields of the underworld. Having never heard Archgoat before, we have to admit we listened to the whole record on 33, amazed by how sludgy the sound was and the impossibly guttural vocals, but a quick spin on 45 made it clear that it was maybe not actually meant to be played at 33... but the power is in your hands! A killer black thrash classic at 45, a bizarre slab of black sludge at 33! Either way this stuff is heavy and EVIL. Cool picture disc too, one side is the band logo, band photos, surrounded by a bullet belt, the other side is an amazingly amateur drawing of a goat headed demon fucking an angel on some sort of altar. Includes an insert detailing the history of the band and a full color poster.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES!!!!
Holy shit!!! A brand new record from our favorite Japanese stoner grind sludge punk rock group. Possesor of quite possibly the best band name ever. And most appropriate too, as the band seems strangely pre-occupied with shit (although not bathtubs so much). It's been raining 'Shitter reissues as the band works through their considerable back catalog of singles and split eps, so we ordered this thinking it was another reissue, but lo and behold, it's a whole disc of brand spanking new Bathtub Shitter. For those of you new to the world of Bathtub Shitter, imagine the bastard spawn of Brutal Truth, the Boredoms, Celtic Frost, Black Sabbath, and Dick Dale. Stoner grooves collide with buzzing goregrind, surf rock licks sit unexpectedly amidst sludge metal riffs and lightning fast blast beats. A glorious goofy grinding metallic mess as only the Japanese can do it. But the star of any Bathtub Shitter is Masato Henmarer Morimoto, the owner of quite possibly the most ridiculous and breathtaking set of vocal chords ever. On first listen, we were convinced that BS must have had at least two vocalists, maybe more, but it's all the work of one man, Masato. Once you hear it you'll understand why it's so hard to believe. There is of course the requisite goregrind gurgle, a rumbling, phlegm spewing demonic growl, then there's the sort of punk rock yelp, that balances the first voice a bit, but it's the third distinct voice that blows the mind. A piercing, falsetto, damsel in distress, horror movie massacre, cheerleader / housewife shriek. It's so crazy, but sounds so great, especially when engaged with the aforementioned growl in a sort of unholy duet, like a grindcore Beastie Boys, but battling atop a swirling squirmy mass of downtuned guitars, rumbling bowel loosening bass and blasting splattery drumming. WE LOVE BATHTUB SHITTER.
Packaged like the last few BS releases in an oversized 7"style sleeve with really cool and creepy cover art!
Blodulv just continue to get more grim, more frosty, more creepy and blackened. How that's even possible at this point is beyond us. The last record, appropriately titled II, was about as grim as it could reasonably get, and yet their sound gets more and more impenetrably dense and buzzy. And we love it. This is most definitely not blazing fast black metal, this is more of the Burzum midtempo hypno-drone-buzz school. A doomy dirgey thrashy blackness, pulsing and throbbing, loping along with occasional stretches of grime-y vitriolic tarpit sludge. The vocals are recorded so hot and so blown out it sounds like the singer is standing right there in your face, shrieking with all his might, showering you with spit and sweat and blood (eww). So intense and so intensely black and heavy.
Who or what is Borful Tang? Well, according to the website of the delightfully named Snurp (the folks who released this cd), the mysterious 'it' is a 'he', and outcast from a distant place and time. Legend has it that Borful Tang was a hill herder who moved hills with sound. Still with us? Okay then, if you'd like to discover his lengthy full story for yourself you can find it where we did, but in the meantime here we have his cd Root -- his wildly eclectic music apparently having been transmitted to us via the conduit known as Dominic Cramp -- quite a multi-faceted gent in his own right (also recording under the monikers of Qulfus, Amazing Colossal Man and Modular Set). Borful Tang's music is trippy, out there, and particularly in the early part of this album, very NoMeansNo-ish in its propulsive tech-y bass lines. Heck, the first track is titled "Borful Tang Loves NoMeansNo"! And we think NoMeansNo samples may be the secret. The latter tracks feature collaged computer voice conversations (sourced from what we guess were English speech lesson tapes) and burbly analog electronics. We'll bet quite a broad range of strange music lovers will dig this... if the names Plunderphonics, Negativland, NoMeansNo, BBC Radiophonic Workshop tickle your aural funnybone!
The Budos Band is another outfit spawned by Bushwick, Brooklyn's Daptone Records label, some sort of collective of fake ethno funkateers responsible for such undeniably groovy projects as The Daktaris and Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings. These guys LIVE and breathe authentic '60s greasy groove, so you know their take on "Afro-soul" is gonna cross all the i's and dot all the t's... not that it sounds nearly that uptight. Not uptight at all, but definitely tight! This large 11 piece band, plus guests, featuring members of the Dap-Kings, Antibalas and the Sugarman 3 among others, is the stuff of grass-skirted Lalo Schifrin dreams -- dynamic and colorful instrumentals with a loungey '60s/'70s feel. Lotsa horns, percussion, electric guitar and bass with groovy organ (and even some funky flute) make this something that people who like the more jazz/funk entries in the Ethiopiques series, or aforementioned Afro-pop revivalists Antibalas, should consider checkin' out.
Not exactly Lee & Nancy but the aim seems somewhat near that legendary combination. Mark Lanegan (ex-Screaming Trees) and Isobel Campbell (ex-Belle & Sebastian) both have put out very nice solo records in the last few years. We dig 'em as well as their former bands. Ramblin' Man teams up the two for four nice, sweet & tender tracks. Alas, no word yet of a full length outing, but we're hoping this cdep is just a teaser (rather than a one-off), because the handful of songs are over before you're even able to get in the swing of it. More please!
Not sure what it is exactly that makes Cassetteboy manage to sidestep being nothing more than an overplayed bad joke, but there is most definitely SOMETHING. Most mashups, cut ups, Negativland style wacky plunderphonic records get played out in no time at all, the sort of records you -maybe- put on a mix tape now and then or throw on at a party, but ultimately they end up at the bottom of some pile gathering dust. But we find ourselves listening to Cassetteboy all the time, over and over, and laughing our asses off. Random bits of dialogue, movie clips, all manner of music, and lots of immediately recognizable voices, all chopped up and mixed up and re-assembled into super snarky, bitter, fuck the world sound snippets and song fragments, rife with anti-social sentiments, anti-government propaganda, some truly messed up Harry Potter porn, a crazy funny, awesome anti-Streets track, and all manner of perplexing non-sequitur humor, and loads of peurile silliness. Just give the sound samples a listen. If the Harry Potter clip doesn't make you laugh out loud, well, then this is probably not the record for you, but if it does, then you are in for a treat, as there is plenty of stuff even sillier, more outrageous and way more offensive.
First things first, be it known that the title does not mean that this is a Cat Power greatest hits album, nor do we think that it's really an adjective to be applied to the album itself. Okay, before all you Cat Power fans starts freakin' out on us for that comment, let us say that yes, The Greatest is a really good record, but (dare we say?) her last full length You Are Free and her earlier Moon Pix still occupy that place of honor in Chan Marshall's discography (in our opinion anyways!). Each of those two albums really captured a soaring height of Cat Power magic. Pretty hard to beat. Perhaps part of the distinction with this album lies in that while still wholly heartbaringly intimate in her songwriting, Chan Marshall's shed the endearing fragile timidness of her early recordings -- that quiver of youthful uncertainty replaced by a combination of defiance and vulnerability. Indeed, this is perhaps her most worldly and womanly album to date, and definitely one with a far broader appeal (perhaps adult contemporary even). You could *almost* imagine her taking the Lilith Fair stage! Although there's one concrete element in particular that definitely sets The Greatest apart from past Cat Power albums -- namely the addition of saxophone on a number of the songs -- there's something much more intangible that distinguishes it from those of her contemporaries. Precious few dare to come anywhere near capturing the pure, potent simplicity of her compositions. This is perhaps her greatest strength.
Writing a guest review here two years ago, Wrest of Leviathan called Craft's previous album Terror Propaganda a "lesson in the grimmest of expession". We just got this new, third (and final? maybe not) Craft disc in stock so we haven't checked with Wrest yet to see what he thinks of it, but subjecting it to our own finely black metal attuned ears, we say, YEAH!
Fuck The Universe is another bog-blast of genius from one of the best bands in the Swedish black metal underground. For the black at heart, grim pleasures abound in Craft's negative metal mixture of misanthropic spittle, dismal drone and headbanging hooks, the band bulldozering through the uncaring cosmos with the feeling being mutual. Or worse. There's something very rock and roll gone wrong about this, slowed down thrash executed with a sneer of competence, nodding to the gods Darkthrone and Mayhem with a "don't worry, we've got it covered" sort of look (and sound). Recommended. Plus, this domestic version is released on the undeniably hip label Southern Lord, whose doom roots have of late seemingly been overtaken by the love of black metal, and they love the good stuff, we're on the same page there!
One of many bands to call themselves Crisis, the British punk Crisis formed in 1977, forging alliances with Rock Against Racism and the Socialist Workers Party. Thus, Crisis established themselves as one of the earliest punk bands to use a musical platform as a vehicle to promote a leftist agenda. Musically, Crisis focused on the tight aggressive punk blueprint already established by The Buzzcocks and Warsaw; and the band broadcast their political messages through rudimentary / easily-decipherable lyrics in the form of anthemic proclamations delivered with an urgent cockney sneer. Over their brief four year career, Crisis' principal songwriters Douglas Pearce and Tony Wakeford (both of whom went on to form Death In June in 1981 with Wakeford later founding Sol Invictus) became disillusioned with the Trotskyist agenda they first espoused and acquired positions that would be more aligned with the aesthetics of anarchism. Holocaust Hymns compiles all of the tracks from their Hymns Of Faith mini LP as well as the tracks from their Peel Sessions and their three singles. Holocaust Hymns is a very important punk document that acts as a curious counterpoint to the bands that came after Crisis, most notably Death In June who has nurtured much controversy around their neo-Nazi imagery.
Thought we should mention that we have this slab of classic weirdness on vinyl now too... a favorite old ESP release, not a free jazz session but a freaky hippie jam that couldn't be replicated in this day and age. Here's some of what we had to say about one of the previous cd editions (and it is still in stock in that format, btw):
An anomaly, even on the always far out ESP label, Cromagnon was the result of two top 40 songwriters (accustomed to producing bubblegum pop) who seemed to have completely lost their minds. I mean they must have, to produce something as wacked as this record. Austin Grasmere, Brian Elliot, and their mysterious 'Connecticut Tribe' spewed forth 50 minutes of primitive dada-ist folk psych.
Chanting, tribal percussion, short wave radio, maniacal, almost black metal vocals, hysterical laughter, bagpipes all coalesce into something ridiculous and amazing.
Track one "Caledonia" sounds like a strange hybrid of Comus and In Extremo, with bagpipes, jaw harp, crickets, raspy chants and teutonic percussion ("Caledonia" was even covered later by industrialists Test Department). Later on in the record is an alternate version of "Caledonia" from the b-side of the original lp, slowed down to a third of the speed, producing an impenetratable swampy murk. "Ritual Feast of The Libido" features a groaning and moaning vocal over whirring and rumbling machinery. Then comes "Fantasy", where a faux Beach Boys intro almost convinces us that Grasmere and Elliot have returned to their bubblegum roots, that is until it devolves into a messy seven minutes of garbled laughter and clattering percussion. Today this all still seems pretty damn crazy, so back in 1968 when it was recorded it must have really freaked people out, even despite the pervasive drug culture of the time... definitely for those of you who were blown away by the Comus, and for everyone who is in need of a new favorite fucked record, this is it. Now a unanimous AQ fave.
Available on vinyl for the first time since the original lp on SST way back in 1988! Limited to 2000 copies on Baked Goods, the label of Dinosaur mainman Jay Mascis.
Wow. Never thought we'd be reviewing a Dinosaur Jr. record. I mean, they are one of those bands that were always around. We all loved them. Had all of their records (at the time). Had the cassettes on the floor in the frontseat of the car, just a quick lean from the driver's seat, ready to pop in for the next long drive. They definitely stopped being relevent (and -good- some might argue) after Bug, their third record. But for three or four years there, Dinosaur Jr. took everything we loved and stuffed it into one perfect little indie rock package. Punk rock snarl, metallic crunch, indie jangle, squiggly guitar solos (!), and a Neil Young like whine in the form of frontman J. Mascis' stoned drawling vocals. You can definitely hear the influence Dinosaur had on Nirvana, Polvo, Swervedriver, and about a million other late eighties rock bands! Lou Barlow, bass player for Dinosaur Jr., would go on to send indie rock from the studio back to the practice space and launch a million bedroom rockers with his home recorded 4-track project Sebadoh (whose first official release was actually a track on the second Dinosaur Jr. record You're Living All Over Me) while Mascis (formerly of punk sludge outfit Deep Wound and metal weirdos Upsidedown Cross) would go on to more commerical success before dropping off the face of the earth and giving up music altogether. But for those first three records, Dinosaur Jr. were the shit. And damn if these records don't sound just as good now almost a decade later! All three re-issues have liner notes by Byron Coley and bonus tracks!
Bug was what you would call Dinosaur Jr's breakthrough. Or maybe sell out record. But who really give a shit what you call it. This was the ultimate kick ass indie rock record. Period. Heavy and catchy, melodic and weird, totally derivative and totally original! The song "Freak Scene" is what did it. A perfect pop song if there ever was one. AND the best use of expletives in an indie rock song ever. Even people who didn't know the song, would sing along to -those- parts: "So fucked, I can't believe it", and "Just don't let me fuck up will you, cuz when I need a friend it's still you", at the top of their lungs. And why not? Every inch of that song was a stone cold hook, the chorus, the verse, even the guitar solos. Track two, "No Bones" is maybe as Neil Young as Dino Jr. got, a totally unforgettable riff, and perfectly drawled vocals. Then there was "The Post", a doomy dirge that somehow morphs into into a perfect little pop ditty, wrapped around one of the most kick ass rock riffs ever and some wicked leads on top! This is maybe the first (and only?) truly perfect Dinosaur Jr. record. The sound is still buzzy and heavy, guitars are big and distorted, but the pop songs are just too strong to stay buried and against all odds, and often battling crushing guitars and freaked out noise, they rise to the surface and shine brightly through swirling shroud of distorted psychedelic haze. So so so great!!!
Available on vinyl for the first time since the original lp on SST way back in 1987! Limited to 2000 copies on Baked Goods, the label of Dinosaur mainman Jay Mascis.
Wow. Never thought we'd be reviewing a Dinosaur Jr. record. I mean, they are one of those bands that were always around. We all loved them. Had all of their records (at the time). Had the cassettes on the floor in the frontseat of the car, just a quick lean from the driver's seat, ready to pop in for the next long drive. They definitely stopped being relevent (and -good- some might argue) after Bug, their third record. But for three or four years there, Dinosaur Jr. took everything we loved and stuffed it into one perfect little indie rock package. Punk rock snarl, metallic crunch, indie jangle, squiggly guitar solos (!), and a Neil Young like whine in the form of frontman J. Mascis' stoned drawling vocals. You can definitely hear the influence Dinosaur had on Nirvana, Polvo, Swervedriver, and about a million other late eighties rock bands! Lou Barlow, bass player for Dinosaur Jr., would go on to send indie rock from the studio back to the practice space and launch a million bedroom rockers with his home recorded 4-track project Sebadoh (whose first official release was actually a track on the second Dinosaur Jr. record You're Living All Over Me) while Mascis (formerly of punk sludge outfit Deep Wound and metal weirdos Upsidedown Cross) would go on to more commerical success before dropping off the face of the earth and giving up music altogether. But for those first three records, Dinosaur Jr. were the shit. And damn if these records don't sound just as good now almost a decade later! All three re-issues have liner notes by Byron Coley and bonus tracks!
You're Living All Over Me was the transitional record, where Dinosaur Jr. started sounding, well. like Dinosaur Jr. With Mascis' Neil Young like drawl way up in the mix, swirling squalls of wah guitar, and most importantly, KILLER songs! Not even remotely punk rock anymore, this was the sound that would define late eighties indie rock. "Little Fury Things", the opening track is the perfect Dinosaur microcosm, starting off with a blast of noisy guitar feakout, a jangly strum takes over, and Mascis belts out a melody that remains stuck in our heads even to this day before the whole thing is subsumed by a suffocating swirl of guitar noise. The rest of the record is practically perfect, veering from loping heavy guitar grooves, to slow shimmering jangle, to full on Crazy Horse instrumental guitar jam. In fact YLAOM is the record that turned Mascis into the first indie rock guitar god. Live, every track would stretch out into endless psychedelic jams, while on record, those jams were compacted and stuck between perfect pop choruses and plaintive, sad boy verses, which again became the blueprint for every indie rock band that followed. YLAOM also included the track "Poledo" which while technically a Dinosaur Jr. track, was performed and recorded by bassist Lou Barlow at home, and was the first officially released Sebadoh song (or songs, as it actually sounds like several song fragments strung together), a mumbly lo-fi acoustic dirge, interspersed with tape hiss, noisy interference, found sounds and bursts of white noise. Weirdly, the first cd version of YLAOM included the Peter Frampton cover "Show Me The Way", replaced here by their infamous cover of the Cure's "Just Like Heaven" with its dirge-y blast of a chorus and wailing guitars, and which, in a testament to Dinosaur's songwriting brilliance, sounds like it could be a Dinosaur original.
Available on vinyl for the first time since the original lp on Homestead way back in 1986! Limited to 2000 copies on Baked Goods, the label of Dinosaur mainman Jay Mascis.
Wow. Never thought we'd be reviewing a Dinosaur Jr. record. I mean, they are one of those bands that were always around. We all loved them. Had all of their records (at the time). Had the cassettes on the floor in the frontseat of the car, just a quick lean from the driver's seat, ready to pop in for the next long drive. They definitely stopped being relevent (and -good- some might argue) after Bug, their third record. But for three or four years there, Dinosaur Jr. took everything we loved and stuffed it into one perfect little indie rock package. Punk rock snarl, metallic crunch, indie jangle, squiggly guitar solos (!), and a Neil Young like whine in the form of frontman J. Mascis' stoned drawling vocals. You can definitely hear the influence Dinosaur had on Nirvana, Polvo, Swervedriver, and about a million other late eighties rock bands! Lou Barlow, bass player for Dinosaur Jr., would go on to send indie rock from the studio back to the practice space and launch a million bedroom rockers with his home recorded 4-track project Sebadoh (whose first official release was actually a track on the second Dinosaur Jr. record You're Living All Over Me) while Mascis (formerly of punk sludge outfit Deep Wound and metal weirdos Upsidedown Cross) would go on to more commerical success before dropping off the face of the earth and giving up music altogether. But for those first three records, Dinosaur Jr. were the shit. And damn if these records don't sound just as good now almost a decade later! All three re-issues have liner notes by Byron Coley and bonus tracks!
Dinosaur was not only the name of their debut record, but was actually the name of the band before they added the Jr. (after the release of Bug and a threatened lawsuit from SF hippy leftovers Dinosaur). Sloppy and chaotic, noisy and snotty, Dinosaur is the record that introduced us to what would become a hugely important band, and who by melding melody, punk rock blast, and metallic crunch would end up being massive influences on a decade of indie / college rock. Mascis' lazy, whiney nasal drawl is definitely present, but hasn't become the focal point it would be on later records. Lots of reverb, big distorted guitars, a beautifully clumsy, strummy indie rock with plenty of wah guitar, bursts of angstful harcore grrrr and the occasional metal guitar freakout. Diamonds in the rough include the glimmer of Dinosaur to come in "Repulsion" and the indie jangle love song "Severed Lips" that definitely made it on every indie geek's mixtape in 1985. Bonus track: "Does It Float (live)".
Working in a record store I've learned that records released with merely someone's given name attached -- unless they're very famous -- often tend not to receive as much attention as something released under a more fanciful, made up "group" moniker. Maybe it's that a plain ol' person's name just doesn't fire the imagination. It seems wise that Jeff Mangum was Neutral Milk Hotel, that Chan Marshall calls herself Cat Power, that Campbell Kneale makes music as Birchville Cat Motel (and Black Boned Angel, etc.), and that Tara Burke is Fursaxa, amongst many other examples -- though we're not sure how Malefic recording as Xasthur, where you've got two made up names, fits into this. So, to anyone contemplating a solo project, we'd suggest making up a "band" name for it...
Which is our way of saying, don't ignore this cd, just 'cause it's being presented under the name of Toby Driver. He's actually the main guy from the avant-metal outfit Kayo Dot, whose debut album on John Zorn's Tzadik label has been quite a favorite 'round these parts since it was released in 2003. Heavy and weird and droney and strangely poppy too, all sorts of things we like.
In the L..L..Library Loft is a solo project from Toby, with some help from his friends -- there's eight other musicians credited, a remarkable number of 'em playing the lowly tuning fork, along with other things! Another unusual instrument credit is "remote snare drum". Plus there's a more conventional array of instruments like guitar, bass, piano, violin, cello, drums, trumpet, trombone, etc. That should give you the idea that this shares with Kayo Dot an interesting style of proggy chamber rock experimentation -- indeed, the four, fairly lengthy tracks here are kinda like Kayo Dot with most of the metal removed. Though, the rumbling waves of percussion, guitar distortion, and buried screams on the track "Kandu Vs. Corky (Horrorca)" still hint at Neurosis. But there's also many non-metallic elements here as well -- fragile singing and dark, quietly moody ambience. Definitely a disc worth exploring, especially if you're already a fan of Kayo Dot (or Kayo Dot's earlier formation as Maudlin Of The Well).
And look out for Kayo Dot's new album, just released on Crucial Blast, to be reviewed here next time, hopefully!
The minute we first heard this band we knew we had to track this record down and review it. Unfortunately we also knew that we would probably never be able to do it justice with mere words. One of those bands you just NEED to hear. This now disbanded (only temporarily we hope) UK combo manage to combine the impossibly dense chaotic metallic fury of Converge with the expansive epic wonder of bands like Godspeed You Black Emperor and Explosions In The Sky. Doesn't necessarily seem like a good fit, but oh it couldn't sound more perfect. And Eden Maine do more than just ape their influences, they take those sounds and twist them into something at once familiar and recognizable but at the same time completely original and compellingly and brilliantly fucked up. Extended tracks dense with super complex parts, stop start weirdness, delicate melodies, wildly squiggly riffing, some of the most insane and brilliant drumming we've heard in forever, bizarre guitar interplay, lots of heavy parts strangely underpinned with haunting ambience, even occasional vocal harmonies, it's the sort of record that leaves you completely exhausted, the whole record rife with slow building post rock epics, that slowly twist and change into furious blasts of metallic vitriol, which sometimes build and build even further, pushing the limit of how heavy a band can get until they just implode, but just as often the songs drift into wide open stretches of glistening melodies and quietly propulsive post rock. Eden Maine definitely fit within the new breed of post rock metal bands (Conifer, Tides, Baroness, Isis, Indian, the Ocean, etc.) but EM somehow manage to make the heavier parts even heavier, the epic parts even more epic. It's a little ineffable, but there's something about this band and this record, that make the whole thing just so goddamn great.
Is there no end to the doom and sludge in sight? We sure as hell hope not. We raved about the newest record from these Finnish sludge lords a while back and were super psyched to discover their first record Worm Dirges was getting reissued on cd. Unlike their newer one, III, which we described as clean and spacious and open (not words you'd expect to find in a review of a sludgy doom record) Worm Dirges is much less polished, much more primitive and primal, and not nearly as slow, but still plenty sludgy and heavy. Plenty of Eyehategod-isms for sure, but these two extended mostly instrumental jams don't sound metal as much as they sound sort of krautrocky, or post rocky or even post punky in a weird way. Very reminiscent of Dutch hypno metallers Gore, a simple riff repeated over and over and over and over. Completely and utterly hypnotic. Both tracks devolve into dreamy drones here and there before lurching back into sludge mode, but the interesting thing is that the main riffs in each track (two tracks, two riffs!) don't sound metal so much as they sort of sound like Black Flag. Seriously. Maybe Black Flag at 16rpm. You can -almost- imagine them sped up with Rollins ranting over the top. But c'mon, Black Flag at 16rpm?!?! If that doesn't sound like the best fucking thing ever to you, there's something seriously wrong.
Obviously this is essential for the drone doom dirge faithful, SUNNO))), Earth, Boris, Corrupted, etc. as well as fans of the new post rock/metal hybrids (Isis, Conifer, Tides, Baroness, Buried At Sea, Pelican) But other folks into stuff like Circle or Salvatore or the more extreme end of the post rock spectrum might really dig this too.
Packaged in a cool tri-fold printed cardstock sleeve.
Guillermo Galindo dons a diverse array of musical hats -- experimental, electro-acoustic, electronic, sound art installations and opera! He even wore a modified helmet during his performance at last year's SF Electronic Music Fest! This is the first we've heard from Gal*In_Dog, his atmospheric soundscape chapeau. The six slowly shifting vaporous tracks stretch out over the course of 69 minutes. Occasionally the sound fades to often barely-there drones, sometimes more tactile prickles and swarms of hiss, once in a while giving way to the surprise of nature bird songs. A quite nice record of electronic experimentalism, dark and mysterious, dense but still quite lovely.
FINALLY, this long out of print, all time unanimous AQ favorite gets re-pressed and is available once again!
The Conet Project from beyond the grave!?! Perhaps that's a good way of describing this baffling, terrifying, occasionally laughable, but always compelling album. It's been out of print for a very long time, and we're pleased to see The Ghost Orchid haunting our shelves once again!
To recap, The Ghost Orchid documents instances of something called "Electronic Voice Phenomenon," the paranormal appearance of strange voices (which at times sing and speak in multiple languages) on magnetic tape when there shouldn't be any voices there at all... Respected parapsychologists have postulated that these voices are those of dead people (i.e. ghosts) or possibly of extraterrestrial origin! Unlike The Conet Project, which cross referenced the audio tracks with written information, The Ghost Orchid presents these recordings with the audio commentary of one of several researchers (Nadia Fowler, Raymond Cass, and Lief Elggren -- the Swedish performance/audio artist and a part time collaborator with the Hafler Trio), explaining the findings. These recordings are the findings of a number of parapsychologists including Dr. Konstantine Raudive, Friedrich Jurgenson, and Raymond Cass.
While there is something wholly terrifying about these recordings, there is an absurd question about these ghostly voices that we have to ask: Why are the majority of these recordings in Latvian? At any rate, The Ghost Orchid manages to be both spooky and silly, and is definitely a fascinating listen from a pure sound perspective regardless of how disturbing and/or amusing you might find the alleged sound source itself. For non sequitur pop culture reference, the sample "You are sleeping, you do not want to believe" which concludes The Smith's "The Rubber Ring" hails from an old recording made by Raudive and can be found in its entirety here. Brilliant!
We've been trying to track this down for ages after reading about Glorior Belli in Terrorizer. Assorted comparisons to Dissection and Watain and Deathspell Omega and the like had us practically foaming at the mouth. Finally after months of searching we finally managed to get a bunch of these in. The first thing we noticed was how much it looks like the Watain records, or any of the releases on N.E.D. (home to DSO, Ondskapt, Funeral Mist, etc), with a cool woodcut on the cover, arcane black and grey graphics, vaguely religious imagery, everything sort of distressed looking, as if it was taken from some long buried parchment. But what the hell, this band probably -should- be on N.E.D., it would be a perfect fit. Buzzing super technical, ultra raw blackened thrash, with darkly melodic breakdowns verging on post rock, lots of majestic riffing, and stretches of super blasting buzz! The whole thing though has a strangely melodic bent that helps it stand out from other black metal records, an almost indie-rock quality to the melodies, somehow super catchy while at the same time being suffocatingly black and grim. Quite a feat indeed. Anyone who has been digging Watain, Deathspell Omega (especially the newest one), Funeral Mist, or any of that stuff NEEDS this for sure!
While we're sure their live shows continue to be a sweaty wild blues rawk party, The Gossip have certainly pulled up their knee socks, combed their hair and tightened up their chops for this their latest full length. It's still very punchy with a thumpin' danceable beat courtesy of new drummer Hannah, but there's much less of the blistering grittiness that defined their sound. Granted some of their past grit could easily be attributed to less than stellar recordings. That's certainly not the case here -- they recorded at Bear Creek Studios (a very well-equipped pro recording facility housed in a beautifully converted old barn near Seattle) with Fugazi's Guy Picciotto at the helm. The band sounds great! It seems though that the band have reached a point in their recording career (with both confidence and ability levels at a high point) that if you didn't know that this music was being played by a trio of still-very-youthful indie kids, you could easily mistake it for something more mainstream-y... y'know, something that would never find its way onto Kill Rock Stars. Beth's voice alone has always delivered a soulful power well beyond her years. Now the music has locked into stride with her vocals. Right on!
First things first -- be aware that this double disc of live pagan ritual drone from Japan's dark diminutive pyschedelic overlord Keiji Haino is a strictly limited release, just 1000 copies pressed, of which only 500 are available in the States. Of which we've got 30. It's jointly released by both the Important label and Scott Slimm's Archive -- the latter who previously brought us the so rapidly sold out that we couldn't even list it triple live cd Boris release, and also the now equally out of print live disc by Growing, and if those two are any indication, this will be long gone soon too!
Of course the music's the main attraction, but it's nice that as with Archive's other previous releases this looks great too: Beautiful, simple double cd packaging. Black on black, of course. Letterpressed printing. A cover image of Haino in an action pose, intently focused on a table-top of electronic gadgetry.
And what's Haino up to on the sonic front here? The two discs are different, the 54'27" disc one featuring electronics, percussion, and vocals; and the 46'54" disc two devoted to Haino's hurdy-gurdy playing (plus voice). Both are combinations of the lovely and the difficult in proportions to which Haino's fans are accustomed. Let's listen more closely...
Disc one, entitled "A temporary freezing of the time axis that turns at the end of this profound now": Restrained electronic whine, drone, squiggle. Simmering, dubby passages of typewritery percussion. Brief outbursts of Haino's trademark vocal exhortations. Overall, ominous and soothing both. It's an aural glimpse into a mad scientist's laboratory, experiments automatically percolating away, Professor Haino occasionally lecturing his visitors intensely...
Disc two, known as, incredibly, "That, which while enfolding this now and present perfume, speaks, 'I will use to the fullest this form bestowed upon me' and blurs into the firmament - ah, where and in what form will it next be devised": Haino's hurdy gurdy playing conjures a grating, broken drone. Like a creepy-crawling Tony Conrad. Halting rhythms, staggering back and forth, on and off, scraping and soul wrenching. But beautiful too, with moments sounding "classical", melodic. Some more of that typewritery percussion. And then there's his voice, which, when reveal'd, hovers serious and fragile over the black drone clouds roiling out of his instrument...
Further notes: this recording was mastered by James Plotkin, while the graphic design was handled by Stephen O'Malley -- thus, two members of Khanate having a hand in this release. Hmm, that gets me on a line of speculative thinking...Haino did a collaboration with Boris a while back, so why not with Khanate?? Hearing him on the mic dueting with Alan Dubin would be amazing!
The name Sean Hayes has swiftly become one that you can trust for some really good down-home listenin'. His ever-growing following around these parts know very well that this man has a special way with both word and song. His last album, the laidback bluesy beauty Alabama Chicken from 2003, really made its mark on the Bay Area country folk community, equally appealing to fans of his fellow indie folksters Will Oldham, Jason Molina and his pal Jolie Holland as well as fans of the less grassroots-y types such as Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson or country rock vets John Hiatt and Graham Parker. This, the eagerly anticipated Big Black Hole And The Little Baby Star, is his fourth full length. Honing, fleshing out and expanding on that which came before, it sure doesn't disappoint. Not one to let the grass grow beneath his feet nor one to rest on his laurels, Hayes continues to grow as a deeply soulful songcraftsman, discovering and exploring new broader possibilities in his music. Refreshing and strong from start to finish, Big Black Hole And The Little Baby Star's fourteen songs find him at his most confident and effortless. He's joined by a number of fellow SF musical luminaries Ara Anderson (Iron & The Albatross), Etienne DeRocher, Ches Smith (Trevor Dunn's Trio-Convulsant), Todd Roper and Kathryn Jensen. Be sure to check out the album's closing number, the slowly grooving "Turnaroundturnmeon" that perhaps offers a glimpse of his future directions. Sure to convert many many more ears to this gent's warm, earthy aural finery. Recommended!
Way back in 2002 we listed a record by Norway's Hlidolf, who whipped up (or, er... down) a slow motion swirl of spacey, dark, drifty, deep, and droney doom sludge. Channelling Earth 2, SUNNO))), Lustmord, Klaus Schulze and the like. Obviously it was a huge AQ fave. Unfortunately that release seems to have faded and disappeared into the ether, but thankfully we now have this epic three track disc from Hjarnidaudi, who are the rightful sonic heirs to the space doom drone throne once occupied by Hlidolf (due in no small part to this being the new project of Hlidolf's Vidar Ermesjo). But where Hlidolf was all darkness and doom, winter and wastelands, Hjarnidaudi is white hot light and blinding bursts of fuzz and sparkle, like the impossible birth of a new universe. Sure it's still slow and doomy, but much like the recent Fleshpress III record, this is a doom band moving beyond the confines of pure doom. Huge expansive stretches of majestic slow moving melody, a sort of doom certainly, but instead of murky downtuned gurgling sludge, these doomscapes are constructed from jagged buzzy brittle slabs of crystalline guitars, brief explosive smears of almost ambient fuzz, held together by an impossibly glacial rhythm section. Sunroof! by way of Esoteric, a shoegazer SUNNO))), a WAY less propulsive Jesu, or Skepticism broadcast through the M83 soundsystem. A gloriously thick and rich, warm and shimmering expanse of stretched out buzzing guitars, dreamy melodies, minor key and melancholy, but with a strangely warm embrace. If most sludge-doom-death-drone is like dunking your head in a tarpit, the world a dripping black dirge, Hjarnidaudi is like falling into the Sunn, hot and blinding, the world splintering into a million tiny sparkling pieces.
Limited to 750 copies, packaged in a mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve.
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Hum of the druid indeed. Rarely does a band name so perfectly capture the essence of a band's sound. Societal is just one massive LP length druidic hum. The name may be spot on but the cover is a bit misleading, with its creepy evil Rudimentary Peni style cover, it definitely smacks of some obscure doom metal record, or when you also figure in the name, some sort of neo folk new weird America whatever. But no, Hum Of The Druid is indeed about THE HUM, which is essentially THE DRONE, which means this is definitely going to hit the spot for drone obsessives. However, unlike the slowly shifting static quality of a lot of drone records, Societal is a thick and roiling sonic stew, about as unsmooth as you can get. Static, crackle, hum, fuzz, the sound of ocean surf, radio interference, white noise, pink noise, record run off, it's as if HOTD took every naturally and un-naturally occurring source of hum and constructed this gorgeously thick layered chunk of squirming, twisting, shifting hum. It's ambient sure, but an impossibly grinding ambience, like some long lost Japanoise record with all the edges sanded off, or like listening to My Bloody Valentine, through the one remaining blown speaker on your car stereo, with the bass all the way up and the treble all the way down, rendering everything a warm mewling rumbly hum. Imagine listening to your favorite record with EVERY single cord and cable connecting your stereo components and speakers, pulled out far enough where they're just barely in there, the connection so tenuous, that your favorite record becomes an orchestra of bad connections, with only the occasional glimpse of the melody and music beneath the suffocating smear of glitch and crackle and indeed hum!
Ildjarn is a black metal legend. A recently released tribute featured a who's who of the black metal elite paying homage: Leviathan, Xasthur, Forgotten Tomb, Nachtmystium, Urfaust, Azaghal, Grimfaug and more. And rightfully so. Who is more grim, more cult, more legendary than Ildjarn? Having performed as a member of Thou Shalt Suffer and Sort Vokter it wasn't until Ildjarn struck out on his own that he truly discovered his muse, which led him to produce a truly infamous body of work, from super lo-fi black metal buzz to ambient synthesizer suites. This double disc collection compiles the first recorded Ildjarn material from 1992, the mega rare 1993 demo, and the Minnesjord - The Dark Soil demo as well as a bunch of unreleased stuff as well.
The sound of Ildjarn is ultra, ultra, ULTRA lo-fi black metal buzz, with blown out guitars, uncertain drumming, howled demon vocals, with that totally raw practice space recording feel. The really cool thing about Ildjarn Is Dead, is the multiple versions / parts of each song, sometimes as many as 7 or 8 versions, each with varying amounts of fidelity, each it's own sort of lo-fi recording, some muddy and murky, some brittle and high end, resulting in a constantly fluctuating recording quality that is much an instrument as the drums or the guitar. This is the blackest of metal, think Darkthrone, Mayhem, but dig even deeper, closer to the pits of hell, deeper into the black of night, grim and raw and cult as fuck.
There are some brief glimpses of some of the more avant Ildjarn to come later, with some interludes of gristly Earth-like distorted guitar drones complete with record crackle and a strange almost classical / New Age sounding coda, with sweeping synths, and haunting disembodied vocals.
Disc two includes more than 20 minutes of unfinished material 1993-1994, which is completely amazing, some parts are just bass and drums, a skeletal outline of a never realized track, some are fully realized blasts of buzz and hiss, some have strange dropouts and tape warble, giving the whole thing an inadvertently avant sheen, like some strange unearthed decaying tapes a la Basinski (which I guess is sort of what they actually are).
Amazingly packaged and gorgeously printed. An oversized fold out sleeve, printed in black, grey and silver, with a huge insert that features a massive sixteen thousand-word last statement written by Ildjarn, also included are lyrics to all the tracks and the cd sleeves within include the original artwork and more text. Absolutely beautiful. It's released by Northern Heritage, the label that put out the brilliant Crushing The Holy Trinity compilation a while back, packaged in a similarly oversized sleeve, although the design on the Ildjarn is a lot more subtle and visually stunning.
And if you're still not sure if this is essential, how about a few words of warning from Ildjarn himself?
"Before purchasing this product you should take great care in observing the following requirements in relation to it:
After long-term use of this product you may experience increased hatred, thus a lust to kill partcipants of your own breed subsequent to and while operating this product may consequently occur. The copyright owner of this audio product and all its accompanying propaganda declares that it is in compliance with the essential requirements of antilife, and hereby assumes all liability for any injury or death caused by the use of this product. If inexperienced with the kind of hateful and suicidal contents distributed through this product, you should seek the advice of experienced misanthropists and death-worshipers before operation, to assure proper use and to prevent the interference of alien thoughts originating from philanthropists, which will most likely harm the process that may be the result of using this specific product. This product is furthermore solely intended for use in a solitary confinement, and should not be subjected to any other use. Following these rules, this recording and the accompanying words will provide a lifetime of pure frustration, caused by the newly acquired knowledge of the insufficiencies and absurdities of earthly life. If failing in the harsh process of submitting to these rules subsequent to your purchase, users are strongly urged to give away this product to a being willing to obey to the unwritten laws conceived by the sources of death's path, and ultimately the annihilation of the self. Again, be sure to consider all the above requirements prior to your purchase."
The wait is over -- now that it's 2006, the 2005 edition of Improvised Music From Japan is here! It's an indispensable journal to those of you, like us, who are confirmed musical Japanophiles and/or into the extremes of improvised sound activity. This time around, IMJ consists of a beautifully designed 128 page digest-sized book accompanied by two cds tucked under its front and back covers. The print portion of this is devoted entirely to write-ups about new albums from 2004 and 2005, over 350 of them (of which 21 are Merzbow releases!). Some are full articles all about a particular artist, others are briefer descriptions or impressions of the music, sometimes written by the artist in question (so we won't call these "reviews" in the consumer-guide sense, though this could be used that way). As always, the text is presented in both Japanese and English, along with thumbnail album cover pics. Besides all the Merzbow, there's plenty of names you might know here, and plenty more you probably don't. And you also find some non-Japanese artists in here as well (David Grubbs, Bastard Noise, Carl Stone, etc.) included because they've been released on a Japanese label or have collaborated with Japanese musicians.
Perusing this, you're gonna start making a list of releases you hadn't heard of before to try and hunt down -- we certainly did. One revelation was that Omoide Hatoba released a new album in 2004, we hadn't known that!! Gosh. Gotta get a hold of that somehow.
Meanwhile, the cds, like the magazine, feature both relatively well-known improvisers and (to us) newcomers. Among the 21 tracks spread across these two cds, you'll find pieces by familiar names like Toshiya Tsunoda, Merzbow and Kiyoshi Mizutani. But also you'll be introduced to the likes of VOIMA, sim and Tetsuya Umeda (whose track "Error Piano", featuring Yasuhisa Mizutani improvising on the piano whilst Umeda "loiters" nearby, with a portable radio, is indicative in its peculiarity and spontaneity of the variety of music to be heard on these discs and read about in the pages of the magazine). Out-jazz, mimimal electronics, brutal noise, all of the above and everything in between, that's the IMJ aesthetic”a good match for many curious AQ customers wethinks.
There's a point at which music can get no more frantic, no more noisy, no more heavy. The point at which the sound of music just becomes a blur of sound, a mess of noise. The trick is, especially with extreme music, is to get as close as possible without slipping over that line. Plenty have come close, and the closer they come, the more they hit that indescribable spot. Punk rock got close way back when, then metal got even closer, then the variants of metal pushed closer and closer thrash metal, metalcore, death metal, black metal, each generation of band, each new genre trying its best to get as close to the edge as possible. At moments on In The Library Of Horrific Events, Johnny Truant manage to get pretty fucking close. Their sound is a dizzying blend of ultra technical grind metal and classic heavy metalisms, each song an ultra complex downtuned chugfest, blast beats careen through dense fields of squiggly riffing, crushing crunchy sludge and howled vocals, half time breakdowns butt up to impossible buzzing grind workouts, but occasionally, out of a dense wild swirl of grinding chaos will emerge some incredible hooky dual guitar harmony, or some strangely melodic breakdown, as if Iron Maiden was somewhere under Johnny Truant's barbed blackened spiked exterior trying desperately to hack their way out.
This is maybe not entirely what you might expect from a solo album from the guitarist for modern-day Japanese psychedelic rock legends Ghost and, formerly, White Heaven (he's also currently the six stringer in Stars, and a frequent Damon & Naomi sideman)... He's perhaps best known for his gorgeous displays of John Cippolina influence in his guitar playing, but on portions of Sunset Notes he sounds less like the legendary Quicksilver Messenger Service guitarist than he does like Robert Fripp in Frippertronics mode. This lovely, lovely, sprightly, poppy album will also remind listeners of Ennio Morricone soundtracks (we're always suckers for that!) and surf music and dreamy pop. With track titles like "Twilight Mystery Of A Russian Cowboy" and "The Old Man And The Evening Star" it seems clear that he's not gonna deny the Fripp and Morricone influences... To be sure, some fans who want a more Ghostly album won't go for this but we think it's great! Bright and energetic, or gentle and pretty, but not hippified at all.
Released last year, now finally in stock at a reasonable price despite its Japanese import status.
Aaah, a Devendra Banhart sighting! While in Europe back in 2004, this neo-folk troubadour recorded with the band known as Queens Of Sheba. This lil' record features one of the resulting songs of that session -- "It's A Christmas Time Celebration". Yes, we are well aware that it is already the middle of January, but who are we to squelch a little belated holiday themed music? The flipside is the elegantly attired "Impossible Occurances" by LA's dream-folk combo Lavender Diamond. Artwork by Ron Rege. Limited pressing of 2500.
So fucked. Of course it is. It's freakin' LUGUBRUM. Allan and Andee's favorite black metal band ever, pretty much, almost. Well, at least when we're in the mood for REALLY WEIRD black metal from a bunch of Belgians who dress like farmers and eat carrots with their beloved beer. Weirdos these guys are for sure, but unlike some of the more "avant-garde" black metal acts such as Arcturus, Sigh, and Ulver (amazing as those acts are/have been) there's nothing so overtly, obviously calculated to be weird for weirdness sake from these guys. Lugubrum's insanity is more organic, but not inadvertent either like the maybe idiot savant status of Rethaf Ruo or Striborg. No, these geniuses strike a balance, and do utterly their own thing, norms and abnorms be damned. On this latest album (their sixth full-length cd), saxophones and clanking chains and droning loops of organ grinder music aren't merely eccentric elements added to a formula black metal base, but are fully integrated into the band's unique musical vision. Is it even black metal? What does that mean? What does it matter?
Their seemingly scatological, "brown metal" lyrics are cryptic, beyond easy comprehension, and that might be just as well. "The Kiss On The Anus"? "At The Base Of Their Tail"? "We Slying Sucked Stolen Bread"? Don't ask. Submit instead to the music, rumbling along, vocals growling howling mad, Funhouse saxophone blowing crazily over and under the scuzzy, sloppy, necro riffery. Somehow they're THIS weird and outside of genre boundaries (employing banjos along with blastbeats) yet are accepted as being among the grimmest of the grim by the true, cult, elite, black metal diehards. They've got 'em scared. Even though they sound like Abruptum playing jazz, or Celtic Frost jamming with Residual Echoes, or Brainbombs covering Venom... They walk the fine, wavering line between intentional absurdity and deeply, confusingly meaningful art and we love 'em for it.
If you like the wonderful Sublime Frequencies series that we've been in love with here at AQ, here is a new cd-r compiled by an AQ customer that is not a part of that series but for sure captures the same sprit and raw aesthetic as those releases. These are sounds rarely heard outside of Burma. A drum and gong ensemble that accompanies marionette performances which is part of a tradition found both in India and China. During these performances the gong ensemble of 21 or 22 drums are tuned by adding or removing a paste (yes, paste) located at the center of each drum head. The paste itself is a mixture of ash and rice powder. The sounds that are created are so amazingly raw and pleasing. Often instrumental but at times off kilter female vocals lay on top of the percussion. You get the feeling everything could all fall apart at any moment and that sense of chaos mixed with sounds steeped in a rich tradition all make for a totally one-of-a-kind listening experience. We love how it's playful, rhythmic and at times catches a blissed out blown out vibe that you could imagine hearing as part of a warped Boredoms side-project. This recording was taken straight from a cassette that made its way to the states. With no information inside and several unsuccessful attempts to get a hold of anyone involved in the project in Burma, Blueberry Buddha decided to release on c-r a very limited run with all profits going to Burma Forum a nonprofit group which serves as a watchdog and advocate of humanitarian issues in Burma. Highly recommended!
Eeep, that rather gnarly album title and one particularly excessive guitar solo in the 11th track aside, this live album from nouveau world proggy youths The Mars Volta will surely please their many fans (hell, maybe those two things won't bother you). Although it clocks in at just under 74 minutes (not really all that long for a prog-rock journey, is it?) of tripped-out jams, more structured songs and surprising little crowd noise, some of us found Scabdates to be somewhat long-winded and self-indulgent... but we're sure for the diehards the time will fly by. Not the first nor best place to start if you're just now getting around to a first encounter with these fellows though (if that's the case, check out their awesome debut Tremulant cdep -- a tight concise workout to launch you into the MV orbit).
A brand new black hole slab of metallic tar from Marzuraan, part of the NWOSMDGS, aka the New Wave of Slow Motion Doom Grind Sludge!!! Taking their sonic influences from the holy trinity of Boris, SUNNO))) and Earth (specifically Earth 2) and taking their name (presumably) from pre-Khanate outfit OLD, the UK's Marzuraan deliver their own brand of doom drone. With a raw, very live sounding production, Solid Wood deviates a bit from the recent spate of sludge releases, as Solid Wood infuses its slow motion apocalyptic dirges with mournful melancholy melodies, warm washes of guitar, and a darn near post rock shuffle. A lot of Solid Wood sounds like a heavy metal Codeine, or a seriously beefed up and tuned down Low. Sure it's crushing and heavy as fuck, but it's also dreamy and blissy as it lopes lazily through a haze of thick guitar and dense sonic reverberations. Occasionally the crush outweighs all else. but more often than not, this is one of the dreamiest prettiest pummellings we've received in a long long time.
Exquisitely packaged (as wilth all things Kult Ov Nihilow) in a strange gatefold half-sleeve, with a striking silver ink on cardstock printed insert and a full color poster.
Mugison is already a big star in his native Iceland; he recently beat Bjork for Best Pop Album and Best Song at the Icelandic National Music Awards. Mugimama! Is This Monkey Music? is a like a super rummage sale disco....his technique seems to use a bit of alchemy; a bit of a Stone Soup, throw-noises-in-a-pot until a magical rainbow appears method that is not unlike a that of the younger Beck. The album sounds more like something from a meeting of mid-'90s Los Angeles and bedroom-rock indie Midwest than the blips and glacial swirls we've become more accustomed to hearing from Iceland. Comparable at other moments to the John Spencer Blues Explosion, to a cleaner shaven (on track one, he sings, "Guess what! I shaved off my beard!") Devendra Banhart, or toward the end of the album, to Will Oldham. Mugison's vocals swing from scratchy-surly to cheek-to-cheek sensitive, the latter highlighted when he pairs up with his girlfriend, Runa, on some tracks. On "Salt," the skating violins, seashell castanets and childlike spoken poetry performed by Mugison's sister call forth an Iceland we're more familiar with musically.
This is someone to look out for. He could become a musical pioneer, taking things in a totally new direction as his career progresses, or, with this third album, he may have just stumbled into an eclectic attic of happy accidents. Either way, this album is diverse, adventurous, and quite enjoyable overall.
Here's a lost classic "psycho-symphonic film score" brought to you by the same rare psych vinyl obsessed treasure-hunters (Finders Keepers and Delay 68) that brought us such gems as the Yamasuki Singers and Jean-Claude Vannier reissues, and the Prog Is Not A Four Letter Word, Folk Is Not A Four Letter Word and Welsh Rare Beat comps! This previously unreleased soundtrack to a UK thriller from 1972 starring Oliver Reed, Edward Woodward and Jill St. John was written, composed, arranged and produced by the late Stanley Myers, already an accomplished film composer in '72 though his breakthrough success came in 1978 with his score for The Deer Hunter. For years people have been trying to get their hands on a copy of the music he recorded for Sitting Target but try as they might they found nothing because there was no copy ever in print...until now. Finders Keepers got ahold of the original quarter inch reels to make this forward-thinking, sometimes fuzzed out, eclectic orchestral soundtrack available in stores for the first time. With ominous strings, spacey guitar, and groovy chase-scene tension, this is simply great stuff, the kind of sounds you know lots of good hip-hop/electronic producers would love to get their hands all over to sample. DJ Shadow may or may not have ever heard this before, but it sure sounds like something he'd have happily woven into Endtroducing someplace” we also keep thinking of the similarities in sound and style to the great David Axelrod retrospective we listed recently. Sitting Target was apparently the first British movie to be rated "R" and Myers was just the right man to make the seductive and suspense-inducing sounds to accompany it. Andy Votel's typically well-written and researched liner notes speak of how, in the musical career of Stanley Myers, the "Swinging Sixites" gave way to the "Sinister Seventies"” definitely exemplified by this moody, broody, but action-packed soundtrack! At only a little over twenty minutes we just wish there was more!
Nine Horses is a collaboration between David Sylvian, Steve Jansen (Sylvian's longtime musical partner in Japan, Rain Crow Tree, etc.), and Burnt Friedman. In contrast to Sylvian's universally applauded Blemish album which fluttered elegantly to Christian Fennesz' arctic pixelations, Sylvian and co. adopt a cinematic jazz-pop pose for Snow Borne Sorrow, the first effort for Nine Horses. Sylvian's romantic croon takes center stage in front of Nine Horses' spare arrangements for stand-up bass, chiming vibraphones, in-the-mood-for-love atmospheres, sporadic percussive skitter, and perfunctory noirish saxophone solos that pop up wheneven Sylvain steps away from the microphone. Snow Borne Sorrow also features guest appearances from Stina Nordenstam, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and Arve Henriksen. In two words, synthetically silky.
After their caustic debut, "The Towers are Burning" (also on tUMULt), a record that explored an especially pummeling and punishing kind of ambience, Oakland based audio terrorists Noisegate abandoned the violent and corrosive clamor that peppered their first full length, and instead, created a dark and barren dronescape of ominous, slowly shifting deep resonance. Whirring and thunderous low end rumble underpins shimmering textures of glistening darkness and hazy tonal reverberations, grey and austere. "Suspended Animation" is a breathtaking arrangement of hum and buzz and chime. Stark and spatial, warm and mesmeric; feedback, voices, guitars, and bells are dismantled, reduced to tones and timbre, flowing like a murmering black river; bubbling up from a lost spring. A maudlin elegy, hypnotic and somber, funereal yet effulgent.
Reminiscient of the isolationist experiments and drone investigations of Lustmord, Organum, Zoviet France, Andrew Chalk, and Jonathan Coleclough.
Noisegate were a two man ambient wrecking crew, taking the crusty crush of Neurosis, and smearing it into desloate and apocalyptic stretches of pure droning malevolence. This, their first record, is easily one of the bleakest and harshest and gorgeously heavy records we have ever heard. Brutal and aggressive and furious, sometimes impossibly tranquil and serene, but even at it's most ambient, Noisegate still managed to imbue every minute of every track with some ineffable otherworldly forboding.
Four huge ominous dronescapes over the course of sixty minutes, interrupted by violent squalls of slow-motion pummel and 16 rpm grindcore. uneasy ambience and corrosive electronics nestled in a sea of suffocating drones and rib cage rattling hum. Sparse brooding nightmarish ambience punctuated by bursts of skull crushing walls of bass, guitars, tapes, samples and vocals. A monstrous and truly threatening din.
Fresh off their killer split release with Xasthur last year, Danish black metal funereal doom lords (or lord, really, since it's just one guy) Nortt offer up a full length for your pleasure...if you can deal with the depression!! If you haven't heard Nortt before, they're a bit like Skepticism meets Burzum. SOOOO doomy and atmospheric. Ligfaerd is a sinister expanse of spooky soundtrack ambience bombarded (at relaxed intervals) with boulders... No, not boulders -- fuzz-distortion depth charges, dropped deep and echoing in the abyss, wherein dwell the cave-blind creatures that make Nortt's music... or so it would seem from this disc's raspy, weary vocal exhalations and monstrous awakenings. The thudding percussion could be gigantic footfalls amidst the droning, morose melodies, that insinuate themselves slowly into your consciousness, as there are lots of quiet passages on this depressive, lethargic record. We bet Bohren and Der Club Of Gore would love this band! We sure do. Definitely one of the exclusive several doom and/or black metal acts that we think non-habitual listeners to such musics might appreciate, if such extremes of feeling and weirdness as described above are more than tolerated.
Despite his development as an artist within the heyday of the British post-industrial community of Nurse With Wound, Whitehouse, and The New Blockaders, David Jackman's musical beginnings date back much earlier to the nascent stages of British improv. In fact, Jackman's earliest recordings were made within Cornelius Cardew's Scratch Orchestra and a couple of late '60s projects spearheaded by Eddie Prevost of AMM; but it wasn't until much later that he actually released anything he conceptualized. Up until about five years ago, it was pretty safe to say that most everything Jackman touched turned to sonic gold. The signature Organum sound is an aggressively droning acoustic screech, typically created by bowing cymbols and multi-tracking the results with little or no processing. Nowadays, artists like Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sunroof, and Birchville Cat Motel owe their entire sound to Organum; and it's hard to find instances when the students have outclassed the teacher. The main problem with Organum and Jackman is his insistance upon very short programs... such as this 18 minute 3". It's fucking beautiful; but would it really damage Jackman's curmudgeonly mystique to actually compile a full 70 minute album?
Anyway, the four tracks found on Die Hennen Zahne date back to the early '80s, with the first cut "Die Kralle" pre-dating the earliest Organum work, when Jackman was multi-tracking metallic hammerings and primative sampled loops of scraping noise. The title track explodes with a constant tumble of crashing glass and Tibetan horn blurts. At merely four minutes long, Jackman's controlled fury is no match for those epic blasts of cacophony heard on Sub Rosa's amazing collection of Tibetan Buddhist rites, but it is nice to actually hear a rare influence intrude into the Organum repertoire. "Maus" is the centerpiece of the album, beautifully encapsulating everything that Jackman does so well. Bowed cymbols set in a complex polyphony of static reverberation and shimmering metallic vibrato. Excellent! The final track is a quieter bit of 'pipe fighting' between Jackman, Michael Prime, and Emma O'Bong, much like the Organum curiousity Vacant Lights. Even if it is a bit short, Die Hennen Zahne is well worth diving into.
Oh panda bears, they're so peculiarly roly-poly, black and white. Wait a sec, one of these things is not like the others! This entity calls himself Panda Bear, but there is little if anything in common with those creatures. Well, they do have opposable thumbs. Perhaps he survives on a strict diet of bamboo shoots? Seems unlikely. Anyways, this music maker, also known as Noah Lennox, also known as one of the founders of Animal Collective, has followed up his fine solo album Young Prayer which came out last year with this two-song 7" record. Oh and we should add that he somehow also finds time to record under the moniker Jane (whose recent Coconuts cd we've been throughly enjoying) to boot. "I'm Not" and "Comfy In Nautica" are both definitely in a similar hazy vein as his Jane material -- psych, avant-folk, drones among other things are once again drawn together into his whirlpool of sound -- but perhaps there's a bit more of a pop influence that makes its way into the mix to very good effect. Fits nicely right between Jane and the most recent Animal Collective album Feels. This is also apparently on the cdep format but we haven't gotten those yet...
Wow. This has got to be the thickest heftiest gatefoldlp sleeve we've EVER seen. Not just the kind that cracks and creaks when you open, no, it's the sort of lp that when you do finally crack it open, it's like in the movies when the main character is finally opening the long lost crypt, muscles bulging, tendons straining, sweating and grunting, as it slowly opens with the grinding scrape of metal on concrete... Okay, so maybe it's not quite -that- intense, but heck, EVERY single person who picks it up does a sort of double take and utters something like "Woah, wow... WOW!" Plus the cover images are gorgeous, the front is a stark black and white landscape of gnarled dead trees, the back is a makeshift gallows, occupied by two unlucky souls, with an ominous pile of human skulls in the foreground. Crack it open and inside the gatefold you'll see a acid drenched burnt out kaleidoscopic photo of Krysztof Penderecki behind a huge pile of analog studio gear. Penderecki? Yep, Pendercki! This is the long lost soundtrack to the 1965 classic The Sargassa Manuscript, AKA Rekopis znaleziony w Sarogossie, AKA The Manuscript Found In Saragossa, one of the greatest Polish films ever made, and most definitely one of the strangest, most fucked up visual trips EVER. Think Bunuel, Lynch, Jodorowsky, Tarkovsky, Gilliam and then realize you'd most definitely need to include Sargasso director Wojciech Has. But the sounds are as strange and wondrous as the sights, due in no small part to Penderecki's lovely, haunting and downright bizarre score. Dark delicate piano filigree hovers in wide expanses of barely there ambience, grunts and groans and mumbled vocalisations drift in and out, western steel string guitars play tiny boleros before being overtaken by majestic church organs, snatches of refined chamber music are interrupted by strange soundscapes of what sounds like thunder or trees being felled, hypnotic stretches of No Neck Blues Band-like rattle and clatter, mysterious percussive interludes, woodblocks and rattles and shakers, and surrounding it all, little bits and pieces, scraps of sound, all manner of strange audio delights. A completely intense and intensely strange musical trip, even without the equally bizarre visuals of the film. In fact the images these sounds conjure up in your head, in the dark, with headphones on, might just be even stranger than the movie itself. If that were even possible...
Pressed on INCREDIBLY thick vinyl, and oh, did we mention the sleeve?!?!
And as you might imagine, this vinyl-only Polish import is EXTREMELY LIMITED!!!!
Petracovich's We Are Wyoming finds Ms Jessica Peters exploring some different avenues -- for one thing she's given her piano playing more of the spotlight -- but none that bring that fine state in the album title to our minds. This is much more other worldly or at least other timely, perhaps harking back to some old tyme saloon or cabaret... but mind you, not one filled with rowdy drunken louts, women of ill repute and much broken glass. No, this sounds almost as if she hopped aboard a time machine that transported her back so that she could sneak into the place long after closing time to sing and play their rickety old piano all by her lonesome. An accompaniment of glistening electronic textural clouds and shuffly stuttery rhythms magically takes shape out of thin air to swirl around her breathy vocals and warm piano. Much more airy and haunting than her debut Blue Cotton Skin (which leaned more heavily on electronics a la Beth Orton or Massive Attack), this dreamy sophomore release really shows Peter's coming into her own as a songwriter and finding her own voice. So darn lovely!
Five years in the making, Illusion Is a Natural Condition brings together two of the finest noise artists the world has ever witnessed. Sure, Merzbow and Hijokaidan can hit you with their molten sounds of psychedelic excess; but San Francisco's Randy Yau and Switzerland's Dave Phillips achieve their tempestous recordings through a violent dichotomy between silence and sound. This sharp contrast effectively puts you on edge throughout the listening experience, as you never know when the next attack is going to arrive. In any given track, Yau and Phillips pack together recordings of their gutteral screams and dribbling gurgles of one of the actionists shoving something down his throat that just doesn't belong there. Occasionally, the sound of flies circle around the sickened vocalizations, as if investigating a hospital patient with a sucking chest wound. Pigs squeal. Demons roar. All of these sounds are compressed into track rarely longer than a minute, punctured by extended silences and ruptured by terse blasts of motorized noise and absurdly rendered ultra-violence that would bring joy (or is that pain?) to die-hard Wolf Eyes' fans. Recommended noise for those with a very strong stomach.
