Live concert videos (or dvds) tend to be for fans of the band in question only, though we imagine that if you weren't familiar with operatic Japanese prog monsters Koenjihyakkei and happened to watch this dvd you'd possibly become curious enough to seek out their studio recordings (or not, as this band's brand of hyperactive bombast isn't going to be everyone's cup of extra-caffinated tea). If you're already a fan of Ruins and/or Koenjihyakkei, though, you know what you're getting into here and probably can't wait to watch this. Ruins mastermind Tatsuya Yoshida's heavily Magma influenced (well, he's -always- Magma influenced, but this is to the extreme) combo Koenjiyhyakkei is in fine form here on this dvd, documenting a show they performed at the Tokyo nightclub Doors in August of 2005. There's flashing colored lights and all, but they don't them to be dazzling! Two sets plus an encore, 16 songs/chapters including a medley, shot with two cameras, for a good look at this very tight and energetic band.
Er, is it a sexist comment to mention that we marvel at how Yoshida's managed to get so many cute girls on board to perform his crazy music?? There's a female vocalist, female keyboard player (she sings too), and a female clarinetist/saxophonist (instead of the guitar that this band used to have). Then you've got Yoshida running the show from the drumkit (also singing), and also holding down the bottom end, one of Yoshida's obligatory dexterous rhythm section partners on 5-string electric bass. It's the lineup from their last album Angherr Shisspa, from which a lot of these songs are drawn.
Ruins fans, listen up! Jackson is the fourth cd to be spawned by Ruins drummer Tatsuya Yoshida's ultra-tech Korekyojinn trio, an instrumental mathrock juggernaut that's basically the Ruins +1 (a guitarist added to the bass/drums duo), chugging a six pack of Red Bull, going gonzo and making the likes of Don Cab and Hella seem like mere amateur fumblers (well, not quite -- going for a bit of hyperbole there, but still...). This isn't improv, all these complex cuts are compositions sprung from the sweaty brow of Yoshida and the musical genius mind behind it.
The spazmodic yet precise drumming of Yoshida, the virtuoso guitar playing of Kido Natsuki, and the thick bass rippage of Nasuno Mitsuru as displayed on this disc's hard hitting, smoothly energetic opener "Lebanon" is what we want and expect. You'll be left dizzy and drained before its seven minutes are up. But watch out, there's a dramatic shift of gears when portions of the next track "Jackson" dip into an unfortunately funky style of glitterball fusion. Not sure what they were thinking there... maybe a tongue-in-cheek joke? Thankfully despite being the title track, it's a total anomaly on this album, and with the very next cut "Mindgames", we're back into sheer frenzied insanity of heavy prog mania, though melodiousness isn't neglected, with the bright, folky, infectiously nursery rhymey "Kaleidoscope" standing out in that regard, sounding a bit like something by Yoshida's Tairikutoko vs. Sanmyakuonna band. Mostly this album demonstrates that Korekyojinn are very nearly metal in their shredding capabilities, though of course they sound more like the Ruins than anything else...maybe like Stinking Lizaveta too at times. Which leaves us only to say, wow!
Another gorgeous dreamy slab of free floating Finnish forest folk. From Kuupuu who delivers the very dreamiest of the bunch. Sonic similarities abound to countrymen Avarus, Anaksimandros, Kemialliset Ystavat and the rest, but Kuupuu are dreamier and driftier, less tribal, less linked to this mortal plain, the music of Kuupuu is like some mysterious lullaby that drifts like the smell of burning leaves through the forest. Shimmery atmospheres of delicately plucked strings and music box melodies, detuned guitars and thick droney warble, lo-fi but strangely lush, a whirl of haze and murk, warm and soft and inviting, disembodied vocals, wordless, more like another instrument than a voice, another layer of sound. These are late night lullabies for forest folk and we just can't stop listening. So easy to drift off and float away.......
This reissue of a long out of print super limited (100 copies) edition, comes from two relative unknowns, Paul LaBrecque and Valerie Webb, but Trees, Chants And Hollers, recorded a few years back, finds the duo deftly navigating similar sonic terrain as the rest of the new free folk movement and the oft referenced new weird America. But unlike the clattery primitive ritualism of groups like No Neck Blues Band and Avarus, or the straight up Fahey worship of folks like Jack Rose and James Blackshaw, LaBrecque and Webb incorporate bits of both, dense fingerpicked neo Appalachia, and drifting fluttering free folk, into much more expansive soundscapes. Banjo and steel string guitars, flutes and ethereal vocals. Some tracks are almost traditional sounding, Appalachian hoedowns slowed down into dark contemplative moodiness, while others are super abstract, the guitar becomes a noisemaker, letting strange scrapes and sounds drift into the ether, huge swirls of smeared shimmer, melancholy melodies, deft complex picking, rendered totally indistinct. And just as quickly the duo will reel it back in, and offer up a near liturgical meditation, simple banjo and intertwined male female vocals, everything bathed in glistening reverb. So beautiful. Fans of Blackshaw, Rose, Ahmed, Bishop, Schmidt, DeGennaro, Valentine as well as groups like the Tower Recordings, P.G. Six and the like should definitely pick this up.
Attentive Aquarius customers probably already know Argentina's Los Natas as a band that, over their career to date, have recorded riffy Kyuss-inspired albums for seminal stoner rock label Man's Ruin (RIP) -and- also released proggy, droned-out space rock experiments for Circle's Ektro imprint, in all cases solidifying our Los Natas fandom here at AQ. Not that the stylistic distance 'tween the Man's Ruin and Ektro albums is that much of a stretch -- certainly not for these guys, who have become masters at making modern psychedelic hard rock that harks back to the druggy daze of '70s krautrock and their own South American hippie heroes, as much as it does the "desert rock" of Kyuss.
Well, we're glad to report that Los Natas are back and bringin' it with this, their latest album, the long-awaited, full-on follow-up to their previous Small Stone release Corsario Negro from back in 2002. They've definitely got the stoner rock rolling here, El Hombre Montana being on the more metallic side of the Los Natas equation, super heavy and percussively driving and seemingly haunted by the spirit of Black Sabbath in the guitar crunch department. Full of fuzz and distortion, these songs spiral in intensity -- lots of wild acid rawk GUITAR bursting out all over the place -- but also find room for some gruff vocal melodies (all songs sung in Spanish only). There's even a track of lovely, acoustic campfire folk. So we'd say that this is a stoner-rock-en-Espanol album with broad appeal to people into the likes of, say, Six Organs of Admittance, Comets On Fire, The Heads, and Boris.
Indeed, while Stateside these guys have their fans (we know quite a few AQ regulars are into 'em), they still don't have quite the profile of another AQ fave, Japan's Boris. And while Los Natas don't -quite- ever go to the extremes of heaviness and weirdness as Boris sometimes do, both bands occupy a lot of the same middle ground in the '70s inspired psychedelic hard rock realm, so we'd like to point out that there's not reason why anyone who loved Boris' Akuma No Uta, or Pink, or (especially) Heavy Rocks shouldn't also thrill to the music of Los Natas!
This is somehow the first record by The Lost Domain we've listed, even though we've been digging their music for a while now. You may have heard some Lost Domain on the killer Gold Leaf Branches compilation a while back, and this is more of the same, long expanses of non-ambient ambience. Delicate layers of raga like buzz, gentle distant drones and lots and lots of space. This sounds like some sort of alien temple music. You can imagine some strange structure on a rocky outcropping on some distant planet, inside mysterious hooded figures kneel in prayer, a gorgeous spacious meditative drone drifting like insence smoke through the temple. This is so lovely and thick with strange sonic subtleties. Music for fading into sleep, or slowly emerging from a dream world. Definitely the perfect music to lull you into a trancelike state and allow your soul to come loose from your body and drift off into other dimensions. So nice.
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Not to be confused with the fuzzy shoegazey bliss of AQ faves M83, M87 are a mysterious dark ambient drone outfit on the same label as Benighted Leams, Contra Ignem Fatuum, Drudkh, and Meads Of Asphodel. That alone should have you pretty psyched to see what sort of weirdness these guys conjure up. We'd be tempted to say M87 are an anomaly in Supernal's predominantly black metal roster, but some of our favorite releases on Supernal were on the ambient side of things, the weird medieval drones of Dark Ages and the crumbling pummeling SUNNO)))-like dirge of Fall Of The Grey Winged One. M87 are a much blissier affair. An outer space drift that hovers and floats, wide open expanses of shimmering static hum and glistening effervescence. The liner notes proclaim "There are no keyboards or guitar synthesizers on this disc" so we can only assume this is ALL guitar, which makes it even more impressive. Released way back in 1999, and only now finally making it to the AQ list, M87 definitely explores similar sonic territory as Fennesz, Ambarchi, Tim Hecker, Dean Roberts and the like. The opening track is a thick static blur, like standing in the middle of a busy train station, the sound of the people, and the trains and the spaces cavernous reverb building into a massive swirling whir. This dense proto industrialism surfaces elsewhere on the record, each time, adding more to the mix, buried clangs, or muted melodies, but these caustic sonic clouds are just interludes, long ones granted, drifting darkly and offering an aggressive contrast to the rest of the record's serene and beautiful soundscapes. Warm, rich, dark, dreamlike, ominous, otherworldly, each track, like some exploration of a barren alien planet, or some mysterious abandoned city, a series of abstract isolationist drones, whose textures and melodies, which once existed, have now melted, spreading out into thick pools of shimmering sound, each offering a twisting distorted reflection of the haunting world beyond.
Another jam packed issue of THE punk rock rag. Dense with bands you've never heard of, scene reports from places you've never been, and ads for hundreds of records you didn't even know existed. A killer little chunk of newsprint that keeps punk rockers around the globe connected!
This month, scene report for Asheville, North Carolina, Spanish punk rockers the Webelos, Danish punx Hjertestop, an excerpt from a book in the works about the anarcho/crust scene, this time focusing on The APF Brigade, the Desperate Bicycles, more reports from New Orleans, pix from the Southkore Fest in Chicago, Texan punk rock photographer Bill Daniel, Swedish hardcore outfit Svartenbrandt, an interview with Disconvenience, the Rosenbombs, Up The Voltage as well as tons and tons of book reviews, record reviews, movie reviews, letters, news and columns!!
We had never heard of Lubomyr Melnykor, nor his 'Continuous Music method' before. But the more we learn the more we fall in love with this iconoclastic modern innovator. In the early 70's Melnyk developed a unique approach to the piano called Continuous Music, a physical and mental technique that allowed Melnyk to play an incredible amount of notes at an incredible speed. In fact he holds two world records, one as the fastest pianist in the world, sustaining speeds of over 19.5 notes per second in each hand, simultaneously! And two, for the most number of notes played in one hour! In 60 minutes, Melnyk sustained an average speed of over 13 notes per second in each hand, yielding a total of 93,650 INDIVIDUAL notes. Holy shit!! But don't be mislead, this is not some Yngwie bullshit, where songs and composition are sacrificed for mere shredding. No, there is a method to Melnyk's madness, and the result says all that needs to be said. Continuous Music as you might have surmised, involves generating an extremely rapid flow of notes, with the pedal sustained non stop, patterns, broken chords, the sound is dense and dizzying, like glimpsing the inner workings of some tiny lifeform and watching atoms and molecules spin and swirl. The result of so many notes, played so quickly and so close together, with the overtones drifting and bleeding into each other, is some of the most breathtaking music we've ever heard. It's almost like a waterfall of piano notes, a frothy cascade of tinkling sparkling melody, or a laying beneath a perfectly black night sky, watching a million fireflies dance and flit, a sky full of tiny little streaks of light. Someone described Wave-Lox as three Terry Riley playing at once, which is not that far off the mark. Or imagine a thousand George Winstons spinning weightless in space, notes everywhere careening wildly, but with some strangely indescribable pattern. The sound of Wave-Lox is at once chaotic and soothing, confusional yet serene. Close listening yields so much detail, like looking at a piano concerto through a microscope, not so close listening offers the listener a glorious abstract soundscape on which to drift away. Wave-Lox is actually a piece for 2 pianos (giving you an idea of the density and number of notes we're talking about here) and 3 contra-bass, which offer the same sonic complexities as the piano, making a rich sonic stew even more deliriously dense.
It has been ages since we have been so blown away by a new discovery, and not just a new performer but a new way of performing. And for those of you who are especially moved by this music, you can write to Melnyk and purchase a course that will train you to be able to play Continuous Music. But be warned, Continuous Music requires serious discipline, in fact Melnyk, when he first started out, was unable to perform the pieces he composed, and only after years of strict discipline, including extra training, both physical and mental, in the form of martial techniques like Tai Chi, was he finally able to play the music the way he intended it to be played. SO AWESOME!!
These are professionally printed cd-r's with full color covers and extensive liner notes, they are bit more expensive than most cd-r's we carry because instead of mass producing one or two titles, Melnyk wanted to make available all of the pieces he has been working on for the last 20 years. Thus each disc is pressed in a super limited run, but what that also means is that there are 50 or more different pieces to choose from, all of them utterly amazing. We currently have about 10 different titles in stock, and while Wave-Lox is our favorite so far, one of the others features Melnyk on piano accompanied by multiple tubas! So drop us an email if you're interested in any of the other titles, but for now revel in the beautiful beautiful music of Wave-Lox!
Super limited cd-r from this bizarre band of noisemakers from down under that just so happens to feature one Mr. Oren Ambarchi. Totally blown out lo-fi free noise splatter. Big distorted drums, wild animalistic grunts and howls, skronking horns, warbly detuned guitars, massive sludge bass, angular riffing, minimal reverb drenched click and glitch, wheezing falsetto vocals, spastic free jazz drum splatter, super distorted fuzz rumble and shrieking Boredoms style vocal freakouts, all tangled up into a gloriously maddening chaotic jumble. Fans of OLD Boredoms, Hanatarash, Butthole Surfers and all things bizarre and brutal, damaged and demented, noisy and INSANE will want to give this a whirl.
Killer packaging: a pink spray painted disc in a clear jewel case with cool light pink and dark pink spidery patterns painted on the case.
WE ONLY HAVE ABOUT 8 COPIES OF THIS AND WE'RE PRETTY SURE WE CAN'T GET MORE.
Hard to believe that there was a time when Monster Magnet were not goofy cartoon parodies of metallic space rock (and we mean that in a good way). We love their ridiculous lyrics, overblown I AM GOD themes, their obsession with hotrods and honies and loads and loads of drugs, and of course their sound, that Hawkwind on steroids super RAWK. But there was a time, when Monster Magnet were fucking scary. A drug drenched musical outerspace acid trip, a BAD trip, all blown out guitars, every pedal turned all the way up, amps to infinity, face behind a greasy mop of hair, house lights off, black lights on, one riff beaten to death and launched heavenward. This was that time. It was a satanic drug thing they used to say. And it sounds like it. Originally released in 1991, "Tab" is arguably the band's finest moment, 30 minutes of outerspace drug rock divinity. The ultimate slab of psychedelic downer drug rock. The first 6 or 7 minutes are a primitive Krautrocky jam, simple propulsive drum beat, wordless vocals, sparse instrumentation, before the drugs really kick in, then "Tab" becomes a supecharged Loop or Spacemen 3, all fuzzy guitars, and swirls of reverb and delay and every other effect under the sun. Over the course of the next 20 minutes the guitars get more freaked out, the vocals get distorted and delayed and shot into space, the effects take over completely until the band is barely audible under the dizzying sonic chaos. So blissfully divine. "25" is way more rocking, a pounding drum beat, and a ripping garage rock riff, vocals a super distorted smear of sound, again the whole thing drenched in space rock goo and blown out rawk madness. "Longhair" is a lazy laidback psychdrone groove, stoned and staggering, giving Kyuss a style and sound to rip off for sure. And the final track "Lord 13" is a shuffling spacerock raga, with shuffling percussion, hand drums, strummed acoustic guitar, all under that ubiquitous druggy haze.
For this new reissue, they've tacked on a 7 minute live version of "Spine Of God". Murky and lo-fi, but appropriately druggy and spacey, with plenty of hilarious crowd conversations between folks who were oblivious to the fact that they were standing RIGHT next to the guy taping the show, but the mighty power of "Spine Of God" is untouchable, a slowly uncoiling dirge, that is somehow only enhanced by the dipshit telling his friend about some new tape he got.
It's a satanic drug thing. You wouldn't understand.
"It's A Satanic Drug Thing ...You Wouldn't Understand". Monster Magnet's motto, emblazoned on the back of the cd booklet, is something that they really did live up to, sonically and otherwise, back in the day. Maybe not the healthiest lifestyle choice (frontman Dave Wyndorf actually almost died recently from, yes, a drug overdose), but it sums up Monster Magnet, musically speaking. If you want to hear some "stoner rock" that's both spacier and scarier and Stoogier than most, early Monster Magnet (before they got big) is the way to go.
We reviewed their droniest bad trip masterpiece, the reissued 25...Tab ep a couple lists back, and now follow-up with a review of another favorite, their debut full-length entitled Spine Of God, originally released by Caroline in 1992 and now reissued by SPV with snazzier graphics and bonus track (a demo version of "Ozium").
This came out at the height of the grunge era, but sounds just as Stonehenge (a la Hawkwind) as it does Seattle (a la Mudhoney). It includes their Grand Funk cover, "Sin's A Good Man's Brother", alongside such downer, druggy hits from some parallel just-say-yes universe as "Pill Shovel", "Nod Scene", and "Zodiac Lung". A wasted, burn-out classic, laid-back and leaden, dazed and phased.
Normally the way to get me (Allan) to listen to, let alone like, a record *isn't* to tell me that it's got elements of techno, acid house, and/or Hi-NRG dance music to it. Comparisons to various '80s industrial/club culture icons like Front 242 and Nitzer Ebb are also not terribly enticing, either. Yet this album, with its stark, stylish black and white (and red) graphics and suggestively Kraftwerkian name and title somehow drew me in, and guess what? I ended up really digging it! (No, not dancing to it, though I'm sure people will.) The dozen, almost entirely instrumental tracks on Motor's full-length debut may be a species of techno/house music, but they're sufficiently raw and ominously droning to appeal to me as a pure listening experience... the relentless 4/4 energy here is simply brutal, and this disc is thick and heavy with machine beats and super-distorted synths, the kind that sound like dive-bombing Stukkas! Sure, it's Sprocketsy but ballsy too, this trans-Atlantic duo (one guy from Minneapolis, another from Paris) making the perfect in-my-imagination Euro techno ideal of computer-jerked motorik electro grooves, tranced-out tones, and video game gibbering...
OK, gotta cut this review short as everyone else here is making fun of what I'm listening to, doing robotic dance moves and making raver glow stick comments, but I know they're all secretly enjoying this as well -- AND I think they're getting their work done faster and more efficiently, too!
(Note: this isn't to be confused with another, different electronic outfit also named Motor who hail from Russia.)
Another year, another Mountain Goats album? You betcha! Mr. John Darnielle keeps the goodness a-comin'. Yes, even though we thought he might take a breather following the heart-baringly personal catharsis of The Sunset Tree last year, he's swiftly come back with the comparative stability of Get Lonely. Right from the first listen, this album's like a good ol' friend, seeming utterly comforting and familiar, but seldomly redundant -- even within the massive body of music he's created to date. He's joined once again by his frequent collaborating pals Franklin Bruno and Peter Hughes. Their close almost familial bond shows in the ease with which they make music together. The songs sound so effortlessly off the cuff. Accompanying the trio are multi-instrumentalist/producer Scott Solter (whose latest fine solo album we got in a short time ago), cellist Erik Friedlander (whose own music you can find on John Zorn's Tzadik label) and nimble drummer Corey Fogel. Sure to please Mountain Goats fans new and old!
(This isn't actually out until Tuesday 8.22.06, so if you want a Mountain Goats, your order won't ship before then)
This one is for the drone obsesses among you. Not the soft shimmery dronesters, although you softies might take a shine to this, no, this is a deeeeeeeeeeep dark doooomy drone, a massive 40+ minute single stretch of undulating organic rumble. Broken old Casio keyboards, found sounds, field recordings all woven into a huge rafter rattling, bass bin blowing, bone shaking, cranium cracking lowercase minimal dirge. Pulses and whirs, rumbles and growls, all rendered indistinct, painted black and folded in on themselves, a black hole, a thousand helicopters hovering in place, a hundred meters below the sea, two planets colliding, the shockwave traveling through the universe setting up sympathetic vibrations in every inanimate object in existence, until the whole galaxy is bombinating like a struck tuning fork. So awesome.
LIMITED TO 110 COPIES. We managed to get the last 20 so once these are gone they are gone for good!
We reviewed Murray's last cd-r release not too long ago (and we actually have a handful of those left, re-listed elsewhere on this list) and we started that review with the words: "This one is for the drone obsesses among you. Not the soft shimmery dronesters, although you softies might take a shine to this, no, this is a deeeeeeeeeeep dark doooomy drone, a massive 40+ minute single stretch of undulating organic rumble." And heck, had we not already use those very words to describe another record, we could very well have used them to describe this one too. 39 minutes of barely shifting bottomless pit drone. Dreamy and pretty, sure, but this is not soft and shimmery, or wispy and gauzy, no, this is dark, and thick, and throbbing and pulsing, lots of layers and tonal color, melodies maybe, but if they are in there, they're stretched and smeared and almost completely lost in the slow crawl fabric of "Ocean Of Dirt, Mountain Of Steam." Close listening reveals plenty of microscopic sonic events, as well as some crystalline loveliness, and over the course of the disc's 40 minutes, the drone does twist and subtly transform, but for the most part this is a near static droneworld, ultra meditative, densely minimal, and surprisingly gorgeous.
Is a fresh wave cresting of bands heavily inspired by Brian Wilson and The Beatles and maybe some E.L.O. too (who themselves were obviously very influenced likewise)? Yup, sure seems so. Picking up the psych-tinged pop baton from the likes of Olivia Tremor Control, Flaming Lips and Apples In Stereo is one particular young Mancunian named Jim Noir. As yummy as this Tower Of Love is -- utterly dreamy and creamy with sparkly bits -- it's hard to ignore the fact that many guitar licks, vocal harmonies and melodic passages are outright pickpocketed from the abovementioned bands. But you know what? Who cares? Noir manages to take the borrowed bits and whip them into something if not new, at least really catchy and fun to listen to. There is also a weird murky production element at play, that when listening to this at home, had us occasionally feeling like we were hearing music seeping through the floor from the apartment downstairs. Which gives Noir's pop goodness a distinctly droney (and to us quite pleasing) aftertaste.
For fans of all of the above as well as Kings Of Convenience and The Shins too.
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.
Kick up your kitten heels and smooth out your voluptuous coif to the groovy sounds of Nous Non Plus! Driven primarily by snappy electric guitars and woozy keyboards, their songs run the gamut from pretty lounge fare to '60s Ye Ye Girl pep to the downright punchy garage pop. The fact that they sing mostly in French helps these New Yorkers slip right in step with the likes of April March and Stereo Total. Super saucy, coy'n'playful! If you're looking for a summertime combo this goes quite swimmingly well alongside the new album from Brazil's CSS!
As any jazz freak will tell you, Dolphy is GOD! Hard to deny. Especially once you've heard his swansong, Out To Lunch. Recorded in 1964, mere months before he passed away at the age of 36. Having done time with Mingus, Coleman and Coltrane, as well as having recorded numerous records as a band leader, Out To Lunch was definitely Dolphy's finest moment. Possibly one of the greatest jazz records ever. An album that was soft and sweet and almost traditional one moment, freaked out and completely abstract the next. A killer collision of traditional and free, combined in a way that somehow managed to please fans of both. Knowing all that, it would take a lot of balls for someone to tackle that epochal record in its entirety, not entirely surprising that it would be Otomo Yoshihide and his New Jazz Orchestra. Most of us are familiar with Yoshihide as an experimental turntablist. But he's also an ace guitarist as well as an accomplished band leader. So Yoshihide has decided to give Out To Lunch a modern makeover, and while we were of course tempted to scream "Sacrilege!!" it didn't take us long to change our tune.
There's really no point in just playing Out To Lunch, no matter what, you couldn't live up to the original, so some sort of reinvention is definitely the way to go. And Yoshihide manages to riffing true to the original while twisting these classic tunes into entirely new shapes. Where as Dolphy's group was a five piece, a pretty standard jazz ensemble augmented by vibraphone, with Dolphy handling sax, clarinet AND flute, Yoshihide has gathered an ensemble 15 players strong. And it's not just the number of players, it's what they're playing. Sure they've got the basics, but there's also slide trumpet, bamboo flute, tubes, sho, sinewaves, contact mic, no-input mixing board, computer and inside piano (!). And the songs themselves, while they retain the main melodic themes, Yoshihide and his ensemble take the songs WAY WAY out.
The opener, "Hat And Beard" is as close as this New Jazz Orchestra come to a straight up version of the original. The free bits are a lot freer, and during the quieter parts you can hear the sinewaves and no-input mixing board doing their thing. "Something Sweet, Something Tender" gets stretched out into long abstract stretches of dense drone. "Gazzelloni" is transformed into a super wild, ultra free psych jazz freakout. "Out To Lunch" is another -almost- traditional version, but the band manages to twist and stretch and all sorts of free weirdness. Finally, the formerly 8 minute "Straight Up And Down" is totally transformed into a near 30 minute experimental improv, any vestiges of jazz are shed in the first half, as the track continues to drift through a minimal sound world of shimmer and click, glitch and hum, the horns taking a back seat to the computers and sinewaves and mixing boards. So totally great. And a strangely poignant tribute to one of the greatest jazz records ever.
Super swank digipak packaging, emulating the original in design and color, instantly recognizable except now the blue tinted photo on the cover is of a Japanese train station. Includes liner notes from Yoshihide, Kahimi Karie and actor Tonoyama Taiji. Plus the disc has a clock printed on the face, and the back cover has a small whole cut out so depending on the placement of the disc, a different number shows through. So cool!
Several years in the making and the ever so prolific Mike Patton has finally finished his Peeping Tom project. A record inspired by the 60's cult thriller of the same name, complete with really cool packaging. Patton sent tracks to a bunch of big name collaborators like Kool Keith, Bebel Gilberto, Amon Tobin, and Massive Attack. As well as enlisting folks like Dan The Automater, Dale Crover from Melvins, Kid Koala, Rahzel, Odd Nosdam, Jel, and even Norah Jones. The result is some of Patton's most accessible sounding songs in quite a while. We haven't heard his acrobatic voice sound like this since back in the 90's (you know back in his Faith No More days) and much of this record carry's that early 90's funk-electronic-hip-hop-rock hybrid. Cool.
First vinyl release from this mysterious Belgian free music collective. Recorded in various locations, abandoned churches, old factories and the like, R.O.T. unfurl dark and murky soundscapes, clouds of electric skitter and rumbling outer space interference. L'Ecurei is a dark ambient trawl through some creepy, dimly lit soundworld of campfired crackle and feeding back guitars, transmitted through a thick haze of abstract murmur, clattering percussion, haunting whirs and random bits of rumble and low end hum. Sounds like a very stoned Starfuckers jamming at the bottom of an emptied swimming pool, or like an alien army of sentient music making machines left to hum and rattle and drone until their batteries slowly run out. Really cool.
We love Drone records. And their series of ultra limited, hand assembled 7"s. There's even a forthcoming 2cd on Andee's tUMULt label collecting a handful of the early long out of print 7"s. We can only ever manage to get a tiny handful of these singles since they're so limited, but when we do we try to list them, and it's definitely lucky for the tiny handful of you who are quick on the buy-it-now trigger. Some of the best drone and dark ambient music around.
R.Y.N. deliver a thick machinelike whir, like a slightly more industrial Sunroof!, a mighty metallic drone, buzzing and reverberating like an army of metallic resonators, close listening reveals all sorts of sonic color and hidden melody. The flipside takes the industrial drone from the first side and submerges it in thick dark water, a glimmering, murky and gauzy underwater sonic journey. Nice.
First Edition. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES! Clear purple vinyl. Multicolored kaleidoscopic full color cover, with a black and metallic silver ink insert.
We listed a split lp a little while back, that featured these guys teamed up with the equally strangely named Under Mountains. We dug both bands so much we decided to get our hands on whatever we could, thus, this latest 7" from Rabbits. Who are WAY heavier than their cute and fluffy name might lead you to believe. Rabbits are some weird post punk, angular sludge rock hybrid, a super chaotic screamo groove outfit, corrosive guitar lines, totally spastic drumming, howled vocals, a massive heaving swirl of post punk grooves and unhinged post rock fury. Dense and complex, blown out and droney, there's some Scratch Acid in there, but way more revved up and wild, careening like some sort of PCP dosed yeti. The second side slows it way down into some serious sludge territory, sounding almost Melvins-like, with downtuned riffing, relentlessly pounding rhythms, the whole thing heavy as fuck!
Packaged in super cool black on black sleeves, each side visually depicting the song titles (sloth on one side, bees on the other) and includes a thick hand screened red cardstock insert.
ATTENTION CIRCLE OBSESSIVES AND FINNISH MUSIC FREAKS. THIS IS A CIRCLE SIDE PROJECT, IS LP ONLY, AND is VERY VERY LIMITED!!
Okay, now that we got that out of the way, let's dig in. Circle freaks are obviously gonna want this no matter what, it's a single sided half hour jam from Jussi and Janne of Finnish drone rockers Circle. But don't expect this to sound anything like Circle. Well, okay, it sounds a little like that live Circle record Mountain, droney and dark and minimal. What it really sounds like to us is like Circle side project Dr. Kettu with all the bones removed, leaving some sort of dark and tribal ambient krautrock. Rakhim is a super stripped down primal tribal duo, just drums and vocals and tons and tons of effects, which the duo employ to effortlessly kick up quite a dense druggy fug. Swirling clouds and sonic squalls, a murky dronescape lo-fi and dubbed out, strange guttural grunts, freaky whispers, drums-down-the-stairs clatter, dubby FX, wordless vocal melodies, all doused with reverb and distortion, and tangled up with some abstract percussive tribalism. Some sort of Finnish space aged pagan ritual. Vast expanses of whoooosh and whiiiir and swooooosh over chaotic free jazz drum splatter and subtle shuffling skitter. Very tripped out, druggy, super muddy, mega freaked out sososo psychedelic. Could almost be some long lost, recently discovered Faust jam caught surreptitiously on tape way back in the day. Awesome.
One sided heavy marbled white vinyl, packaged in a cool, very Dead C looking black and white sleeve.
A super limited and insanely packaged triple cd-r, highlighting, well, just like the title says, the Birth Of A New Rural Europe, a sonic world of free noise, free folk and abstract ambience. Three full length discs, one from each band, the Reggaee, Sawaadyja and Valerio Cosi.
French free rock outfit The Reggaee offer up 52 minutes of clattery, rambling, drift, harmonicas wheeze, nestled in a soundscape of field recordings and distant percussion like the chirping of crickets, doomy folk with detuned guitars and ghostly vocals, reverb drenched tribal freakouts, dreamy dreary mumbly ambience, buzzing steel string serenades and every stop in between.
Sawaadyja, aka Danish sound maker Mikkel Andersen, contributes a similarly varied disc, starting off with huge thick washes of distorted guitars and buried psychedelic melodies, like a more lo-fi Sunroof!, and quickly drifting into gentle forest folk, with simple childlike melodies over spare tribal drumming, dreamy Appalachian style steel string fingerpicking, a bit of raga like buzz with snake charmer melodies and some spacious abstract shimmer.
The final installment comes from Italian sound artist Valerio Cosi, whose disc is maybe the droniest and dreamiest of the bunch. The opening and closing tracks are lengthy slow moving near static shimmers, bookending track two, a nearly half hour long festive percussive free form sonic ritual. Fluttering flutes, clattering pots and pans percussion, buzzing kazoo melodies, thick reverb, like being lost in some bazaar in the center of some foreign city. Cool.
LIMITED TO 35 COPIES!!! WE GOT 12 OF THOSE!!!
Each copy is super elaborately packaged, each disc, hand painted, in its own sleeve with a printed insert, all three discs held shut with wire and affixed to the inside of an oversized, wire and bamboo sleeve, like someone dismantled a tiki hut and cut the walls into squares to make cd sleeves. Also inside is an insert that is hand numbered! Weird but cool.
All hail Rhythm & Sound, our favorite German produced, blissed out murky reggae dub outfit ever. Simple and spare, dreamy and laid waaaaay back. Every track a druggy, dark and hypnotic jam. This disc gives R&S's recent See Mi Yah album the remix treatment, and who are we to argue with more looped digital dubbed out bliss?
The tracks that work best for us, are the ones that are stripped even further down, stretched farther out, and taken as far out as possible. Worth it for the Vainqueur remix alone, a looped reggae groove transformed into a fuzzy slab of 'heroin house', like some Gas dubplate being pumped out of some Jamaican sound system. So good. The opener, remixed by the Basic Channel guys, is a killer as well. Still spare and spacious, but a little more propulsive and a bit more techno. The Villalobos remix is cool too, a weird stuttery jam, with chopped up horns, falsetto vocals and bad ass toasting. The rest of the disc follows the same sort of pattern, the stripped down originals given a slight rhythmic overhaul, but with a definite dancefloor bent. Lots of techno mixes and four on the floor beats, but it works, since the originals were so sparse already and just begging to be reworked and remixed.
Ultra limited, insanely deluxe quadruple lp box set from the greatest weirdo black metal band to ever come out of the Czech Republic. Fronted by the truly iconic Big Boss, with his evil black face paint and booming low voiced delivery, he howls dramatically over fierce black riffing and weirdly romantic keyboards, a buzzing blackness reminiscent of Venom or Bathory, but WAY weirder. Definitely one of Andee and Allan's all time favorite black metal bands. This box set contains all of Root's demo tapes from the late 1980's plus various bonus live recordings taken from the Death Metal Session Festival vol. 2 (Prague 1988). Also included is a massive 32 page 12" x 12" booklet containing tons of photos from the band's early days, flyers, newspaper clippings, interviews, fanzine articles, and lots more. 4 lps in two deluxe gatefold jackets, an XL Root t-shirt, a big poster, all housed in a custom made box printed in red, black and metallic silver, sealed with a vellum obi with a foil-stamped logo. Holy crap, this is amazing. You have to see it to believe it. Definitely one of the most extravagant packages we've ever seen. And c'mon, it's ROOT!!!
A super duper limited 7" from one of our favorite new proponents of the post Fahey neo Appalachian sound. BUT, on this here 7" slab, Rose comes at us from a whole different angle. And we're digging it. This single finds Rose at his most dense and atonal. Each track is an angular tangle of buzzing steel strings, a swirl of non-melodies, dark and droney and super abstract. Sometimes the playing gets wilder and wilder and it almost sounds like some sort of steel string battle to the death, buzzing lengths of steel whipping wildly back and forth, a cloud of dense reverberations swallowing the fighters whole. Really haunting and a little bit difficult, but also strangely beautiful.
Pressed on extra thick vinyl, housed in swank heavy duty sleeves. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, each single hand numbered.
Japanese underground music nerds (you know who you are) should start salivating right about now. Ruinzhatova aka Ruins-Hatoba, the melding of the formidable talents of two of the Tokyo avant-rock scene's most veteran and insane bands, the Ruins and Omoide Hatoba, is back with a (presumably) improvised live album that offers 110 percent of what's already a Japanese underground music nerd mindblowing potentiality. The Ruinzhatova trio -- drummer Tatsuya Yoshida (Ruins), bassist Atsushi Tsuyama (Omoide Hatoba, Akaten, Acid Mothers Temple) and guitarist Yamamoto Seiichi (Omoide Hatoba, Boredoms) are in raging good form here, playing live like their lives depended upon it yet of course sweating it not one wit. From the git-go, with the 11 minute, 12 second track "Everywhere", this album is a jazz-flecked, hard-rock-damaged maelstrom of geetar licks and percussive frenzies and vocal eccentricity. They pull out all the stops. Rather than the jokey hokeyness of some previous RH releases, this one is positively HEROIC, each player here simply going for it to the utmost of their undeniably amazing capabilities. From start to finish, an album of hyperkinetic exhilaration, with breathing room for such things as weird flute blowing and electronic fx... Each of the long (7-13 minute) tracks is varied and eventful and impressive!
Meanwhile, Pam says: Middle Eastern Muppet music. Sorta silly but interesting! You be the judge.
The Australian sound artist Philip Samartzis is essentially presenting two bodies of work on Unheard Spaces, both of which are connected through the relationship between sound and emptiness. The first suite for Unheard Spaces is called "Absence And Presence" and opens with an abusive scrape across a cello announcing something of new direction for Samartzis. The pristinely crafted electro-acoustics which culminated in the dynamic Loud & Soft album have been replaced on the first half of Unheard Spaces with a series of spacious, yet expressionist clattering improvisations between Samartzis (electronics and field recordings), David Brown (guitar), Sean Baxter (drums), Anthea Caddy (cello), Thembi Soddell (electronics and field recordings), and Michael Vorfeld (percussion). However, Samartzis introduced one hell of a detour to the typical improvisational context: as he asked the participants to re-record what they had performed during the improvised session by memory and without the benefit of hearing what any body else was doing. The strategy is much more of a conceptual conceit that certainly adds to the randomness of the clusters of spluttering guitar, squealing sinewave oscillations, and tumbles of percussive improvisation.
The second half of Unheard Spaces (also called "Unheard Spaces") is something of an homage to the work of the late, great composer Luc Ferrari, whose cinematic musique concrete compositions brought an unnerving psychosexuality to his decentered collages. Perhaps less inclined for the lurid aspects of Ferrari's work (at least here, there's plenty of grotesqueries to be heard on his early Gum project of turntablist damage), Samartzis concentrates on the very subtle sounds within the urban landscape, Venice's landscape to be exact. The echoes from the various canals and antiquated passageways comprise the bulk of Samartzis' field recordings, with a healthy dose of watery sounds just to make sure you didn't forget this was Venice. What's clearly missing is the hustle and bustle of the city itself, as Samartzis has surgically removed almost all of the direct human presence. While the sound of cars and boats provides activity in the composition, the human voice is never the direct focal point; rather it's the elegant refractions of sound emerging from a labyrinth of a city. An impressive duality of improvisation and manipulated field recordings that would have easily been the jewel in INA-GRM's crown had this been recorded thirty years ago in Paris.
Lots of claims could be made for best indie rock record ever. Pavement's Slanted And Enchanted is an obvious choice. But there are tons of other contenders, records by Dinosaur Jr., Galaxie 500, Seam, Archers Of Loaf, the Pixies, the Breeders, Unrest, Slint, Yo La Tengo, Superchunk...
But what about Sebadoh? Originally Lou Barlow's bedroom side project while he was playing bass in Dinosaur Jr., Sebadoh went from soft 4-track sad boy ruminations to full on rambunctious indie rock without losing Barlow's tender hearted, mopey moodiness. This record, III, is where they really clicked. To be totally honest, the first two are our absolute favorites (c'mon, somebody reissue The Freed Weed!!!) but until those are available again, we'll just have to cast our lot with III. Not entirely fair to compare them though. The first two Sebadoh records were just Lou, in his bedroom, singing and strumming, a ramshackle collection of sweet sad songs and freaked out tape experiments, where as by the time of III, Sebadoh was a real rock band, with not just two other band members, but two other songwriters, Eric Gaffney and Jason Lowenstein. Giving Sebadoh a distinctly schizophrenic sound, veering from introspective to noisy and annoying depending on whose song it was. Years before Conor Oberst ascended to the weepy, slouchy indie throne, Sebadoh's Lou Barlow was already the king of the lo-fi tearjerker. He ruled the roost of unabashed romantics in his rumpled threadbare cardigan, spectacles and tousled mop of hair. However, as III proved beyond a doubt, Sebadoh wasn't confined to lovey-dovey bedroom balladry, nope they could tear shit up a-plenty providing both cathartic heartbaring sadsack sweetness and blistering noise rawk for indie kids near and far.
The copious liner notes are a bit confusing though. As far as we were concerned, Sebadoh WAS Lou Barlow, who was later joined by Eric and Jason. But the liner notes, especially Gaffney's, paint a quite different picture. Gaffney goes on and on about how it was basically his band and his songs. But a quick listen to the record (and a look at each member's subsequent sonic track record) reveals the truth, that Lou was still the quiet mastermind. Eric has some killer tracks for sure, and Jason's songs are wild and chaotic (this was before he would grow into a songwriter to rival Lou on later Sebadoh discs) but almost without exception the perfect pop gems here are penned by Lou. Just check out the opener "The Freed Pig", hard to imagine a more perfect indie rock song. Jangly and catchy, a little ramshackle, a teensy bit melancholy, but exuberant and hopeful. With a killer crunchy chorus.
III is peppered with sweet soft acoustic numbers that sound like they were plucked from old Sebadoh cassettes. Each one sad and lovely, perfect mix tape material way back in 1991 (Yeesh, has it really been fifteen years?!), the prototype for EVERY home recorded bedroom record since. Jason contributes some Minutemen sounding instrumental jams ("Sickles & Hammers"), some slow motion druggy stoner jams ("Smoke A Bowl"), a killer twangy acoustic hoedown ("Black Haired Girl") and most of the really esoteric tunes. Eric offers up some lilting minor key jangle ("Violet Execution"), some super fuzzed out jangly tribal psych rock ("Limb By Limb") and the super lengthy bizarre drugged out psych jam "As The World Dies The Eyes Of God Grow Bigger". Between all of these musical flights of fancy, Lou gives us perfect pop song after perfect pop song, whether it's in the form of a whispered mumbly song fragment, or a glorious rocked out jangly jam. Somehow these disparate elements mesh perfectly into a totally rollicking chaotic indie rock masterpiece. A reissue of III on its own would definitely merit record of the week status, but there's a whole extra disc of singles and outtakes that make this absolutely essential.
First up on the extras disc is "Gimme Indie Rock" a tongue in cheek slam on their more popular indie contemporaries, which inadvertently became a hit and somehow sounded like, but better than, all the bands it was poking fun at (check out the very Dinosaur-like leads!) Speaks volumes that a tossed off fuck around track can be this good. Next up is quite possibly the best Sebadoh song ever "Ride The Darker Wave" a loping groove, with a totally catchy guitar part and an instantly unforgettable melody. Heavy and sludgy but perfectly poppy. The rest of the disc is jam packed with outtakes and alternate versions, a whole bunch of Gaffney tracks, as good as anything on the record proper, as well as a few other Lou gems. Also, tacked on at the very end is "Showtape '91" a 12 minute experimental tape piece, the band used to play at shows before they came on stage. It features the band reading various reviews (positive and negative), repeating the various mispronunciations of the band name, all amidst a cacophonous soundscape of tape manipulation and guitar grind. Very annoying but very very funny.
As befits a classic record like III, the packaging and reissue extras are amazing. Besides the wealth of extra and unreleased tracks, there are extensive liner notes from all three band members, tons of photos, and the whole thing is housed in a snazzy slipcase with the band name and album title embossed in metallic gold ink. We feel like we're 21 again!!!
There's been an onslaught of Ruins-related releases on Ruins drummer Tatsuya Yoshida's Magaibutsu label this week, folks!! Here's one from a brand-new band formation we'd never heard of before, Sekkutsu Jean, an improvising duo featuring Yoshida on drums, keyboard and vocals, and Sato Kenji on bass, cello, and voice. The results are most often SUPER distorted and heavy and fierce. Some of this reminds us a bit of some real old Ruins stuff, when they went for the ultra-dirty fuzz bass sound on such albums as Infect and Stonehenge. Total blurting bass bludgeon. Other parts are more "jazz", or even "classical" oriented, with droning sawing strings battling Yoshida's drum battery, or accompanying his keyboard lines. And then there's things that we can't even begin to classify, like track six, "Wihytcujmo", which is based around a drum machine beat and vicious cello bowing. Overall, this is some seriously mean stuff, without the strain of goofiness that oftentimes shows up in other Yoshida-related improv projects. There's 19 slices of killer improv weirdness here, with easy-to-remember titles like "Ghijuhnkkumn" and "Qyxoichdbihm" and "Bysjiahvoskkn"!! Over the course of all these tracks, there's a lot of creativity and intensity. Recommended.
And as with all of this new batch of Magaibutsu discs, this comes packaged in a handsome tri-fold full-color cardboard cd sleeve.
Here's an unbeatably splendid Sigur Ros deal -- a dvd and a cdep for less than eleven dollars!
Musically there aren't any surprises... but who needs surprises? They stick with their tried and true which is simply more of their gorgeous crystalline elegant atmospheres we know and love. The title track is taken from their most recent full length Takk and the other three songs are new new new!
Visually it's nothing short of Sigur Ros-ian shivering sumptuousness -- three breathtaking videos for "Saeglopur", "Glosoli" and "Hoppipolla". Oh la la!
After a load of limited tape and cd-r releases, this is the first proper full length from Belgian Funeral folk collective Silvester Anfang. Don't let the amazing cover art mislead you though. The band, all shirtless and pasty, in weird Elephant Man pillowcase hoods, with clubs and axes and goats on leashes in some mysterious forest. We sort of expected some black metal Mentors thing. But as the saying goes, you can't judge a band by their hoods and goats. Silvester Anfang travel a similar sonic path as Finnish outfit Avarus, clattery, dreamlike abstract primitive pagan free folk, with plenty of tribal percussion, strange chanted vocals, lots of shakers and rattles and hand drums, buzzing guitars, Eastern grooves and some alien Gypsy music vibes. A super abstract ambient folk krautrock, murky and lo-fi, dark and droney and funereal for sure. Really great!
Wonderful! Mr. Liam Singer's second album is such a sumptuous affair! In the scale of production and composition, it's quite an impressive progression from his already mighty fine debut The Empty Heart Of The Chameleon which came out just last year. Evocative, earthy and at times quite bold and adventurous, this album pushes gently at the boundaries of popular music norms incorporating classical and operatic elements throughout. For instance, some folks may need to get a little acclimatized to the initially startling, spine-tingling operatic female vocals that punctuate the proceedings. They serve as quite an affecting counterpart to Singer's own softly poetic, boyish demeanor (which has drawn in-store comparisons to Elliott Smith) particularly on standout numbers such as "Travelogue - The Great Divide". However, where the spotlight shines brightest (and deservedly so) is on his intricate cascading piano passages. Most are delicately filigree'd and occasionally accompanied by trumpet, e-bowed guitar and very Spartan percussion, but we'd venture a guess that the syncopation/paradiddle workout in the eighth track "Left Ventricle/Tone Clusters" is a reverent reference to Steve Reich's Four Organs. Our Secret Lies Beneath The Creek exudes grace from the first note to the last. Yes, recommended.
We'd been hearing a lot about this here fella (and how could you forget a name like Micah Blue Smaldone?) but until now we'd never actually heard him, and we're please to say, this stuff is pretty dang great. Yet another steel string wrangler tossing his hat into the already crowded neo-Appalachia ring, but if it's good there's always room for more.
Smaldone's M.O. is not an unfamiliar one, dreamy laid back steel string guitar, jaunty melodies, deft fingerpicking, dreamy melancholy arrangements, but Smaldone's tracks have a distinctly old timey twang to them. Not quite Vaudevillian, but that sort of dusty old crackly 78 sort of feel. Plus, unlike most of his sonic contemporaries, he sings. And quite nicely too. A crooning, sometimes cracking sort of classic country voice. Warm and familiar, but definitely distinctive. Add some record crackle and some tape hiss and it wouldn't be tough to convince us that this was a reissue of some long lost sixties Takoma lp! Fans of Jack Rose, John Fahey, Robbie Basho and the like will totally love Mr. Smaldone.
Super deluxe thick cover, some seriously heavy vinyl, and a cool, hand screened lyric book insert.
Remember the first time you heard a crank call tape, or a compilation of found sounds, or an answering machine tape you bought at a thrift store? You probably don't remember exactly what it was you heard, but you definitely remember the feeling. The thrill of hearing someone else's private thoughts, glimpsing into the lives of complete strangers. It almost didn't matter what was on the tape, just the fact that you weren't meant to hear it was enough to make it funny and crazy.
But since then, we've been barraged with mediocre crank call records and boring collections of random phone calls. Like anything else, people don't seem to realize that it's not as easy as just slapping some recordings onto a tape and presto. If you're a crank caller, you need to have style, charisma, the whole idea is to push the limits while keeping someone on the phone long after a sensible person would have hung up. Give a listen to Longmont Potion Castle for the ultimate in "Why the hell don't these people just hang up"? If you're compiling a collection of found sounds, you have to have a good ear, a sense of what is actually interesting to listen to. Voices, subject matter, cuz it's not all that fascinating to listen to someone calling the dry cleaners or making a reservation to get their hair cut. But it IS totally fascinating to hear two women talk about the fact that they won't eat at Hamburger Hamlet because it's owned by a Lesbian, or hearing an instructional tape teaching women how to sell dildos door to door Tupperware style. Thus we have Jacob Smigel, a deft archivist with a keen ear for human foibles. This collection isn't necessarily laugh out loud hilarious (although it is sometimes) but what it is, is bizarre, curious, demented, poignant, and yeah funny. And it's not just what's on the tapes, it's the recording quality, some of the dialogue is difficult to hear, but the timbre and the weird tape hiss is interesting in its own. But ultimately, it's the wonderfully wide world of weird people that make collections like this worthwhile, and this is one of the best ones we've heard in ages. From the opening Hamburger Hamlet track, to the ultra brief second to last track where a woman calls to leet someone know she's happy they are pro choice and then asks him how his lawn is. In between is a totally baffling, completely mesmerizing procession of strange, confusional, cute and crazy conversations and messages. One man discusses the infection in his cock and how it swelled up to 2 and a half times its size, a girl painfully tries to reach a way too high note, a couple does some cocaine, argues a bit and listens to some country music, a woman balls out a deadbeat ex-boyfriend, a woman describes a truly disturbing relaxation technique, a man performs various jingles he's written, a woman sends her friend to the store, and needs her fuckin' Pepsi, a girl performs possibly the most painful karaoke EVER, a not very bright woman tries to rent 3 Men And A Baby on BETA, the Hamburger Hamlet women discuss the downside of charcoal broiling, a young man takes a French Horn lesson, various couples make tapes for far away relatives, boyfriends and girlfriends make tapes for their significant others, some really amazing square dancing announcing to "Elvira", a stammering young man reads his book report, and on and on and on. Each vignette, whether 30 seconds or 5 minutes, is completely riveting. Funny and fucked, weird and wonderful, a totally addictive listen.
Gorgeously packaged in a full color multi panel digipak with extensive liner notes.
Here's Society Of Rockets sophomore album, and on it they've taken a turn into quite a different musical terrain. The ol' psych-pop 'shimmer' that used to be the core of these Bay Area musicians' sound has all but vanished. The only thing remotely still in that realm is the cool curvy lettering on the cd's packaging. Whereas their debut album Sunset Homes was steeped in earthy moodiness with lots of dusky atmosphere that still possessed some trippiness, this time they've opted for more straightforward rock'n'roll. Yep, these former members of Shimmer Kids Underpop Association deliver a rockin' kick in the pants on Where The Grass Grows Black.
It's hard to believe, but it's true. SOLAR ANUS IS HERE! It took almost 5 years, but it was well worth it! But what exactly is Solar Anus? An essay by French writer/philosopher Georges Bataille... a burst of plodding pummel from UK freedrone outfit Skullflower... but also, and as far as we're concerned more importantly, a band whose music conjures up a mysterious land of legendary monsters, ancient customs, cult beliefs and ritualized incest, all hidden just below the surface of our everyday world, a place only accessible through Matsuri, a group trance during which music and sound, lights and pictures help transport participants back to those mysterious other worlds and ancient times.
Such is the strange world of Japan's mighty tranced-out psychedelic doomlords Solar Anus, whose sound most definitely exists as Matsuri, a music designed to lull us into a trance and carry us off...Ô mesmeric, hypnotic and HEAVY.
Here, for the first time ever readily available outside of Japan, is the entire recorded output of the legendary Solar Anus, all collected into one massive head crushing, mind melting double cd.
Skull Alcoholic chronicles the band's dizzying trajectory, from stumbling, buzzing, bloody-stumped, sludge doom behemoths to druggy, tranced out psychedelic outer space visionaries, swinging wildly toward both extremes the whole time. An impossible blend of Black Sabbath, Hawkwind and the Boredoms, Flower Travellin' band, Pink Floyd, Boris and the Melvins.
Beginning life as a dizzy and druggy, slow motion stoner doom outfit, with their 1997 album On, Solar Anus channeled both the garagey spacestomp of old Monster Magnet, the epic miserablist doomscapes of Candlemass, and the purposefully obtuse sludge riffery of the Melvins, taking all of these disparate but distinctly heavy sounds and incorporating all manner of primitive percussive rituals, drifting dronescapes, 16 rpm Krautrock groove, dreamy angelic female vocals, massive fuzzed out guitars, huge in-the-red monster drums and swirls of creepy crawly dirge into a truly epic dronedriftdoomgroove sound.
The band's blend of propulsive tripped out krautrock, dizzying drum jams and glacial stoner sludge is at once ominous and swoonsome, crushing and psychedelic, lurching wildly from tripped out tribal Can worship to massive bulldozing metal grooves to super abstract druggy dreamscapes, often within the same song.
Album number two, 1999's Trance!! found the band trudging even more resolutely into a bleak and blown out world of dark doom, sounding more and more like classic doomsters, My Dying Bride, Paradise Lost and Cathedral, but completely tweaked of course, and confusingly blended with epic stretches of lurching lo-fi psychedelic Krautrock blow outs a la Amon Duul II.
By the release of their final album, 2000's Next World News, the band had stretched out yet again, dragging their druggy doom into a head spinning world of cracked skull outerspace trance, spinning even further into the void, not so much heavy as blissed out and psychedelic. Lots of abstract rhythmic workouts, like a more demented, damaged version of Finnish dronerockers Circle, a swirl of confusionally dense and relentless FX drenched Krautrock spacejams rife with belching foghorn brass, squawking birds, dizzyingly dense tangles of hippy drum freakouts, chanted vocals, as well as all sorts of studio fuckery, chopped up tape loops, warbly pitch shifts and layer after layer of fuzz and buzz and psychdrone blur.
Each languorous stretch of fuzzed out metallic groove is swathed in blown out clouds of Hawkwind bongsmoke, but broken up by bleary expanses of chilled out 4am trancemusic, but instead of a post-rave laid back Ecstasy come down, it's like crashing and burning in some dirty back alley from an all night PCP binge, silvery streaks of electronic glitch laid over a pulsing techno throb, surrounded by thick washes of processed tribal drums, the whole thing a very Boredoms like primitive percussive ritual, hypnotic and heavy, sprinkled with all kinds of sparkling sonic twinkles and drifting chimes, and underpinned by a wasted moody muted sixties psychedelia.
A quick look at the band's convoluted thanks/inspiration list gives another glimpse into their twisted musical world: German Oak, Crash Worship, Twink, The Electric Prunes, Stooges, Nebula, Pungent Stench, Timothy Leary, Monster Magnet, Ash Ra Tempel, Sodom, Sleep, Amon Duul II, Exit-13, Cathedral, Joel Peter Witkin, Saint Vitus, Church Of Misery, Corrosion Of Conformity, Romain Slocombe, Jimi Hendrix, Gong, Funkadelic, Budgie, Guru Guru, Electric Wizard, Brutal Truth, the Beatles and more. Phew.
And for all you Asian psychrock obsessives: The Solar Anus track "Dear Mother Coral" is actually a cover of a classic tune by Japanese psych legends JA Ceasar!
One of the weirdest, wildest, heaviest collections of druggy, dreamy, dirge-drone-doom-kraut-space-noise-sludge rock EVER!
Mind blowing psychedelic collage cover art, housed in a super deluxe die-cut 'solar anus' slip cover. Includes a massive 12 page booklet, with the original album art and liner notes. These two discs contain every single bit of Solar Anus ever, including their final recording, the previously unreleased nine minute title track, "Skull Alcoholic"!
2006 truly is the year of the anus! SOLAR ANUS!!!!
ONE TIME PRESSING OF 2000 COPIES!!!
We had never cared much about the Starlight Mints in the past but after listening to Drowaton for about the MILLIONTH time, we are kicking ourselves big time. In fact we're not just kicking, we're hitting and punching and just generally beating the crap out of ourselves. How could we have missed a band this cool and this weird? Even Allan, who has VERY particular pop tastes, just came over to see what was playing.
As with all great pop records, it's sort of difficult to describe exactly what makes Drowaton so goddamned good. Sure it's catchy, but not obviously so, it takes a few listens before the hooks really catch, but when they do, you'll NEVER get 'em out. Almost every single person who works here hears something different: David Bowie, the Kinks, the Monkees, Bread, but it doesn't sound that retro at all, there are bits of Iron And Wine, Neutral Milk Hotel, New Pornographers, Arcade Fire, Nada Surf and stuff like that too.
Probably if we had to come up with a concise description, or find a genre that best describes Starlight Mints it would be something like psychedelic indie pop. Or dark poppy jangle psych. Something like that. Cuz it really is pretty darn psychedelic, lots of fuzzy synths, warped backwards electric guitar, strange falsetto trills, cool little sonic filigree, plenty of strange instrumentation, "tralalala" vocals, soaring strings, horns, heavily strummed acoustic guitars, some whistling, hand claps, all wrapped up into bursting-at-the-seams perfect pop songs. It's mostly the vocals that remind us of Bowie, a lazy sexy drawl that can swing smoothly into a wild croon before swinging right back again, but the heady psychpop stomp beneath already had us swooning. Hooky guitar crunch collides with effervescent keyboards, sixties pop shimmer gets all tangled up with indie downer bedroom folk, huge swaths of jubilant pop pomp hovers just above slithering swirls of moody piano and warm washes of synthesizer, pounding piano rides atop an unlikely horn section, simple shuffling drums pulse and pound underneath squalls of FX-drenched guitars and clouds of sweet vocal swoon. Wow. So so so good. All of you who dug the Nada Surf we made record of the week a while back will probably love this too. And anyone into ANY sort of killer off kilter pop should for sure give Drowaton a listen!
Seems like the impetus for starting a cd-r label must be born from a similar need to create music yourself. Considering how many microlabel bosses are also serious sound makers in their own right (Campbell Kneale and Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, Antony Milton and PseudoArcana, Brad Rose and Digitalis, etc.) Makes sense, a passion for discovering new music can be fed directly by making that new music yourself. Taiga Remains is the solo electric guitar project of Alex Cobb, who also happens to run Students Of Decay, a pretty badass cd-r label. This 3" cd-r is a slow moving, bleary eyed, slow moving morning of a track. The guitar is rendered riffless, instead it's transformed into a sparkling glistening glimpse of a sun dappled expanse of still water, foggy and fuzzy, a dream world of shimmering muted high end drift and warm soft hum. Reminds us a bit of ex-Souled American axeman Scott Tuma, and his abstract slow motion soundscapes. So totally lovely and blissfully otherworldly.
Packaged in a mini jewel case, with a pretty black on brown sleeve. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. And you know these will be gone quick...
The late electric guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi is a legend in Japanese free jazz circles, a bold creator and explorer, who from the late '60s through the '90s broke down or went around the inside/outside jazz dichotomy, putting his axe to work in settings ranging from cool post-bop standards to textural tabletop noise experiments. Definitely an original, it's only for our convenience that he could be described as kind of like a Sonny Sharrock, Fred Frith, and Derek Bailey, all rolled into one. Even, say, Wolf Eyes teaming up with Anthony Braxton couldn't outgun Takayangi at his fiercest (by the way, that believe-it-or-not collaboration actually exists and is pretty cool, see elsewhere on this list for a review!). And here is a two volume set documenting the power and beauty of Takayangi's heavy duty, feedback-shaping skree circa 1975, in the context of his New Direction Unit, a quartet also featuring Nobuyoshi Ino on bass and cello, Hiroshi Yamazaki on percussion, and Kenji Mori on reeds.
Originally released on vinyl by a Japanese label called Offbeat, these two LPs have been coveted rarities pretty much ever since. A bit of a Holy Grail to some. So, we were excited (and expect some of you to be too) that these records have now officially reissued on compact disc, in nice miniature LP jacket styled cardboard sleeves, reproducing even the misspelling "Revolable" on their covers. They're Japanese imports on a great avant-garde music label called Doubtmusic (we'll have some other titles from them listed soon, including Otomo Yoshihide's New Jazz Orchestra doing a cover of Eric Dolphy's classic Out To Lunch album reviewed elsewhere this list) but we were able to get them for a decent price, $17, not bad at all considering we just saw that someone sold one of these very cds on eBay as a buy-it-now item for $40! Then again, who can put a price on wild and wooly, freeform "jazz" improv action like this?
Actually, both albums have their more quiet and gentle passages, of delicate string-scrabble, spacious drum-clank, and abstract, pretty reed blowing like birds a-twitter (in Takayangi's theoretical terminology, these pieces are called "gradually projection") that build up into denser, stormier freakouts wherein his guitar is fully unleashed and the rest of the group strains mightily to match (what Takayangi terms "mass projection"). On volume two, you get one gradually and two mass projections, while volume one features one gradually, one mass, and also a 13-minute percussion solo!
These reissues include the original liner notes by Teruto Soejima (translated into English, yay!). One paragraph stands out as being particularly descriptive: "Drifting through all of New Direction Unit's music is the scent of blood. Not old, clotted blood, but fresh blood. This isn't mere semblance of music; it's sound through which the blood of human beings has passed. Which is why, in the group's performances, blood seethes, flows against the current, burns, oozes, rises, congeals, is spewed out, gushes forth. Vivid red blood. Takayanagi's ultimate artistic aim may well be the the color of this blood." You might say ew, but listen and see if that doesn't seem true.
Additionally, for techies who need more than blood, we're provided with an obsessively detailed list of the specific microphones used for these recordings, along with the type of mixing console and tape recorder and even the precise brand of tape! It's a bit like the Fucking Champs do on their albums...
The late electric guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi is a legend in Japanese free jazz circles, a bold creator and explorer, who from the late '60s through the '90s broke down or went around the inside/outside jazz dichotomy, putting his axe to work in settings ranging from cool post-bop standards to textural tabletop noise experiments. Definitely an original, it's only for our convenience that he could be described as kind of like a Sonny Sharrock, Fred Frith, and Derek Bailey, all rolled into one. Even, say, Wolf Eyes teaming up with Anthony Braxton couldn't outgun Takayangi at his fiercest (by the way, that believe-it-or-not collaboration actually exists and is pretty cool, see elsewhere on this list for a review!). And here is a two volume set documenting the power and beauty of Takayangi's heavy duty, feedback-shaping skree circa 1975, in the context of his New Direction Unit, a quartet also featuring Nobuyoshi Ino on bass and cello, Hiroshi Yamazaki on percussion, and Kenji Mori on reeds.
Originally released on vinyl by a Japanese label called Offbeat, these two LPs have been coveted rarities pretty much ever since. A bit of a Holy Grail to some. So, we were excited (and expect some of you to be too) that these records have now officially reissued on compact disc, in nice miniature LP jacket styled cardboard sleeves, reproducing even the misspelling "Revolable" on their covers. They're Japanese imports on a great avant-garde music label called Doubtmusic (we'll have some other titles from them listed soon, including Otomo Yoshihide's New Jazz Orchestra doing a cover of Eric Dolphy's classic Out To Lunch album reviewed elsewhere this list) but we were able to get them for a decent price, $17, not bad at all considering we just saw that someone sold one of these very cds on eBay as a buy-it-now item for $40! Then again, who can put a price on wild and wooly, freeform "jazz" improv action like this?
Actually, both albums have their more quiet and gentle passages, of delicate string-scrabble, spacious drum-clank, and abstract, pretty reed blowing like birds a-twitter (in Takayangi's theoretical terminology, these pieces are called "gradually projection") that build up into denser, stormier freakouts wherein his guitar is fully unleashed and the rest of the group strains mightily to match (what Takayangi terms "mass projection"). On volume two, you get one gradually and two mass projections, while volume one features one gradually, one mass, and also a 13-minute percussion solo!
These reissues include the original liner notes by Teruto Soejima (translated into English, yay!). One paragraph stands out as being particularly descriptive: "Drifting through all of New Direction Unit's music is the scent of blood. Not old, clotted blood, but fresh blood. This isn't mere semblance of music; it's sound through which the blood of human beings has passed. Which is why, in the group's performances, blood seethes, flows against the current, burns, oozes, rises, congeals, is spewed out, gushes forth. Vivid red blood. Takayanagi's ultimate artistic aim may well be the the color of this blood." You might say ew, but listen and see if that doesn't seem true.
Additionally, for techies who need more than blood, we're provided with an obsessively detailed list of the specific microphones used for these recordings, along with the type of mixing console and tape recorder and even the precise brand of tape! It's a bit like the Fucking Champs do on their albums...
A few months ago, we got a package of cd-rs in the mail. Pretty cool looking discs, no information whatsoever on the cd-rs, or on the envelope they came in, just the name Titan on the front. We threw it on and were pretty impressed. Some seriously spacey blissed out modern day Hawkwind/krautrock stylings. So, we thought, let's order some of these to list, but then we realized we had no idea how to contact the band -- no phone number, no email, no website, no nothing. We weren't even sure how much to charge for the handful we already had.
So we waited. And waited. Finally one day, we got an email from the one of the guys in the band, who had just realized that they had sent us discs with no contact info. So we immediately emailed back, letting them know that we were definitely interested in selling their record. Asked them to send us 20 or 30 copies and NEVER. HEARD. FROM. THEM. AGAIN.
Then suddenly, we discover this new release on Paradigms by the name of Titan. Could it be? The song titles are all in German, but the Titan we heard was from Brooklyn. Sure enough, it was indeed them. Not sure if it's the exact same record we heard, but boy is it some divine spaced out drug drenched psychedelic krautrockiness. Three lengthy tracks, all ten minutes plus, the first opens with a lengthy stretch of meditative Tangerine Dream like organ drones, slowly shifting, melodies drifting and subtly intertwining, before the rest of the band joins in, locking into a groove and slowly building into a pretty serious psych rock jam. The band is rock solid, but still loose and free, loping relentlessly over a thick wash of organs and beneath wild squalls of freaked out psych guitars.
The second track launches right into an ominous spy thriller krautrock jam. Tense and propulsive, a totally mesmerizing groove surrounded by swirls of analog synth and swooping space FX. A bit like a way more rocking Zombi. About half way through, the jam dissipate and the track becomes a thick swirling free drone, with feeding back guitars ands and rumbling ambience. The final 15 minute track starts off much like the opener, a dreamy serene soundscape of sizzling cymbals, warm subtle drones and murky effects, before the band once again clicks into a slow sultry jazzy groove. The track builds into a near cinematic epic, like Godspeed or Mogwai, before slowly drifting back to Earth, and drowsily winding to a halt.
Limited to 750 copies, packaged in a colorful mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve.
Whoo-hoo! As always, the latest issue of editor/publisher Mike Stax' well-researched magazine devoted to "wild sounds from past dimensions" is a major event here. Aware of its impending arrival, we had to block out some time ahead of time just to spend reading the thing, which surely does require some hours indeed, as each ish is bigger (and maybe even better, tough as that's got to be to achieve) than the last. #24 weighs in at 208 pages, more than 50 of 'em filled with small-print reviews of desirable reissues of rare old albums and so forth, the '50s / '60s / '70s garage punk psych beat r&b stuff we need to hear about. A great resource. The rest of the magazine's got the usual columns and features, including super in-depth articles and interviews dealing with various obscure and semi-obscure bands. This time around: The Mustangs, The Bush, The Phantom Brothers, Sweetwater, Stiphnoyds, The Flamin' Groovies, The Rubber City Rebels, Mike & The Ravens, and more. Haven't heard of most of those? Well for just $7.95 you could become an expert on 'em. Seriously, we -always- find something of interest in these stories. A couple of the other features this issue that caught our attention: Johan Kugelberg discusses the joys of what he terms Australian "grillfat rock", Mike Stax waxes enthusiastic about vintage radio show airchecks, Randal Wood runs down the Peruvian '60s scene, Patrick Lundborg lists twenty hard to find collectibles that he'd like to see reissued, and Jeff Jarema talks to the recording engineer who worked on the first Blue Cheer album. Turns out the guy was talking time off from his job as a police officer, of all things, and lets just say didn't quite appreciate the pro-drugs, proto-metal heaviness churned out by the 'Cheer!
Now we count the days until #25 comes out...
One of our all time favorite fucked up black metal records EVER gets the super deluxe double lp vinyl reissue treatment. Super thick 180 gram vinyl, a completely gorgeous black on black, super heavy gatefold sleeve, all new artwork, limited to 500 copies, each lp hand numbered. This is so deluxe and so swank, it's almost like a whole new record. For those of you who somehow missed out on the bizarre brilliance that is Urfaust, or were just holding out in the hope, however farfetched, that someone would release some Urfaust on vinyl, well, here you go. Don't blow it! WE LOVE THIS BAND!!!
Here's what we had to say about the cd when we first got it in:
Some of you somehow missed out on the first Urfaust record we reviewed a while back. And how anyone missed it is a complete mystery, I mean, c'mon, how could you overlook a band described as an opera singer, wandering drunkenly down the street, who ducks into a live Karaoke bar, only to discover that the backup band is something like Burzum or Woodtemple, and thus proceeds to CROON maniacally atop their grim fuzzy midtempo buzzing backing, in an ultra dramatic warble that is equal parts Ethel Merman, Devil Doll's Mr. Doctor and Tom Jones?? Maybe you guys just needed a little reminder. Maybe you didn't read the part that said ETHEL MERMAN FRONTING FUCKING BURZUM!!! Holy crap! We wouldn't even have to hear it! Urfaust have to be the most damaged and demented and plain peculiar black metal band around. And it's not just the vocals (which we also now realize also remind us a bit of Morrissey), although they are one of the most amazing parts of the package. The band itself play their Burzum-y black metal to perfection, but they manage to take that black metal buzz and wrap it in layer after layer of affects and distortion, giving the whole thing a druggy, blissed out Spacemen 3 vibe. This is tripped out, drugged up, otherworldly, stumbling loping black metal perfection. The record opens up with a haunting 13 minute ambient soundscape of moaning cellos and creepy otherworldly strings before they all explode into a burst of martial brass and percussion. moments before a swarm of buzzing guitars attack, and the vocalist climbs atop them, like a wailing warrior riding a flying dragon. The songs on this record are much dronier and more hypnotic than the first record, riffs melt into one other, effects smear the whole thing into a slithering squirming mass of buzz and fuzz and moan. Halfway through the record, we get another 10+ minute breather, another gorgeously serene ambient drone, that drifts and shifts before agitated strings join in and the whole thing collapses back into a thick black metal lope. We didn't think it was possible for this record to be better than the first, and maybe it's not 'better', maybe it's just different, but WOW is this weird and baffling and totally brilliant stuff. Together, the two Urfaust records make quite possibly the ultimate outsider black metal document.
This delightful new collection from the great British crate-digger Johnny Trunk focuses on the lighter and more whimsical obscurities of British Folk. Think a more kid-friendly Wicker Man Soundtrack-same spooky and wondrous undertones but without all the, er... shall we say, ribald subtext. There is definitely an acidy H.R. Pufnstuf vibe to some of the songs which made some of us imitate those overacting kids on Barney. In fact some of these songs were recorded for children's movement classes in the early seventies, using lots of zany instruments like penny-whistles, kazoos and ocarinas. While this is not strictly aimed at children (some songs like Basil Kirchin's sublime "I Start Counting" might be too slow for full kiddie enjoyment), we think parents would rather have their young kids listening to this stuff than crap like Barney or Raffi. Fans of "incredibly strange music", novelty records, and sixties and seventies folk-pop should check this too. Far out!
Not sure we could've come up with a better comp if we had organized it ourselves. A tribute to the buzzing steel string, featuring a who's who of AQ faves: Birchville Cat Motel, Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood, Peter Wright, C. Spencer Yeh, The North Sea, Robert Horton and more.
Each band approaches the steel string in their own unique way, so much so that instead of bands creating music to go with the theme, bands who just inherently embody the theme were specifically chosen. Either way, this is a dandy little sampler of the current crop of string slinging free sound explorers. Creaking abstract reverb drenched soundscapes, peppered with metallic buzz, thick washes of downtuned distortion swirled into near static drones, dizzying assemblages of detuned guitars, random clatter and fluttering Renn Faire flutes, minimal industrial crunch and glitch, buzzing droning solo violin skree, deep cavernous washes of warm melodic sound, slippery slide guitars nestled in abstract smears of keening high end whir, simple near-traditional Appalachian guitar strum, murky fuzzed out blurry drifts of gristly reverberations, and some ear piercing high end sine wave screech, all in some way born of the steel string. Very nice!
We have so man fond indie rock memories from the '90s. So many labels that came to birth and put out the 7"s that got us through many a summer and school year. The Pacific Northwest in particular always had a crazy amount of indie labels taking their cues from Sub-Pop and forging ahead with a love of all things indie, putting so much love and care into their releases and sharing the sounds of some bands that would later become much more well known. Suicide Squeeze is one of these labels. Starting out primarily as a 7" label, they have expanded over the years and are now a pretty serious label. Celebrating their 10th birthday they've released a 2-disc collection of previously released songs as well as some unreleased tracks. Modest Mouse, Elliott Smith, Iron & Wine, Of Montreal, Hella, The Black Heart Procession, The Unicorns, 764-Hero, The Aislers Set, Black Mountain, Les Savy Fav, The Melvins, Red Stars Theory, and that's only like half the bands included. This is pretty much essential for those wanting a crash course in indie rock over the last ten years or those who might have taken a little break from indie rock. A pretty great way to relive a decade of indie rock's best and brightest.
