Whoa, this new Aereogramme full length really unveils a new side of the band. They're downright gentle, romantic, and dare we say, emo even. Most notably they traded in their thick metal-leaning bottom end for spiraling stratospheric strings. Perhaps it's the altitude, but this album's overall sound comes across as much thinner and more brittle than last year's Seclusion, but no less epic. For the first half of My Heart Has A Wish That You Would Not Go, everything -- from the piano to the guitars to the strings to the percussion -- is played with a contemplative, often delicate touch. Drifting atop this spacey gauziness are timorously sensitive male vocals. Think more Flaming Lips and maybe Frog Eyes than Mogwai and Isis. The hefty Aereogramme of old does resurface briefly at the album's midpoint, the sixth song "Living Backwards", injecting an effective dose of tension and gravity into the proceedings.
New York quintet The Affair make some good ol' feisty power pop in which the robust female vocals of Ms Kali Holloway take center stage. Very much in the kickass traditions of Blondie, Ronnie Spector and Katrina And The Waves. Sounding like she's got one heckuva chip on her shoulder, we'd bet Holloway's not one to take things sittin' down... and neither will you when you give this a spin. You'll be up on your feet bounding around your living room. Loads of fun!
As influential and prolific as Afrika Bambaata is, it's always baffled us how damn hard it actually can be to get your hands on his music. Luckily we finally managed to get copies of this, a previously ultra rare mix that Bambaata whipped up back in the day. A 20+ minute continuous-mix made in the early '80s showing off his legendary chops and demonstrating loud and clear how he was able to dig into crates of records and create an instant party.
Recently reissued, Analogue Bubblebath 4 originally appeared in 1994 under Richard D. James' acid damaged moniker AFX. This four track EP opens with a huge, rolling techno breakbeat whose machinist rigor bears similarities to James' rhythmic structure for the Aphex single "On" and the Polygon Window track "Quoth". Instead of one of his mad-scientist melodies, James merely plants an overblown scream to punctuate the fourth measure of his rhythmic pulse. Back in the day, there were plenty of technohedz who weren't too keen on this track for its overt bloodcurdling vibe; although in comparison to the recent horror IDM excesses of Venetian Snares, this is hardly sounds like a transgressive number anymore. Solid nonetheless. James flushes out the remainder of the EP with less bombastic pieces, more in keeping with the sound of the Richard D. James LP with deftly manufactured acid percolations over midtempo fractured breaks and plenty of bubbly ambience.
Not sure what it is about the number 9 but it somehow figures heavily into the mythos of these mysterious grindlords from Australia. Their first release was a super limited 9". This latest disc, another blown out blast of pummeling technical grind, is 9 songs packed into 9 ultradense minutes. Hmmm. 9. 9. 9. Upside down is... 6. 6. 6. Ahem, anyway... As with all great grind, these guys pack more riffs and parts into 9 minutes than most bands can manage in an hour! 9 mini epics, each a dizzying squall of whirlwind riffs, shrieking vocals, chaotic drum splatter and a wall of low end that hits you like a block of concrete to the sternum. The guys in Whitehorse hipped us to these guys so you can get an idea of the sort of heaviness we're talking here. But where Whitehorse destroy with glacial malevolence, AoA annihilate with frenzied fury! Awesome.
Cool little 3" cd-r packaged in a deluxe oversized slim DVD case, with full color insert.
We can always count on Smithsonian Folkways to bring us amazing reissues from decades past (Elizabeth Cotten, Roscoe Holcomb, Leadbelly, and of course countless compilations from all over the world). But it's always such a nice surprise when they release something that is actually contemporary. Such is the case with this outing by Rahim Alhaj. Born in Baghdad, Alhaj started playing and studying the oud when he was just 9 years old and began giving concerts as an early teen. A student of Muni Bashir (we hope you checked out his amazing album that we listed last year!), Alhaj is a master of the oud whose skills are undeniable. The record has a a kind of solemn strength that makes it the perfect thing to listen to when you want everything else in the world to fade away so just these sounds can surround and envelop you. Alhaj is able to conjure sounds from the oud that manage to be both lovely and arresting. With percussion accompaniment courtesy of Souhail Kaspar this record reminds us of the rich musical heritage of a land that is too often only thought of in terms of war and despair. So nice.
Hurrah! Those delightful lil' Apples In Stereo have come bursting back from a much too long absence. Yes, it's been five long years since we last heard from these Elephant Six collective pop dynamos, but from the bright eyed and bushy tailed sounds of New Magnetic Wonder it's as if they never skipped a beat. Some things never change... head Apple Robert Schneider is still carrying a mighty big torch for Brian Wilson, but he's visiting the E.L.O. camp occasionally on a few tunes here too. This is some seriously yummy pop! Recommended for everyone young and young at heart and particularly those with a big sweet tooth. Not recommended for diabetics or old fogeys.
On his recent trip to San Francisco, Ariel Pink made time not only for a secret gig at one of our favorite dives but also for a trip into AQ with his colorful entourage. He not only came to shop, but he also just so happened to come armed with this ultra-limited one-sided 12", a record none of us knew even existed.
Everyone remembers where they were on Sept 11, 2001, and somehow it didn't surprise us to find out where Ariel Pink was on that monumental day, inside his bedroom with his four track right at his side. In his own words this record is: "An epic 17-minute prog-pop suite, literally recorded September 11th, 2001, inspired and addressing the hot-off-the-press adrenaline rush of our nation in shock, caught in real time."
And we have to say that this is pretty much everything we would have hoped for. Classic Ariel Pink stretched out and laced with maximum paranoia. Fuzzy lo-fi pop with spazzed out instrumental passages that's so in its own world you can't help but want to join Mr. Pink in there too. We only have a handful of these left and once they are gone they are gone for good, so good luck!
An amazing lost artpunk artifact from the early eighties San Francisco punk rock scene, and we're talking really lost, as no one we know had even heard of these guys, but from the very first note we were smitten.
The opener is a super spare and spacious bit of post punk dub, subtly groovy, a throbbing new wave bass line, sounding like Gang Of Four or Interpol slowed waaaaaaaaay down, a simple krautrock beat peppered with handclaps, some dissonant guitar clang and a bit of moody post rock strum and jangle, with the occasional huge dissonant wash of atonal horns. Dark and creepy and almost danceable at times, that is if your dance of choice is some sort of zombie shuffle.
The other three tracks are not nearly as spare, but have the same sort of angular clang and low slung groove, the vocals sort of sung spoken, the rhythms loping and tribal, guitar harmonics ringing out, bits of angular riffage, vocals very reminiscent of Slint actually, laconic and buried way down in the mix. Stumblingly propulsive, the mix occasionally engulfed by some weird low end swell and some damaged electronics, the whole thing lurching and lumbering amidst a swirl of off kilter guitars and dubbed out ambience, it's sort of like Gang Of Four mixed with Slint mixed with This Heat. Which, we hardly need to tell you, is a very good thing indeed.
Baja is a German collective revolving around a composer by the name of Daniel Vujanic. By the sound of things, Baja see themselves in neither Germany nor Mexico, but in Chicago circa 1995 when Gastr Del Sol was deconstructing any number of musical tropes into their own rigid signature sound. Both of the two long-form Baja tracks are decentered compositions of angular guitar plucking, ECM jazz motifs, elliptical bass riffs, painterly splatters of multiple horns, and stumbled percussive rhythms.
Black ambient terrorists MZ412 were and are the definition of "true Swedish black industrial" and were one of the first bands to successfully bridge the gap between dark ambience and black metal. The two main members never abandoned their vision, but instead, put MZ412 on hiatus while the two pursued and explored different sounds and sonic worlds. Nordvargr most prolifically in Toroidh, Folkstorm and under his own name, while Drakh began the Beyond Sensory Experience project.
Recently the two reunited and released a brand new MZ412 record (to be reviewed here soon) and recorded a brand new Nordvargr / Drakh album (coming soon on Andee's tUMULt label). Somehow they also found time to collaborate with Japanese writer and sonic assassin Kenji Siratori (who also collaborates with Pendro elsewhere on this list) on Hypergenome666, a massive multiple disc, art book project that is breathtaking, not just visually (with incredible artwork and design courtesy of Paul McCarrol) but sonically as well, featuring some of the most caustic, heavy and frighteningly menacing black ambience and dark drones we've ever heard.
Two discs, one features Nordvargr, the other Drakh and his Beyond Sensory Experience, each pitted against Siratori, whose main weapon is the word, both written and chopped and sliced and diced into strange verbal soundscapes.
The Nordvargr disc just might be the darkest heaviest thing we've ever heard from him. Creepy and cavernous, huge ominous swells and crumbling industrial crunch drift amidst disembodied monstrous growls and keening distant melodies. Black clouds hover above, spewing forth grinding bursts of electrical discharge, interrupted occasionally by strange dreamlike interludes, epic and majestic horns, processed vocals, looped and chopped, treated and affected, crumbling crunchy rhythms, thick swaths of blown out distortion and expansive smears of whirring ambient buzz and thick streaks of minor key color. This is one of the scariest sounding discs ever. So deep and dense, so many layers, so much going on, it's the sound of being lost in the underworld, wandering alone forever. It's strangely beautiful too.
The BSE disc finds Drakh also teamed up with (or against, hard to say) Siratori and that disc is nearly as sinister and bleak as Nordvargr's. A bit more rhythmic, with the voices and vocals pushed more to the fore, the rhythms a lurching framework for the various low end streaks, swirling and shimmering. The voices are transformed into alien black shapes and back again. Dense and thick, a crumbling world of delicate drones and thick slabs of grinding distortion. More blissed out and ambient, dreamy and soft focus, but no less threatening or evil sounding. The discs are similar enough that they could be collaborative, some lost MZ412 disc, or a new Nordvargr / Drakh, but different enough that they stand on their own, offering light where the other offers dark, or more accurately, offering more dark...
The text and song titles and lyrics are all the work of Siratori and are dense and confusional, equal parts stream of consciousness, cyber punk and whatthefuck, "amorphous anthropoid, sympathy cell waves, acidhumanix, biocapturism..." it goes on and on, some impossible otherworld of reanimated corpses and time travel and cellular warfare and who knows what else. Dizzying and overwhelming and totally fascinating. The artwork somehow reflects that, at once modern and futuristic, classic and strangely surreal, naked figures, deformed babies, all sorts of religious iconography, corpses, genitals, industrial machinery, skulls, blood, welts, tentacles and tendrils...
All housed in an oversized fold over slipcover, inside a folder with the discs mounted inside, full color postcards, and a perfect bound book of Siratori's bizarre text.
While they last, we have the super limited version (only 300 copies!!) which includes two extra 3" discs. The first is Kenji Siratori - Sound Monologue : Hypergenome666, which features Siratori's spoken word, processed and tangled up into strange electronic soundscapes, skipping loops, and dense reverb drenched rhythms, all circling the haunting and mysterious words, grinding and blown out, super distorted and crumbling into strange shards of sound. The other is BSE vs. Nordvargr + Kenj Siratori - Tragedy Cell, featuring all three, collaborating, or battling, a glacial, frostbitten black wasteland, vocals swirl and are swallowed up, huge slabs of distorted low end blacken the sky, disembodied rhythms hover amidst whorls of whirring buzz, everything bathed in crackle and hum...
So absolutely stunning in every way.
It seems the Last Visible Dog label can do no wrong of late, now bringing us this wonderful album of mellow, melancholy music full of folkish, creaky ambience from Black Forest/Black Sea. It's tailor-made for the Terrastock Nation, if you know what we mean. If you read Broken Face 'zine, or scarf up Jewelled Antler cdrs, or dig what the Wire calls "The New Weird America", or liked their track on the "Invisible Pyramid" compilation, well then this disc of psych-folk action ought to suit you like that shaggy beard suits Kawabata Makoto.
Black Forest/Black Sea are the Providence, RI duo of Jeffery Alexander and Miriam Goldberg (is one the forest and one the sea? dunno). Jeffery plays guitar and Miriam plays cello, primarily, but there's more than just guitar and cello in the mix. We know a couple of their friends help out at times with some shortwave, sax, and general knob-twiddling. But these songs mostly start with melodic guitar picking, oftimes unaccompanied, that may then be joined by doleful cello drone, wavering electronic organ, or perhaps some slow, steady percussion rhythm -- even, on one track, primitive electronic beats from a Casio or something -- always stirring echoes of old world folk and underground '70s kraut jamming. Much of this is instrumental, with what vocals there are -- it must be Miriam singing -- being quite haunting, sometimes simply lurking in the background, wordlessly, melding with the glitchy reel-to-reel tape noises and other non-instrumental, extra-musical textural effects this band employs that add depth and mystery to their simple but effective songs. From spacious droning, possibly improvised passages to downright tuneful 'folky' hooks, this works and works well. We can't see how any of AQ's psych/folk fan customers would want to pass this up. Recommended.
Yep, this one is sure to have the Vice Magazine scene frothing at the mouth! And in this case, it's not just for love of irony, shock and grossout. This is a mighty fine album! Hopefully the anti-Vice crowd won't be dissuaded from checking it out... Anyhoo, much like a number of their hyped-to-the-moon hipster dance rock contemporaries of a couple years ago, Bloc Party have wisely shifted their focus and expanded their sound since their hot shit Silent Alarm debut. The band has risen to the challenge of shedding the decidedly one-dimensional '80s fueled dance punk trappings, but unlike many of those same contemporaries, they haven't desperately transformed themselves into something alienatingly unrecognizable. Although we did pause for a moment of uncertainty during the first song to make sure that this was indeed Bloc Party, as the album progresses the familiar voice of Kele Okereke rings through. On A Weekend In The City Bloc Party are definitely not in it for the vacuous, line cutting party time. Although the infectious, driving insistence of tracks such as "Hunting For Witches" and "Uniform" definitely getcha up and bring to mind The Faint and Pulp respectively, the shadowy, heady swoon of songs like "The Prayer" aligns them more with TV On The Radio. Darker, moodier, heavier, sturdier and above all else more deeply personal, Bloc Party are aiming for so much more than a one night stand, and they succeed enormously. Pretty great!
The ritualist forest flecked dark ambience of the band Ruhr Hunter has always managed to somehow transcend its ambient classification and appeal to the metal crowd as much as to the ambient drone crowd. Not sure what it is, the foresty bent, the bold Teutonic iconography, the music's distinctly dark elements, or maybe folks could just tell that some metal was lurking within them thar dark drones...
And as if we needed proof, along comes Blood Of The Black Owl, the buzzing black metal project of Chet Scott, the man behind Ruhr Hunter. And true to form, this is no run of the mill black metal band, Scott expands his baritone guitar / drums palette to include stuff like thunder gong and brass tubular bells, organ, young ox horn, antique celestaphone, environmental recordings and black clay ocarina. It's almost like a blackened metallicized Ruhr Hunter.
The sound is an hypnotic, repetitive midtempo Burzumic buzz, often slowing down to a dirge like crawl, each track a relentless trudge through mud and swamp, thicket and forest, the riffs looping and cycling, mantra-like, the vocals a guttural growl one second, an anguished wail the next, in the background are howling wolves, birdsong, strange percussion, a truly mysterious black brew. Much of the record dips into dark ambience, and being that this is basically Ruhr Hunter, those passages are captivating, a dark dreamy ambient interludes underpinned in places by slow motion riffing, in others by chantlike vocals, and still others by throat singing, it's all very haunting and mournful, but this is NOT a RH record, so those brief passages are merely transitions, the songs themselves, the riffs and the melodies, weave their own dark magic, dismal and depressive, as doom as it is black, a mesmerizing fuzzy landscape of black riffs and simple pounding rhythms, gloriously bleak, strangely dreamlike, and most definitely imbued with the spirit of some ancient black forest.
Most known for being his "difficult album", Tim Buckley shocked a number of his fans when he released this 1970 record, his first for David Geffen's Asylum label. Extending his vocal gymnastics to almost wearying avant garde extremes and infusing jazz improvisation with folk instrumentation, Buckley led the way for artists like Joni Mitchell, Judee Sill and Phoebe Snow (all Asylum labelmates) to distinguish their highly individualized singer-songwriter leanings from their folk and folk-rock progenitors. Reissued on beautiful 180 gram vinyl. The way it was meant to be heard!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY. This is the first in a super limited series of 3" cd-r's dedicated to H.P. Lovecraft. This inaugural installment comes from UK one man black metal horde Caina, whose debut record indeed bore a passing resemblance to AQ faves, Lurker Of Chalice, the weirder side project of Leviathan's Wrest, but managed to be it's own strange black beast.
And if anything, I, Mountain is even stranger, with barely any black metal, in fact there's very little here that might be considered metal at all. But that in no way means this isn't dark, or mysterious or subtly heavy.
I, Mountain is an instrumental interpretation of Lovecraft's At The Mountains Of Madness, and is an intense sonic journey.
The first five minutes are a blissy dreamy drift, muted acoustic guitars, glistening and shimmering, it's not until five minutes in that the tenor becomes ominous, with haunting crumbling production and mysterious minor key ambience. Then it's about halfway through before we get the first hint of anything resembling metal, and even then, it's thick clouds of noxious distortion, drifting in the background, a sort of black ambience, but this quickly gives way to a churning doomy sludge, downtuned guitars, thick waves, layer after layer, slowly shifting and pulsing.
Finally, with only minutes to go, the metal kicks in, but it's no black blast, instead a propulsive metallic dirge, thick guitars, and pounding simple drums with the occasionally splattery fill, trudging resolutely forward before the drums drift off, leaving dense peals of processed guitar to swirl and shimmer ominously before the dark ambience fades to black.
I, Mountain is tracked as a single 20+ minute track, although in the booklet, the sections are separated into movements. Packaged in a slim jewel case, with a 4 panel booklet and a thick card insert with a photo of Lovecraft on one side and an essay on the other. Nice!
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!! We got 20, and it's already out of print, so when we run out, we will not be able to get more...
After the big This Heat boxset bombshell dropped last year, and made everybody fall in love with that seminal, '70s experimental UK prog-punk band all over again, we expect that there's even more folks now who'll be stoked that this collection of This Heat drummer Charles Hayward's quite excellent '80s output with his band Camberwell Now has been reissued, in a brand new deluxe digipack format. That's right, if you want more This Heatishness beyond the Out Of Cold Storage boxset, you want this!
Recorded circa 1982-1985, the fifteen songs compiled here (from Camberwell Now's three vinyl releases plus a cassette comp track) are pretty darn essential for any fan of This Heat, featuring as they do one of the most important components of the This Heat sound, Hayward's signature drumming style. You'll know it when you hear it. His thin, fragile vocals and poetic, politically-charged lyrics are also a significant part of the picture, with the other members of Camberwell Now also making significant contributions to their sound, which incorporated tapes, field recordings, autoharp, ethnic instruments, kazoo, keyboards, etc. A potent mix of energetic rhythms and dreary melodies. For fans of This Heat (obviously), though this is less hard-hitting and more song-based than some of their work. Fans of '80s Robert Fripp may also feel at home with portions of this. But it also occurs to us that there are some recent artists that seem to share something (just something) with Camberwell Now, like Dean Roberts and, perhaps especially, Richard Youngs.
Not only is this new edition cheaper than the one we had before, it's in nicer packaging, with extra notes and photos and artwork, and has also been remastered by the band. Yay!
In 1992, Richard James issued a handful of mysterious singles under the moniker Caustic Window, all the while maintaining his vangarde reinterpretations of UR acid trax and post-rave breakcore with occasional detours into chimingly playful melodies topping eerie drones and shuffling rhythms. Given the timeframe when these tracks were created, they have a lot more in common with the first chapter of the Aphex Twin album Selected Ambient Works Volume One. Caustic Window has often been sited as the most abrasive of the Aphex Twin side projects; and while there are some numbers which Alec Empire clearly used as a springboard for his Digital Hardcore ethos, there's plenty of lilting electronica for the Boards Of Canada crowd. Of course, all of the original Caustic Window singles disappeared very quickly, and reappeared about 10 years ago on the self-evidently titled album Compilation. That set went out of print, which brings us to the modern day where the Rephlex has reissued this material once again so that Richard D. James' electronic brilliance can continue to tickle our ears and rattle our bones.
The latest in the Mystery Sea label's ongoing exploration of "night-ocean drones", which as we've mentioned in the past, is precisely what these discs sound like. Dark, moonlit nights, rippling black seas, and drones, glorious drones!
Cherry Beach Project is the Canadian duo of Joda Clement and Nigel Craig, and Silo II was indeed recorded in a silo, at Cherry Beach, an industrial wasteland, on an abandoned peninsula in Toronto, know as a place, where "off the record" police activities occur, and all manner of crime. The area has since been demolished, but on the nights of recording, the duo were forced to abandon their equipment in the midst of some sort of violence, forced to return the next day to retrieve their equipment, only to be pursued by several unidentified men. With that sort of story behind the recording of Silo II, one might expect something more jagged, or harsh, or extreme, but instead, the sounds here, are glistening and delicate, massive stretches of shimmering space separating low end thrums and sparkling upper register glimmers, each note hovering gently like dust motes caught in moonbeams. Drops of water, send sonic ripples skyward, deep cavernous groans and distant chimes swirl lazily in wide open fields of reverb, huge barely audible rumbles permeate the proceedings, offering up subtle sonic support, bumps and random percussive thumps surface occasionally out of near silence, but just as quickly fade away. Definite nods to Japanese field recordists Toshiya Tsunoda, as the silo is as much a part of the action as the sounds created within it. So mysterious and dark, spacious and abstract, minimal and haunting.
Like all Mystery Sea releases, LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc numbered, and gorgeously packaged in striking full color artwork.
The Die Schachtel label's "Zeit" series devoted to current acts from the Italian avant-garde/indie-rock underground has a couple new releases out now -- discs by Christa Pfangen (reviewed here) and Angelo Petronella (which we'll try to get to next time). The Zeit series started off with the fabulous self-titled album by a band simply named A, hopefully you've checked that one out already (we highlighted it on list 248). This cd is almost just as good. Their fragmented, abstract electro-acoustics, and use of silence as well as sound, definitely puts Christa Pfangen in the same experimental ballpark as A, 3/4hadbeeneliminated, Giuseppe Ielasi, Stefano Pilia, Renato Rinaldi, Larsen, Sinistri/Starfuckers, and other artists from this happenin' scene. Playing "guitars, drums, voices, objects, electroacoustic devices", Christa Pfangen is in fact a duo, comprised of Andrea Belfi (who also has a new solo album out on Hapna by the way) and Mattia Coletti. These ladies have named their band Christa PFANGEN in some sort of odd tribute to Nico, whose real name was Christa PAFFGEN...but beyond that we don't think this has much to do with Nico or her music, though maybe there's some harmonium on here somewhere!
A tangle of nervous drumming and ambient drones, all staticky and stuttery, Watch Me Getting Back The End is both challenging and pretty... they've got a moody melodiousness to 'em not unlike 3/4hadbeeneliminated, or Jewelled Antler projects such as Thuja and the Blithe Sons. Certainly there's a lot here for even the not-so-experimental indie pop fan to mellow out to. String-born notes fall like leaves from a tree, melodies blow away in a gentle wind of drone, whispering voices caress the ear... so nice!
As with all Die Schachtel stuff, the packaging is super spiffy -- a digipack with embossed cover art.
What? Another disc ALREADY from our favorite Finnish psych/space/prog/metal/drone/wtf? rockers, the one and only Circle? Good grief, we're still reeling from their amazing Miljard two cd set on Ektro, and their even more recent, mindblowing Tyrant disc in the limited edition Latitudes series! Who do they think they are, Acid Mothers Temple? Well, to be fair, this new album Tower wasn't actually supposed to come out until April. But it seems that one of the Last Visible Dog label's distributors, gripped perhaps by Circle-mania, accidentally jumped the gun on the release date and started shipping it early -- so, well, here it is! And we can't complain, who wants to wait when a new Circle is concerned?? Especially when we're all trying to keep up with (as it says on the face of this cd) the "NWONWOFHM", in other words, the "New Wave Of" the "New Wave Of Finnish Heavy Metal"... which, as it turns out, isn't in any way metal at all! Nope, the all-instrumental Tower follows Miljard in exploring the really really pretty side of the Circle sound. But unlike Miljard, which was slowly unfolding, almost stately, Tower has much more of an uptempo, rapid pulse.
The album seems to divide into two parts. The first four tracks flow together in sort of suite, burbling beautifully and hypnotically...just so so pleasant. No heavy riffs, nothing edgy at all. Then there's a pause, and the remaining two tracks reveal something of a darker, more mysterious sound. Just a bit though, like a bright sunny day edging towards twilight, the knowledge of the coming night starting to seep into one's consciousness, some clouds drifting in as well, but the sun still shining...
Also, you'll note that this album is billed to Circle "featuring Verde" -- referring to special guest Mika Rintala, who has played with Circle and their jazzier cousin Ektroverde as well, and whose solo albums, recorded under the Verde monicker, we've raved about here before. We're not sure how to judge the "Verde-factor" here, but we do note that in addition to playing on this album he also recorded and mixed it. Maybe this does remind us a bit of some of Ektroverde's output, come to think of it... there's definitely a spaced-out, jazzy fusion groove here, of shuffling drums and chiming synths, that makes for a relaxing soundtrack we wouldn't feel foolish recommending to fans of The Necks and Miles Davis as well as Ektroverde, Verde and Circle too of course...
Now we wonder, what will the NWONWONWOFMHM be like? At this rate, chances are we'll find out sometime soon...
Although lots of folks consider death metal to be dead, and around these parts, it takes something pretty fucking mindblowing to get us all excited about death metal again, at least one of us (Jason) still thinks death metal is alive and kicking. Granted, we have to admit to the fact that a lot of so called death metal these days is mostly played by asymmetrical-haircut/eyeliner/women's jeans-wearing EMO dudes, and even though we do dig a lot of that stuff, it is NOT really death metal! Or even real metal for that matter.
"Real" death metal still exists, but it takes a creative mind, a knack for original arrangements, as well as the ability to "shred", and those elements can be found in abundance on the debut album from former Nasum drummer Anders Jakobsons' new grindbeast Coldworker.
Surrounding himself with a few more-than-capable young guns with riffs and chops to spare, the boys in Coldworker come right out of the gate at full throttle -- not quite a full blast-beating grind, but this is DEATH METAL first and foremost! The tempo stays pretty much at a breakneck pace throughout the entire CD, with the occasional thick breakdown and raging thrash blasts scattered throughout making the record not so monotonous and "same old-same old" that seems to be plague lots of metal records these days.
You can tell that this is definitely "Nasum-influenced" -- Mr. Jakobson has a pretty unique and unmistakable signature sound, Coldworker still stands on its own. But if you need one of those "recommended if you like" things, it would probably be safe to that if you dig the brutal dirt-grindage of Brutal Truth or Hellchild mixed with classic Left Hand Path era Entombed (yes!), the precise riffing of Necrophagist and the off-kilter "quantum physics" and tortured throat roar of Converge or Coalesce, then this will definitely hit the spot. It's definitely the perfect music for packing mail order at 8:30 in the morning, so it should work for you as well, anytime!
A killer debut for a band that we hope to see raise the bar for other bands attempting to blur the line between death/thrash/tech and grind metal.
Good luck with that...
A few months ago, the French label Ferns published a brilliant 3" CD from mnortham who created an homage to his father, the race car driver, through a ecstatic droning collage of racetrack recordings. The very next release from the label happens to be from the Bay Area's Joe Colley, who in turn, composed a unsettling piece dedicated to his father as well, the beekeeper. We simply could not help notice the coincidence of the fatherly inspiration found on these two recordings, and wonder if the next couple (i.e. Small Cruel Party and Giancarlo Toniutti, if you must know) will follow the same pattern in creating sonic portraits. As you probably could ascertain, Colley's Hive is sourced from beehives, with many of the recordings processed and mangled. With the resultant sounds being much less destructive / misanthropic than those heard on Psychic Stress Soundtracks or Desperate Attempts At Beauty, Colley pursues a relatively subtle composition through the anxious energy of bees rattling within a hive and swarming drones that have been hushed into a peculiarly dreamy cloud of soft white noises. Hive is incredibly well executed, but the lack of anything overtly abrasive, toxic, or downright meanspirited in a Colley piece can be a little unsettling, as we had braced ourselves for the swarm of bees to erupt from the speakers in a nightmarish attack of razor-sharp distortion. But after the second and third listens to Hive, we sank into the rich buzzing sounds wondering if this is how it sounds to have a colony of bees placidly crawling over one's head. Very nicely done.
First release we've listed by Common Oracles, a one man electric guitar raga ensemble based in the US, but recorded in New Zealand. And the sound is definitely New Zealand, it's impossible not to hear some Dead C, although we hear just as much Skullflower and Sunroof, and maybe a little No Neck. Needless to say, this is some underground guitar nirvana. The opener is a 15 minute slow burn that begins all slippery and wiggly, fingers all over the fretboard, notes all tangled up in dense little squalls, but mysteriously imbued with plenty of melody, albeit, buried under swirls of psych guitar chaos, before eventually morphing into some upper register snake charmer Ur-drone. The second track is a total 180, with simple electronic rhythms and whooshing swooping analog synths, like a new wave lo-fi Tangerine Dream or something. Weird but pretty cool. But it's all about the nearly half hour final track, a detuned blues jam stretched into a mantra like rage, riffs, repeated over and over, the blues getting lost in thick streaks of guitar thrum, eventually smoothing out into a creeping glistening melodic shimmer, before exploding into a frenzied psychrock coda.
Packaged in hand made, painted and taped sleeves, constructed from old LP jackets, with Xeroxed artwork affixed to the front and a photocopied insert inside.
And of course, super limited...
The latest from Tokyo's PSF label isn't one of their usual offerings of free jazz, outsider improv folk, or garage psych... it's not even "Japanese noise". It's actually Chinese noise. Not that that sounds much different from the Japanese variety! The oddly named D!O!D!O!D! are a raucous n' rowdy guitar and drums duo hailing from Hangzhou, China. Guitarist Li-Jianhong and drummer Huang Jin lay it on thick here, freaking out with the best of 'em. Crashing, clattering drum battery versus scrabbling, feedback guitar overload. Non-stop madness. If loud n' noisy improv is your thing, if you dig Hijokaidan and Ascension and Rudolph Grey and Harry Pussy and suchlike skronk and skree, you'll be happy PSF hooked up with these two frenzied Chinese noisniks to bring you this disc. Includes liner notes in English translation.
A few months back, we listed a one-sided, one-song 12" vinyl record that was a teaser for this, the debut album from Portland, Oregon's magnificent Danava, an eagerly awaited release 'round here for sure. And so we'll pretty much recap a bunch of what we said in the review of that 12", which featured their epic tune "Quiet Babies Astray In A Manger", also found on this disc: we first heard this stoner-garage-prog-metal combo on the Invaders comp of happenin' hipster heavy psych metal that the Kemado label released earlier this year. Their track was one of several highlights on that collection. We went to go see 'em when they played in Oakland with Parchman Farm not too long ago, and even more recently in The City when they were supposed to be opening for Witchcraft, and in both instances the Danava boys SLAYED, shredded, and (incidentally to the music) were all really skinny. Awesome band. Basically a rollicking, rippin' power trio with extra psychedelic embellishments from keyboards and electronics. If we were a label, we'd have signed 'em in an instant, and that's what Kemado wisely did some time ago. This resultant product comes close to capturing the excitement of their live show, while revealing other aspects we didn't hear whilst headbanging. It's got a reworking of their killer tune "By The Mark" from the Invaders comp, plus the aforementioned 12" track, and three others that are equally masterful, like "Eyes In Disguise" (hearing a hint of Black Sabbath in the vocal line on that one). When the fleet-fingered guitarist gets goin', and when the drummer and bassist lock in, Danava build to pure, amped up, enthused rocka rolla ecstasy and almost could just as well be a totally instrumental band and get away with it, but they have the bonus of actual decent singing capability and vocal hooks as well. Recommended if you like to rock.
With a lineup like that you'd probably be expecting some sort of ear splitting noise free-for-all. A blasting batch of brutality designed to melt your speakers into little black puddles, to send your neighbors diving for the phone to call the cops, the sort of N O I S E that is gloriously and literally unlistenable. Well, in this case, you'd be wrong. Very wrong.
In fact all four sides of this quadruple live set, are downright listenable, if not actually lovely here and there. An epic 4 sided dark ambient dronefest, that while hitting the spot for the usual suspects, will definitely also appeal to the drone minded among you as well as the Earth / SUNNO))) dronedoomdirge obsessed.
John Wiese of Bastard Noise and about a million other projects starts things off not with a bang, but a rumbling whir, a slowly unfurling blanket of crumbling fuzz and hiss, muted minimal ambience rife with pulsing low end and thick rivers of black shimmer. This is dark ambience more than noise, strange disembodied melodies, drifting all ghost like, haunting and surprisingly pretty, but without ever losing its overall bleak and ominous vibe. Definitely the best thing we've heard from Wiese.
So at this point we sort of expected Dead Machines to kick it up a notch, and they do, sort of. Beginning with a grinding symphony of buzzing analog synths and fuzzed out feedback, but that quickly gives way to a very Wolf Eyesian industrial ambient wasteland, clang and rumble, creaking and crumbling clatter, barely there dreamlike whir, distant high end melodies, downright blisssful before a coda of thick buzz and roaring damaged noise (but even then, it sounds really fuzzy and washed out)
It's up to Romero then, to get things good and noisy, but surprise surprise, Romero follows suit, offering up maybe the most tranquil and drone-y set of the bunch, thick undulating low end throb, overtones shifting and beating against each other, sounding like a doom metal Phill Niblock. Gorgeous and dreamy but still dark and menacing.
The final track, taking up all of side 4, features this fearsome foursome, Romero, Wiese and the two Dead Machines, teaming up for an epic and one would assume chaotic and noisy collaboration, but once again, we're thrown a serious curveball. Instead of all four piling up on top of each other and making a huge loud mess, they deftly intertwine their sounds into a subtle dark drift. Only once exploding into a full on noise drenched onslaught, spending most of the time rumbling and whirring and weaving a dense and dreamy world of dark drones, and mysterious sonic shapes. Really fucking awesome.
Double lp, pressed on THICK black vinyl, packaged in super elaborate, three color silkscreened fold over sleeves and LIMITED TO 515 COPIES...
Whoa The Earlies' new album has thrown us for a loop! The Enemy Chorus is the band's first album proper -- their previous releases having been eps and a 2005 compilation cd of said eps titled These Were The Earlies. It's a glorious expanse of elaborate orchestral rock/pop layers infused with an earthy twang. This half Texan half British band is crafting music on an ambitiously stratospheric scale that brings to mind Radiohead or Flaming Lips, but which is also darkly grooving along the lines of TV On The Radio. Vocal comparisons alternate between the alienated throaty emotiveness of Peter Gabriel, the smooth drowsiness of The Doves' Jimi Goodwin and the weathered duskiness of Mark Lanegan. Moodily hypnotic and very cool!
The Swedish pop gems keep coming and we are super glad to finally welcome to AQ the debut cd of Sarah Assbring or as she is known musically, El Perro Del Mar (The Sea Dog). We had the import of this a while ago and have been waiting patiently for this domestic version. Imagine the aural equivalent of a vintage Margaret Keane painting... y'know, those saucer-eyed, forlorn ragamuffins who sort of resemble Hope Sandoval. Quite girlish and just a little bit tweaked, she combines Brill Building pop with the voice of a kittenish Kate Bush or Jane Birken. The songs here are sweet confections of love's seemingly cruel humor, heavily influenced by the doo-wop arrangements of Bacharach and Phil Spector. Catchy and occasionally melancholy, El Perro Del Mar's debut is one of the best sensitive pop records of last year.
Another gorgeous collection of thick glistening drones from the man known as Encomiast. Whereas his Havens record that we listed a few months back was a more varied affair, dabbling in grinding industrial soundscapes, fuzzy ambient flutter and everything in between, Espera finds him in a more minimal, seemingly more subdued musical mood.
The tracks are still varied, but they are much more static, these are deep dark drones, the variations are subtle, each track is a slow shifting glacial sonic expanse, layered and dense, most of the tracks drift long darkly, all ominous low end, with some barely there streaks of upper register harmonics, a bit like an even more minimal SUNNO))) at times, but just as often referencing Chalk and Coleclough, even Organum, massive and thick, each stretch of sound a nearly static dirge. Gloriously bleak and dreamily dark and dreary. Essential listening for the drone obsessed for sure.
And as this is an older release, that we got directly from the band, we may not be able to get many more of these once we run out...
We've always been fans of Explosions In The Sky. One of the post Mogwai, post Godspeed outfits so adept at crafting super epic and emotional instrumental soundscapes -- post rock, math rock, jangly pop, chamber music, all sort of whipped into grandiose cinematic swells. But past records, while sounding amazing, with the right balance of mood and metal, hush and heaviness, still stuck a little too close to the template of their forbears. EITS were like the perfect mix of Godspeed and old more bombastic Mogwai. And not much more. Nothing wrong with that really, it just never totally blew us away.
But All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone is different. And it does blow us away. In a big way. It still sounds like EITS, and thus still sounds a bit like Godspeed and Mogwai, but like any great band in the last 20 years, it's not who you steal from, or what you steal, it's how you make what you steal your own. And EITS have made epic instrumental post rock all their own. The opener is everything this sort of music could and should be. Super dense and dramatic, spacious and emotional, opening with keening high end melodies over big jangly guitar strum and huge percussive For Those About To Rock blasts, the guitars slowly intertwining and drifting off, fading to a moody minor key post rock drift, underpinned by layer after layer of fuzzy blissy guitar and a motorik rhythmic shuffle before the completely perfect bridge, a spaced out melody, all dynamic and epic, that will definitely give you goosebumps, before launching into a full on heavy math rock groove, incorporating that same hair raising melody, with some killer drumming and a veritable orchestra of guitars.
The rest of the record plays out in similar, albeit slightly less bombastic fashion. Each track perfectly leading into the next, an expansive post rock epic, separated into movements, chiming guitars, thick riffs, each track gloriously tangled and emotional, with long stretches of cinematic ambience, some shimmering strings, glistening melodies, lush harmonies, bits of piano, and some amazingly expressive drumming.
All Of A Sudden also includes a bonus disc, an entire remix of the album, each track reworked by a different artist. Jesu turns the epic opener into a fuzzier, blissier, and toward the end a MUCH heavier beast. Adem's remix is all low key and abstract, acoustic guitars, simple percussion and glistening chimes, a whispery shadow of the original. The Paper Chase wraps the original track in a glorious swirl of murky ambience, adding a stuttery drum machine rhythm and all sorts of strange sonic filigree. Mountains gives their track a serious Pop Ambient makeover, stretched out and languorous, swirling and shimmery, ending with a long expanse of solo piano. Four Tet's reimagination is the most dramatic, a blissed out shuffling electronic workout, all processed drums, shuffling and skittering, with the original track nestled beneath layers of synth fuzz and strange subtle FX. Finally, labelmates Eluvium transform the album closer into a fuzzy smear of pixelated ambience, that builds and builds, much like the original, but in this version, into a blown out, super distorted fuzzy dreamscape.
Two version of the same record, both stunning! So recommended.
Extradition were an obscure early seventies Australian psych-folk group very much influenced by the British Folk revival, in particular, Fairport Convention and Pentangle. Fronted by singer, Shayna Karlin, whose high timbre voice falls somewhere between Pentangle's Jaqui McShee and June Tabor, and multi-instrumentalist and sometimes singer Colin Campbell, who wrote most of the bands material. What sets them apart is how they shade their haunting and graceful compositions with an adventurous use of natural elements as instruments including leaves, branches, water, sticks and stones along with more exotic instrumentation of Chinese and Turkish gongs, harmonium, harpsichord, tablas and a Lebanese bell tree. This creates a more alchemical binding of music and nature that transports us to another place rather than grounding us in a traditional past. This cd contains the whole of their lone 1971 album plus six bonus live tracks including covers of Tom Paxton's "Hold On To Me, Babe" and Leroy Carr's "In the Evening" which was also covered by Karen Dalton. Beautiful!
We've been trying to track down records by this Canadian black metal horde for ages, but with no luck, when suddenly we got an email from a label that just happened to be run by the Frozen Shadows guy. And not only was the label amazing, focusing on grim frosty black metal from Quebec (see Sombres Forets reviewed elsewhere on this list), they also had copies of this, the most recent Frozen Shadows full length, which also comes with their first demo as a bonus disc!
So what is it exactly, that had us so keen to track down music from this band? Hard to put into words, but seconds into the first track you'll see exactly why. A furious frosty blast of blackness, the Canadian Blizzard Beasts for sure, a perfect blend of classic Norwegian black metal and a more sort of raw buzz. Drums way up in the mix, so blast beats are thick clouds of noxious rhythm, the guitars thick and icy, the vocals a demonic rasp, but FS have their own angle, some cool midtempo bits, with thick swirls of keyboard and haunting clean guitars, stretches of dirgey pummel, but for the most part, Frozen Shadows blaze furiously through fields of grim buzz and icy blur.
And as weird as it may seem, the bonus disc might be even better. Recorded way back in 1996 and it sounds like it. Just as grim and frosty as the new disc, but even more fast and furious, the relentless buzz and freakishly fast blasts, haunting chantlike vocals, a buzzy lo-fi production that manages to still be thick and heavy, everything just a little bit more raw and Nordic sounding. In fact, on first listen you'd be hard pressed to not think this was some classic slab of Norwegian blackness.
Two amazing blizzardy blasts that should most definitely satisfy your grim frost fix.
We talk a good game about different black metal bands being the weirdest or most fucked up, the most damaged, even the most retarded, and there are plenty of bands vying for that top spot, whether they know it or not. But the count is finally in. and Furze are the hands down winner. This latest blast of whatthefuck grimness proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Let us count the ways. This new record is in fact TWO new records, making the full title of the album UTD: Beneath The Odd-Edge Sounds Of The Twilight Contract Of The Black Fascist / The Wealth Of The Penetration In The Abstract Paradigms Of Satan. Phew. Then there's the song titles: "Demonic Order In The Eternal Fascist's Hall", "Beneath The Wings Of The Black Vomit Above", "Deep In The Pot Of Fresh Antipodal Weave"... and it only gets stranger. Besides the baffling lyrics inside there is also a warning: "Don't stop the Furzement! 'Furze' is the name of the blade on The Reaper's scythe. Furze is the one and only trademark of the one and only Reaper, made (that vibration in the whole wide world called) "music" !!! That fire which burns (Candlelight) and that which penetrates golden walls by organic thorns (Furze) supports to take heed approach the Reaper." Indeed. Then there is a completely confusing thanks list, some truly strange iconography, and finally the center panels of the booklet are simply an advertisement for Furze's other two albums (because apparently the original artwork, featuring a drawing of Jesus fucking Mohammed, was just too shocking). Alrightee then. All of that would be a bunch of pretentious crap, if the music didn't sound just as fucked up and demented. But it does, maybe even moreso.
It's hard to even explain what this sounds like, it is obviously black metal, lots of buzz, loads of distortion, blast beats, growled shrieked vocals, but every one of those elements is totally tweaked. The guitars first and foremost, tinny and razor sharp, slippery and all tangled up, impossibly convoluted riffs, produced in some weird way that allows the guitar to go from ear piercingly loud to murky and muddy, often in the same phrase. Then there are the drums, insane and splattery, blasting and octopoidal, sometimes a blast way down in the mix, sometimes a stumbling fill spilling out all over the next part. The vocals are similarly damaged, shrieking, growling, mumbling, howling, sometimes super distorted, sometimes sounding like they are being shrieked from a hundred yards away, sometimes it sounds like they are being spat right in your ear. And the production?! Holy fuck, drums explode swallowing the rest of the sound whole, before the song eventually blasts forth, the guitars duel with the vocals, a damaged dance to the death, it's almost like Faxed Head producing Benighted Leams, with occasional guitar contributions from Greg Ginn and a doped to the gills Yngvie, mix in some drunken fretless bass and some underwater yodeling vocal bits and some freaked out psychedelic guitar skree, all played through a tiny practice amp. The sounds, and the recording, and the concept, is it possible that this is all just accidental? No, it's TOO weird, too bafflingly obtuse, too perfectly skewed -- this guy is a genius. And the thing is that even within all this confusional sonic damage and demented blackness, these songs are catchy, really catchy, how can some convoluted buzzing slippery buzz saw riff get stuck permanently in your head? Or some shrieked line of obtuse black poetry? Only Woe J. Reaper, the man who is Furze, knows for sure.
So completely and utterly recommended. Black metal record of the year for sure...
When this arrived in the shop, there was a collective cry,"Whoa, Greater Than One? What ever happened to them?" Well, it turns out that the once prolific industrial dance duo ceased to be after Lee Newman died of cancer in 1995. While the pairing of Lee Newman and Michael Wells had a handful of fantastic if agitated Greater Than One albums that graced the Wax Trax! catalogue throughout the late '80s and early '90s, they were also a leading proponent of the bleep techno sound that marked the early incarnation of Warp Records in recording as Tricky Disco. Needless to say, Kill The Pedagogue predates all of that stuff, having been originally released back in 1985 as a self-released cassette. Greater Than One had much more in common with the rhythm and noise collages of Throbbing Gristle and TG's many disciples (esp. Hunting Lodge, Portion Control, and Hula) through distorted tape loops, media samples disfigured through warbling varispeed tricks, and post-Cabaret Voltaire drum machines pushed toward exhaustion with their tumbling patterns of tribal rhythms. Given that the original cassette was a mere 28 minutes long, those fine folks at Brainwashed filled out the disc with MP3s including all of the material from another self-released cassette from back in the day called Lay Your Penis Down plus a bunch of photos and the like.
A few lists ago we raved about the reissue of Harmonia's first album Musik Von Harmonia and now Lilith has thankfully reissued Harmonia's follow-up release from 1975, Deluxe. Although we loved Harmonia's first album, Deluxe is, dare we say, even better!! Made up of Michael Rother from Neu! and Moebius and Rodelius from Cluster, on Deluxe they are joined on a few songs by Mani Neumeier from Guru Guru, making the line up on this record a kosmiche supergroup of epic proportions! While the first record was tipped in the balance towards the Cluster side of things in terms of sound and the improvised process in which it was made, Deluxe has more of a Neu! feel as the tracks are more composed and song oriented, and for the first time contain vocal elements. Plus the motorik grooves are more rocking, with a real drum kit used more often than the drum machines creating a pulsating drive on par with Neu! 75, recorded that same year. But that's not to say Deluxe doesn't have its Cluster moments, as the two final tracks bring us down into some beautiful pastoral territory with the sounds of a stream with ducks and frogs near the Cluster studio in Forst can be heard amongst the warm and percolating analog synths. This is beautifully packaged tri-fold digipak with liner notes by Asmus Tietchens, who still owns some of Cluster's original analog equipment, and lots of photos including the awesome back cover of the trio lounging by the river in an obvious nod to Neil Young's On the Beach. Absolutely Essential!!!!!!!!
This is our first exposure to the High Mountain Tempel duo, and everything, from the design, to the name, to the sound, is very ritualistic indeed, like the sounds of some dark ceremony performed in some ancient temple atop, well, some high mountain.
Strange and haunting monk-like chants recur throughout the record, usually, wrapped in deep resonant drones, moaning foghorn like rumbles everything drenched in reverb and delay, like hearing everything through the sacrificial smoke of the most recent sacrifice.
Elsewhere bird calls mirror disembodied guitar melodies, the various sound fragments allowed to drift and then settle on the ground, the proceedings all wrapped in a thick murky ambience, as if suddenly the treble knob was turned all the way down and the bass knob all the way up, the melodies muted and muddy, like some dark slow moving stream, flowing gently beneath a black sky, and trees alive with small and mysterious creatures. In fact this whole record is rife with the sounds (manufactured or sampled, not always easy to tell) of various beasts and fowl, a very 'lost in the jungle' vibe permeating the proceedings.
The last chunk of the record is a gloriously glistening, lugubrious crawl, thick swells of sparkling sound wrapped around twisted low end shapes, all drifting lazily into some mysterious dark wood...
Packaged in a swank black fold over sleeve, screenprinted in gold metallic ink, with a photocopied insert with liner notes and song credits.
This is the second release we've listed from The Holy See, the ferocious Tarentel side project featuring two members of that ambient bliss rock ensemble. But you won't find any ambience here, or rock for that matter, but plenty of bliss, that is if your idea of bliss is blown out white hot slabs of coruscating feedback and dense squalls of shimmering guitar skree. Which if you're anything like us, most certainly is!
The opener is just that, a 25 minute ur-drone, massive and throbbing and pulsing, it's like 100 Skullflowers and 100 Sunroof!'s all playing at top volume through the same amplifier. Beautifully distorted and in the red, overblown melodies swallowed whole by thick sheets of metallic shimmer, everything cracking and crumbling before your very eyes, a soothing sonic shower, like dunking your head into a pool of molten sound.
The brief two minute blast of the second track is more of the same, a lightning bolt of grinding blown out electronic buzz, but it's the last track where everything changes.
The corrosive skree of the first track is dialed back a bit, so it's more of a low level sea of glitches and grinding malfunctioning electronics, but beneath, is a strangely serene soundscape, gentle melancholy melodies hover and drift, a warm and languorous shimmer wrapped in dense swirls of fuzzy sonic psychout, eventually building to a fever pitch, but managing to not become 'noisier' just more dense and intense.
The Numero Group label starts 2007 on the softer side of things with this obscure British gem from singer Catherine Howe. For those of you who enjoyed the Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies Of The Canyon compilation, that the Numero Group released last year, then this might just be up your alley. Mellow and melancholic, Howe has a soulful voice that's similar to Dusty Springfield or Bobbie Gentry, underscored by soft orchestral jazz arrangements (courtesy of Bobby Scott) that remind us of early A&M records or John Cameron soundtracks like Kes. In fact this seems more like the kind of soft British album Trunk records would have re-issued, but that goes to show what an unpredictable label Numero Group really is. Recorded for Reflection Records in 1971, What A Beautiful Place sank into obscurity when the label folded shortly thereafter. While we have never heard of her before this, Howe recorded two more albums after this one and has recently started recording again. This is a perfect record for a rainy day or Sunday morning with a nice hot cup of tea.
You might remember Hypothermia from their amazing split with Dimhymn a few months back, and we review the killer Durthang tape elsewhere on this list. But these two Swedish purveyors of bleak lifeless doomic black metal are the perfect match up.
Hypothermia's side is an ultra lo fi blast of midtempo buzz, super murky, almost like a practice space recording, with strangled vocals, and some killer riffing. Definitely some serious cult black brutality.
The flipside is two loooong tracks from Durthang, and further convinces us that this could very well be one of our new favorite black metal hordes. A strangely clean sound, but nice fuzzy riffing and way up in the mix drumming. Mournful melodies over relentless double kick drumming. Cool arpeggiated guitar lines over swirling buzzing blackness and blown out distorted vocal shrieks. A darkly depressive Burzumic buzz wrapped around melancholy minor key misery. So good. And so far the only Durthang recording available are on ultra cult cassette tape only!!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
I'm From Barcelona is a pop music army, or at least a pop brigade. Sergeant Emmanuel Lundgren (on hiatus from his former band Valley Days) has teamed up with TWENTY EIGHT of his closest friends to, somewhat unexpectedly, bring you Let Me Introduce My Friends. Although all twenty-eight band members have appeared on stage at once (and a one-time show band they thought they would be), the album sounds a bit more like a tag team effort. Each individual song is not indicative of a band with so many members but a sum of its parts. The power chord guitar riffs reminiscent of the glory days of Kindercore Records, muted trumpets and xylophones present in some songs are replaced in others by banjos, keyboards and (possibly the only sign of such a large band in a single song) choiresque multi-person harmonies much like those of The Polyphonic Spree. Unfortunately, I'm From Barcelona may lose the battle in lyrical depth, but they win the war for creating an album that not only reminds listeners of giddy feelings often conjured up by new love or the first days of spring, but may be a nice soundtrack for these moments as well.
We dug the latest record from legendary Japanese drummer Toshiaki Ishizuka so much (we made it a record of the week in fact!), that we decided to track down more of his music, and managed to get a bunch of copies of this, 1999's In The Night.
Ishizuka is a legend in the Japanese underground music scene, having founded Japan's first radical political punk combo Zuno Keisatsu, as well as having played and recorded with Kan Mikami, Keiji Haino, Masayoshi Urabe and loads more.
But when he is behind the kit, armed with an arsenal of percussion and noisemakers, he is less of a drummer and more of a sonic alchemist, a soundscaper even, using the drum kit in very un-drummer-like ways. Most of In The Night is ambient, percussive, dreamy and abstract, but not necessarily rhythmic in the strictest sense of the term. Although at the same time this record is nothing BUT rhythm. Dense swirls of cymbal sizzle, brief squalls of tom toms swell and then fade, little bursts of tribal freakouts are underpinned by dizzyingly minute splatters of hand drums and cymbal crash, drums are rubbed and scraped, strange textures become near drones, hyena like chatter is somehow coaxed from drum heads, thick washes of metallic sound spreads out from vigorously beaten gongs, tiny melodies are plucked out on tinkling chimes, random bits of percussion lope and stutter, subtly intertwined with cymbal swish and strange resonant rumbles, even some occasional chanting vocals. One track does in fact feature Ishizuka seriously rocking the kit in full on freaked out free jazz mode, but even going for it with sticks, he still has a strange and subtle mastery of the kit. So cool. Essential for drummers, and the drum obsessed, but haunting and mysterious enough for anyone into dark droning rhythmic abstraction...
For a band that didn't exist for very long, only had one record and who have been broken up for years now, SF's mighty Weakling still cast a pretty long shadow. We still sell Dead As Dreams like crazy, more and more people are professing their undying love for Weakling's black grandeur every day, and band after band, some more subtly than others are displaying in their music, some serious Weakling worship. Wolves In The Throne Room are a recent example, they obviously expanded on the sound but there are moments where WITTR are a dead ringer for Weakling. Then there is Jabladav, who almost come off as a sort of Weakling homage, what with the very Dead As Dreams-ish title, the album artwork, and of course Weakling topping the thanks list, which also includes Burzum, Darkthrone, Black Flag, Ildjarn and Wolves In The Throne Room. But Jabladav, seem to approach metal from a distinctly non-metal background. It's subtle, but noticeable. Black Flag in the thanks list should give you some indication. Not that this isn't black and buzzy, heavy and thrashing and brutal, it is, one man, just guitar bass, mellotron and drums, but there is a distinctly post rock, punk rock vibe that permeates much of Dead As Duck. Take out some of the thick swaths of dramatic keyboards and insane bursts of double kick drumming, and sometimes you're left with some very Greg Ginn-ish angular metallic post punk. But when all is said and done, Jabladav whip up some serious black skree, with buzzy crunchy guitars dominating the mix, some murky drumming, bits of bass here and there, a little keyboards, mostly instrumental, but when there are vocals, they are a haunting croon, much like the madman in Urfaust. There are even some dreamy folky interludes. Fucking awesome stuff for sure. We've been playing this like mad since we got it. So if you dig any of the aforementioned bands (we might even include in the list Earl Shilton, Carcass, even the Champs maybe) you'll definitely love this! LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc hand numbered.
Who thought the dreamiest, fuzziest bliss pop record of the year would come courtesy of the same man responsible for the soul crushing might of Godflesh's Streetcleaner, and someone who once called Napalm Death home? Well, actually we sort of did. Especially since last year's Silver ep, on which Justin Broadrick's Jesu took the already fuzzy dreamy metallic crunch of their debut, and injected it with all sorts of unlikely glistening pop and muted indie jangle, creating an impossibly pretty metallic dirge pop, equal parts Godflesh, My Bloody Valentine and M83.
And as if to prove that Broadrick indeed has a heart of pop beneath that crushing downtuned exterior, we now have the Conqueror, which if anything, pushes Jesu's sound even further into the glistening dreamy realm of pure pop. But fear not, we're not talking sugary sweet, treacly pop music cheese, no this is Jesu after all, spawn of Godflesh, so there's no shortage of dirgey rhythms, BIG crushing guitars, lurching tempos, thick swaths of buzz and fuzz, but it's all just window dressing for some seriously pretty pop. The opener is shockingly poppy, with sweet melodic hooks, tinkling piano, breathy vocals, all processed and wrapped in a fuzzy dreamlike haze. An immediate classic for sure. The rest of the record strikes a delicate balance between the dirgier heaviness of the first Jesu record and Broadrick's newfound love of the jangle and swoon, each track a glistening pop gem, placed delicately into a blown out landscape of loping drum crush and thick shimmery guitar buzz, coruscating sheets of distortion wrapped tenderly around heartfelt epics, soaring vocals, and dreamy melodies.
We don't so much hear some Godflesh / M83 hybrid now as we do the dirgey dreamlike murky bliss of nineties New Zealand legends Bailter Space, or the heavier side of the shoegazer spectrum, Swervedriver, Chapterhouse and the like. It's a captivating sound for sure, and a logical progression, and while it's distinctly less metal, there is still much heaviness to be had, even at its most soft focus and glimmering, the guitars retain their buzzy crunch, and the tempos are always dirgey and machinelike, but all the sharp edges have been smoothed out, and the rhythms maybe seem more languid than mechanical, and the fuzzy blissy poppy core of each song seems to radiate from within like some alien sun, giving each song, no matter how heavy, a soft burnished glow.
So you might wonder why the heck the new Jesu is $28.00? Well, we figured that like us, you'd probably rather spend a little bit extra and get the gorgeous Japanese version, with its elaborate silver printed slipcover and more importantly, an ENTIRE EXTRA DISC nearly thirty three extra minutes, two epic tracks, featuring in its entirety, the music from Jesu's new 12" on Aurora Borealis (which we haven't even gotten yet). And it is most definitely worth it. Two 15 minute tracks, each epic and majestic, huge throbbing fuzzed out guitars, pounding rhythms, drifting minor key melodies, thick washes of blissy psychedelia, soft processed vocals, the first a crushing dreampop dirge harkening back to the first Jesu record (albeit a bit poppier), the second an almost ambient guitarscape of layered melodies, murky vocals and shimmery rhythms, so good. So worth it.
And the packaging, WOW! A double disc digipak, housed in a thick plastic slipcover, a silver cityscape superimposed over the washed out grey of the digipak, with a booklet, lyrics, Japanese liner notes and of course a Japanese style obi.
Alright, after we got done coveting Ms Jones' dress that she's wearin' on the album cover, we set about listening to the music contained within. It is just as striking. Although she continues with her favored blend of jazzy pop, poppy soul, and old tyme Americana (unfortunately lumping her in with the Starbucks' set). Not Too Late leans more heavily on the latter more earthy, melancholic folksiness and is far less light and breezy in mood than either of her previous two albums. There's a touch more of an unpolished edge and smoky sass to her voice. Mind you, she's no less sultry and captivating, but Jones has slipped into increasingly somber, more worldly territory in which the air weighs heavy with heartache and despair. But all is not lost as the album's title seems to express, and her richly expressive voice glints with that glimmer of hope.
We had never heard of Kark before, but boy is this a serious slab of free sonic exploration! Kark are a revolving ensemble of over 50 musicians, and it sounds like it. Featuring various Louisville luminaries who also do time in Sapat, Valley of Ashes, Virgin Eye Blood Brothers, Son of Earth, Taiwan Death and others, The Hermit begins with some barely there glitch and crumble, a mumbled murky soundscape, which just sets the listener up to be knocked the fuck out when the group explodes into a furious blast of some sort of demonic big band jazz, a dizzying angular atonal jazz dirge, like Sun Ra possessed by the spirit of Merzbow, splattery drums and bleating horns, a cacophonous percussive chaos, free jazz gone haywire, but always, at least tenuously, linked to some shadow of traditional jazz. Some tracks seriously swing, albeit in a seriously unhinged manner, others sound like free jazz filtered through Masonna, like an orchestra being hurled down a thousand flights of stairs. Pretty amazing, probably too much for run of the mill jazz-niks, but the for the jazz-noise inclined this just might be pure heaven.
Packaged in a full color sleeve with a full color, and of course information-less, insert.
It's really difficult to not start off every Acid Mothers Temple or Kawabata Makoto review with something about their ridiculous prolificacy. Which makes sense of course, especially when we're faced with a new release probably every two months, if not more frequently. But as we've stated before, the point is almost moot, as pretty much everything we lay our ears on is great! So it all boils down to how much you need, or how different each recording is, a sort of personal preference. Allan probably has 40 or 50 Keiji Haino albums, and probably thinks that is not nearly enough, whereas Andee has maybe one or two, and is positive that that's plenty.
So here we have the latest slab of divine psych from Acid Mothers Temple guru Kawabata Makoto, functioning here in his solo shaman incarnation (as opposed to his role in AMT's freaked out psych rock space rituals) and it's awesome. Really. A deliriously dreamy swirl of electric guitar, bouzouki and sitar, all woven into two sidelong tracks of glorious ur-drone! Glistening, sparkling expanses of slow shifting overtones and overlapping melodies, steel string buzz and deeeeeeeeeep resonant rumbles. Hard not to hear a bit of fellow countrymen Taj Mahal Travellers. The more static passages sound downright Niblock-like with their almost imperceptible sonic shifts.
LIMITED TO 550 COPIES, packaged in a super deluxe full color gatefold sleeve. And for a super limited time we have some of the version that comes with a bonus 7", pressed on red vinyl (ONLY 150 COPIES, WE HAVE ABOUT 15), two more brief bursts of buzz, with reverb drenched chant-like vocals added to the already buzzing, droning mix. So good.
We've long been fans art metallers Kayo Dot (who were born from another band we loved, metallic chamber prog weirdos Maudlin Of The Well) and they just keep getting better and better, weirder and weirder. And who better to get matched up with for a split lp, that outsider art sludge combo Bloody Panda? Who, much like Bathtub Shitter, we liked before we even heard em cuz how can you not with a name like that?! And thankfully their sound more than lived up to the high expectations we had because of the name.
Anyway, these two groups are pretty well matched, different enough to keep things interesting, but similar enough to ensure that most folks who dig one, will most likely dig the other.
Kayo Dot start things off with the side-log "Don't Touch Dead Animals", which begins with some creepy female spoken word before lurching into some woozy dark jazz, blissy and warbly underpinned by thick (yet subtle) metal guitars. The sound is slithery and late night, like a metal tinged Bohren or DJ Shadow. Eventually, this dark lounge groove builds into some serious metallic crunch, with wailing horns and anguished female vocals, and truly killer drumming. A glorious trainwreck, blown out free jazz groove all tangled up in some dirgey heaviness. Pretty great.
Bloody Panda counter with what starts out as just a simple caveman plod, with distant moaning metallic guitars, a weird sort of doomy ambience, but it pretty quickly amps up into a massive churning slab of doomy sludge. Guitars are huge and downtuned, poured over everything like viscous goop, the vocals are bizarre, some chanted and crooned, others garbled and alien sounding. There are brief bits of post rocky bliss, and some weird ambient spaciness, but for the most part, this is the sound of a huge Bloody Panda, trudging through tarpits and molten rock, leaving a swath or ruin behind it, crushing everything in its path.
Pressed on super swank grey and brown splattered vinyl, and housed in an eye popping full color gatefold sleeve.
Gottfried Michael Koenig is a German-born composer who had spent a decade in the '50s and '60s working for the West German Radio (WDR) assisting the likes of Stockhausen and Ligetti. During this time, he became one of the pioneers of mid-century composition, showing the most panache for electronic composition, all the while maintaining a purist ethos for serialism and modernity as a whole. From the mid '60s until 1986, Koenig had also served as the director for the Institute of Sonology in The Netherlands. This 2cd compendium is an excellent overview of Koenig's work. Even if his compositions for piano and string quartets are slightly tedious, just skip those in favor of the electronic work, especially when Koenig pushes close to Xenakis territory on Terminus X (1967) with its growling electric tones and extended ruminations on static. Suite (1961) is a much more subtle piece with its minimal gestures of gurgling tone patterns coated in a plastic perfection.
It makes sense and everything... Finland is dark and cold, with a winter that is bleak and inhospitable, forests, and huge expanses of frosty tundra, but it still seems impossible, or at least extremely unlikely, that there can be a seemingly neverending stream of gloriously depraved doom that continues to emanate from our favorite far away land. But who's complaining? Not us that's for sure. We can't get enough frozen Finnish weirdness, especially when it's of the doomy and sludgelike variety. And Loinen is most certainly both sludgelike and extremely doomy. But that's not nearly all.
Loinen (parasite in Finnish) traffic in "nihilist sludge core" and while that may be true, they do manage to add some interesting little sonic twists to what could be just another tarpit trudge through a downtuned wasteland. Which is not a bad thing, not at all, we could happily spend the rest of our days wrapped in a pair of headphones, crawling through a sonic wasteland as black as pitch, but when a band can create a bleak landscape that manages to transcend the typical, we're all the more thrilled.
The core sound is of course familiar, crumbling downtuned and ultra distorted guitars, churning riffs, pounding drums, and the glacial groove of dual bass crunch and drum pound makes up the framework of this whole disc, but Loinen, take a few liberties. One is a strange flair for the dynamic, no static slow motion riff trudgery, instead, the guitars, crunch and grind, stop and start, allowing lots of space to seep in, and building strange rhythms out of the doom. Very reminiscent of Dutch hypno-rockers Gore at times, with the churning looped vibe and the hypnotic repetitive arrangements. But the weirdest part of Loinen's doom-iverse is the vocals, a haunting croon, like some impossible mix of Scott Walker and Urfaust, sure there are howled demonic shrieks, but they spend most of the time buried way down in the mix, coming to the surface here and there, but it's those creepy soulful vocals that add an unexpected dimension to Loinen's doomy dirges. Turning some tracks into expansive epics that almost sound like some sort of doom metal Swans. Plus they even cover obscure Finnish punk legends Terveet Kadet! Awesome!
Packaged in an eye popping gatefold, all scrawled black and white madman illustrations, the sort of art you'd expect to see on the wall of a cell at an insane asylum, a tattooed figure, a toothy grimace, all sorts of crosses and clouds, little beasts and lots and lots of text. Cool.
LIMITED TO 524 COPIES!!!
