Not sure what it is exactly about this band, but there's something special that has sort of captured our hearts. It might have been seeing their amazing video on YouTube for the track "Heart Made Of Sound", where every word in the song is written out visually, in yarn, or food, or piss on concrete or whatever. Even the parts of the song without singing are represented visually with strange colored shapes moving and rearranging themselves in time to the music. And somehow, that video does sort of explain what it is about this band. It's fun and colorful, catchy and playful, but sort of strange, and a little bit unexpected.
This is pure, wide eyes indie pop for sure, simple jangly guitars, shuffling drumming, keyboards wheezing and bouncing melodically atop the rest of the song, and of course a winsome sad boy singer, lots of acoustic strum, and swooshy ambience. The closest comparison would have to be Death Cab For Cutie or maybe the Postal Service, Modest Mouse too, and fans of those bands will absolutely LOVE Softlightes. But those of us who wouldn't normally give this the time of day, have been playing it like crazy. The sound is just so glistening and gossamer, lush and weirdly spacey, lots of reverb and ambient swirl, some strange bits of electronic buzz, some drum machine, some power pop guitar crunch, some vocoder, it's all mixed in there, but none of that stuff would mean anything if this record weren't chock full of perfect little pop songs, which it is. Later on, the record gets lighter and lighter, almost to the point of seventies soft rock, but even then it's strangely lilting and lovely, almost precious, but never so much that it bugs, just enough to sort of wrap your head and fill you ears with soft poppy goodness.
"Heart Made Of Sound" is definitely the star here though, the one that gets the most repeats, and is definitely a possible contender for pop song of the year, and well worth the price of admission, but the rest of the record is right there behind it, blissy and jangly and dreamy and sucking us right in and wrapping us up tight in a perfect crystalline dream pop cocoon.
Full disclosure: the members of this new, Jewelled Antler-related outfit making their debut release on the Digitalis label are not only all friends of ours, but one of 'em, namely Christine Boepple, works here at AQ (she's the charming lass dealing with all your mailorder requests). And until recently, another of the Softwar bunch, Kerry McLaughlin, was also working here side-by-side with Christine. So, OF COURSE this is great! And if all you regular mailorder customers don't order one, well, don't say we didn't warn you about what happens when you get on Christine's bad side... But seriously, this IS good, a relaxing fantasy camping trip into the wilds of Northern California (and into the basement musical lairs where these folks dwell when they're at home).
It is, as you might expect, improvised, abstract psych-folk. Drifting and densely detailed. Jewelled Antler's Franciscan Hobbies (among other JA acts) would be a close parallel, as would Finnish contemporaries Kemialliset Ystavat. Softwar's mysterious droning moods are sweetened by distorted melodies and haunting, gentle female singing. The sounds and structures are inherently unstable, with queasy keyboards and overloaded electronics sending the listener softly to the floor (or up to the clouds), where one can safely bask in the queer beauty of Softwar's fragmented songforms, which range from whispery lullabies adorned with clinking and tinkling atop their shimmering drones, to much more beard-stiffening, rhythmic jamming, with suggestions of a primitive communal hippy vibe recalling krautrockers Siloah ferinstance.
Like the artwork that accompanies it -- vintage photos of happy, groovy people playing "non-competitive group games" in the Whole Earth Catalogue era of the 1970s -- the music is playful and nicely captures the spirit of icebreaking games that were designed sincerely with the ideal of changing society.
We mentioned Kerry and Christine, who have played in a zillion bands from this scene, Kerry in Franciscan Hobbies, Buried Civilizations, and Skygreen Leopards among others, Christine in Skygreen Leopards, Ov, Kyrgyz, Franciscan Hobbies, Whysp, etc. But Softwar's also got two guys to go with those two girls: Geoff Koops (Franciscan Hobbies, The Shitty Listener) and long-time AQ fave Loren Chasse, whom we're sure you already know quite well from all of his myriad projects. Let's list a few together shall we? Thuja, id battery, Of, Ov, Coelacanth, Blithe Sons, Franciscan Hobbies, Child Readers, L/R, Kyrgyz, etc. etc. etc.
As wonderful as so many of those other projects have been, we're truly convinced that these four teaming up to wage Softwar is a very special thing.
Second release we've been able to get our hands on from Soil Sing Through Me, a sort of underground freak folk supergroup featuring members of Feathers and Sunburned Hand Of The Man, who for this disc have teamed up with DC outfit Kohoutek for an evening of communal music making, the results should be no surprise, a druggy blown out meandering laid back psychedelic folk free for all. Blasted, stoned, groovy and fucked up.
You can definitely hear more SHOTM than Feathers, or maybe it's Kohoutek who we had never heard anyway, but this is not so much folky as sort of spaced out and trippy. Simple propulsive tribal rhythm jams and simple stripped down rock beats are the framework for these inner space excursions, wah guitar and slivers of silvery feedback drift to and fro, melodies are spread out over the proceedings like a tattered old blanket, there seem to be vocals too, but they are minimal and are usually buried under a ton of FX and psychedelic shimmer, keyboards buzz and huge spacious expanses offer the players plenty of space to stir up subtle bits of percussive clatter, glistening flurries of blurry buzz, strange spidery little melodies all tangled up amidst the stumbling drums and rumbling bass. This definitely has a Dead C vibe, but then what improvised noise rock psych jam doesn't? No good ones, that's for sure.
The usual suspects will eat this up. Sunburned Hand obsessives for sure need this, as do all you free folk noise rock cd-r freaks...
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES, most likely already out of print. Packaged in the instantly recognizable skull and crossbones Wabana purple painted digipak.
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A totally fantastic collection of Sonic Youth b-sides and rarities spanning the years 1994-2003 with the bulk of the material coming from the Jim O'Rourke years of 2001-3. This is Sonic Youth at their most expansive. Except for three tracks, this is an all-instrumental Sonic Youth. Sprawling guitars, layers of sound, building tension, dreamy passages, all the elements that have made Sonic Youth one of the best bands of the last quarter century. In many ways this recalls some of their more experimental works released on their SYR imprint, while managing to still be very listenable and rewarding. It ends with an even longer version of their epic beauty "The Diamond Sea" which for many of us is the perfect snapshot of everything great about Sonic Youth. Once again, showing that their music is as relevant and timeless as ever!
Now here's a tape label that knows how to do it right. Each tape, even though they're limited to only 100 copies, comes with super deluxe full color artwork, printed labels on the tape, each hand numbered, AND each tape is a different color to match the artwork. Nice!
Release number two from Abandon Ship comes from Spectre Folk, aka Pete Nolan of the Magik Markers, GHQ, Wooden Wand & The Vanishing Voice, Shackamaxon and loads more, in the form of the strangely (stupidly?) named Papa Smurf Smiles Down On Us From Heaven, a surprisingly straight ahead psychfolk jam that is actually pretty kick ass. Aggressively strummed acoustic guitars, wailing leads, all sort of lo-fi, but still pretty heavy and rocking, with mumbled chant-like vocals, this sounds nothing like SF, then we check out the tape case and realize it's a Don Cherry cover from some Italian TV show!! Fuck yeah!! And a pretty bad ass one too (even though we didn't recognize it). A sprawling, lazy, laid back, dreamy and mellow, folky psych jam. Awesome.
The flip side begins with "I Hate This Shit" which seems to be live from the No Fun Fest, and sounds like it, a corrosive squall of guitar grrrrr and amp buzz and squealing feedback that goes on forever. Massive and epic and brutal and noisy but somehow a little bit trancey and pretty listenable. It took a few minutes, but once we sunk in, it was kind of blissy. The final track is a Byrds cover, shimmery and strummy, stripped down and really pretty.
Limited to 100 copies! Each tape hand numbered, already OUT OF PRINT at the label so once these are gone, that's it!
Second disc from this Dutch black ambient doom outfit and it's just as harrowing and horrific as the first. For more on the band and their strange ways, see the review of the last record Nihilistik Terrror elsewhere on the website.
But, in a nutshell, these guys are brutal, harsh, extreme and really fucking scary. Musically as well as in their modus operandi. Not content with coaxing the harshest of sounds from their instruments (there are instruments?) and emitting harsh demonic howls and hysterical maniacal shrieks themselves, these guys managed (through some dubious connections) to recruit a handful of inmates, in local psychiatric hospitals, to supply the 'vocals' and much of the artwork. And it sounds like it. Stalaggh's sound is a harsh swirling drone drenched freaked out noise, raw and hissy, loads of buzz and shriek and industrial whir, all whipped up into a dense stormcloud of sound, but it's the vocals that truly disturb, and this time they're everywhere, male, female, howling, moaning, weeping, wailing, sometimes barely audible, sometimes ferociously way up in the mix, always completely freaked out and brutally intense. This is like wandering through some old school mental institution, wandering the halls, all set to the sounds of SPK or Throbbing Gristle. This is the sound of human suffering, not just musically, but in every way, this is hate and confusion and misery and loneliness and sadness and despair and depression all channelled into a single 35 minute track. This record is sad and scary, and thus pretty fucking amazing.
It definitely takes a strong stomach, and a lot of mental resolve, and some seriously iron clad ears, but it ends up being worth it. Very little music is this raw and intimate and frightening and seriously scary. It's really pretty fascinating, as well as a little bit repugnant, definitely hard to listen to, but almost equally hard not to.
Limited to 100 copies, each one hand numbered and the inside features a reproduction of a piece of artwork drawn by one of the mental patients.
[The digipaks are all a little worn on the edges, but that's how they all came...]
This 7" is a gem! Standing Nudes are a really great poppy post punk band from Brooklyn who craft wonderfully catchy songs with just the right amount of weirdness. The A Side, "When I Arrive" is tipped further towards the pop side of things with a catchy melody, some wah wahness and a really noisy ring modded guitar solo. The B Side, "Fight Song" is slightly more bombastically rocking. Pounding toms and shredding guitars. Both songs are amazing and deserve many repeated listens. Angular, hooky, weird and ultimately catchy as hell.
The return of our favorite one man Tasmanian rain forest black metal horde, the mighty Striborg, whose damaged outsider lo-fi black buzz has held us in its thrall since the very first time we heard it years ago. Even though this is only the second Striborg release we've managed to get enough of to review and list, there have actually probably been more like a dozen full lengths from Striborg so far...
And lord knows we've tried to track down enough copies of those old releases to list, but as they are all self released on Striborg mainman Sin Nanna's own label, they've been mighty tough to get a hold of. Thankfully, he's taken to tacking on old out of print records at the tail end of new records. So here we've got the brand new full length Nefaria, coupled with his '95 demo A Tragic Journey Towards The Light. And the amazing thing is that even after all that time, and all those releases, the sound is just as lo-fi, fucked up and damaged as ever. The atmosphere is creepy and gloomy, the vocals a strangled croak swathed in reverb, the drums a stumbling thrashing mess, a dank black buzz that writhes and squirms, filthy and mysterious and so fucking awesome. There are some haunting ambient tracks too, whirring warbly synths drifting wraith like, sometimes with a lurching subtle beat buried way down in the mix, but for the most part, it's all damaged buzzing blackness, wrapped around bizarre arrangements and loads of lo-fi hiss and whir. Amidst the weirdness there are some breathtaking moments, moody and emotional and strangely haunting, like the first half of closer "Black Apparitional Void" a slowcore midtemo Burzumy buzz replete with distant keyboard melody and gorgeous minor key melodies, as lovely and sorrowful as it is buzzy and black, with bizarre muddy swells that briefly swallow up the entire song before quickly receding back into the murk, before the song lurches into a dizzying squall of buzzing guitars, processed vocals, and bizarrely recorded drums, the rest of the track going from lo-fi to even more lo-fi and back again.
But then we're only scratching the surface as far as lo-fi is concerned, cuz up next is Striborg's very first recording, A Tragic Journey Towards The Light, which is so lo-fi and so liberally sprinkled with effects, that at times it stops being black metal and becomes some weird swirling morass of black sound. The drum machine is doused in reverb, doubling and blurring, almost like some hyperspeed dub, during the super dynamic start and stop parts, the vocals and the drums are so caked in FX, that they sound like some sort of children's TV show special effects sounds, and the vocals, a garbled tongue twisting whatthefuck stream of growls and guttural yelps, the guitar a squiggly distorted streak over the churning blur beneath, so completely over the top and confusing to listen to, but so completely and impossibly catchy. This is the Striborg that ensorcelled us back in the day, and it sounds just as amazingly fucked as ever!
Oakland's own Strip Mall Seizures spew forth a thrashing, pounding, and super noisy record on excellent San Francisco imprint, True Panther Sounds. No English is a cacophonous, damaged and ultimately danceable record for the people that like their keyboards turned WAY UP! Hella good.
In a recent show of photography by Peter Beste devoted to Norwegian black metallers, we were happy to see Taake's Doedsjarl Hoest pictured alongside better known musicans from bands like Immortal, Enslaved and Carpathian Forest. Hoest and Taake certainly deserve to be in such company, and they're definitely one of the current Norwegian bands really keeping the flame of blackened Viking metal flickering. We've been fans of these runic warriors ever since their debut Nattestid... in 1999, getting even more into 'em when their second album ...Bjoergvin... came out three years ago, and now are excited that the third installment in the Taake trilogy, ...Doedskvad, is at last here! (Those other two, by the way, seem to have gone out of print.)
...Doedskvad surely equals its predecessors, upholding tradition (theirs, and that of cold, grim black metal in general) by offering up some seriously epic rasp n' riffage that's mostly majestically midpaced but sometimes thrashes forward at a headbanging, drums-blasting gallop. Really excellent, really cult. Think something along the lines of older Enslaved, with the torched cathedral architecture of Weakling and some Cradle of Filthiness in the vocals. And it should be mentioned that Hoest and comrades Lava, Corax and Mord are joined by a slew of guests, including Helvestekommandant Nattefrost of Carpathian Forest, Taipan of Orcustus and someone amazingly (or amazingly stupidly) named "Discomforter"!
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Essential reading for recording nerds and studio gear whores, but surprisingly fun to read even for those of us not so well versed in patchbays and preamps.
This month: John Fry of the legendary Ardent Studios, Jody Stephens, also of Ardent studios but probably more well known for being the drummer in Big Star, a recording history of power pop legends the Posies, techno musician and producer Matthew Herbert, producer Terry Manning, exercises to help keep you alert and relaxed after way too many hours in the studio, a whole bunch of gear reviews (modulators, condensor mics, compressors, processors, limiters and a spacecoupler!), as well as a bunch of record reviews...
Cool.
We went absolutely nuts for the last record by this UK via Greece ambient doom one man band, a baffling mix of Windham Hill like piano, and harsh hateful demonic growls. As if George Winston were possessed by the spirit of Satan. Simultaneously soothing and dreamy, ominous and so very black. The combination of piano and vocals was so simple, yet so intense and emotional, a bastardized take on the singer songwriter, a lonely soul expressing sadness and misery through music, but placing it in a black ambient context. We sold tons and it even compelled Andee to get in touch with the band to see about releasing a record on tUMULt.
So here is the follow up to ...The Rotting Break, and while in some ways it is sonically similar, it is different enough to be exciting and new. This time instead of piano, it's huge expanses of sweeping synths, delicate crystalline chimes, huge swells of rumbling low end, very epic and dramatic, with an almost loped hypnotic quality, it's like the super dramatic denouement of some horror movie, but looped into some slowly evolving mantra, the whole thing wreathed in dense swirls of reverb and echo, the vocals, sometimes a deathly growl, other times a strange alien grumble, way down in the mix, guitars wail and scream, but they too are buried beneath the thick tendrils of warm whirring chords and buzzy blown out ambience. It's almost like entering some crumbling old church in a dream, everything foggy and indistinct, the sky is visible through the roof, the windows are all broken, you can see hills and trees outside, lost and wandering in a dreamlike daze, slowly taking in all of the destruction, the mystery and the misery. It doesn't even have to be a church, just some old ruined building, as long as it has history, and is imbued with the life force of lost spirits and lonely souls. ...Those Dismal Moments is actually quite true to its title, if anything it just may be more sad, and miserable, more mournful and dismal than ...The Rotting Break. And we're not sure whether it's intentional or not, but there is so much distortion and tape hiss, so much fuzz and buzz, it almost sounds like a Tomb Of... record recorded by Philip Jeck or Tim Hecker, all blown out and blurry, indistinct and shot through with warm streaks of dusty sunlight... So completely amazing!!
Tomutonttu is Jan Anderzen, member of Kemialliset Ystavat, Avarus, Anaksimandros, and who knows how many other Finnish free folk outfits. He's one of the kings of that scene. His hand (and gnarled guitar, and wheezing keyboard...) have been in tons of our favorite records and projects. This however is the first chance we've had to hear Anderzen on his own as Tomutonttu, seeing as the first Tomutonttu was so limited it disappeared before we were able to get even a single copy.
Needless to say, fans of all things folky and Finnish will love this, it fits perfectly amidst the Avarus and Kemialliset releases, but it stands on it's own too, strange in its own right, personal, and lovely, but also spacey and kind of freaked out. But then why would we expect anything else?
The record begins with the calls of whippoorwills, soon joined by the calls of yet more birds, all whipping wildly above a thrumming drone made up of buzzing kazoo vocals, moaning muted strings, and some mysterious pulsing minimal throb. Sounding almost like a super lo-fi "Symphony Of The Birds" all tangled up with some chunk of freaky forest folk. Ends up those aren't real birds, as their calls slow down and get all twisted up, it becomes evident it's a record of birds being slowly manipulated, becoming more and more abstract, the bird calls transforming into weird rumbles and flurries of high pitched squiggles, all over the growing buzz of a shimmery space guitar and more of that strange buzzy kazoo like moaning, peppered with deep rich sonic swells, very dreamy and alien, like some sort of otherworldly nature recording.
The next track hews closer to the Finnish folk sound, sort of medieval sounding with drifting high end keyboard melodies draped over muted rhythmic clang and sweet swoonsome swirls of soft sound. The last track on side A sounds like some strange Bollywood Western, minor key and very Eastern sounding, processed guitar and blown out keyboards all tangled up into a gorgeously lilting melody, dreamy and sparkly and super playful.
Side B begins with more playfulness, this time the percussion, all drenched in reverb and echo, like some sort of wind chime garden, muted into strange melodies, droning keyboards beneath, very haunting and otherworldly, it almost sounds African, like likembes, sometimes there are hints of gamelan too, at least in the timbre and the melodies, but all warm and distorted and dreamily blown out. The next track is a brief snatch of what sounds like some unearthed old time recording, all fuzzy warble and a softly keening melancholy melody. And finally, the lengthy final track is a reprise of the opener, all tinkling chimes, distant moaned vocals, and soft clouds of constantly shifting and swirling bird calls, dizzying but also strangely soothing. Definitely one of the nicest records we've heard from the Avarus/Anaksimandros/Kemialliset Finnish freakfolk axis...
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!! Pressed on 220 gram vinyl, packaged in amazing jackets with eye popping artwork and printed full color inner sleeves. These are gonna go fast and once these are gone they are GONE.
For a few years it seemed like Trans Am could do no wrong. Their live shows were legendary, loud and on fire. Albums like Futureworld, Surveillance and The Red Line were some of the best offerings to come out of the post-rock scene for sure. But as the '90s came to end a new decade brought some seriously lackluster releases, including their last and most disappointing outing, Liberation. So when Sex Change came our way we were a bit skeptical. BUT we are happy to report that Trans Am have seriously redeemed themselves with this new record! Their love of vintage prog, '70s rock, and '80s synthesizer glory all come together to create their most cohesive album since The Red Line. At their best Trans Am have always been masters at being both retro and futuristic simultaneously... Pulling inspiration from Magma, Heldon and mid-late '70s Can and crafting a record that cuts out the fat and shows off a revitalized, lean and mean Trans Am.
The sweet sound of mandolin charts the course for Unlucky Atlas. Sorry, couldn't resist the pun, but yes, that stringed instrument is integral to this new Chicago acoustic foursome's sound. Said instrument along with guitar, fiddle, cello, autoharp, and male and female vocals are entwined gracefully making for a harmony filled, somberly atmospheric, earthen seven song debut. Comes packaged in a lovely letter pressed cardboard jacket. Very very nice.
How could anyone refuse a date with John Waters? The legendary directory and cultural icon has hand picked 14 songs to set the mood for love and romance in all its twisted glory. Who better then Waters to pick those perfect old pop hits each with just the slightest hint of subversion and a coy wink. Ike & Tina, Patience & Prudence, Josie Cotton, Dean Martin, Edith Massey and more all singing songs that you just can't not like. The camp value is of course high but these are good songs, great songs maybe, and that can't be denied. Some of us have already bought copies to send to our moms and loved ones. Such saucy fun!
Another glorious glimpse back at the long lost art of the Funerary Violin. A genre all but forgotten and lost, some say quashed by the Catholic Church, a gorgeous mournful body of work, solo violin pieces to be performed at funerals, sad and sorrowful, minor key and miserable, dense with dark emotions, perfectly transporting the listener back to an nineteenth century funeral, the procession, the mourners clad in black... Very beautiful and evocative. But it's not just the music, it's the tangled history of the players and the personalities, the musicians and the composers and the patrons responsible for much of the music. Oh, and the fact that it's all made up.
That's right, these amazing scratchy wax cylinder recordings of simple melancholy violin pieces, and the text accompanying them have all been fabricated. Although sometimes it's tough to tell when hearing the genuinely creepy, crackly and realistically old timey sounding music, and reading the extensive tales of the composers and their tragic lives. Maybe it is all real? Who are we to say? Just because there is only one person in the entire world who knows everything, anything actually, about the mysterious Guild Of Funerary Violinists. And the fact that none of the performers or composers are mentioned anywhere, recorded, written, anecdotal, except within the pages of the book, the liner notes and the website of the genre's discoverer (perhaps creator).
But like we mentioned in a past review of another Funerary disc, who cares? The music is dark and mysterious, emotional and creepy, and the text is fascinating, impossibly well researched considering none of it is real, and totally fun to read.
This disc (supposedly) collects the work of three of the most important figures in the English School Of Funerary Violin. Babcotte, Sudbury and Eaton. All of these recording recovered from the extensive collection of Funerary relics kept by Gunter II, Prince of Schwatzburg-Sonderhausen, who in addition to the wax cylinders heard here, also counted among his prized possessions, the coffins of Goethe and Heine, as well as the death mask of Beethoven. The first Babcotte track here is thought to be performed by Gunter, himself an accomplished violinist, however the rest, the legendary "Funerary Suite # 4", due to their sound and performance are considered to be the work of Wilhelm Kleinbach (whose disc we reviewed a list or two back). The Eaton piece, a slow mournful, sometimes atonal dirge, is performed by the composer himself, captured on wax cylinder in 1913. And the final piece, "The Erroneous Dirge Of George Babcotte is performed and recorded by Maria Rotaru in 1975, a young Romanian violinist who tried to pass the work off as her own composition. When the truth came out, Rotaru disappeared mysteriously, and it was only after the collapse of the Soviet Union that this piece resurfaced. Or so we're told...
Even without the fantastical backstory, the music is worth the price of admission. Each piece is wonderfully crafted and beautifully performed, all solo violin, keening mournfully, minor key melodies drifting dreamily in some, the scrape and sawing of the bow constructing miserablist dirges in others, all except the more recent bathed in a thick cloak of crackle and static, giving it that Jeck / Hecker fuzzy-blurry-dreamy vibe we can never seem to get enough of. The fact that this music is set amidst such a dense and complex, passionate world of intrigue and mystery, love and death, only makes it that much more exciting. And the fact that every single bit of it is made up, well, as far as we're concerned that just seals the deal.
Recommended!
We can never get enough of the colorful, zesty, infectious sounds of golden era Bollywood. Luckily we have two more outlets for our fix as Bombay Connection has released two volumes of Bollywood hits that we've been groovin' to in the store for a few months now and finally have gotten enough to list. Vol 2 features all the golden greats spanning 1959-1972. Songs from all of those amazing nightclub scenes. You know what that means: intoxicating instrumentation, impassioned vocals, and splashes of color that you can practically hear captured in these wild and fantastic songs. All the great Bollywood luminaries are included: R.D. Burman, Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle, Kalyanji-Anandji, Sapam-Jagmohan, etc. So fun and so great!!
Hey, here's the third killer compilation we've had from British 'digger and DJ Cherrystones (aka Garreth Goddard)! Cherrystones Rocks and Cherrystones Hidden Charms were both excellent, eclectic collections of groovy '60s/'70s international psych-rock surprises, and Cherrystones Word continues the tradition, complete with his customary detailed notes on each track included in the cd booklet. This one though seems somehow darker and more deviant, with a wider, weirder range, from '60s pop-psych to '70s krautrock to '80s garage-rock. It's definitely not necessarily a floor-filling DJ mix, more like what we'd imagine a random shuffle through Garreth's iPod playlist of fuzzy freakiness might turn up. The overall theme seems just to be cool and obscure, with an unexpected quotient of experimental prog and even queasy, off-kilter New Waviness included in the mix. Here's the run-down: Brainbox (featuring the hyper-Hendrixy guitar of Jan Akkerman, later of Focus fame), Dead Moon, George Brigman and Split, The Deviants, Chrome, Nosferatu, Fusioon, Roger C. Reale & Rue Morgue (a cover of The Troggs' "I Can't Control Myself"), Kontakt Mikrofoon Orkest, Midnight Circus (not the Messthetics one), Pan y Regaliz, Episode 6, Bintangs, George Romanos, and Lard Free. Who would put the exquisite, flute-laden Spanish psych sadness of Pan y Regaliz on the same comp with notorious sci-fi guitar punks Chrome? Or think that Dead Moon's urgent garage punker "Dead Moon Night" should go on the same disc with the slow and sinister sax-laced heaviness of "Warinobaril" by French freak proggers Lard Free? Or clue us into the R&B side of The Deviants, while also introducing us to the percolating quirk-funk of Spain's synthy Fusioon? Well Cherrystones would. Word!
After punk exploded, an entire community of independent labels arose to document the wide spanning world of do it yourself, home recorded, punk and post punk that blew up soon after. This great Soul Jazz collection focuses on the explosion of those small Do It Yourself labels that began to emerge in the UK scene in late 70's and early 80's. Labels like Rough Trade, Heartbeat, Small Wonders, Zama, New Hormones, etc. all releasing 7" singles and albums from the likes of The Buzzcocks, Throbbing Gristle, Swell Maps, Kleenex, Glaxo Babies, and a whole lot more. Killer selection of bands and tracks, and a gorgeous 40-page booklet with band biographies, label spotlights, amazing photos and tons of artwork. Just like how those Can't Stop! compilations made us wish we were in Australia smack in the center of the post-punk era, this collection once again reminds us how fertile the underground music scene was in the UK during the '77-'82 era and has us longing for our own punk rock time machine (although this comp sort of is a punk rock time machine when you think about it!). An important nice historical document and a killer disc!!
The Numero Group has helped spawn a much needed revival and rediscovery of lost soul from the 60's and 70's, showing the world that there was much more amazing music beyond the Motown monopoly. Amazing soul records were being released everywhere by all sorts of small independent labels. We'll never ever tire of really good soul done juuuuust right and once again the Numero Group has hit the bulls eye. This collection focuses on the Chicago label Twinight. The label began with the name Twilight but soon found out another label with the same name existed so they changed one letter and thus became Twinight which would prove to be an appropriate moniker for the label, as most of the records they released were only played during the wee hours of broadcasting day often referred to as the twinight hours. The label was known primarily for its one star Syl Johnson but this collection digs even deeper and exposes the music and the artists who never had big hits but who produced some classic soul burners.
This collection isn't as flashy or outright catchy as some of the past Eccentric Soul collections but it's that great kind of tasty soul that heats up nice and slow and keeps you coming back for more.
Another fantastic collection of lost soul treasures!
Another in an amazing string of great Studio One collections compiled by the seemingly infallible Soul Jazz label. The title of this one says it all. These are the heavy hitters in Studio One's rich history. Harkening back to the classic 60's and 70's Jamaican sound, a glorious golden musical era, which included rocksteady, ska, roots, and lovers rock. Classic and rare tracks are collected from the likes of Alton Ellis, Ken Booth, John Holt, Delroy Wilson, and an amazing 10 minute Dylan cover by Freddie McGregor, and of course so much more. Much like its female counterpart, The Women of Studio One, which came out a couple years ago and STILL stands as one of our favorite collections, Studio One Kings has that same impeccable lineup, working as an album as much as a collection, perfect from start to finish and not at all just a bunch of random good songs. A wonderful combination of breezy confidence and deep deep passion. With spring in full bloom and summer within arms reach we can't think of a better ways to soak in the sun then with the kings of Studio One.
Another missive from the Wooden Wand Universe, a dizzying world so filled with hokum and smoke, character changes and rotating pseudonyms that it's really hard to keep things straight. We may be only half-right on the details, so bear with us. Vanishing Voice, (the choral and instrumental Body of the Wooden Wand Mind) taking advantage of Wooden Wand's momentary dalliance with spiritual advisor Satya Sai and the Sky High Band in California, has retreated into the dark woods of Norway (or perhaps Vermont?) to imbibe in some dirty pagan Ur-folk jams. Kicking up a whirring dust devil vortex of clatter and murk, the title track is a side-long excursion and sounds fresh off the Gypsy Freedom sessions except minus the free jazz horns and howling vocals. The three ghostly tracks on side B, offer up some haunted banjo picking, subdued chanting, wolf howls and something we can only describe as "baby skree", which sounds like the mewling of a lost baby animal whose cries are unraveling like thread through the branches. Remember that scene in the Blair Witch Project, where the lost campers wander into that grove of trees with all those creepy hanging stick sculptures and strangely wet piles of rocks?
Well, this record sounds like it was recorded there. Truly Fucking Spooky!
Archival recordings from the late great Vulpecula, an American black metal band (featuring members of Order From Chaos) who strove to combine 'space music' a la Steve Roach and Vangelis with black metal. The result might not live up to what one might hope for when faced with the possibility of some sort of ambient space black metal, but it's still pretty awesome. The "spaciness" comes mostly in the form of the track intros and outros, long swirling swaths of spaced out FX and whirring synths, as well as the occasional interlude of ambient shimmer, sometimes laced with wandering minor key guitar lines or weird samples and sound snippets. The core of their sound though was a more classic nineties blackened death metal, buzzing guitars, killer riffing, demonic vocals, but unlike a lot of those bands, Vulpecula had a definite prog vibe, strange extended song structures, lots of meandering melodies, extended melodic instrumental passages, strange sonic tangles and dense bursts of busy drumming, definitely shades of Opeth and Samael as well as some other distinctly less metal influences.
Probably the weirdest part of In Dusk Apparition is the cover of Peter Schilling's "Major Tom", beginning with that immediately memorable buzzing synth melody, before it's swallowed by thick growling chugging guitars, the vocals a whispery demonic ghostly rasp, draped over the strangely melancholy dirge. Lots of reverb, and a lot less melody, make Vulpecula's version sound more like a black shadow of the original, but within the rest of the disc it sounds perfect, more like an original referencing some classic melody, than an actual cover.
For folks who miss the sprawling death flecked blackness of the late nineties, a kick ass spaced out swirl of ambient black metal prog...
Now here's a tape label that knows how to do it right. Each tape, even though they're limited to only 100 copies, comes with super deluxe full color artwork, printed labels on the tape, each hand numbered, AND each tape is a different color to match the artwork. Nice!
Third in the opening salvo of releases from this brand new label comes from the until recently unknown to us VxPxC, and we were pretty dang pleased. Another in the new wave of drifting sonic abstracticians, weaving drone and folk, and simple primitive percussion, into a strange modern genre we have taken to calling freedronefolkdrfit or something similar. And VxPxC fit right in, hovering comfortably somewhere between Avarus and Davenport and the Starving Weirdos, with a bit of Dead C thrown into the mix (but a not so noisy bit). This release would have been right at home on Digitalis or Barl Fire or any of the handful of other labels documenting the modern soundworld.
On Reticent Manifest, the sound is laid back and wide open, there is a main riff, but it is murky and minimal and barely there, drifting, sort of throbbing in a mildly seasick manner, while atop this soft fluttering backdrop, random bits of percussion are shaken and rattled, keyboards wheeze out minimal melodies, it's all very playful and primitive, wistful and melancholy, dark and dreamy, although here and there, it does get dark and heavy with dense swells of rumble and throb, but it usually dissipate quite quickly back into another stretch of dreamy reverbed abstract drift.
Limited to 100 copies! Each tape hand numbered. ----* ----* FINALLY!! Black Metal Cassette Grab Bag Is Back!! : ----*
Attention hard rockers and proto-metal freaks! Finally, the self titled debut and only release from Canada's Warpig gets the deluxe reissue treatment, thanks to those rockers at Relapse. After numerous shoddy bootlegs, this is the first time this record has ever been officially available on cd, and the first time it's been available at all since the original record was released in 1970. Very much in the same vein as the recent Relapse Pentagram reissues, this is some serious stuff, heavy and psychedelic, groovy and dark, Warpig were a heavy rock outfit very much in the spirit of Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Iron Butterfly, Blue Oyster Cult...
Heavy heavy riffs, thick fuzzy organ, kick ass drumming, and wild wailing vocals, lengthy extended riffing, organs atop guitars, slithery snake-like leads, throbbing sludgy bass lines, and catchy-as-fuck songs...
Every track is a killer: the wild proggy Jethro Tull-ish groove of the opener "Flaggit", the "In A Gadda Da Vida" meets Black Sabbath jam "Tough Nuts", they even had a song called "Melody With Balls" fer chrissakes!! One of the best (and strangest) tracks is the lengthy instrumental epic "Advance In A Minor", a dense moody, almost classical sounding metallic prog workout, with loping minor key stretches of muted low end guitar strum and simple piano chords, strung between killer bursts of mathy prog, staccato and dynamic, the whole track eventually twisting itself into some slow burning hard rocking blow out, propulsive and relentless. Later on in the record is another lengthy jam, the strangely titled "U.X.I.B.", rife with wild wailing leads, a groovy main riff, fuzzed out organ, and long stretches of blissed out space rock drift, with the vocals not joining in until nearly halfway through. Unlike a lot of supposedly heavy "proto-metal" records, where one or two of the tracks rock super hard and the all the rest are just bad twelve bar blues bar rock, every track here kicks ass, heavy and proggy and groovy and spacey and pretty dang metal for 1970. Quite recommended! Includes all new artwork, rare photos and brand new liner notes...
You've fallen victim to Rabid Death's Curse (2000). Casus Luciferi (2004) gripped your soul. After three years, now it's time to become Sworn To The Dark, with the return of Uppsala, Sweden's mighty "black metal milita", Watain. True underground black metal KINGS. One of the few "new" (they started in '98) bands to achieve (and deserve) the same respect lent to this Nordic scene's originators, bands like Immortal, Darkthrone, Mayhem, Emperor, and Satyricon. Watain belong in such illustrious company there's no doubt, but there's one band with which they're most closely linked: Dissection. Still hugely influenced by Dissection in their prime (this is in fact dedicated to the memory of the late Jon Nodrveidt), Watain continue to earn our amazed respect with cold fierce dark riff after riff here on this headbanging storm of an album. They've upped the ante on old school art. Notorious for their blood drenched stage show, Watain's new album brings that blood to your home, spitting from your stereo speakers in an occultic frenzy. Needless to say, recommended to all Watain worshippers... and if you aren't already into Watain, but call yourself a black metal fan, you should waste no time buying this and then bowing down, as you shall.
You might recall Bloodshot Records' rollicking frolicking children's music compilation The Bottle Let Me Down from a few years back. 'Twas fun for the whole family! Well, they've jumped back into the playpen for another go 'round. This time, the indisputable lord and lady of the label Jon Langford and Kelly Hogan have teamed up for this delightful collection of off-kilter kiddies' tunes. With songs like "A Newt Called Tiny", "Flies On My Taters", Ragtime Duck" and "Lightnin' The Turtle", who can resist? Hmmmm, wonder if they're available for babysitting.
A while back we listed a killer chunk of ultra sludge from Irish doom-mongers Wreck Of The Hesperus, whose particular brand of doom fell more in line with Eyehategod than Esoteric. A sort of blown out slithery not quite groovy drugged out sludgey bile spewing stoner doom. Phew. We dug it very much though. But who would have thought that under all that blown out distortion and downtuned swagger, lurked a shimmery droney drifting soft side. Certainly not us, but here we are, sinking deep into the dolorous embrace of Wereju, the dark ambient drone side project of one of those Hesperians. Not so much black ambient as dreamy droney drift, although that may just be splitting hairs. Hard to say what the sound source is, we're guessing guitar, but the end result is pretty and shimmery, dark and billowy, slow soft swells of rumbling whir, steel string reverberations smoothed into muted abstract melodies. At it's most fierce, you can hear some Sunn 0))), as the tones distort and overload the poor speakers on our computer, but more often than not Wereju occupies a sonic space somewhere between the hushed minimalism of Niblock and Coleclough and the slightly more active and blown out doomdone ministrations of the more aggressive proponents of dark ambience. Two discs, loooooong songs, every one a slow shifting hypnotic slab of mysterious darkness and ur-drone divinity.
Way Recommended.
If you have been paying attention to the British tabloids and gossip blogs lately, then most likely you, like us, have heard about Ms. Winehouse's drunken antics (her ongoing feuds with white Brit soul-sister Lily Allen, her heckling Bono at a recent awards show, or her oddball sense of fashion), long before you would have actually heard her sing. But who doesn't love a Hot Mess these days, especially one who can surprisingly deliver the classic soul goods as forcefully as she. Seriously, every time we play this, customers do double takes when they see her skinny frame on the cd and hear this big ballsy voice, they just don't match up. At least not until you hear the lyrics, especially on the opening track, the very timely "Rehab", and you can see that her rough charm belies some hefty emotional damage. Backed by the Dap-Kings (well, the band sounds like them and she's touring with them, so we think it's them) and featuring a cameo by Ghostface Killah, Ms. Winehouse's second album is a lovelorn soul cocktail made from the tawdry shards of a broken gin bottle.
Now available (again) on vinyl, one of the best records EVER, from one of the greatest, most intense, brooding and rocking post punk band of all time.
For those who are new to the Wipers, these guys were one of those bands that never got all that popular, but were definitely a band's band, the kind of group that gets namechecked by everybody, and thus influenced everybody, but still remained way below the radar.
Formed in 1978, the Wipers spent their career toiling away in obscurity, seemingly adverse to recognition or popularity, even turning down the opening slot on several Nirvana tours, worried that it would seem too opportunistic. And Cobain was probably the Wipers' biggest supporter, even covering a bunch of their songs. In fact, lots of people who hear the original versions of "D-7" or any of the Wipers' tunes Nirvana usually covered, think it must be some punk band covering Nirvana, instead of the other way around. And the more Wipers you hear, the more you realize Cobain did more than just cover their songs, his songwriting style and melodic flair is definitely heavily indebted to the Wipers. Some of the more brooding less rocking Wipers songs sound just like Nirvana tracks that could have been. Minor key mope rock that sort of builds and builds, not necessarily getting louder and faster (although sometimes they did) but getting more and more intense, threatening to explode, the kind of genuine angst and fury that can NOT be faked and imbues music with that sort of emotional charge that turns good music into great music. Cobain had it. So did Greg Sage. And Is This Real? proves it. Big time. One of those record where EVERY track feels like a hit. Like a classic. "D-7", the title track, "Tragedy"... all dark and driving, murky and moody, rough and totally rocking. But at the same time impossibly catchy and poppy. Big time pop. Hooks all over the place. But of course wrapped in all sorts of minor key murk, and fuzzy distorted heartbreak. One of the best bands, and best records, you may have never heard. Until now!
Brand new issue of the Wire, which means more "Adventures In Modern Music". and while the Wire is always a pretty good read, this is the first issue in a while to be jam packed with AQ faves and most definitely the best Invisible Jukebox in ages.
On the cover: Terry Riley! Need we say more? Inside: jazz noise reprobates Aufgehoben, Finnish folk fairy Islaja, legendary Japanese guitarist (and recent Boris collaborator) Michio Kurihara, Global Ear on Sao Paulo, instrument builder Hal Rammel, Invisible Jukebox with the Dead C!!!!, Maja Ratkje from Spunk and Fe-Mail, Martyn Bates of Eyeless In Gaza and of course tons of reviews, records, cds, tapes, 7"s, videos, dvds, performances and installations, and as usual of course a whole lot more!
