We've always been impressed by the audacious emo-prog of this Portland, Oregon outfit. A mashup of mathy chops and melodramatic, melodic pop, 31 Knots' latest is a worthy addition to their discography, building on their distinctive sound with what seems like at least one unpredictable new twist per track, writing exhilarating songs that variously incorporate piano, horns, and well-placed electronic glitch... Fans know they need this, noobs should start here or with 2005's Talk Like Blood (or, if you're on a budget, one of the band's several excellent eps). In a perfect world, these guys would be as big as the Mars Volta!
We listed the debut release from the mysteriously monickered Acre recently and people flipped out, including us! It's easy to set all your instruments to stun and just let 'em drone away, but it takes something special to make those drones listenable, compelling and evocative, there's a magic to it, and as hard as it may be to believe, it's definitely not as easy as some of these guys make it sound.
Acre is a one man 'band' from the Pacific Northwest, who uses mixer feedback, a sampler and various effects to create deep vibrant thick drones, the kind that feel otherworldly, that transport the listener to some other place. Over the course of a 20 minute track, Acre's drone will have changed shape and tone, allowing different layers to be revealed, or alternately, hidden, to allow various overtones to create the impression of rhythm, to subtly alter the timbre and tone. A cursory listen is not enough to understand or feel what's going on here.
When we play this in the store, people think it's someone upstairs vacuuming or a low flying plane overhead or the workmen out front doing construction or a particularly loud air conditioning unit, but closer listening reveals all manner of sonic subtleties, rhythms and pulses, notes and even melodies, that only reveal themselves gradually. It's sort of like the sonic version of those strange pixelated paintings, that if you star at enough shapes begin to emerge...
The music on this 3" is thick and dense and dark and rich and lovely and relentless and vibrant and layered and complex and so completely mesmerizing.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, packaged in a cool mini 3" jewel case with trippy psychedelic artwork, each one hand numbered...
We only got a handful from the man himself when he was here on tour, so we're not sure if we'll be able to get more. You know what that means...
Bardo Pond records may only come out every year or two, but we need more fingers if we're gonna keep track of all the Bardo side projects and recordings that have been surfacing every few months for the last few years. Records by 500mg, Takeda, Dechemia, Alumbrados and of course these guys, 3 parts Bardo with some added electronic muscle, Alasehir.
This is record number two from this Bardo brothers project and is maybe the riffiest and heaviest Bardo side project recording yet. Three loooong tracks, each one some strange blend of abstract Appalachia, slippery slide guitar, tripped out druggy ambience, and seriously blown out dirgey metallic space rock, with simple pounding drums, huge distorted riffing, wild swirls of freaked out psychguitar leads, dense clouds of cymbal sizzle, tons of wah wah, streaks of screeching feedback, everything in the red and overblown, like some wild Hawkwind / Black Sabbath / Growing / Monster Magnet / Acid Mothers Temple / Amon Duul 2 mash up. This is wild and heavy, free and fucked up, spacey and trippy and druggy and far far far out.
Packaged in one of those cool aRCHIVE style 6 panel fold out sleeves.
LIMITED TO 600 COPIES! And already almost sold out so once these are gone we probably won't be able to get more.
A brand new two track 'album' from Australian guitarist / soundscaper Oren Ambarchi and it's a doozy. Two side long tracks, one composed for a Japanese dance troupe, the other recorded live, both gorgeous.
The 'dance' track takes up all of side A and utilizes electric guitar, bowed instruments, samples, bells, cymbals and percussion. Deep drifts of buzzing sounds drift dreamlike from the speakers, cymbals sizzle like falling rain, bells twinkle like stars in a black sky, very drifty and otherworldly. It eventually builds to a throbbing fever pitch, but instead of getting heavier, it just gets thicker, and more dense and way more intense. Notes throb and pulse, reverberating and beating against one another, creating dense fields of rich overtones, the whole thing very liquid and organic sounding, constantly shifting and changing shape. Would have loved to see the dance that accompanied these sounds.
The B side was recorded live, the instrumentation including electric guitars, cymbals and a motor (!). A much more delicate and haunting piece than the flipside, moody melodies drifting over pulsing buzzing drones, the melodies spaced out and spidery, over a fuzzy shimmery backdrop. About halfway through the track, the sound explodes and becomes a massive, grinding, buzz drenched wall of thick static guitar, layer upon layer, very trancelike and hypnotic, but incredibly fierce and intense, finally culminating in a dreamy fade out of muted tones and a barely there melody.
Nice super textured cardstock, full color sleeves, incredibly thick vinyl, LIMITED TO 650 COPIES, each record hand numbered...
We had sort of given up on ever getting this in stock, which was killing us. One of our favorite records of last year (one of Andee's top 10), a record some of us listened to EVERY DAY, over and over. Heavy and buzzy, but so beautiful and relentlessly catchy. Sure we've had black metal records in the past that were 'pretty'. Catchy too. But those records took their hooks and their soaring melodies and wrapped them all up in spiky blackness, subtly catching our ear beneath all the buzz, the prettiness more a byproduct than a reason for being. But Amesoeurs are completely different. It's almost like some shoegazey, indie druggy drone rock band decided their blissed out indie jangle needed more, well, BLACKNESS, and thus enlisted a corpsepainted frontman, with a demonic banshee shriek, to wail and gnash his teeth over the band's nearly perfect buzzing pop.
From the first notes of the opener "Bonheur Ampute" you're hooked. If you didn't know what was playing, you'd probably be thinking it was some lost Swervedriver track, or some modern band channeling My Bloody Valentine and Ride. The music is that gorgeous. The guitars are thick and heavy, a little buzzy, but they glisten and sparkle, and well, jangle. The opening riff is so impossibly catchy, sort of minor key, but only barely, this is simply perfect pop music wrapped in a thin layer of buzzing blackness. There's no denying it. A loping riff, underpinned by strummed acoustic guitar, while over the top guitars keen and soar, melodies intertwine, harmonies drift and shimmer, even the black metal shriek starts to transform into something less evil becoming more just another element of the blissy poppy buzz. Near the end of the first track, all the other instruments drop out leaving just the acoustic guitar, and when the band kicks back in, they go for it, transforming the track into some otherworldy buzzpop, that original riff ringing out, but over the top some gorgeously melodic underwater, blooping Pinback like bass lines and soaring angular guitar melodies.
The second track begins with a haunting spidery Slinty guitar line, minor key and skeletal, hovering in a wide open expanse of dark shimmer, when the band lurches into action, the main riff sounds like some classic Maiden hook, transformed into a loping pop song, the band eventually ramp it up, the drums becoming a double kicking blast, the vocals shrieking, but the main melody remains and the song becomes a haunting emotional minor key buzz drenched slab of shoegazer black metal, complete with acoustic breakdowns and a mysterious percussive coda.
The final track opens up with another gorgeous tangled bit of clean guitar, that turns into straight up clean ringing indie jangle, but surprises us with ethereal female vocals, which transform it into some nineties sounding dark pop like Velocity Girl or something. Eventually, a buzzing guitar joins the fray, and by the end, it's another swirling blackened slab of blissed out buzz. So fucking awesome.
Black metal record of the year! Of forever! And that's assuming that this even counts as black metal... Either way, this is absolutely essential. Black metalheads don't be put off by the prettiness, we love us some Antaeus and Katharsis and Darkthrone and all that, but this is just so goddamn good. And all you indie rock mix tape makers, try blowing somebody's mind by slipping one of these tracks into your next mix, right there between Spoon and Pavement. The perfect black metal gateway drug...
(And be sure to check out -- if you can find 'em -- Amesoeurs mainman Neige's other bands, Alcest, who take the blissed out pop thing even further, and Peste Noire, a more black, but equally strange and pretty outfit. We'll try to track them down for the store, but who knows...)
NOW ON VINYL! 2004's Funeral made it clear that Arcade Fire aren't shy about dishin' the melodrama and bombast, and this time around they definitely make no bones about it. These decidedly unreserved Canucks are laying it on extra heavy. They've taken the goods from Funeral and juiced 'em up even more, delivering an unquestionable fan pleaser that maintains the infectious spark of their debut, but drapes it with more opulent finery. Musically this is most notable in the cathedral organ and choral departments. It may have you wondering if you're attending a wedding or a funeral! However, those musings are swiftly swept away by the soaring, big Chicago style horns in "Windowsill" and "No Cars Go" (another candidate for single material in our books!). We'd say the obvious choice for a first single on the album is the second tune "Keep The Car Running", but has anyone else noticed that it sounds as if it could break into John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band's "On The Dark Side" from that '80s flick Eddie And The Cruisers at any moment? In fact, Arcade Fire conjure numerous other touchstones of that decade -- the female vocals remarkably resemble Kim Wilde as the male ones do Bono, the somber opening pulse of the album closer "My Body Is A Cage" echoes Phil Collins' "In The Air Tonight". But there sure as heck ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of musical nostalgia, especially when it's all wrapped up oh so pretty, in thick sonic swaths of lush dramatic dreamery and plush poppiness.
On the last list we reviewed #1-7, an Astral Social Club mp3 cd which collected the first 7 volumes of their self released cd-r series and everybody flipped. We've barely been able to keep them in stock (if you're waiting, more are on the way!). Well, the series is now up to volume 12! No plans as of yet for another mp3 collection, and volumes 8 through 10 seem to be already gone, but we've got a bunch of number 11 and number 12, both of which are killers.�
This here disc, number 11, begins with some strange (and not very ASC like)�murky, looped percussion, with bits of electronic glitch, sounding almost a little like some�sort of twentieth century classical filtered through some primitive krautrock. After that though we're back in familiar territory, with�glorious sparkling epic shimmering drones, technicolor cascades of rich reverberant sounds and all manner of glimmering glittering ear candy,�super minimal dark ambience, with drifting whale call melodies and deep rumbling swells,�Sunroof!-y bit of high end raga sparkle, complete with the sounds of crickets and running water, sun dappled, dreamy looped guitar sheen, all wrapped up into one big glorious space drone whole.�
The last three tracks might be the best here,�dense synthscapes, lots of hiss and whir, with buried rhythmic pulses, weird underwater bloops and burbles... all three tracks sounding very much like some white label Pop Ambient 12". Awesome.�
Packaged in thick plastic sleeves with a full color paste on insert. And of course, quite limited...
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A welcome and wonderful follow up to the debut Badgerlore record from a couple years back. This time out Rob Fisk (7 Year Rabbit Cycle), Tom Carter (Charlambides), Ben Chasny (Six Organs Of Admittance, Comets On Fire), and Pete Swanson (Yellow Swans) add Glen Donaldson (Blithe Sons, Skygreen Leopards) and Liz Harris (Grouper) into the stew, creating hazy and blurry meditations that sound like some perfect cosmic meeting of the most ghostly moments of Loren Mazzacane Connors and the earthly explorations of The Jeweled Antler set. It's almost as if you can hear the sounds of the mud and the moon on this album as there is such a prevailing sense of nature intertwining with the outerworld. Grouper's sensibility is felt in a really nice way, adding wonderful layers of delay and mystique to the already mysterious surroundings. One of those records that perfectly fills that mysterious gap somewhere between waking and sleeping. Whispers of guitars, voices off in the distance, rumblings you can't totally place. It all feels like some weird fever dream where you can't really make out what's happening but you can't imagine being anywhere else, enthralled and blissfully entranced...
Here's another archival release from William Basinski, whose still mining that hyperprolific period of his life in the early '80s when the ambient composer produced the work that would later appear on Variations, The River, and of course the seminal Disintegration Loops. That said, ShortwaveMusic has the distinction of being the first set of recordings that Basinski had released in the mid-90s on the Raster-Noton label. Back then, Raster had captured the imagination of many fans of electronic music with their sterile manifestations of digital errata into pristine structures; so when Basinski had this comparatively rough composition of manipulated shortwave and analogue synth released on Raster, it piqued a lot of folks' curiosity and everyone began to wonder just who this Basinski character was. Needless to say, ShortwaveMusic holds up in the musical context that is 2007 as a strong body of work, with prolonged passages of electrical glistenings smeared with the uneasy, deadened grey static that makes shortwave such a compelling medium to work with (e.g. John Duncan, Tod Dockstader, etc.). Basinksi swaddles all of his sounds in the echo chambers of multiple delay units set to infinity, making it seem that Basinski might have been heavily influenced by the likes of electronic pioneers Maurizio Bianchi or Conrad Schnitzler, whose sounds are reflected in the kaleidoscopic monochrome music of current experimental darling Grouper.
We had almost given up on the current state of electronica when all of a sudden we started getting some pretty amazing electronic albums, of all different varieties in the last few months. Whether it's killer Dubstep from Boxcutter, the glitchy laptop stutter of Tuk, or Lindstrom's infectious Nordic beardo-disco, our electronic section has gotten a much needed face-lift and a serious boost of exciting energy! Now thanks to Kompakt (one of our all time favorite labels, home to the Pop Ambient series of course) we've got two more electronic gems to fall in love with. The Field's From Here We Go Sublime (also highlighted on this list) and this debut by Brazilian producer/sound architect Gui Boratto. Possessing a punch and vibrancy not usually associated with Kompakt, who are known more for their dreamy soundscapes and simple house-y pulses, Chromophobia is one of those records where the music inside matches the cover art perfectly. Rich bright colors in all sorts of pleasurable shapes, clean and smart and stylish. Proving that dance minded music doesn't need to be dumb, this has us thinking quite a bit of Double Figure era Plaid, or the perfect left-field microhouse of Isolee's We Are Monster. Throw in some rich sonic textures that had Andee thinking of Fridge for a moment, and the gorgeous sole vocal track "Beautiful Life" and you have all the right ingredients for one of the best electronic records of the year!
After releasing a limited edition 7" vinyl single by Swedish retro-psych-metal sensations Witchcraft (last year's long gone "If Crimson Was Your Colour") it makes sense that UK stoner doom label Rise Above should follow that up with a 7" from Witchcraft's lesser known doppelgangers Burning Saviours, who also hail from Sweden and are equally influenced by Sabbath, Pentagram, and sundry obscure heavy psych-folk-prog acts from the early '70s.
There's two new non-album tracks here, "The Giant" and "The Clown", both of 'em loping, leaden doom groovers with tons of vintage feel.
Not sure if this means that Burning Saviours will now join Witchcraft on Rise Above's roster for their next full-length, but in any case we're eager to hear more from these guys, as over two albums and this single they've managed to match Witchcraft's magic track-for-track.
The return of Burnt Hills, a gloriously freaked out, damaged and deranged, psychedelic garage stomping space rock trailer park stage destroying, instrument thrashing drug drenched sonic dervish. We dug the last record tons, and if anything, this one is even better. One looooong hour long drugspacepsych jam that actually tends more towards the krautrock than the noiserock, with its motorik beats and looped sounding riffage, but fear not, it's still chaotic and noisy, the relentless groove filtered through some Dead C and Liquorball free noise filters. This time, there's lots of space, guitars are angular and detuned, in the backgrounds little squalls of distorted buzz drift in and out of range, vocals buried in the mix spouting some wild and wooly mumbo jumbo, getting all tangled up in the spidery guitar melodies and the shimmery sheets of feedback, while over the top, the drums stumble and sputter, a sort of freenoise freejazz mash up, with the various instruments clicking every once in a while into one of the aforementioned krautrock grooves, only to splinter into weird jagged pieces moments later. Burnt Hills are most definitely the Stoner's Pot Palace house band, and odds are they probably get paid in weed...
Packaged in handmade gatefold sleeves, with various artwork and photos affixed to the inside and outside, some hand drawn designs inside as well, LIMITED TO 99 COPIES, each disc hand numbered, the cd-r's cool faux vinyl discs complete with inner label.�
After pruning his band name's parentheses on their last album A River Ain't Too Much To Love [(Smog) became Smog], Bill Callahan emerges from the cover of Smog-ness completely with his first album under his own name proper. While not a huge departure from his tried and true, the warm, earthy Woke On A Whaleheart does offer some things a little different from his past releases -- most notably more straightforward pop elements and an overall more welcoming and accessible sound. Plus that's not even talking about the album cover which is a startlingly unexpected candy colored collaged explosion which makes the release an easy victim of mistaken identity with, oh, maybe something by Lightning Bolt, !!! or Black Dice. Yup, that's a little strange. Needless to say, the assault on the eyes makes for a stark contrast with his gentle on the ears, low-key Americana music. The sound of his deep, heartache twinged voice is always a comfort. At times on this album, it dips down into the depths of Howe Gelb territory, but in a far less cryptic manner. Thumbs up.
Now domestic! This former import-only CeU album (originally released in 2005 on the Sao Paulo based Urban Jungle label) is now available here in the States courtesy of the Six Degrees label. The lovely Brazilian singer whose full name is Maria Do Ceu Whitaker Pocas draws easy comparisons to Bebel Gilberto, and will surely appeal to her labelmate's fanbase. At once sultry and fresh-faced, CeU's breezy, smooth groove of samba, dub and electronica laced with delicious horn and percussion accompaniments evokes gorgeous, warm summer evenings. Ah yes, the calendar might proclaim that it is April, but while this soulful, chill-out album is spinning it's a steamy August night in Sao Paulo.
We've said it before, we'll say it again, pretty much all good things come from Finland. Okay, maybe that's us being all hyperbolic again, but c'mon, Finland blows our minds, STILL! Especially with music. Let us count the ways: Skepticism, Mieskuoro Huutajat, Vladislav Delay, Thergothon, Tiermes, Circle, Pharaoh Overlord, Shape Of Despair, Kiila, Children Of Bodom, Es, Hanoi Rocks, Smack, Kroko, Kemialliset Ystavat, Anaksimandros, Avarus, Uton, Doktor Kettu, Islaja, Clandestine Blaze, Horna, Ride For Revenge, Baptizm, Cleaning Women, Paavoharju, Stumm, Chainsmoker, Tivol, Reverend Bizarre, Dead Reptile Shrine, Loinen, Magyar Posse, Itavayla, Exordium, Aaviko... Phew! We could go on and on, but what other region has produced so much weird and wonderful music, from damaged outsider black metal to dreamy foresty folk, to clattery free noise to droning sludge rock and pretty much every strange stop in between.�
But even amidst this veritable who's who of AQ faves, this lineup of damaged and demented, dreamy and brilliant and beautiful music makers, another Finnish band still manages to stand out.�Circle Of Ouroborus. Ostensibly a black metal band, but the more we hear and with every successive record, we begin to wonder why any one ever considered them a metal band at all. But that only makes us love them all the more.�
As we've mentioned in the past, it takes some serious weirdness to share a split with the buzz croon blackness of Urfaust, but CoO pulled it off easy, even managing to outweird the already impossibly weird Urfaust pretty much across the board. Their debut full length was a ramshackle stumbling blackened mess, all atonal guitars, and haphazard percussion, wailed, crooned and spoken vocals, detuned acoustic guitars, some black buzz, but for the most part it was some strange slightly metallic mix of Jandek and the Fall, the vocals constantly switching from Mark E. Smith whine to Jandek drawl, the music beneath following suit, going from fractured folk to hyperkinetic almost new wave black pop. And we dug it. A lot. It was difficult listening certainly, but it grew on us like crazy and became a daily listen.�
So we've been waiting and waiting for the new record. We were warned by the band that it was really strange and that there was some seriously not-metal-at-all moments, so we were pretty excited, but damn if it isn't weirder and way better than we expected.�
On Shores, the band sounded constantly on the verge of falling apart, blasting was an iffy proposition as they sounded like they might derail at any moment, the vocals were definitely tough to listen to at moments, and the guitars were tangled and mangled in gloriously messy clumps. And while some of that remains on streams, it's almost like a different band. The vocals are so much better, still weird and haunting and not always in key, but stronger, and more evocative, more emotional, often buried amidst buzzing guitars or crashing drums, allowed to croon and howl and the results make them sound like a real band. But what sort of real band is the real question. Certainly not a black metal band, although a few songs do have brief blasts of buzzing blackness, instead, they seem to have taken that Fall like sound and stretched it out into some weird gnarled gothy doom pop, at some points they sound like�damaged atonal psych pop like Times New Viking maybe, but most of the time, they sound a bit like a�super lo-fi live recording of Joy Division or Crispy Ambulance, albeit slightly blacker, or maybe some buzzy gothy modern doppelganger of Alien Sex Fiend or Specimen. Sounds weird, and it definitely is, but it's also pretty awesome. It's the sort of not entirely black, black metal record that will definitely appeal to folks just looking for something dark and moody and buzzy and far out. That said, the sound of Streams is about as black metal as CoO have ever gotten, some serious blasting buzz and some grimly buzzing blackness. But that blackness is always muted or smeared into shades of grey, draped over and amidst a collection of haunting and mysterious songs that while strangely connected and cohesive, range from the gloomy fuzzy drama of "Streams Of Depression" to the gorgeous acoustic Sentridoh-like "Anonym".
Definitely for fans of Urfaust, Nuit Noire, Lifelover and all of those peripherally black musical experimentalists...
Super striking and bizarre cover art, black and white pencil drawings of an old man's bald head sporting the CoO ouroborus symbol, the snake eating its own tail, as well as cool pencil sketches of the two band members inside, detailed down to one guy's Isengard t-shirt!
Incorporating more elements of Hip-Hop and even trip-hop on their third album, Cocorosie have found themselves a seriously dedicated and loyal following, as demonstrated by the amount of these we've already sold without even getting a chance to review it. So at this point you probably already know where you stand on Cocorosie as they tend to have quite a polarizing effect on folks. There is their growing by the minute fan base who are completely enamored with their fairytale like sparkling electronic tinged neo-folk, hip-hop moments, music box tenderness, and carnival weirdness all wrapped in dayglo colors and over the top quirkiness. And there are folks on the other side who are easily annoyed by their mishmashing of styles and delivery. On repeated listens we've found this to definitely be an interesting step in the evolution of this duo, who while seeming to grow in popularity each day, also tend to be even more difficult for lots of folks to get into. Listen to the sound samples and you make the call...
If only Beck's last outing was as creative and colorful as this! Cornelius tends to take his time between albums but when they finally drop and sound this good and this meticulously crafted, we realize it's well worth the wait. With an uncanny ability to be both challenging and so damn catchy, Cornelius continues his streak with great pop record after great pop records, never afraid to explore new sounds while still making the whole sonic experience so fun to listen to. Picking up nicely where Point left off, this new record is perfectly titled as there is a breezy and brainy sensuality at play, and as always Cornelius effortlessly travels in all sorts of directions throughout the record, without ever losing cohesiveness. When other folks try the same sort of thing you usually just feel lost and bewildered by the haphazard musical confusion, but when Cornelius takes you from dreamy to rambunctious, blissed out to bumpin' and fractured to smoothed out, you just close your eyes and let yourself go, being carried away by colorful waves of sound headed for another engaging adventure in sound. So nice!
Current 93's epic Inmost Light Trilogy had originally been issued back in the mid-'90s as three separate releases, with the two short program discs Where The Long Shadows Fall and The Stars Are Marching Sadly Home bracketing the full length album All The Pretty Little Horses. But through a tragic turn of events that has been recounted here and many other places, the distribution company that released those discs went out of business, rendering this (and pretty much the entire Current 93, Nurse With Wound, Coil, and Sol Invictus back catalogues) out of print. Fortunately, a hearty few have lovingly reissued much of that material, Jnana being one of those labels; and it's Jnana who has thoughtfully reissued what David Tibet exclaimed as his "Hallucinatory Patripassianist Song" as a triple cd set.
Where The Long Shadows Fall opens with a stately loop of a beautifully sad / eternally holy female choral melody, obviously taken from an old piece of vinyl as the crackle and hiss of the surface noise provides a familiar antiquated patina. Additional baroque vocal melodies intertwine with a chiming 12-string acoustic guitar strum which slowly progresses with the plod of a heavy doom track, minus the downtuned distortion; and then of course, there's David Tibet reciting his trademarked revelations surrounding his heretical beliefs about Christ, Satan, and the end of the world as we know it. Where The Long Shadows Fall is an open ended piece, built upon illusion and impression. For the elegantly mangled nursery rhymes that Current 93 is known for, look to the second disc All The Pretty Little Horses. Here, David Tibet conducts business mostly as a duet with the acoustic guitar of Michael Cashmore, who has done more to define Tibet's apocalyptic take on British folk than any other guitarist (including Ben Chasny, Tony Wakeford, Douglas P, etc.). These tunes are sparsely arranged with occasional flourishes of electronic manipulation and baroque instrumentation. Along with Cashmore, other noteworthy guest appearance include Nick Cave and Shirley Collins.
The final disc The Stars Are Marching Sadly Home is one of the darker recordings that Current 93 has made since Tibet abandoned the dirge collages of tape loops and cackling voice which dominated his very first recordings. That same vocal loop which opens Where The Long Shadows Fall is the backbone to this atmospheric work, although it has been shrouded in reverb and pushed into the background of whispering drones and shadowy sounds. Tibet's voice growls with the aid of plenty of timestretched tricks that perfectly augment Tibet's already creepy voice.
If you didn't have the opportunity to pick these up when they originally came out, you really should now, and spend some time with these recordings as they have clearly aged well over the past decade and stand amongst the best of the Current 93 recordings.
Odd and obscure '80s heavy metal alert!! If that got your attention, you may remember that not too long ago we reviewed a disc by a band called Black Hole, '80s Italian metallers who were all spaced-out and psychedelic, like some strange mix of Jacula and Voivod. In that review, we made mention of one of their contemporaries, a band by the name of Dark Quarterer, whose debut album from 1985 is to be found on this slipcased cd reissue. We were pretty stoked to find a supplier for these and grabbed a bunch 'cause we figure anything that both Allan and Andee and Andee's fiancee Heather all instantly fell in love with, is something that at least a select few AQ customers are gonna dig too. Why did A, A and H all fall for DQ? Well Dark Quarterer just push all our eccentric, ancient metal buttons. To us, the low-budget, fidelity-impared production is part of their charm (what are those drums made of? cardboard?), the English-almost-as-a-second-language vocal stylings as well (without looking at the lyric sheet you'll have some trouble puzzling out what he's singing about -- his pronunciation is, let's say, creative). And the name "Dark Quarterer" curiously great too. But what's most important (and the reason why they indeed do have a cult following to this day) is that they wrote some awesomely epic and undeniably catchy metal songs. While Black Hole's favorite band must have been Black Sabbath, we're pretty sure Dark Quarterer were inspired by the grandiose he-man metal of Manowar. But it's Manowar-worship laced with the influence of Goblin and Yes and other proggy weirdness, as befits a band from the prog-crazy land of Italy. Andee even detects some hints of our beloved Comus in the title track, though we should stress that Dark Quarterer are very, very metal. Bizarre and poverty-stricken, yep, but metal through and through, with heaps of heroic vocals and majestic riffage to put some starch in your shorts (or loin cloth?). Not terribly unlike another eccentric '80s metal fave 'round here, Manilla Road.
We're huge fans of NZ guitarist Craig Williamson and his space raga rock outfit Lamp Of The Universe, whose sound is actually light on the rock, and heavy on the space and the raga, with buzzing sitars, and loping krautrock grooves, blissed out ambience and wispy clouds of spaced out FX. But way back in 1999, before the birth of LOTU, Williamson was doing time in a little band called Datura, who shared some sonic sensibilities with his later outfit, spacey, groovy, buzzy, but Datura rocked, we mean ROCKED, some serious stoner rock�Hawkwind / Monster Magnet worship for sure. Big�ol' wah wah guitar riffs, pounding drums, downtuned fuzz guitars, BIG BIG amps unleashing thick walls of sun baked drug drenched sound. The kind of sound we could gladly listen to forever. But...
...It's the vocals that will make it or break it for you. Super throaty rock croon, very reminiscent of Kyuss, some folks here thought it sounded a little too bar rock, or like the one rock guy on every season of American Idol, channelling some Eddie Vedder with that "yyyyuuuuuaaaayy" sort of classic rock yowl. But if you were into Kyuss, or any of the first wave of stoner rock bands (Beaver, Dozer, tons of other Man's Ruin bands) or any bands on the Small Stone label, this will definitely push those space rock, desert rock, stoner rock, slow groove, blown out guitar, beer and pot laced laid back groove buttons for sure.
Anything recorded at a "mobile mystic gnome studio" has got to be good, right? Well, at least if you're in the mood from some suitably stoned, retro-rocking, Blue Cheer worship from this very heavy and psychedelic Virginia-based band. "Howls From The
A pretty serious noise rock (heavy on the noise) head to head on the mighty aRCHIVE label, responsible in the past for killer discs from the Goslings, Bardo Pond, Astral Travelling Unity, Growing, Keiji Haino, LSD-March, Nadja and Jack Rose.
Recorded live at Tonic in NYC last year, this double 3" cd set chronicles what must have been a night of serious ear damage. Up first, Death Unit, a noisy super group made up of Carlos Giffoni, dudes from Mouthus and Hair Police and Chris Corsano (what band doesn't feature Corsano at this point?), and it's mostly Corsano's show, a 20 minute blast of drum freakout, all over the place, dizzyingly complex, a furious nonstop drum solo, eventually joined by thick sheets of squealing feedback, layers of guitar buzz, strange synthy warble and what sounds like short wave interference. A brutal but surprisingly listenable sludge drone / noise rock / free jazz mash up, but again, it's all about the drums, splattery and crashing and chaotic with the various synths and guitars just wrapping the spastic rhythms in thick layers of buzz and grit.
Disc two features another 20 minute blast of caustic sound, this time from Prurient, purveyor of old school noise, a one man Whitehouse, who unleashes loads of ear shredding high end, all the sounds distorted and crumbling, some gorgeous low end drones and ultra creepy vocals, mostly whispered more than shouted, sometimes even spoken, sounding like snippets from some film. Near the end, things get even more intense, the vocals howled and the squall of electronics underneath erupting violently all around crunching grind and anguished guttural cries. The sound is so dense and heavy and noisy it almost sounds like there's some sort of industrial percussion at times.
Plus lots of crowd noise, cheers and shouting too as the show was obviously being recorded from the crowd. Just makes it weirder and more surreal...
So while this is definitely noisy, both discs are pretty listenable. Harsh enough for the noise obsessed, but just accessible enough to maybe convince some folks that maybe they do in fact like themselves a little noise now and again!
Packaged in a cool 6 panel fold out sleeve designed by Dominick Fernow aka Prurient. Mastered by James Plotkin.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES! And already almost sold out so once these are gone we probably won't be able to get more.
Here we have the newest EP from Atlanta based Deerhunter (which is also available on lp, along with their previous highly praised full length album Cryptograms). Deerhunter have two lines of thought diverging in their music that has and will continue to afford them acclaim from across the board. The EP's opener and namesake "Fluorescent Grey" starts out a deeply textural indie rock song trudging along with a simple piano line and nearly over-annunciated boy/girl vocals that would make their junior-high chorus director smile until he or she realizes that the subject of the song is that of a body decomposing. Halfway through the song, the structured pitter-patter converges into the psych-drone noise rock madness people raved about when first heard on the band's previous release. The EP's other tracks build in the same pattern with one only hinting at eruption, while the other's noised out bliss explodes in a way that suggests they've embraced comparisons to Sonic Youth. The third track stands alone as the second line of thought the band seems to be toying with - experimental shoe-gaze in the style of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless saturated in all manner of ethereal noise. Highly recommended!
We weren't expecting a new album yet from the mighty Detroit Cobras, but they went and surprised us with the super satisfying Tied & True. On this their fourth full length they continue on with the more 'reigned in' but no less potent approach heard on their last album Baby -- exuding barrels of '60s girl group charm and sass coverin' old Stax and Motown gems in their own tight yet loose rock'n'roll fashion. All the raw grit, the sultry soul and the lusty blues you've come to love and count on from this band is here in spades. This time around Rachel Nagy's always awesome, lusty voice frequently reminded us of a young Chrissie Hynde. Go figure! Great stuff!
Having three such beloved creative outlets Postal Service, Figurine and Dntel at his disposal, Mr. Jimmy Tamborello's probably had to replace his door a few times with so many potential musical collaborators knocking it down. And he's chosen the absolute cream of today's crop for his highly anticipated, long overdue new Dntel album, the follow-up to 2000's Life Is Full Of Possibilities. Dumb Luck follows a similar recipe as Stephin Merritt's The Sixths project for which Mr. Magnetic Fields writes and performs the music while various pop darlings provide the vocals. It just happens to be a full collaborative effort featuring the hot poop luminaries of Conor Oberst, Grizzly Bear, Jenny Lewis, Fog, Mia Doi Todd, Lali Puna, Arthur & Yu, and Mystic Chords Of Memory.
Wistful, pastoral and lovely, it's a softly faceted poptronica album that doesn't hit you over the head despite its hip, indie A-list cache. No, we think it'll grow on you with each listen as it did with us, glimmering with Tamborello's trademark fleeting pop elements, feathery electronic tickles and fond familiar voices. Mmmmmm.
Following the 2006 self-released debut 7" ("The One I Need / Dance Party") from these Bay Area honey pies, here's Dreamdate's slightly longer winded first full length. As the 'cut to the chase' title suggests, why wait? Dreamdate get right to their business of brightening our day with their short, snappy tunes. The overall sound of Dreamdate can readily be spoken of in the same breath as early '90s crushworthy indie pop a la Lois, cub and Tiger Trap. As the unaffected and uneffected electric guitars strum away happily and the drums keep things simple with an uncluttered beat, you might find yourself hummin' along with these gals' warm, smooth female vocals. Nice.
Two songs were recorded, mixed by the equally sweet pop minded Aaron Burnham of The Makes Nice who also mastered the album.
What's release without tension? What if there's no real release, just an ongoing tension? Like you are hovering over a brink of a precipice but somehow knowing you are not going to fall and die you really get into the powerful momentum of floating fixed in space between the universal expanse above and the bottomless nothing below. That is how The Field (aka Axel Wilner) fashions his tightly edited minimal trance compositions on his Kompakt debut, From Here We Go Sublime. Like the best Kompact releases, from The Pop Ambient series to Wolfgang Voigt's Gas albums, The Field make the most out of nothing much at all. But what incredible nothings! The evolving repetitions of finely honed razor-sharp edits off of bits of samples, such as the vowel sounds of words, belied by rudimentary drum programming only occasionally reveal their source, including a bit of Lionel Ritchie's, "Hello" and The Flamingo's "I Only Have Eyes For You", more famously sampled by The Fugees. Dare we say it, This is sublime!
Before we launch into what's gonna be relatively long-winded review, let's just state up front that this has the best album cover EVER: the band themselves cruising down a rural highway on choppers wearing nothing but their birthday suits!! And this version sees the orginal gatefold recreated for the cd-era, mini-LP sleeve style. But if that's not enough to get you to buy this, read on...
Not long ago we gave a big thumbs up to the album "Satori", the masterpiece from Japanese '70s psych rockers the Flower Travellin' Band (note: we're still waiting to get more of those in stock, they're backordered at our distributor!). Now, however, we've got a brand new reissue of the Flower Travellin' Band's debut album, "Anywhere". It certainly doesn't scale the heights of "Satori" but it'll help you to understand how they got there. Along with a great take on "House Of The Rising Sun" (a nod to Frijid Pink?), this album also explicitly demonstrates, via covers, these Japanese freaks' radical recognition of the genius of two of their Western contemporaries, Black Sabbath and King Crimson. Like many other great artists, with humble beginnings Japan's Flower Travellin' Band cut their teeth on the material of their mentors. Though "Anywhere" -- released in 1970 -- is primarily a covers album, it's also quite a testament to both the band's veracity in their reproductions and their creativity in realigning the building blocks of rock & roll. Their cover of Black Sabbath's self-titled track was actually recorded in the same year as the original and their version of King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man" only a year after its release. And they aren't merely content to play only the "Schizoid Man" opening riff, like so many other bands that have attempted to cover it, but take on the entire piece in all its schizophrenic freaked out glory, getting waaay into the improv element of the mid-section. The same is true for "Black Sabbath" and you have to appreciate singer Joe's take on the unique Ozzy voice. The most interesting track on the record though has to be their attempt at straight-up blues rock -- while their "Louisiana Blues" starts and finishes almost pedestrianly enough on the "Minglewood Blues" riff by Gus Cannon (of Cannon's Jug Stompers) that was popularized in the rock scene by the likes of The Grateful Dead and Captain Beefheart, the interior of the song is a complete departure of sorts. Not only devoid of the original progression, it's not even "bluesy" at all. Here in the extended jam that makes up the meat of this musical sandwich, the Flower Travellin' Band's Eastern roots surface a bit. It's a precursor to the sound of their later albums "Satori" and "Made In Japan" (another great one which we'll be reviewing in the future if we can ever get any stock of it in quantity).
This is one of those albums that's neither new, nor even a recent reissue, but that we here at Aquarius decided, heck, let's list, it deserves it! (While this disc already appears on our website, it was never actually *listed* in any of our newsletters.) So while many might already know this album backwards and forwards, it has most certainly slipped through the cracks for too many others out there. Being a Japan-only import can't help. Allan wisely reordered some copies recently (when a customer special ordered it for themselves on-line) and Byram, unwittingly playing it in the store, found himself getting progressively more obsessed with the album (and the band)! It wasn't long before Jim and Marcy were also finding themselves hooked. Now almost any day you come into the store, you'll hear the Flower Travellin' Band blaring.
This is an album (and a band) that are not celebrated nearly enough -- possibly out of misguided notions of their being another bad psych knock-off among the many crowding the record racks in the early seventies. But Japan's Flower Travellin' Band were no mere cheesy imitators of occidental rock 'n roll, they were in actual fact a full-fledged, pioneering tour de force of psychedelic progressive hard rock, equalling the krautrock heavies of the era. FTB can be compared favorably to Amon Duul's better efforts with their experimental meandering (think Yeti), and the best trancey spaceouts from Can. Yet there's never a sense that FTB lose track of their compositions no matter how far out they take a track. Perhaps because even more than these experimental Krautrockers, FTB's heavy (fucking ominously heavy) sound points to a major Sabbath, Purple, and Crimson influence. Released in 1971, Satori is the band's second and arguably best album (all but the first album Anywhere have now been reissued by Warner Japan). From the first screech/howl at the beginning of track one -- "Satori Part I" (the tracks on the album are all "Satori", parts I-V) -- from vocalist Joe, who inhabits a zone somewhere between Can's Damo Suzuki and Deep Purple's Ian Gillan, the album gets straight down to business. Joe's scream is followed by a foreboding bass, guitar and drum dirge that's straight up collision between Cream and Black Sabbath in which no one survives. It's got so much more teeth than either, it's not even funny, predating punk by a good many years. "Satori Part II" however is quintessential FTB Over a pounding tribal drumbeat, alternating between a buzzing sitar-esque guitar drone and a melody line that curls ripples and lilts like a plume of burning incense smoke, guitarist Hideki Ishima lays out one of the creepiest, coolest guitar leads ever. If that ain't enough, vocalist Joe's singing is like that of Axl Rose being channelled by the Sun City Girls! Even if the rest of the album were total shit -- which it ain't -- the cost of this cd would still be well worth it for this song alone! "Part III" -- an instrumental -- picks up where II leaves off but slows the tempo down to a deathly pace, which makes it even heavier. This is the Sabbath influence on FTB writ large. Replete with an improv freakout before returning to the original riff and building into a frenzied crescendo. Needless to say, if you weren't bobbing your head at the beginning of the song, you will be by its end. "Part IV" could be considered FTB's "blues" number, with Joe picking up the harmonica instead of singing. But instead of churning out the expected twelve bar formula, FTB truncate the form and construct a minimalist jam around a short riff instead. "Part V" shows yet another facet of FTB's seemingly infinite potential with Hideki (?) playing some kick ass, spooky koto-like guitar overdubbed on top of some heavy psych. Damn! They could have done ten fucking albums around this schtick alone and probably never lost our interest... sigh... but this (and the other two that are also available, look for reviews in future) will have to suffice for now. Absolutely, fucking recommended!!!!
MPEG Download: "Satori Part II" [/audio/flowersatori2.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Satori Part II" [/audio/flowersatori2.m3u]
Yes, buzzing black metal fiends, there IS another cd from Russia's Forest that we hadn't yet reviewed, so here it is at last. The poetically-titled As A Song In The Harvest Of Grief was Forest's fourth and final album, recorded in 1999 but reissued on cd more recently. At this point in their history, the band had made themselves masters of raw, primitive black metal done the ye olde Nordic way, carrying on the black-burning torch of Darkthrone and Burzum, whilst sometimes allowing their own experimental and improvisatory tendencies to surface amidst the fuzz-drone.
This album is no deviation from the Forest path. Opening track "Into The Mouth Of Breath" (?) sounds like a swarm of bees interpreting some minor-key piece of classical music. Then the ceaseless pounding of drums and throat-torn terror begins, each track a distorted and monotonous (in a good way, mind you -- this is black metal) lament, with melodic lines to stab the heart, the tempo of the drums quickening even as the overall mood of the music becomes almost static, dismal. Sheer trance agony fuelled by fuzz, gorgeous fuzz. And, as always with Forest's cds, it's not over 'til it's over: there's a bonus track! For fans of Darkthrone, Weakling, Eikenskaden, etc.
And by the way, we really like how Forest's rather coniferous logo has been sort of incorporated into the treeline depicted on the cover, silhouetted beneath a giant blood-red moon and fantastical northern lights.
Not to be confused with the *other* band called Forest also being reviewed this list, here we have one of several recent reissues by the entity that we usually refer to as the black metal Forest, who hail from Russia. You may recall us praising this Forest's self-titled album a couple of years ago, likening it to a blend of the primitive Darkthrone/Burzum/Weakling style of black metal and the Jewelled Antler psych-improv-folk-drone aesthetic. Foredooming The Hope For Eternity dates from 1998 and it's certainly also a trance-inducing Darkthroneathon. Not exceptionally original, but exceptionally good for the genre. Raspy screams, buzzing guitars, drums beating a constant, almost static thwap-thwap-thwap. Forest's minor key laments make a virtue of monotony. I love it at low volumes, as a purely background drone...or, playing it loud, it becomes an all-encompassing sonic cocoon. And that would be good enough to sate our raw, old-school black metal needs. But, being Forest, there's more... two lengthy unlisted tracks at the end of the disc which contribute something a little different to the proceedings. The first is a sort of an extension of the last listed track, with the drums receeding in the mix, revealing a beautifully majestic strummy drone, sounding not unlike Earth gone black metal! That's followed by another ten minute bonus track that adds moaning, wordless vocal chant. "Ah-aaah..." So very epic, and almost Swans-ish, looping more distortion and folkiness. Definitely an interesting, effective band within (and sometimes without) the confines of the tradition to which they aspire. (And too let us praise the beautiful cover painting -- oh those purples! -- though there's no need for the excess border-graphics.)
Another blast of�Metal Noir Quebecois from the great white North. And we're talking Canada of course, Quebec to be exact (duh). From the same label that brought us the depressive doom laden melancholia of Sombres Forets, and is run by the guys in Canadian black metal legends Frozen Shadows. In case you hadn't figured out�Metal Noir Quebecois, that's�Quebecois black metal! And this is some seriously grim and blasting nineties style frosty blackness for sure, the guitars are thick and massive, a dense black buzz, the drums are blasting, the riffs are killer, while other guitars wail and swoop beneath the main riffs, creating a tangled backdrop of haunting melodies and epic grandeur for the swirling relentless buzzing blackness above.�
Supposedly, with�Metal Noir Quebecois, Forteresse are celebrating�the folkloric music and culture of the French part of North America, which is most noticeable (actually maybe ONLY noticeable) in the intros to some of the tracks, old scratchy recordings of traditional fiddle music (hence the old photo of a man cradling his fiddle on the cover), lots of crackle and hiss, the fiddle sawing out a sort of jig, or jaunty little folk tune, before being obliterated by the black wall of buzzing sound, very jarring, very bizarre, but somehow it works. And the metal itself, even without the strangely out of place fiddle intros, is some of the most glorious blasting buzz we've heard in ages. Definitely one of our new favorite black metal discs...
You can always rely on The Fucking Champs. Even after a several-year recording/touring hiatus, during which time drummer Tim Soete and guitarist Tim Green had to face a major lineup change -- replacing founding member guitarist Josh Smith (now in mod garage trio The Makes Nice) with Trans Am's Phil Manley -- they've come back to follow up 2002's V with the boldly titled VI and it's like they've never been gone. True they kept their hand in with 2004's Fucking Am album. But still, it's nice to have them back and doing what they do best, which is making Fucking Champs music. Phil fills Josh's shoes with aplomb, fitting in with the two Tims like the old friend and excellent musician that he is. So no problem there.
With renewed fire, VI demonstrates that the Champs really have created a sound unique unto themselves. Say what you will about ironic hipster metal irony gimmickry (no vocals, no bass, nerdy humor), the truth is that you know the Champs when you hear 'em. Sure it's easy to spot the influence of their childhood metal heroes (Metallica, Maiden, Lizzy, Carcass...) but what they really sound like is The Fucking Champs. And not too many bands can claim that they sound most like themselves. And that it's such a damn good sound!! Their majestic harmonies ascend to heaven borne on shafts of light, their chunky "dahdahdah" riffs require immediate and incessant headbanging, their sleek melodies always catch the ear, and their mathy arrangements dizzy and dazzle. Whether in the long run they were smart or not to market themselves mainly to the indie-rock crowd rather than the metal underground remains to be seen. Some might argue that they've painted themselves into a corner, but it's a corner we love to visit!!
Leading of with indeed very Champsy "The Loge" (already heard on Kemado's Invaders compilation btw), VI runs the gamut of Champsy treats and tricks. There's uptempo party rockers that are actually gorgeous prog epics in disguise ("A Forgotten Chapter In The History Of Ideas"), a few gently spacey keyboardy interludes ("Insomnia", "The Crystal Behind You"), even some lovely, lush quasi-Zep folkiness ("Dolores Park"). And of course plenty more powerful, Champsy compositions showcasing fretboard acrobatics, precision drum battery and stop on a dime tightness. About the only thing long-time Champs fans (like us) are going to find disappointing about this record is that, well, we were hoping Tim Soete would step out from behind his drum kit and SING at least one song here, we love his voice. But he doesn't. Oh well maybe next time he'll go for it and give us another "Extra Man" or "Summer Knights". Instead, Neil Hamburger's voice appears somewhere on here...
By the way, stay tuned at the end of the cd for the "hidden" track of chopped up studio chatter / repetitive riff collage. Brought a smile to our faces, might have been even funnier if they whould have started the record off with it!!
Band names come in strange zeitgeists, don't they? We've had waves of "The Something", "Wolf Something" and "Black Something" bands, now it seems it is "Year" time. So far we've noted Capitol Years, The Early Years, Year Future, and The New Year. Now The Fun Years come drifting into view. It does seem to be a bit of a misnomer though. Indeed, this group's name as well as their album and song titles all strike us as being very incongruous with the sounds they make. We sort of expecting some doleful pop music or something, but nothing would have prepared us for the murky muted beauty of Life-Sized Psychoses. Every track a washed out minimal landscape of record crackle, bits of hiss and pop, a dense washed out backdrop for the guitar to sort of drift and shimmer.
The record commences with "Powerball Annie", unobtrusive feathery shimmers of static that wash across lapping cycles of three-note sequences plucked out on baritone guitar. Strange reverby bits of percussion drift in and out. The whole thing very languorous and dreamlike. The second track weaves a similar spell, a crackle crusted loop, disembodied and haunting, repeats over and over, eventually joined by a laid back guitar line that gives the track's very Philip Jeck like turntablescape sound a distinctly post rock vibe.
At times the Fun Years almost sound like some avant turntablist spinning super scratched up old math rock and slowcore records, all loping rhythms and muted minor key melodies, but draped in thick swaths of buzz and fuzz and hum and hiss. Some tracks are mere whispers, others glow and sound sun dappled, smeary blurry burnished soundscapes, all wreathed in those analog recording inconsistencies we can never seem to get enough of. Every track here is a subtle sprawl, and shifts and shimmers ever so gradually. No quick moves or hard edges. Just blurry, bleary eyed drift. So very nice!
Definitely for fans of Jeck, Basinski, Tim Hecker, Machinefabriek, Jasper TX and the like...
Oops, dragged our asses a bit on this one! It came out back in August 2006. Ah well, better late than never. Funny thing is this South London band's second album *sounds* as if it was released much longer ago than that... oh , like maybe over a decade ago! Characterized by angular guitars, distempered male vocals and a boiling cauldron rhythm section, Giddy Motors' churning sound is a familiar one to those of us born before 1977ish. Authentically recalling the angst and aggression of their forefathers Jesus Lizard, Cows, Die Kreuzen and The Fall, Giddy Motors' Do Easy could easily be mistaken for a long lost, late '80s / early '90s release on Amphetamine Reptile or Touch & Go. Pissed, scarred and raw.
Don't let the English-sung lyrics deter you from getting one of Gilberto Gil's finest Tropicalia recordings. Recently reissued in a more affordable version by the Water label, here Gil revisits some of his most popular songs such as "Volkswagen Blues" and "Nega", as well as one some great cover versions of Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home" and The Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band". Full of the exuberant singing and fuzz electric guitar as showcased on his previous record, Cerebro Electronico, this record is pretty damn Great!
Yes, we've been a little out of seasonal sorts what with the extra early daylight savings time this year, but we truly know that spring is in full bloom by the arrival of the bright and breezy third album from Bebel Gilberto. It's a definite charmer for fans old and new. A particularly hot one-two punch comes at the album's midpoint when Gilberto turns on a dime from the groovy thumpin' finish of "Cacada" to the gentle wispy beauty of "Night And Day". Effortlessy captivating.
First proper full length from this mysterious ambient drone noise ensemble. After a super limited cd-r and an also quite limited lp, this cd offers up 33 minutes of Glass Organ's crumbling corrosive drones, ambient, but -active- ambience, bordering on speaker shredding noise at moments, but spending much of its time drifting through dark and murky landscapes of minimal shimmer and subterranean rumble.�
Three tracks, each 11:11 long, this Devillock side project is ultimately a drone record, but GO's drones are twisted into all sorts of different shapes and sounds. The opening track begins with a dense hot static white noise keening feedback burst of blinding grind and roar, before suddenly transforming into burbling underwater whirs, before the corrosive noise of the opening returns, only this time looped into some almost melodies, making it sounds like some sort of damaged My Bloody Valentine outtake.�
The second chunk of 11 minutes and 11 seconds begins in moody mumble minimal mode, before bits of crumbling distortion begin to surface, eventually taking over completely turning the tranquil ambience into some serious blown out guitar drone a la Sunroof! / Hototogisu, all keening high end and grinding abrasive guitar growl. The final 11 minutes (and ii seconds!) is like part two of the second track, the same sort of ultra skree starting�out, this time way lower in the mix, a sort of low level rumble and scrape, which is soon joined by some super distorted psychedelic guitars, noodling and slithering and generally wrapping the low end rumble in sparkling tendrils of white hot guitar buzz. Surprisingly melodic and blissed out.�
Definitely for fans of Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Hototogisu, Burning Star Core, Wolf Eyes and similar practitioners of high end raga skree...
Packaged in a gorgeous and ultra minimal fold together cardstock sleeve, embossed design and text on a white sleeve, very white on white and quite striking. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
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Not sure if this got repressed or if the label just found a stash of discs under the bed, either way, this monstrous slab of sound is available again, if only briefly...
We've been pretty dang obsessed with the Goslings since the very first second we heard them. They have found massive favor with the SUNNO))) crowd, but other than being slow and heavy, they seem to be a whole 'nother beast. This married couple from Florida, craft impossibly noisy and gu wrenchingly heavy pop songs. That's right, you heard us, pop songs. "But wait," you say, "I'm listening to the sound samples and I don't hear any pop..." Well listen closer. Much closer. Hold your breath and close your eyes and dunk your head into the Goslings gorgeously abrasive soundworld and you will feel the pop. That's the beauty of the Goslings, each song is like a diamond dipped in mud and wrapped in barbed wire. Beautiful lilting shimmer-pop doused in crumbling crunchy downtuned guitar sludge and sheets of jagged feedback. A brief snippet, a casual glance, and all you'd see or hear is NOISE. But settle in, lean back, let the Goslings wash over you, suddenly shapes begin to emerge. melodies drift in and out, riffs take shape and then fade into the mist. A super blown out in-the-red dreamlike sludge, equal parts Boris drone, My Bloody Valentine bliss-out, and shimmering crystalline pop. Like a Mazzy Star record dipped in hot tar and then wrapped in a hundred layers of feedingback guitars. So beautifully heavy. And as we've mentioned in other reviews, the Goslings just might be the loveliest harsh noise-sludge pop band ever!
Packaged in a cool silkscreened oversized sleeve with abstract pink art and the cd affixed to a little plastic nub on the inside. As always, way too limited.
AQ faves the Grails continue their tour of highly regarded independent record labels (past releases have been birthed by Neurot, Important, Southern and Aurora Borealis) with this new album on instrumental post rock haven Temporary Residence. It's a perfect fit too. Burning Off Impurities picks right up where the Portland band left off last year, matching the potency of their 2006 release Black Tar Prophecies Vol's 1, 2, & 3. Daggers of electric guitar slice through imposing clouds of drone which dissipate briefly to reveal mystical melodic elements richly steeped in Eastern European gypsy folk influences. Gradually the drones close in once again, blanketing the proceedings with a slowly shifting, heavy-lidded atmosphere. A somber, smoldering beauty. So recommended.
The return of our favorite Polish black metal Viking (huh?). Yep, it's Graveland, the master of epic and majestic Viking flecked black buzz. Graveland IS Rob Darken, perpetually clad in his helmet and tunic, armed with sword and shield, unfurling mighty tales of bloody battles and mighty journeys, of life and death, of blood oaths and sworn vengeance. All told through incredibly expansive blackened soundscapes, rife with killer drumming, awesome riffs, sweeping keyboard swells, Arvo Part like background vocals and tons of moody black ambience.
As�with lots of records like this, and and as we've mentioned before, the whole Viking angle, and the Nordic pride thing is basically only one step removed (if that) from some very abhorrent racial politics, which unfortunately seem to often be a part of black metal. So as with lots of those bands, Burzum, Nokturnal Mortum, and others, you just have to figure out if you can enjoy the sounds and ignore the politics. It's a bit of a bummer, that a record this amazing has to be marred by that sort of thinking (no matter how subtle) but if you can make it past that, and enjoy Will Stronger Than Death for what it is, an emotionally and personally charged piece of musical art, you're in for what might possibly be the best Graveland record yet.�
Gone are the days of inept drumming and stumbling rhythms, Darken has perfected his sound. Epic and expansive, open and majestic, and so so tight. Usually the one man band suffers in some department, maybe the one man is not such a hot drummer, or not the best singer, but this is prime Graveland, heavy and hooky, with tons of varied parts, an incredibly rich sonic palette, at it's core still a blast of grim buzzing blackness, but Graveland has turned into something so much more.�
On first listen, very little has changed since the last disc, in fact, in lots of ways it sounds like�The Fire Of Awakening Part 2, which as far as we're concerned is just fine. The drums sound better than ever, instead of loping midtempos or furious blasts, there are plenty of cool, un-black metal beats, weird double snare hit, some of it surprisingly mathy, they perfectly compliment Darken's knack for the droning repetitive riffing, adding a whole 'nother layer of sound.�
The guitars are massive, downtuned and buzzing, but weaving elaborate tapestries of black sound, some of it bordering on rock and roll, but not in a cheesy way, just an out of the ordinary way, which is maybe why some of these riffs are so damn catchy. But it's the strange vocals that take Graveland's sound to a whole other level, the aforementioned Arvo Part reference should tell you all you need to know. Gorgeous harmonies, choral backdrops to what would otherwise be simple buzzing black metal. It's like a black metal Godspeed sometimes, super dramatic and cinematic. So good.�
At first we were a bit bummed by how similar this disc was to The Fire Of Awakening, but the more we listen to it, the more we realize ho different it really is and how much more is going on and how much has changed musically. Even if you think you've got all the Graveland you need, think again.�
While they last we have the super deluxe oversized hardcover A5 book version (limited to 2000 copies), once we run out of those you'll get the regular jewel case version which will also be cheaper!
BTW: We used to mock Darken's constant battle gear, posing in every photo in his armor and chainmail, always with some sort of weapon, but a close look at the thanks list reveals it may be a little bit more than just playing dress up, since he thanks the Great Warriors from Slavic and Viking Reenactment Groups!
As if he's not busy enough with his main band's latest fierce full length New Erections and running his own indie label ThreeOneG, The Locust's Justin Pearson juggles many a side project including this new one Ground Unicorn Horn. And well, actually we guess he and his three pals Chris Hathwell (of Moving Units), Amy Szychowski (of Josh Taylor's Friends Forever) and Chuck Rowell (of Plot To Blow Up The Eiffel Tower) really didn't need a whole lot of time to spit out this lil' 2 song 3" cdep. It's a whopping three minutes and twenty four seconds of primitive eye-gouge and brain fry rawk which probably doesn't possess the potent cure-all and hallucinatory qualities found in the substance of the same name, but it sure packs its own riled up mucus-loosening wallop.
We have to admit, we don't know too much about Haunted Castle, other than they shared a killer 10" split with the band Grey Skull a while back (which featured a cut out and hairy (!) sleeve), and more recently collaborated with recent AQ faves Robedoor on a killer droney ambient lp. But on that record it was tough to tell who was doing what. Robedoor tended to be a noisier heavier proposition, so we just sort of assumed that Haunted Castle were the quiet ones, getting Robedoor to mellow a bit and bliss out. But based on Void Lake, now we're not so sure. Four lengthy, brutal and caustic face melting blasts of psychnoise guitar damage, ultra blown out, dripping with crumbling distortion, all downtuned, and strangely processed, wrapped in thick clouds of, well, more guitar we'd guess. Shimmery streaks of high end feed back and grinding growling guitar fug, bits of muted percussion, what sounds like bizarre vocals and little scrapes and scratches, but it's mostly guitar, squealing and strangled, beaten and mangled, the instrument's anguished cries a huge squall of musical pain and abject fury, with big crashing chunks of industrial clatter dropped into the melee here and there for good measure. It's like Keiji Haino jamming with Heavy Winged, Mouthus, Vulture Club, Burmese, Whitehouse and Liquor Ball, after a night of serious drinking and way too much horse tranquilizer, and maybe with some frontal lobotomies to boot. Damaged free form psych that should appeal to the Brooklyn hipster noiseniks as well as old school Japanoise fanatics and everyone in between.�
Packaged in a hand painted collaged cardboard sleeve, the discs themselves hand painted as well, the sleeve nestled in a hand screened and hand sewn fabric bag. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered...
First proper non cd-r full length from these Brooklyn space psych noisemakers (as far as we can tell) and it kills. In past reviews we described Heavy WInged as some blown out super distorted bastardized mix of the Dead C, Loop, Spacemen 3, Hawkwind, My Bloody Valentine, White Hills, Burnt Hills and whatever other freaked out drug drenched psychnoise rockers we could think of, and we're happy to report that very little has changed, the biggest difference, especially with bands like Heavy WInged, is they thrive given enough space, so two tracks, one to a side, and these guys fucking destroy. They're a trio, guitar, bass and drums, but it seems impossible that all of this glorious noise could come from just three people. Both tracks are improvised, but constantly lock into killer grooves, the guitars coalescing into bad ass riffs, the drums switching from splattery chaos to motorik pulse in the blink of an eye, it's pretty amazing.
Side one begins all spaced out with layers of drifting guitars, a throbbing low end pulse, and over the top, super processed squiggly leads, draped over a chugging riff, everything all tangled up into a thick wall of fuzzy blown out sound. When the drums finally kick in, they don't so much 'rock' as emulate the guitars, all spastic and splattery and shuffling. But about halfway through, the band settles into a super saturated psychedelic space rock groove, relentless and throbbing, but everything still bathed in a druggy haze of fuzzed out guitarnoise. The second track taking up all of side 2, follows a similar sonic path, but instead of turning into a space rock jam, it becomes more of a midtempo krautrock groove, the drums constant and simple, the bass locked in with the drums, but the guitar all over the place, laying thick sheets of fuzz and skree everywhere, an ear shredding cloud of keening feedback and amp destroying buzz.
Super nice thick sleeve, with printed hand numbered insert and sticker on the front, pressed on swirled clear blue vinyl.
LIMITED TO 450 COPIES!!
Amazing, and ultra limited, made to order, hand carved lathe cut from our favorite modern day musical shaman Dan Higgs, he of Lungfish and assorted amazing solo recordings. Two tracks, each exclusive to this disc, an ultra thick black lathe cut, with printed / hand written labels, and housed in a thick, old school green paper sleeve stamped with the label info and the tracks hand written on the sleeve. So gorgeous.
And the music is appropriately gorgeous as well. The A side is a long droney chunk of twisted Eastern raga tinged neo-Appalachia as only Higgs can do it. Tangled melodies, gnarled arrangements, droney and buzzy, haunting and minor key, the track always shifting from dreamy finger picked bliss to pulsing blown out raga to spaced out psychedelia, all on an acoustic guitar. So good.
The flipside is a "Recitation" by Mr. Higgs, and is a total mind blower. Obviously recorded on a handheld microcassette recorder, complete with the 'thunk' of the stop and record buttons, as well as lots of sibilance and background hiss. But the voice is immediately recognizable, and the words... confusingly brilliant, surreal, so evocative and vivid, sometimes beautiful and tender, sometimes horrific, and other times completely baffling, somehow as dreamy and easy to listen to as the guitar on the other side. But to understand it all, that's another story. Too much for mere mortals we're afraid, but so goddamn fascinating.
These are custom made to order, and are thus SUPER EXPENSIVE and SUPER LIMITED. We got a handful, we probably can get more when we run out, but it might take a while, so if you miss this first batch, be prepared to be patient...
After a string of 7"s and eps which commenced back in 2003, The Holy Kiss come swaggering up to the bar with their first full length. Shot Love On The Back Line finds the SF band sounding at once far looser, fuller and tighter than ever. It's a volatile gathering of cheap red wine, vampire novellas and Birthday Party records... maybe a few by The Scientists and Pleasure Forever for good measure. No, The Holy Kiss aren't in pursuit of originality, but they do what they do increasingly well with each subsequent release. Matty Rue Morgue, Nick Ott and new members Alli Pheteplace and Panther MacDonald break the intoxicated tension halfway through the album with their rendition of Erik Satie's "Gymnopedies: III. Lent". Afterwards, they then slip right back into their blood red, bluesy funeral procession.
Ready to be touched by the magic hoof?!
Two years ago, we just about sold our souls to Satan in tribute to the glorious magnificence of this band's Magnificent Glorification Of Lucifer album. Allan's favorite black metal record of 2005 by far. Now this two-man cult is back with a new album for No Colours and we're sacrificing babies over here in celebration. Well not really but guitarist Dagon and drummer Incubus would probably like to hear that. And if anyone was gonna convince us through the power of stabbing riffage, flashing battery, and croaking vox that Satanism is the way to go, these are the dudes to do it!!
What makes the storming black metal of this Seattle duo so special? Certainly not just their love of Satan, though they do seem more sincerely devoted than most. No, they're just -different- from the hordes of hordes out there. For one thing, Dagon's vocals aren't the usual high-pitched anguished rasps, nor are they deathly grunts. They're more like droning crypt-creakings, layered and insidious, truly "nefarious dismal orations", an integral part of Inquisition's trance-inducing doomic atmospheres -- along with the varispeed velocity of their attack, seemingly simultaneously plodding yet blurred with speed. Then there's the RIFFS. You can't argue there. Inquisition understand old school heavy metal hookiness without being overtly retro, y'know? And this stuff oozes METAL as much as it gives off a sinister shine of actual originality and serious Satanic faith. Pure metalness plus weirdness (in the arcane, occult sense of "the weird"), yeah! We're spellbound. And what the heck is going on with the buried, backwards masked munchkinisms we think we're hearing at the end of the amazing title track?
Clearly Germany's No Colours, a label with lots of staggeringly excellent, evil bands, is well aware that Inquisition is indeed a cut above and deserving of special treatment. They've produced a limited edition initial run of this cd, a thousand copies packaged inside a black cardboard slipcase with a die-cut pentagram!! If that wasn't enough, there's also a full-colour poster folded up and inserted inside the slipcase too. We got a bunch of 'em but don't know how long these will last.
It would be wrong and misleading to say that this sounds like Om meets Watain, but somehow it we think it has the EFFECT of what such a indescribable hybrid would sound like. But if we did have to compare Inquisition on this album to anybody, we're reminded the most of good ol' Immortal. Recommended as if you couldn't tell already.
All it takes is a look at Millie Jackson's illustrious album covers to know that she is one saucy and sassy soulstress. Recorded thirty years ago, Feelin' Bitchy is one of the better records in her long career. Feelin' Bitchy is a mix of spoken and sung vocals, biting humor and unapologetic bluntness, hints at a hip hop world to come, and tasty gritty deep soul done just right. Folks like Missy Elliott and Lil' Kim have for sure taken some cues from Miss Millie. With the recent explosion of great soul reissue compilations (Eccentric Soul, Bay Area Funk, Searching For Soul, Soul Gospel, Birmingham Sound, etc.) we hope that artists like Millie Jackson, Betty Davis, Bettye Swann and Betty Wright will continue to get the full attention and adoration they deserve.
As K Records website tells it, a few years ago The Blow's Khaela Maririch and Wolf Colonel's Jason Anderson were musing about the question "What if Calvin Johnson played all his best songs from over the years, with a band of real music-making people?"
We take particular issue with the last part of that query. Don't you think it's a total insult to everyone Mr. Johnson has played with over the years? If Heather, Heather, Bret, Chris, Doug et al weren't "real music-making people", then what were they?! Isn't that exactly what Beat Happening were all about? Breaking down limitations and expectations? And we're not even taking into consideration a little thing called 'musical chemistry'!
Anyways disgruntlement aside, apparently the well-meaning duo along with K label mates Kyle Field of Little Wings and Adam Forkner of Yume Bitsu fancied themselves to be the abovementioned "band of real music-making people" and formed the Sons Of The Soil.
So, what's it sound like? Well, to be utterly frank, Calvin Johnson minus Bret and Heather (aka his Beat Happening buddies), minus Doug Martsch (his fellow Halo Bender), and minus Chris Sutton and Heather Dunn (aka his Dub Narcotic co-horts) sounds like a drunken sailor cast adrift in a karaoke bar... woozily sea sick, rambling stage banter, and as atonal as ever. Try as they might, all the young'uns can't support Uncle Calvin. We're sure they had a great time, but listening to it is nothing but a flat flat flat experience. Bummer.
Indie record label giant Matador Records has long been the respected source for legendary indie rock with an eye on forward-looking (or at least very 'now' sounds). So, we guess we can't blame 'em for taking a lil' nostalgia kick now and again. In the press notes for this Australian band's latest album, the label makes reference to "what lazy people like to call 'post-punk'", but laziness has nothing to do with it. This IS post-punk. And they also use the phrase "with a decidedly experimental bent", but there's absolutely nothing 'experimental' about Love Of Diagrams' music. That doesn't mean it's not good, it's just a very misleading description. Anyways, Mosaic draws plenty of influence from the edgy female fronted contingent of that late '70s early '80s period (think Au Pairs, Siouxsie, Romeo Void). Urgent electric guitars, churning bass and insistent vocals propel the baker's dozen tunes that make up Mosaic. Think: an Australian sister band of Electrelane! Cool.
