The undead never tire and we never tire of them.
It seems 16 Bitch Pile Up don't either. This is their new zombie themed album. Sarah Bernat, Sarah Cathers and Shannon Walter's particular brand of gratings, dronings and groanings do indeed resemble the sounds one would imagine a crusty zombie would make as s/he dragged half-shorn limbs across a deserted junkyard -- snagging flaps of decomposed flesh on random rusted detritus. A horrorsome gnarl of unwashed murky experimental noise.
Ultra limited latest release from the uber prolific Antony Milton and his always genius PseudoArcana label. This time it's an ultra limited lathe cut, created of course by the lathe cut master himself, Kiwi legend Peter King. Limited to 50 copies, the initial pressing of this lp disappeared in no time, but we managed to get a tiny handful of this, the second and final pressing, and it's a doozy. Packaged in a gorgeous hand screened/painted brown paper cover with a brown paper inner sleeve and housed in a resealable plastic jacket, and the record itself clear with printed inner labels, this split teams up label head Milton and his Nether Dawn project with Irish one man band Agitated Radio Pilot. And it's a perfect match up.
Agitated Radio Pilot unfurls slow growing, wheezing melancholy melodies and warm warbly atmospheres, split into 4 tracks, it sounds more like one lengthy extended pastoral drift, a lazy wander beneath leafy trees and a burnt orange late afternoon sky, laid back and blissed out. Melancholy and gauzy. The muted buzz of guitars, warbly melodies, all very hazy and indistinct.
Nether Dawn (this time accompanied by fellow NZ noisemaker James Kirk) counter with their own brand of blurry haziness. Long drawn out drones, hushed whispered vocals, smeared buzz, distant washes of distorted guitar and muted rhythmic clatter. It sounds like pop songs stretched out and pulled apart into spare skeletal stretches of somnambulant sound. Like ARP, it's all very soft focus and dreamlike. And remember, with lathe cuts, the more you play them, the more they degrade, and the sound gets even fuzzier and blurrier and more washed out. So after a bunch of plays this might sound even better! So lovely.
Second and final pressing of 50 copies, once these are gone, we won't bee able to get more.
All Smiles is the new project by Jim Fairchild aka the former guitarist of the sadly defunct band Grandaddy. Ten Readings Of A Warning is his brand new indie rock album. It's considerably more stripped down and straightforward than his old band was, but no less charmingly slouchy and hook filled. Reverential nods towards the Beatles and Bread abound with gentle pop sweetness. You'll surely take the band name and these eleven songs to heart. So nice!
NOTE: If you buy this cd you'll also get a free 7 inch while quantities last!
Like most Raster-Noton releases, the latest from Alva Noto begins with plenty of stutter and squelch,�sinewaves and dog whistle tones, subterranean rumble and digital clips, but it's actually kind of misleading, as the rest of the disc exists in a sonic landscape much closer to the Kompakt sounds of Pop Ambient, or the hissy soft focus ambience of Tim Hecker, than the lowercase world of glitch and squeak.�
The first three tracks are strange minimal sonic experiments, plenty of hiss and scrape, static and hum, but it's track four, "Haliod Xerrox Copy 3 (Paris)", where suddenly things get downright pretty. Soft distant swells, mysterious slow motion loops, hard to say whether the sounds are synthesizers or tape loops or field recordings, although according to the liner notes all the sounds here are drawn from airports, in flight announcements and telephone hold music, but by 'xeroxing" these sounds over and over, and letting each copy degrade just a little,�Alva Noto takes those degraded sounds and shapes them into lovely blurred dronescapes, eventually wrapping them in soft prickly layers of digital hiss, which only adds to the soft focus romance and dreamlike otherworldliness.�
The tracks are named and grouped thematically. The ultra short "Astoria" tracks seem to act as brief respites, tiny sonic events separating the longer more song based tracks. The focus seems to be on those particular songs, each named "Haliod Xerrox Copy" and numbered or given an extra title in parentheses, these are gorgeous fuzzy, blown out dreamy drifts, all reminiscent of�"Haliod Xerrox Copy 3 (Paris)" but each, with its own distinctive flow, seemingly drawn from the same sonic template and utilizing a similar melodic theme, but softly molded into subtly different shapes. In "Haliod Xerrox Copy 2 (Airfrance)" it's all warm fuzz and muted white noise, a dense buzz, that is more soothing than abrasive. Moments later, in "Haliod_Xerrox_Copy_6" the buzz becomes washed out, pulsing louder and then quieter, while off in the distant, we are able to observe gentle lilting sonic events, as if viewed through a dense fog. Later on, "Haliod Xerrox Copy 1" returns to the billowy bliss of track 4, offering long soft contrails of sound, floating weightless amidst swirls of smeared radio static and and the sound of TV channel snow.
The disc finishes with the lengthy "Haliod_Xerrox_Copy 9", the most dramatic of the bunch. The melody is again similar, there is still plenty of hiss and fuzz and white noise, but the low end is more intense, giving the track more weight and emotion, the peaks and valleys too are more pronounced, a much more dynamic musical journey, a much heavier drone element. This is intense, brooding, beautiful too, but haunting and ominous, a gorgeous minimal sonic smear of M83 fuzz, Tim Hecker-ish sepia toned blur, and Basinski-esque looped dreaminess, all wrapped in Noto's thick fuzzy ambient buzz.�
The cd comes packaged in another striking and strange oversized Raster-Noton package, a multiple panel fold out sleeve, with die cuts holding the disc in place.
One of three new discs in the latest series of lovingly hand made 3" cd-r's from the Grey Daturas' Diagnosis... Don't! label (the other two being Bonecloud and Nigel Wright, reviewed elsewhere on this list). Poerua Acid features two looooong tracks from beloved NZ noisemaker and PseudoArcana label head honcho Antony Milton, and is the perfect mix of his two sides of his sonic personality, one side lilting dreamy and melodic, the other, dense, muted and noisy.
The opening track begins with just guitar, all warbly and slightly out of tune, the tape speed shifting and changing speed, making it sound like the sound on one of those grade school film strips, warm and wreathed in reverb, underneath, strange little swells and swirls drift and shimmer. Over the course of the track, the delicate finger picked melodies sink deeper and deeper into the background, until all that's left is a blown out muddy dronescape of overlapping rumbles and haunting flute like melodies.
The second track is much less restrained, opening up with a thick wall of guitars, dense and tangled, thick with distortion, roiling and overblown, garbled vocals and all manner of mysterious melodies lurk ghostlike beneath an epic expanse of layered guitar grind, like a more blissed out and melodic Sunroof! or Hototogisu.
Packaged in thick textured maroon paper mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. Nice.
And as always, these are SUPER LIMITED, and odds are we won't be able to get more. So don't dawdle...
We've been waiting oh so patiently for a full length from this delicate and beautiful Icelandic outfit ever since we were swept off our feet by their gorgeous debut ep a couple years back. Looks like there's more waiting to be done, as we wait for the soon to come full length, but at least for now, we have a brand new e.p. to keep us all warm & woozy until that fateful day finally arrives. Having spent the last few years opening for and playing with Sigur Ros, they've gradually managed to reach more and more ears, and that's a very good thing, as their lush and gorgeous, mostly instrumental and oh so melodic sound deserves a spot in all warm hearted record collections.
Wow! What an amazing discovery by the soul archivists at Stones Throw who obviously knew the world needed to hear this amazing early seventies Indianapolis funk band. Amnesty employ tasty vocal harmonies, horns that would make Antibalas drool, and a raw & gritty vibe that has had us listening to this over and over ever since we got our hands on it. A killer collection of mostly previously unreleased tracks, the socially conscious and physically addictive sounds of true soul. Think Parliament/Funkadelic and the finest moments of Roy Ayers with touches of Afrobeat, giving these songs a strength and resonance that has our ears ringing with perfect delight. So good!
Ms Tori embarks on another immersive concept album, this time embodying five starkly contrasted female personas over the course of twenty three songs. The music is just as startlingly varied in style as her satiny fashion choices for the cover photos. She has (or her team of stylists have) radically transformed herself in appearance with wigs and wardrobe. However, it's not to the degree of, say, Cindy Sherman or Laurie Anderson. No, Tori knows the market value of a flawless pretty face and doesn't sully hers to become anything unconventionally beautiful. No fat, no zits, no wrinkles.
Amos addresses her current concerns and critiques via Greek mythological references, rock star bombast, diva swoonings, earth mother embraces and battle cries. Of course, when you get right down to it, this kind of social and political criticism can be more than a little sticky, maybe even hypocritical at times -- lambasting the same systems (corporate, psychological, etc) in which she is profiting from the sales of her wares. Hence, our feelings about this album vacillate between thinking it preachy and long winded versus it being amazingly ambitious and her most spirited work to date. Seriously, there are moments on this album that are absolutely breathtaking (yes, some of them being her glorious, elaborate piano dramatics!), while others teeter into head-scratcher territory. Brace yourself.
Holy shit! All we can say is look out Bone Awl. You'd never know it from the strange cover art, an abstract photo of pens and books and a family photo, or the name, or the indie like scrawled liner notes, but this is some of the fiercest, heaviest, most damaged off kilter and ultra raw black metal we've heard in forever. Well, since Bone Awl actually, or maybe Ildjarn. But music this raw and punky and fucked up, is only barely black metal anyway, they sound a bit like a supercharged Brainbombs, or maybe the Violent Students playing black metal. This is in-the-red, overblown, crusty blackened garage stomp. Filthy and pounding. The drums are so hot, they make the tape distort. The vocals are an inhuman snarl, the guitars are just a dizzyingly dense tangle of white noise and black buzz. The tempos are relentless and occasionally, the guitars and drums lock into a weird four on the floor techno style pound, albeit dripping with amp buzz and blown out guitar, before launching back into a full on black crust speaker smash assault. Fans of all things raw and distorted beyond recognition will go apeshit. And all you Bone Awl obsessives might have just found a new band to love...
The return of one of our favorite purveyors of blissed out metallic dream doom, The Angelic Process. There is a brand new album on Profound Lore, which we do have in stock, so feel free to order that one too. We'll review that one on the next list. But we figured we oughta list this one first. ...And Your Blood Is Full Of Honey was originally released on Crucial Blast way back in 2001, in a run so limited we never even saw one. Now the band has decided to reissue all their old recordings and release them on their own Decaying Sun label, starting with this one...
The Angelic Process' M.O. was much the same here as on the incredible Coma Waering, released on Paradigms back in 2006, slow burning metallic drone epics, the guitars effulgent and blown out, woven into huge washes of dreamy bliss, over simple machinelike rhythms, with soaring emotional vocals buried and lost in thick ropy swells of sound. Everything run through some sort of amazing vacuum cleaner effect that wraps all the sounds in thick swirls of foggy whir. It's like M83 and My Bloody Valentine And Jesu blended up and mixed with some Godflesh and Neurosis, a gorgeously monstrous plodding doom, smeared into blackened shadows that somehow glow warmly from within. It's not really metal although it is most definitely heavy, it's not really pop either, even though there are hooks galore buried within the murk, it's not industrial, although it is intense and mechanical sounding at times, and it's not really doom, although it is heavy and sooooo sloooooow. It's somehow all of those things at once, yet none of those things, a constantly mutating sound that manages to also mix in tranquil ambient interludes, drawn out stretches of keening guitar and smoldering drone, and wild bursts of full on amp crushing, speaker melting noise. It's like the sonic equivalent of being doused in molten metal, every track a thick, viscous flow of sound, pouring from the speakers in black torrents, melting everything within reach, turning all to ash. So good.�
Includes two bonus tracks not on the original releases.�Packaged in slimline cases, with full color artwork, professionally printed cd-r's, each one signed by both members of the band! Probably limited, these things always seem to be, so even though we got a bunch, not sure how long they'll be around...
One of Arcade Fire's most goodest tunes from their latest album Neon Bible is now available to all of you 7" record spinners! Yup, and it's accompanied by a vinyl only tune called "Broken Window" which completists surely won't want to miss!
Here's one to sink into! The new album from Cambridge, MA's Arms And Sleepers is the perfect instrumental soundtrack for golden sunrises and amber sunsets. For its approximately half hour running time, the gentle ebb and flow of Bliss Was It In That Dawn To Be Alive effectively slows your day down. This is envelopingly sumptuous, airily expansive ambient music with world-y beats not heard since the heydays of Dead Can Dance, Delerium or Enigma. Very hypnotic and soothing.
Thanks to AQ pal Matt for the low down on this slab of pre-Sleep heaviness, long out of print singles finally available again, collected on a single cd:
We used to see Asbestosdeath in the very early '90s around the Bay Area,�at the East Bay punk institution 924 Gilman and various punk rock parties. They released two singles, the latter on the Minneapolis label�of anarcho-punk stalwarts, Profane Existence. The band that evolved into Sleep -- who fans would like to think of as a�"doom" or "stoner" band today -- was actually more akin to the then crust-influenced Neurosis, Christ on Parade and various UK anarcho and�post-Discharge bands.
Slowed waaay down, of course. At the time, liking Asbestosdeath was a seriously guilty pleasure. Their worship�of Neurosis and Melvins was obvious. If you liked the sound of those bands -- and lots of people did -- this band was not all that surprising.�Highly enjoyable, but not groundbreaking.
Upon re-recording slower and more polished versions of these tracks for�Sleep's debut album "Volume 1," they officially entered the arena of the�world's slowest, heaviest bands... a field then dominated by the Melvins�and perhaps Drunks with Guns but soon to be populated by the likes of�Eyehategod, Grief, Buzzov-en and Earth, among many. Over time, they definitely got better. Their songs got more interesting. And they�added wizards. And doobies. And the rest is history.
Sonically, these tracks belong squarely alongside Neurosis' The Word As�Law and Melvins recordings up to Bullhead. They're gritty and more�aggressive than what you'd expect. But they still sound fresh, and the�arrangements have a sparse, atmospheric quality that typifies the�aesthetic of most of the bands on Southern Lord today.
Peter Andersson's name is not one that pops up here at Aquarius Records all that often; but his impact upon the Swedish electronic underground has been huge since the early '90s. He's been responsible for some of the more influential dark-ambient / esoteric electronic projects that made up the bulk of the early Cold Meat Industry catalogue with his pseudonyms being Raison D'Etre, Stratvm Terror, Necrophorous, and Atomine Elektrine. Strangely enough, there's another Peter Andersson who also graces Cold Meat Industry's catalogue; but wisely he adopted the moniker Lina Baby Doll to prevent any confusion when venturing into the bizarre, militant territories of Deutsch Nepal. Anyway. Atomine Elektrine is the formerly mentioned Peter Andersson, and this project nestles between kosmische electronica (e.g. Pop Ambient, Boards Of Canada, Omit, etc.) and deep-space isolationism (e.g. Lustmord, Thomas Koner, etc.). Nebulous is a remarkably well done album that doesn't seem to embrace any of the commonplace signifiers of electronica; maybe just a Chain Reaction synth pad here or there alongside the downtempo mechanoid breakbeats, constantly tumbling filter sweeps, and algorithimic arpeggiations cast in shadowy, metallic ambience.
If he wanted, Aidan Baker could cruise along making the same record over and over, but a restless musical soul this man must have as even successive releases by his various projects tend to diverge greatly from their various sounds. While Nadja tends to be the most sonically consistent project, existing in the nether gloom of black ambient dream doom or whatever we feel like calling it, his work under his own name has shown the most breadth, veering from clattery noisy experimentation, to ultra minimal drone, to strange collaged jazzscapes, to dreamy slowcore, and one and on...
For Thoughtspan, Baker handles the guitars, drums, bass and vocals, with some help on live drums, violin and trumpet, to weave a gorgeously expansive soundscape of laid back, shuffling yet propulsive, krautrocky jazz. Dark and smoky, dreamy and smoldering, the closest sonic comparison might be the Necks, but where the Necks lock into extended cyclical grooves, Thoughtspan plays more like a 'rock' band, albeit a looped, mesmeric one, locked into a seemingly never ending groove, but as the record progresses the music begins to�gradually crumble, becoming more and more distorted, everything slowly collapsing inward, the scraping of a violin heralding the shift, as any 'rock' is rent asunder, and all that is left is a strange whirring, creaking ambient dronescape. And that's just the first track, although it is 22+ minutes...
The second track, another long one, begins with strange buzzes and metallic shimmers, a very percussive soundfield, peppered with backwards sonic swoops and buzzing steel strings, eventually the drums kick in, and the band is loping into some dense reverbed jam, the buzzing strings stretched out over the propulsive rhythmic framework, eventually fading back into the backwards droning buzz of the first few minutes.�
Finally, the final 16 minute track, finds Baker creating a strange wide open expanse, distant drones and all sorts of strange muted melodies, with moaned, barely decipherable vocals, and in the middle of it all, a drummer, playing on the rims and the floor and on wood and metal as much as on the kit, the whole vibe is very abstract and freak folk, it's not difficult to hear some Avarus or one of those tribal outfits, but unlike those folky forest dwellers, Baker begins to gradually affect the sounds here, smearing everything into warm droning swells and jagged streaks of resonant buzz, beneath which the drums lock into a staggering sort of midtempo lope, it's dirge-y and dramatic, but still sort of blown out and ambient, before finishing off with a burst of blinding distorted radiance.�
Packaged in a mini, plastic dvd style case, full color artwork and full color photographic inserts.�
LIMITED TO 150 COPIES!!
A few months back, we made the Rhino reissue of the debut release from the Bee Gees our Record of the Week. Which raised a few eyebrows, at least until the ears nearby to those eyebrows actually heard the gorgeously melancholy,�sweet, shimmery, sun dappled, minor key pop confections of the band that would somehow go on to be the kings of disco. But long before Saturday Night Fever and white disco suits and questionable movie music reinterpretations of Beatles albums, the Bee Gees were masters of lush moody pop, releasing what some consider to be one of the most perfect 1-2-3 pop punches in forever, 1st, Horizontal and Idea.�
The Beatles are definitely worth mentioning, as the Bee Gees shared a similar knack for both perfect hook filled pop and slightly trippy, druggy psychedelia, that managed to find it's way into much of their music and many of the lyrics. Horizontal is packed with plenty of�sixties jangle and�gorgeous vocal harmonies, but where as 1st was filled with short sharp pop, Horizontal is a much darker beast, the songs are longer, slower, and much moodier, lots of minor key melodies, wild squalls of psych guitar, wheezing instrumental stretches, the vocals are even more dramatic and emotional, soaring strings, unlikely instrumentation, the songs are still catchy, just more subtly so.�
The opener, "World" sounds like the Zombies, via the Kinks, with a slow burning urgency, long drawn out droning instruments, an insistent beat, and a hook to die for. Later on, "Really And Sincerely" almost sounds like Antony And The Johnsons, right down to the super emotional vocals. Then there's the super slinky "The Earnest Of Being George", that sounds like "Come Together" era Beatles, all smoke and slither. Then there's the title track, their own "Day In The Life", epic and intense, dark moody piano and haunting strings, with heartbreaking melodies and those perfect, perfect vocals. Such an amazing record. Along with the other two (1st and Idea), this is absolutely essential, some of the most timeless perfect pop you'll ever hear!
Gorgeously elaborate reissue, in a massive 8 panel digipak, full color with tons of amazing photos, a massive booklet also packed with photos, with lengthy liner notes, as well as notes on each track from the surviving members. The first disc contains the full version of the album, in both stereo AND mono, the second disc contains lost tracks, random B sides, alternate and early versions, as well as two gorgeous Christmas songs, one a medley of� "Silent Night" and "Hark The Herald Angels Sing", as well as 5 other unreleased tracks, most of which are as good as anything on the actual album!
On last year's Brutality - Majesty - Eternity album, Chicago's Bible Of The Devil really turned on the Heavy Metal afterburners, rocketing from being just a hard rockin', gritty garage/punk band who obviously loved their old AC/DC, Motley Crue and Motorhead cassettes, to the next level of metallic majesty, crafting truly epic, twin guitar riffed compositions worthy of eccentric AQ faves The Lord Weird Slough Feg -- who, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, are pals and frequent touring (and recent split 7") partners with BOTD. If, like us, you thought that was a righteous development, then you'll for sure be pleased with their new onslaught, The Diabolic Procession! The sheer metal triumph of Brutality - Majesty - Eternity is recapitulated here, and then some! If anything, these guys have gotten even more Slough Feg-gy, with some hints of Celtic folk seemingly sneaking into their riff-writing. And they're on the same label as Slough Feg, now, in fact. So, as with the Feg, Maidenesque dual guitar action is a big part of this album's appeal, for us -- you've gotta love lots of guitar (twin Flying V's, if you must know) to dig this, that's for sure. But there's more (which is also crucial): strong songwriting, tons of energy, memorable melodies, and cerebral concepts. Regarding that last item -- I guess it's circular logic to say this, but who but a metal band would consider making a whole album all about something like the tragic historical episode of the Children's Crusades of the Middle Ages?? Gotta love it.
And despite the history lessons, and folky riffs, and acoustic bits that have found their way into these epic numbers, Bible Of The Devil still has something of their punk roots about 'em, notably in the vocals, which are a lot rougher and tougher than the typical power metal croon. Gruff and gravely yet sorta screechy, we're reminded of Lemmy at times, Blackie Lawless of W.A.S.P. at others... works for us! Goes great with the crunchy chuggy, Maiden/Slough Feg mixed with Metallica tuneage. The Diabolic Possession is another definite triumph for these 'garage rockers gone metal'... very metal!!
Despite their band name, we wonder if a more appropriate mode of transportation for Bikeride might be a horse-driven circus cart or enchanted flying carpet. Their fifth album The Kiss is a kaleidoscope of minstrel folk and psychedelic pop, very much in the dreamy delirious tradition of the Elephant Six collective (particularly Olivia Tremor Control and The Minders). Check out "The Mystery Of Magnet Power". The band alternately waltzing through the carnival, the cabaret and the open desert plain. Pretty darn tootin' good!
We're guessin' that with his latest full length, Andrew Bird's already rapt followers will become even more so... and be joined by a whole bunch of new fans too. If you're already familiar with this unassuming, sensitive singer/songwriter, Armchair Apocrypha needs no introduction. It's a terrific progression from his last album Mysterious Production Of Eggs (2005). On songs like "Armchairs", Bird recalls the soft rock mellowness of '70s bands like Bread or America. On other tunes such as "Cataracts" he's more folksy leaning, bringing to mind contemporaries M. Ward, Will Oldham, or Ron Sexsmith. He closes the album with a haunting instrumental. Charming, pretty and never heavy-handed.
Drone damage industrial synth noise collaboration between Belgian avant noisemaker Cassis Cornuta and our old pals Olson and Connelly of Wolf Eyes, who together, whip up a gloriously noisy (and surprisingly listenable) slab of buzz and hiss and drone and drift. Wrapped in some of the most stunning packaging EVER, like most of the Ultra Eczema stuff. A massive fold out thick paper sleeve, the outside adorned with weird veiny, brainy skull-like monster heads, white on a greyish brown background, super creepy and icky, the inside, a full color landscape with a orange rock monster attacking a pregnant lady with a knife in the middle of a foresty swamp, while all around lurk goopy green melty creatures, with the tops of their heads removed and their bright orange brains leaking out. Eeeuw. And as if that weren't enough, this one sided disc, features an amazing etching on the the b-side, another creature, all bulging eyes and dripping brains.
So what's it sound like? A dense staticky synth rumble beneath clouds of whirring electronic glitch, laid atop massive slow moving slabs of low end, rife with lots of almost-melodies, peals of feedback and high pitched sinewave like tones. Everything wrapped in thick swirls of distortion and and amp damage crumble, occasionally interrupted by stretches of near ambient grind, blown out spaced out FX and creaking industrial crunch and clatter.
It's definitely noisy, and harsh at times, this basically is a 'noise' record after all, but it's surprisingly listenable, and downright pretty at times, droney and drifty as often as it is abrasive or brutal. Nice.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!!
Who else but Bjork could get the congotronics of Konono No. 1, the infectious production of Timbaland, the extraordinary drumming of Chris Corsano, the majestic kora playing of Toumani Diabate, the spastic noiserock of Brian Chippendale from Lightning Bolt and the emotionally charged voice of Antony (from Antony And The Johnsons) all together on one single record? Nobody else of course. This decade has found Bjork experimenting with a wide range of formats and modes of expression. With Vespertine she practically gave a how-to-exercise on infusing the laptop with warmth and personal poetry. Selmasongs reminded us that it's still possible to create a meaningful, sad and beautiful musical. Medulla, found her experimenting with the possibilities of the human voice and her collaboration with her beau Matthew Barney for The Drawing Restraint 9 allowed her to further explore her love of the avant-garde and the myriad of sounds found all over the world. In many ways Volta carries pieces from each of those projects and intertwines them in pop minded ways, some songs are dancey and charged, others dramatic and dripping with passion, and despite the wide variety of guests, it's still her singular voice and vision that holds everything together. She's one of those rare artists who manages to appeal to almost everyone, be they metalhead or popkid.
The album starts with Bjork singing "We Are The Earth Intruders...", and we are thrilled to be included in that 'we', something we'd be hard pressed to say about any other artist. But when Bjork sings 'we' it's nearly impossible to resist joining in and being a part of her endlessly creative, colorful and inspiring world of sound.
From the same label that brought us the amazing Animus disc a while back, a gorgeously buzzy depressive melancholic chunk of emotional blissed out blackness, comes this, the debut from Black Hole Generator, a blackened supergroup of sorts, featuring members of Taake, Grimfist, Aeternus and others. Unlike the washed out dreamy buzziness of the Animus record, Black Karma is a furious frosty blast of ultra technical riffing, strange atmospheres, loping doomic passages, grand sweeping melodies, gnarled alien vocals and convoluted arrangements with plenty of weird stop/starts and confusional tempo changes.�
We have to admit, we were a bit skeptical at first because of the band name. It made us think of some cheesy industrial black metal band, all programmed drums and recycled death metal riffing. But this is anything but. You can almost imagine some strange planet, floating in space, wreathed in ice and debris, blood red in the blackness of space, bizarre lights barely visible through the planet's hazy atmosphere, closer investigation though reveals that this is no planet, instead, it's some sort of aeons old machine, assembled by a mysterious ancient race, designed to create an endless series of black holes, which over time, will swallow up everything in the universe, enabling said race to begin anew, creating new worlds from the black void left by the Black Hole Generator. A black and barren universe designed to mirror their ancient home. Black Karma is the soundtrack, futuristic and furious, but grim and frosty and and subtly bizarre.�
Each song a chapter of that epic tale, every chapter a maelstrom of�relentless buzzing riffage, so blown out they're nearly transformed into a furious black ambience. The rhythms careening from light speed blur to loping seasick groove, blast beats underpinning thick shards of jagged distorted grind, occasionally slipping into some strangely catchy hook, before being blown apart into another dense cloud of black buzz. The vocals crawl and slither everywhere, like weird eyeless alien beasts, emitting�guttural moans and weird strangled crooning that sounds a little like a throat singing Popeye. Here and there, the blackness recedes, revealing�stretches of super dreamy melodic black bliss, arpeggiated melancholy melodies hovering over churning metallic swirls, before the Black Hole Generator sputters to life once more, and Black Karma slips right back into staccato bursts of machine gun like rhythms and planet razing streaks of black metal brutality. Awesome.
Finally more blasting primitive blackness from this local black metal duo. After a handful of ultra limited tape and vinyl releases and at least one box of lps lost in the mail (folks who are waiting, we are getting more we swear, thanks for being so patient), we've all been left with a Bone Awl shaped hole in our black souls. Originally released on Nuclear War Now, Not For Our Feet (and the accompanying Undying Glare 7", also reissued and reviewed elsewhere on this list) disappeared before we could get our hands on a single copy, so were were psyched to discover that the band had formed their own label and will start to release their own records, beginning with this 9 song blast of pummeling black thrash.
Not For Our Feet is dripping with atmosphere, it's crusty and dark, it's simple, and straight forward, but chaotic and messy, it's wild and unrestrained, but relentless and impossible concise, most songs are stripped down and blown out, one riff, maybe two, sometimes three, never more, the drums are relentless, usually not blasting, but pounding furiously, and the vocals howling above the din, but the sound is so intense and emotional and so very black. There's definitely a D-beat influence, a lot of the time Bone Awl don't even really sound like black metal, more a white hot pounding noise rock outfit, with buzzing insectoid riffing and some seriously blackened tendencies. Which is part of what makes them so appealing. They go from galloping black thrash, to buzzing blast, to simple cavemen pound often in the same song. And the sound itself is as intense as the music, super hot, in the red, needle pegged, speaker shredding, high end buzz and blast that threatens to blow your speakers even at the lowest of volumes.
As with most Bone Awl stuff, not sure how long this will be around, hopefully longer than usual, but don't risk it, this is some of the most intense and visceral, raw and hateful, brutal and punishing music we've heard in ages, black metal or otherwise. You definitely won't want to be left behind.
All new artwork, cool distressed black and brown sleeve with collaged olde English text cover image, includes a printed insert with all the lyrics.
Originally released with the Not For Our Feet lp in a super limited cloth bag deluxe version that disappeared almost before we even heard about it, Undying Glare might possibly be primitive black metal combo Bone Awl's harshest, heaviest, noisiest, and thus finest moment yet, which is saying something, especially with a band whose limited release history is pretty much nothing but finest moments.
Undying Glare is three tracks, but they all sort of blur together into one glorious white hot burst of blown out black buzz. And when we say blown out, we mean, completely and utterly in the red to the point where these songs are a breath away from collapsing into straight white noise.
Squeals of feedback give way to a blinding deafening blast of hissing, hateful high end buzz, the guitars have become some sort of impossible noise, merely in the shape of riffs, but when the song kicks in those riff shaped chunks of sound are swallowed up by a wave of pure black noise, the drums and cymbals are all sizzling sibilance, just another layer of hiss and buzz, as are the vocals, all three tracks smeared violently into one sprawling black beast.
Pressed on grey vinyl, one sided, super striking cover art, and again, like all Bone Awl stuff, we have no idea how long these will be around or if we'll ever be able to get more...
Bonecloud sure is an evocative name. We can picture a big swirling black cloud cut a swath across the land lifting skeletons out of the ground, emptying graveyards, a sky full of re-animated bones, or some strange otherworldly beast that manifests itself on this plain as some sort of amorphous pile of skulls that can float skyward or crawl along the ground like some bony blob, or a grey cloud that covers a wasted landscape in soot-like dust, a huge billowing fog of ground up bones and vaporized skeletons, some sort of post apocalyptic fallout. All very creepy and haunting. Which pretty much perfectly suits the music of the Irish stoned drone ensemble that does indeed bear the name Bonecloud.
We first heard from these murk mongers on a split with Portland drifters Ghosting. And were instantly blown away. They took the droney drift of all our favorite abstract noise makers, and added a seriously ominous vibe, a hellish halo of Stygian gloom, mixing the usual subterranean shimmer with thick sick slabs of Lustmordian throb and Organumish rumble.
This is a self released double cd-r we got direct from the band and expands on the sound of the split, taking full advantage of the extra space to let their gloomy sonic sprawl as it was meant to. Huge expanses of muddled mire, a thick morass of ambient drift, drenched in a shower of grit and grime, allowed to slither and shift, a haunting glacial epic soundscape of darkness and drone. Like the Taj Mahal Travellers covering the Dead C, a disembodied noise rock, allowed to drift from speaker to speaker, floating above a barren wasteland, covering the Earth in shadow. So fucking awesome.
SUPER LIMITED... of course. Packaged between two thick pieces of cardstock, with a full color image affixed to each, all housed in an oversized plastic sleeve.
Super Roots craziness!! As if to capitalize upon the recent Stateside reissues via Vice of volumes 1 through 8 of their classic Super Roots series, Japan's major exporters of psychedelic, trance-inducing, rhythmic throb the Boredoms have turned on their blinding sonic sun rays and turned out a NEW Super Roots volume, number 9, number 9, number 9... their first in eight years! We just got this import in and it's been blasting in heavy rotation at the store, we're mesmerized.
In the past, the Super Roots series was very much UNLIKE the, um, "regular" albums produced by the Boredoms. For instance, back when they were more of a Buttholesy noise-rock spazzrock outfit, the Super Roots were where their now trademark krauty drone rave moves first seeped into thee higher Bore-consciousness. Now that their output of late has come so much closer to the sounds previously pioneered in the Super Roots series, we were wondering if this new installment would either a) sound like "old" Boredoms or b) introduce some entirely new approach of Bore-music. Well, instead it's c) a lot like recent Boredoms albums Seadrum / House Of Sun and Vision Creation Newsun. In fact, if you've had the chance to see Boredoms (aka Voordoms) lately, this is similar to what you've seen/heard, and the single 40+ minute piece documented here was in fact recorded live in concert on Christmas Eve of 2004. A super-charged minimalist rhythmic symphony built from wordless vocal samples manipulated on Bore-leader Eye Yamantaka's turntable, and the efforts of three hard-working drummers (Yoshimi, ATR, and Yojiro). It drones and churns and builds and bursts and keeps on going and going and going, very choral (it appears that Eye's usual samples are here reproduced and/or augmented by an actual 24 person choir!), each plateau of shining beauty that's reached, each level of energetic ecstasy that's achieved, soon left behind and bettered before it's over... wow. WOW. We hear that they're soon planning on trying to top this with a concert in New York on 7/7/07 featuring 77 drummers! (And our own Andee just might be one of the 77... ) You can't say the Boredoms aren't ambitious, but it's all so totally worshipful of the cosmos at the same time.
Adorned with the usual colorful EYE-artwork, this comes in Japanese oversized jewelcase, with plenty of room for the admittedly thick cd booklet -- 40 pages thick, containing all the musical notation for singing this piece in case your local church choir wants to get together to do a karaoke version.
Oh lord, are we ever in filthy, crusty, demented, depraved, misanthropic, sludge rock heaven! That's right, FINALLY, it's the second collection of 7"s from Sweden's mightiest musical export (well, if you ask us, at least!) THE BRAINBOMBS! Everything we love about these musical miscreants is in full affect, the pummeling trash can percussion, the downtuned fuzz drenched ultra distorted guitars, the bizarre, sort of fey, sort of scary vocals, regaling tales of murder and mayhem, rape and torture, death and destruction, the warbly dented drunken trumpet, all wrapped up into a stumbling, hypnotic, and seriously fucking disturbed package.�
It's like they took their favorite Stooges riff, stole a bunch of instruments from the music store, and set up in the basement of the local highschool, where in between kidnapping and torturing students, they would record these slabs of abject musical horror, each one a single riff, pounded and pummeled into submission, sometimes flecked with bits of slide guitar, or that damaged trumpet, but always dripping and oozing with all manner of pestilence and putrefaction. And we can't get enough.�
Folks who love Bone Awl and Akitsa and other primitive droning black metal outfits, will probably hear lots of that foul blackness all tangled up in the Brainbombs primitive garage stomp, and folks who have bee digging stuff like the Violent Students and Clockcleaner and Shit And Shine and Rusted Shut and other similar noisy bastards absolutely need this!!
Includes the single that came out on Andee's tUMULt label, the most recent Stinking Memory 7" on Anthem, as well as the Wabana Gun Court single, the Ken Rock single as well as the Big Brothel single. Easily some of our favorite BB tracks ever, "Stigma Of The Ripper", "The Grinder", "I Need Speed"... fuck! If only more bands could do so much with so little. Stripped down and blown out, catchy as all get out but still grimy and brutal and very very very fucked up.��
Also included are some rare live tracks, all time BB classics, "Urge To Kill" among them, recorded live in Norway way back in 1993, the sound appropriately distorted and low fidelity, and don't miss the hidden last track, a minute long, post performance Brainbombs sign off, with some demented crowd action, chanting for more...
Essential!
For this latest lp, the Australian brother/sister duo Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood have expanded their ranks a bit (for one of the two tracks here) and it definitely sounds like it. Sprawling and expansive, this limited lp only release on Students Of Decay give the Brothers a chance to spread waaaay out over two sides of vinyl, one song per, each a gorgeous abstract drift, the sort you could imagine going on and on and on and on long after they pushed stop on the tape recorded. For those new to the Sisterhood, the sound falls somewhere between the natural ramblings of Jewelled Antler, the Finnish forest folk of Avarus and Anaksimandros and Kemialliset Ystavat, and the extended ur-drone of groups like Birchville Cat Motel and Vibracathedral Orchestra. And while they do in fact touch on elements of all those sounds, they tend to wander through their own special soundworld, unstructured and alien, drifty and dreamlike.
The A side, with the extended lineup, is all kitchen clatter and abstract drum circle shuffle, bits of guitar here and there, snatches of piano, melodies sometimes, but mostly melodic fragments. It almost sounds like Hototogisu or Sunroof! but instead of amps and guitars, the Brothers just used whatever they found lying around the house, random household debris, junk, whatever. The result is the same sort of transcendental raga like droning tribal drift, but much more unhinged and rhythmic, some sort of primitive sonic ritual.
The flipside finds the Brothers as a duo again, and is another epic, less clattery this time and way more soft focus and ethereal, chimes and delicate drifting melodies, warbling drones, the tape changing speed sloooooowing down and speeding up, it sounds like floating through some sea of alien wind chimes. So lovely.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!! Packaged in cool handscreened sleeve with a printed insert.
It seems like many of the least prolific noisemakers are suddenly releasing tons of material, many of them releasing more in a matter of months than they had in the last few years. That seems to be true of C. Spencer Yeh and his Burning Star Core (that is if you don't count the tons of self released and insanely limited tapes, most of which no one we know ever saw let alone heard), with at least three new releases, al of them pretty dang great.
Released on Ultra Eczema, this BSC finds Yeh abandoning the violin, his usual weapon of choice, instead opting for voice, electronics, tape, synths and 'objects'. The result is a lot different than his usual sound, this is not so drone-y or expansive, instead it's dense and busy and really really weird. Opening up with a squall of grinding crunchy insectoid chirp and stutter, draped over abstract chimes and bells, it sounds like some alien effects unit gone haywire. Not long after slow and simple, sad piano is introduced, and it too is wrapped in strange FX, swirling clouds of shimmery buzz and glitch, swooping slabs of reverb drenched pulse and pound. The record continues on, freaked out and acid fried, vocals are slowed down and chopped up, tangled into all manner of industrial crunch and buzzing squelching glitched out electronics.
Probably the biggest surprise is about halfway through side two when Yeh locks into some weird new wave groove, a simple piano and drums eighties rock break down, off kilter and mildly demented sounding but still weirdly groovy, complete with haunting melodies and fuzzy atmospheric synths.
Pressed on opaque grey vinyl, packaged in a GIGANTIC six panel fold out poster sleeve, one side a dizzying metallic silver and black optical illusion sort of pattern, inside a similar metallic gold and black pattern, but surrounding a creepy bug eyed figure and all manner of acid fried nightmare visions.
ALREADY SOLD OUT AND OUT OF PRINT AT THE LABEL. So act fast...
Here's the long-awaited follow up to Windswept Trees And Houses and Heat & Birds, those being the two previous, and now long out of print, "friends and family" compilations of music and field recordings (two things not mutually exclusive in the methodology of these artists for sure!) from the Jewelled Antler camp. Now that Jewelled Antler isn't the prolific cd-r label it once was (though the various members of the so-called Jewelled Antler Collective are still quite active) the Music Fellowship label has stepped in to release this new disc, as a proper cd by the way, and it's a terrific third in the "series", bringing together the fantastical sounds of three far-flung artists: Claypipe (New Zealand), Pekko Kappi (Finland), and The Blithe Sons (California). It's an "amazed map" indeed that links those people and places, all so magical from the musical standpoint as we're sure most Aquarius customers will concur. NZ/Finland/California, the current psych-folk-drone axis of awesomeness! Several tracks of nature sounds field-recorded by Tony Endless and (former AQ'er) Byram Abbot also appear here, adding some extra ecological, dronological mystery to a disc hardly lacking in such, acting as purely environmental interludes between the rather diverse yet linked-in-spirit works of the three main musical artists. First up are New Zealanders Claypipe, a duo of consisting of Antony Milton (overlord of the PseudoArcana cd-r label) and Clayton Noone (CJA, Armpit, Futurians), whose tracks here range from lo-fi almost indie-pop to droned-out experimentation. Then Pekko Kappi (Lau Nau, Paivansade) invites listeners to a campfire concert wherein he and his trusty horsehair lyre perform a wonderful set of traditional Finnish folk music, for us perhaps the highlight of this disc, itself a highlight on our list. Finally this disc's unofficial hosts, Jewelled Antler's Blithe Sons (Loren Chasse and Glenn Donaldson) wrap things up with their murky yet microscopically detailed, indoor-outdoor mix of lovely song-like drones, drone-like songs. It's the first we've heard from this collaboration since their Arm Of The Starfish cd on Family Vineyard a few years ago and we hope it's not the last.
If only Music Fellowship could also arrange to reissue on cd this disc's two cd-r prequels, which featured the likes of Avarus, Kemialliset Ystavat, Markus, Golden Hotel, Franciscan Hobbies, The Floating Birthday Children, Hala Strana, Thuja, Of, The Blithe Sons & Daughters, Child Readers, Entlang, Silt, and The Billy Crosby's amongst others! And by the way, that also reminds us -- when are all the out-of-print Jewelled Antler "Library" series of 3" cd-rs going to be compiled into a cd box set or something? We're pretty sure lots of folks are dying to get their ears on those...
Well, what do you know? We were expecting some ultra soothing and wistful pop with downy male vocals from the new Sea & Cake album, but instead got it from the new Clientele! This ever level headed UK pop band keep things even more even tempered that usual on their third full length. As God Save The Clientele plays, we watch the needles on our imaginary volume and dynamics meters almost imperceptibly rock gently back'n'forth, and we follow suit. Understatedly charming.
The return of our favorite Medieval, Middle Ages, and plague obsessed ambient atmospheric dronescapers Dark Ages, who just so happens to be a member of Ukrainian black metal Hordes Drudkh and Hate Forest. No buzzing blackness here, instead Dark Ages is a sonic trip through, well, through the Dark Ages. Another Bosch / Breughel style painting on the cover, this time skeletons on horses, pulling a wagon full of skulls, driving through a town square littered with corpses and robed skeletons. The song titles are also appropriately grim: "Ships Full Of Blackened Corpses", "Rats", "Dead Desolate Villages", "The Doors With Scarlet Crosses" and of course "Black Death".
The sound this time around is even darker and scarier. This is ambient music, sure, but it's also a sonic travelogue, a weary wander through the plague ravaged villages of Middle Europe. The sky is choked with black smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Corpses lay stacked like firewood. Dead children litter the ground like leaves fallen from trees. The few survivors, walk zombie like, an endless death march with no destination other than the grave.
The music is sounds JUST LIKE THAT. It's totally evocative and ultra creepy. Thick washes of keyboard drones, chiming minor key melodies repeated mantra like, a deep churning dark ambience underpinning the melancholy ambience, stabs of atonal harpsichord add jagged shards of horror here and there. Long stretches of super dramatic cinematic shimmer definitely recall Goblin and Zombi, some tracks are super murky minimal rumbles, with the melodies muted and buried under a thick crumbling wash of mumbled whirs and swirling low end, others are majestic and grand, fanfares for the dead and dying. They're all quite grim, a bit black, super intense, and surprisingly emotional.
Sonically, Dark Ages almost sounds like a super dismal, way blacker Dead Can Dance, or like Tangerine Dream or Popol Vuh covering Skepticism. Or even like some long lost Jacula album.
So gorgeously dark and creepy. Recommended!
We remember AQ pal John Gossard, from doom-mongers Asunder and defunct SF black metallers Weakling, talking about one of his favorite pastimes,�black metal tennis! It was tough to discern exactly what was involved, but we do know it included a couple rackets, LOTS of wine, and typically took place in the middle of the night. We can only assume, after some black metal tennis, those guys would unwind with some dark yoga, and we're not even gonna guess what that might entail, but judging from this disc from Northwestern drone psych fuzz groove ensemble Dark Yoga,�it most likely included an entire pharmacy of drugs, a suitcase full of FX, and amps and guitars galore.
So yep, another winner from the Yarnlazer label (Acre, Valet, Ghosting, Bonecloud), a live recording from 20006 featuring a whole posse of�Portland noisemakers including�Yarnlazer head honcho Honey Owens (who also records as Valet). Dark Yoga is a sprawling psychedelic krautrock free fuzz jam,�simple throbbing basslines,�slowed down vocals, shimmering clouds of buzzing effects and swirling disembodied guitar fuzz,�blown out guitar leads, simple tribal drumming, propulsive and motorik, with long stretches of tinkling effervescence and spaced out ambience. The sound is super heavy on the Can, even down to some of the very (infrequent) Damo like vocals. Or imagine�No Neck Blues Band and Sunburned Hand Of The Man in full on psych jam mode, less tribal and clattery and more druggy and space-y and languidly rocking. There are some groovy stretches of fuzzy funk too, like some tarpit demonic dance jams, but even those parts are dense with fuzzy murk and spacepsych swirl.�
Packaged in cool hand screened sleeves, so heavy with paint and intense smelling, that all you really need is to toss the sleeve into a paper bag while you're listening and huff your way into the perfect Dark Yoga mind space. Also contains a little full color metallic insert.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!!
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Finally reissued on cd last year were these three albums by Miles Davis' funky ex-wife, who should be famous in her own right for the tough, heavy duty '70s funk she waxed on those records. Now they're available, briefly, as LPs once again, but we've only got a couple of each and don't think we'll be able to get more (they're limited or something), so you'd better hurry on down if you want to get down with Betty on vinyl.
Her second album, "They Say I'm Different", continued Betty's Afrodelic party, with guests Buddy Miles and others, and made the list of "100 Records That Set The World On Fire" in The Wire magazine a few years back. And it features a song specifically about ex-husband Miles, "He Was A Big Freak"!
For all aficionados of the Funk, here's cause for celebration! The long-awaited cd reissues of these early '70s albums by Betty Davis, ex-wife of Miles (famously, the subject "They Say I'm Different"'s second track, "He Was A Big Freak")! Betty belts out her lowdown lyrics over some super heavy funk grooves, kinda like a rawer version of Lyn Collins backed not by the JBs but by the swampier P-Funk band. Betty doesn't hold back and her band does their best to match her attitude. Both records (her third, "Nasty Girl", still awaits reissue but should soon be making the scene) are the quote unquote bomb. The self-titled one is her 1973 debut, and features jams like "If I'm In Luck I Might Get Picked Up" and "Game Is My Middle Name". Larry Graham's the bassist, and Neal Schon (!) appears on guitar. The follow-up, "They Say I'm Different", continued Betty's Afrodelic party, with guests Buddy Miles and others, and made the list of "100 Records That Set The World On Fire" in The Wire magazine a few years back. Tough, sexy funk classics unearthed, don't miss 'em!
Yet another in an almost comically long line of Wolf Eyes related project (do these guys do anything but make noise all the time?!) this one is a duo made up of Nate Young of Wolf Eyes and his similarly synth obsessed pal Steve Kenney of Werewolves, who for Demons, didn't so much as play and compose and rehearse and perform, as just let their wonky damaged malfunctioning synthesizers play themselves and then capture the results. And to be honest, it's a bit hard for us to believe this record was mostly generated by chance, it's too composed sounding, too pretty, too good actually.
Two gorgeous extended lowendscapes, dark and ominous, muted and percussive, looped and cyclical sounding, lots of bassy thrum, pulsing and creeping, streaked with high end shimmer and strange alien effects. Very dramatic and cinematic, a whirring dark ambience with all sorts of subtle melody and tonal color. The B side is similar, but shifts into the upper register, birdlike trills, swooping sweeping feedback, chimes and bells all smeared into a dreamy high end drift, very alien and otherworldly but surprisingly dreamy and lovely.
Super striking naked lady / horned hairy beast / desolate mountainscape cover art too!
We've been trying to track down some Devillock for ages, and while we've yet managed to get any cds, we have finally gotten a batch of this super limited lp. The solo ambient drone project of Tone Filth label head honcho Justin Chris Meyers (who also performs as Panther Skull), Devillock is a lot more dreamy and blissful than the name might lead you to believe.
Deep, dark distant sonic clouds rolling in at a snail's pace, tones are stretched out into long sinewy smears, bits of glitch and electronic skitter, bob along like detritus floating in some black stream. Everything enveloped in warm billowy buzz, eventually all tangled up with stuttering streaks of upper register skree, while in the background, the constant ebb and flow of cavernous churning industrial rumbles.
The flip side is similar, but if anything, even more abstract and minimal, sounding almost like a black ambient Niblock, all looooooooong tones, subtly shifting overtones, some super creepy slowed down monkey like growls and guttural vocalizations, and little chunks of gritty electronic static and muted buzzing interference. Haunting and serene, yet subtly fierce and intense.
Packaged in super subtle, hand painted chipboard sleeves, every one different, the front adorned with a super abstract bit of Pollock-y paint, LIMITED TO 333 COPIES, each copy hand numbered.
We love weirdo black ambience almost as much as we love weirdo metal. So when a member of one of our favorite damaged fucked up black metal bands, strikes out on his own and spits out a completely cracked ambient drone record, that veers wildy from fierce and freaked drug drenched delirium to gorgeous blown out bliss, we hardly need to tell you that we are ALL OVER IT.�
This particular slab of cracked sonic chaos comes courtesy of Nattramn, vocalist for Swedish doomic suicidal black metallers Silencer, most notable perhaps for Nattramn's outrageously over the top falsetto shrieks. Here, the vocals aren't so much the focal point, although there are plenty, and while they may not be as hysterical and harsh, they are just as bizarre. In fact this whole record is pretty strange, and if you're a fan of labelmates Stalaggh, this could easily function as Stalaggh's dreamier dronier, equally demented cousin.�
The disc begins with a big smear of SUNN-y downtuned guitar crawl and�some dizzying warped carnivalesque warble before morphing into a simple plodding throb. Gradually, that throb transforms into an Autechre meets Amon Tobin skitter, albeit much filthier and more industrial sounding. Scuzzy and crusty and grinding, all beneath a cloud of buzzed out crumbling synths, and hoarse raspy vocalizing. The next track is almost the polar opposite, a�dreamy, wispy ambient drift, minor key melodies and strange�blown out whirls of frosty whir and strange, spacious, almost majestic sounding drones. Later�moaning mysterious chantlike vocals are woven into a warm murmury backdrop, with muted percussion, while over the top a distorted voice intones all manner of strange prophecy. Not soon after the record shifts gear again and becomes a eerie�neo classical slab of militaristic folk industrial, all epic and grandiose, almost like the sound from some old newsreel footage, but much more haunting and damaged sounding, a looped march, beneath thick swells of sound and that voice again, howling out invective, the various notes and chordal shimmer becoming more and more dissonant, eventually fading into a�grinding low end drone buzz, that hovers beneath the terrified sounds of a weeping child, and a dungeon's worth of mournful wails and creepy clatter, all wrapped in thick reverb, making it feel like wandering through some ancient keep, wreathed in fog.
As we reach the halfway point, the sound shifts again, this time an inadvertent homage to the glistening glimmer of Tim�Hecker and Philip Jeck, those beautiful sounds quickly sucked into a black void, a swirling morass of dark sound and low tones, and that voice again, reverbed and distorted, the whole thing sounding like a low end Whitehouse spun lazily at 8rpm, when all of a sudden, proceedings are shockingly disrupted by a super distorted techno pulse, some sort of ultra aggro industrial pound, with shouted sloganeering and more buzzing synths,�before reverting to a super distorted, glitchy, crumbly low end glacial rumble, a synth drenched SUNNO))) style crawl with bits of vocal fragments and buzzing streaks of groan and grind, until the whole thing becomes a dense roiling cloud of black ambience.
And it's still not over. Gorgeous washed out clouds of�gorgeous gauzy atmospheric shimmer drift in, all sepia toned and dreamlike, a long expanse of lazy blurred soft focus bliss, left to sort of float weightless before being overtaken by a�confusional collage of overlapping vocal snippets and out of tune, distorted piano, eventually building into a dense squall of swirling spinning sounds.
The finally, the�epic final track, more black ambience, rife with mysterious sound samples, more disembodied vocals, distant rumbles, weird electronic FX, the whole thing building to a massive damaged doom drone, with epic sheets of keening feedback and thick washes of distorted guitar and churning industrial whir, while over the top, the most demented, damaged, drug addled vocalizing yet, like an inmate in an insane asylum ranting and raving incoherently, the sort of vocals that most certainly wouldn't be at all out of place on one of the Stalaggh records.
A seriously damaged and ultra fucked up sonic trip, as beautiful as it is baffling. In other words, AWESOME.�
Good ol' Dinosaur Jr.! Looks like Dinosaur Jr.! Sounds like Dinosaur Jr.! Yes, regardless of its title the band's first studio album in ten years -- and first with one Mr. Lou Barlow who left the band back in '89 -- doesn't venture far from their trademark sound of old. In fact, we might even attest to it being on par with any one of their most beloved records. Lofty praise, innit? File under: perfect-driving-in-car-record!
Perhaps taking a cue from a classic Mr. Show sketch, despite the infamous animosity amongst band members in the past, Lou, J and Murph use that tension to sing! Indeed they don't necessarily set their differences aside, but instead put that palpable friction to good use, coming together once more to rock as only they can! Bent and broken guitar chords butt into J's unmistakable sodden whimper vocals. Loud, cacophonous rough-housing meet some of the sweetest romantic sentiments often within the same song. Awwwww! Few other bands can alternately snuggle and sock you in the gut... and have you enjoy it. Just check out the lone song that was co-written by Mascis and Barlow (Mascis wrote the other ten). Damn good. Don't know if the guys like each other any more than they used to, but we sure have a soft spot for 'em. Heck, they even brought back their signature colors -- fuchsia and lime!
After so many disappointing reunion records recently (like, say, The Stooges) it's quite something that this one isn't just not-disappointing, but SO GREAT. Wow.
The long awaited folk record from Ukrainian black metal gods Drudkh. And it's amazing! But before we get into it, we have always wondered, what it is exactly with black metal and folk? Why does a record, that to the untrained ear, sounds like Renaissance Faire music, get lauded as still being 'grim'? And why do black metallers, one of the seemingly most close minded group of music fans in the world, deem certain sorts of folk music worthy of their adoration, when they have utter disdain for all other musicks that are not grim or true? And what makes a certain folk music grim or true?
Who really know, and who really cares. What we do know is that Songs Of Grief And Solitude is gorgeous and mournful, melodic and mysterious, and you would never know this was the work of one of our favorite buzzing black hordes!
Based on Ukrainian legends, traditional songs and fairy tales, Songs Of Grief And Solitude is a gorgeous folk record. Acoustic guitars and flutes, woven deftly into super moving emotional arrangements. VERY reminiscent of Comus, the Incredible String Band, and similar minded seventies folkies, haunting and minor key, dark and dreamy, unlikely melodies and unusual arrangements help avoid the usual Renn Faire vibe, although when the flutes join in, it's a bit difficult to deny. But the majority of the record is quite dark, very cinematic, moody and haunting, sounding like it could very well be the work of any number of modern day freak folk outfits, but with the added weight of the band's black background giving the music more musical heft. Each song begins with the sound of a crackling campfire or chirping crickets or tolling bells or the whir of night time nature, as if each of these songs was a tale being related around a campfire, or told to friends in the field. Normally we would suggest that maybe Drudkh fans would not necessarily dig this, but pursuant to the above black metal/folk discussion, and the fact that all the Drudkh fans we know LOVE this record, we'd have to say it's pretty damn essential. But it should also be essential listening for all the modern free folk freaks as well. Might be their black metal gateway record (even though there is NO black metal here). Songs Of Grief And Solitude would fit perfectly between your Comus record and your Vetiver record, next to your Brightblack Morning Light and Feathers records. Check it out. All hail Drudkh!
Their indubitably stonery name Earthless makes sense right away, when you consider how much the intro to the first track, "Godspeed", sounds like a spaceship taking off. Then the riffs kick in, aggressively establishing a higher orbit from whence their guitarist can launch further into space, continuing onward and upward into the "cosmic sky" to free minds, asses, whathaveyou.
Rhythms From A Cosmic Sky (sounds like an Uli Jon Roth album title!) is the second album from San Diego's heaviest and most mindblowing instrumental psych guitar-centric power trio, featuring Hot Snakes drummer Mario Rubalcaba, bassist Mike Eginton, and most crucially, guitarist Isaiah Mitchell. They're known for the eternal jamming of their live shows, Isaiah soloing endlessly (like, for a whole hour!) and seemingly effortlessly, channelling the spirits of guitar heroes past like Jimi Hendrix and Randy Holden. Trower, Roth, West, Marino, Iommi too. Dude's such a great guitarist!!! And the rhythm section here backs him up oh-so-solidly.
As with their previous record, you get two "side-long" pieces, starting with the five-part "Godspeed", nearly 21 minutes that turn up the Breadfan and get really intensely Metallica'd after some prog-jazz organ flourishes, with galloping chug awesomeness in sorta Champsy vein (and it's Tim Green from the Fucking Champs guesting on organ on this track, he recorded this album at his Louder Studios). Yeah it gets remarkably metal, then swings back to the Hendrix/Holden style wailing.
If all this too muchness ain't enough, then there's another, even slightly longer track following, "Sonic Prayer", in which Earthless continue to outdo all yer Hendrix, Hawkwind, Flower Travellin' Band, psych guitar freakout fantasies. And heavy as it all is, it's also super smooth sailing. Perhaps imagine a jammier Mammatus, or a more disciplined Acid Mothers Temple, or a more expansive Stinking Lizaveta...
Also, we've mentioned before that fans of the Groundhogs should like this band, and what do we find here? As a special cd-only bonus, there's an extra 4 minutes 36 seconds of Earthless covering "Cherry Red" from the Groundhogs' masterpiece of prog-blues heaviness, 1971's Split. Of course they do it perfectly, with spot-on vocals, even!
Their new label Tee Pee has done this up right, putting the cd in mini-lp sleeve gatefold packaging, with suitable hippy-skull artwork inside, very convincingly like it's an Akarma label reissue of some lost treasure from long ago, kinda like it sounds.
Electrelane have always been about momentum. Their songs have an anthemic quality and a building tension to them that always leads to an intensely exhilarating experience. That momentum seems to be seriously peaking right about now. No Shouts, No Calls is the sound of a band totally coming into their own. We totally dug their past records but this is the one that really gets us, our love affair with Electrelane suddenly seems to be in full bloom. Electrelane revisit some of the same sonic qualities that made Stereolab so irresistible for a while, but with a more revved up engine under the hood, they're a band that's not afraid to go full throttle. This is one of those records that's pretty much a unanimous favorite here at AQ. Even Andee who claims to not dig this stuff (and is admittedly dancefloor-phobic) can't help but shake some of his seldom seen fine moves every time this is blasting from our speakers (Andee denies everything). Vocal melodies soar and swirl, organs are used to rocking perfection, and that aforementioned momentum which reels you in from the get go and will not let you go, dragging you in deeper and deeper as the album plays out. This is truly a record that the always over zealous UK press should be drooling over right now, cause we sure are!
We all agree here at AQ that this is a really amazing disc. We also all agree that it's tough to describe! Which is maybe why we didn't manage to review it right when it first appeared a few months back. But now we'll try, since we like it so much and want you know about it. Simply put (which is impossible), Farmacia from Argentina straddle the line between minimal dance music and rhythmic noise. Crucial Sky In The Land Of Premonitions At Lorenzo's Weekend (there, doesn't that title tell you all you need to know? no? uh, yeah, you're right) is the work of a trio who are making their OWN original music first and foremost, not something we hear everyday. There's an experimental, home-brewed, kit-bashed approach here that possesses some of the charming weirdness of Argentine AQ faves Reynols without sounding like them... much more user-friendly, these guys! It's a sort of playful industrial/electro music, part Throbbing Gristle, part Aphex Twin, part Mouse On Mars, part Ratatat. One track even reminds us of Itavayla, or Trans Am. There's bopping abstract noises, wordless vocals, distortion and drone and disco-friendly beats. Surprisingly beautiful, beautifully surprising. The three members are credited with the use of plenty of analog synths, samplers, computers... an array of ethnic flutes... eggs, noises, and "atmospheric crucial voices"... y'know, the usual stuff. And the results are, as we said, tough to describe. But we figure it's got a wide appeal, to fans of Kraftwerk and Cluster back in the '70s... to fans of Lindstrom yesterday. Totally recommended.
Yes that's right, Flied not Fried Egg. Uh, 'cause they're Japanese. Think about it. Hey, it's their joke. Anyway, this one's for all you '70s heaviness lovin' proto-metal fans, it's something that we got in along with the Flower Travellin' Band reissues we listed last time. Goodbye is Flied Egg's second of two albums (both '72, and both on the famed Vertigo label, best known as the home of Black Sabbath). We also intend to review their first one, with the marvelous title of Dr. Siegel's Fried Egg Shooting Machine, which as you might guess is some pretty wild acid psych. We decided to list Goodbye first, though, just 'cause we can simply say it's a no-brainer for Blue Cheer fans.
Basically, this album is distinctly (even on cd) split between two sides, the first half recorded live, possibly at their farewell concert, we'd guess from the title. This in-concert portion is the heaviest, it's all bad ass fuzzed out blooze rawk swagger that makes us think Blue Cheer, Blue Cheer, Blue Cheer! (Also Grand Funk/Cactus/Mountain.) Hear 'em rile up a cheering crowd with these party-pleasers: "Leave Me Woman", "Rolling Down The Broadway" (a stompin' composition that appears in a studio version on their debut), Josea/King's "Rock Me Baby", and the twelve-minute-plus "Five More Pennies", which includes a drum solo in addition to all the acid guitar excess. Following all that, the studio half of the album gets a bit more proggy and wigged out (ending with a multi-part piece entitled "521 Seconds Schizophrenic Symphony"!) while also containing a couple of mellower melodic numbers, the sad and gentle "Out To Sea" and "Goodbye My Friends".
Members of Flied Egg also did time in some other hard rockin' underground Japanese psych acts whose reissues we've previously reviewed, including Strawberry Path and Brush!?... if you dig those, or the likes of FTB, Blues Creation, Speed Glue & Shinki, or Too Much, then Flied Egg is for you too.
We've yet to get our hands on any releases by the black ambient band Hunok to list and review, but ever since we heard them on a split with AQ faves, Hungarian black metal outfit Marblebog, we have been on a quest! And while this is not in fact Hunok, it is a band featuring folks from Hunok, and the sound is a similarly creepy and haunting ambient weirdness. Foldalatti Ulatulat are from Hungary and have a very distinct and unique take on ambient music. Beginning with some strange disembodied vocals and radio static, the band soon settles into some seriously scary soundtrack music, sounding a bit like an extra creepy, slowed down Peter And The Wolf at times, playful a little, but very ominous, tons of space, low end drones and rumbles, beneath dark swells and strange minor key melodies, mysterious pulses and thick waves of crumbling whir. Very cinematic, like the part in the horror movie when you first enter the abandoned house, and you're slowly creeping up the stairs, the shadows flickering making you think someone is watching... It's all very intense and dramatic and pretty fucking great. Now we just have to track down some Hunok for the store...
There are certain key words that persistently spring up whenever the Canadian indie band Frog Eyes is mentioned or heard -- distraught, angstful, melodramatic, cathartic, cryptic. With album number four Tears Of The Valedictorian from Casey Mercer and co., those words continue to fit like a glove.
To be frank, many folks around here have found Frog Eyes' music to be somewhat impenetrable and/or unapproachable, but there are also some others who'll encourage a second listen or more. Sure Mercer's vocal delivery can be an immediate turn-on or turn-off for most people, but once the initial shock settles down you just may discover Frog Eyes' other affecting facets softening the affected blow of the vocals. Over the course of his four albums, Mercer's compositions have grown increasingly lushly crafted and his incisive lyrics more poetic. Yet the Frog Eyes overall impression still effectively strike a nerve with its raw open-wound quality.
We've long been entranced by the mystical world of Philadelphia's Fursaxa. With her latest offering she dives even deeper into her mesmerizing world of vibrating tones and otherworldly vocals, which sometimes remind us of Nico performing a seance in her secret garden. While recent outings by the likes of Grouper and Valet have been making waves around these parts with their dreamlike swirls of vocal delay and reverb magic, it's so nice to hear new music from someone who helped spawn this recent movement of hazy psychedelic drone-folk. But what makes Fursaxa always stand out is that it's not just her voice and effects which demand your attention but the entrancing instrumentation as well, that pulls you into her irresistible spell.
5:55 is one of those chance musical meetings that end up sounding just oh so perfect. With music written and performed by Air, Jarvis Cocker penning the lyrics, Nigel Godrich (Radiohead) twisting the knobs and helping create a gorgeously warm and spacey atmosphere, Charlotte Gainsbourg brings all these elements together with her effortlessly beautiful voice, as dreamy as it is breezy. Having spent much of her life struggling to get out from the long shadow cast by her legendary father (Serge) and mother (Jane Birkin) her recent streak of great acting (The Science Of Sleep, Happily Ever After, Nuovomondo, etc.) and this, her most assured and rewarding recording to date, have helped her come into her own. While she sings primarily in English, there is a sole French track that is a soft melty treat that recalls the musical elegance and seduction of her parents' generation. An extra treat for Air fans of course as this plays out like a great Air record, which just so happens to feature Charlotte on vocals throughout. Finally available domestically at a much lower price then the sky high import and with some pretty great bonus tracks to boot. Very nice!
Another flood of new tapes, all black and very mysterious, this one from the strangely named Geheimnis. Das Negras Montanhas begins with long drawn out drones and monk like chants before the band launches into its ultra lo-fi black metal buzz. The drums way down in the mix, never blasting really, just sort of pounding away, the guitars way up front, cycling through fuzzy black riffs, very hypnotic, the vocals buried in the mix, a sort of rumbling grumbling gurgle, the strangest part of this tape are the non-metal interludes, fading in and our fairly abruptly, the chanting, the sound of surf crashing, winds and insects, often fading out after only a few seconds, sometimes going on for minutes, eventually the black buzz returns, fading in and lurching into action, another midtempo lope through droning black forests and wide open expanses of bleak black soundscapes. The sound is hissy and lo-fi, but very motorik, sometimes almost sounding like a black metal Circle. Riffs repeating over and over, occasionally slipping into some strange upper register filigree before returning to its glorious black trudge.
With a name like Ghash, we kind of expected some sort of old school crusty punk, but this is some seriously unhinged and hateful buzzing blackness. Beginning with a weird ambient dronescape, complete with guttural growls and anguished wails, the band quickly stumbles into some of the strangest midtempo black metal we've heard in a while. Minus the drums, we'd be in serious Abruptum territory, simple riffs, repeated over and over, hovering in swirling fields of black ambience, with completely fucked up, reverb drenched, demented vocals, the sound is so abject and miserable, mournful and hopeless. The ultimate depressive suicidal blackness, but the drums... the drums change everything. Super simple and rigid, no fills, hardly any cymbals, just a never wavering machinelike midtempo beat. It's so relentless it sounds like it must be programmed, and the riffs are locked in perfectly with the drums, making it sound like this black buzz machine. A neverending loop of riff and drum beat, while over the top those vocals wail and howl, so doused in effects they sound like strange animals howling at the moon. Completely bizarre but totally mesmerizing. AWESOME.
