Another gorgeous missive from GHQ, an outfit featuring Marcia from Hototogisu and Double Leopards and Pete from the Magik Markers and Wooden Wand, who combine drone-y noise with raga-like buzz, and never more perfectly than on Crystal Healing. Beginning with some swooshing backwards ambience, muted guitar and what sounds like harmonica, very dreamy and pretty, the record quickly settles into a haunting disembodied Appalachia, clouds of insect buzz and distant chantlike vocals woven into a lush backdrop for simple mournful steel string guitar, very dark, very wistful, gets a bit aggro toward the end but without losing any of it's drama or emotion. Imagine Jack Rose's Mr. Hyde and you'll get an idea. The rest of the record wanders from similarly dark acoustic dronefolk to wide open expanses of raga like drift, the former even introduces some actual vocals, an almost atonal stoned country drawl hovering over seasick fiddle and lazy strum, while the latter goes from dense swirls of guitar crumble and siren like melodies (sounding quite a bit like Vibracathedral or Sunroof!), to Jandekian sprawl, with distorted vocals, caveman percussion, detuned guitars all wrapped in plenty of grind and rumble and buzz, to the record's epic final track, a lengthy blissed out new age-y drift, a swirl of weightless melodies and long drawn out buzz.
LIMITED TO 855 COPIES! Pressed on ultra thick vinyl, and housed in a super heavy gatefold sleeve (hand numbered). While they last, the first 212 copies come with a bonus cd, 2 tracks, about 13 minutes, featuring more atonal Appalachia, raga-buzz, drifty drone and haunting vocals. The perfect coda to the record's expansive rambling drift. Once those are gone, they are GONE, and you'll receive the normal lp version.
What a pleasant surprise. It's not at all rare to get a new record from a gentle folky singer songwriter these days, but what is rare is when one creates music this immediately pleasing and soft on the ears. With a fragile and intimate vibe, this album has the same kind of charm that made us fall in love with Jolie Holland when we first heard her. With labelmates Norfolk & Western on board as her backing band, Gibson and Co. utilize saw, vibraphones, mandolin and banjo, creating the perfect sonic moments. Gibson's enticing voice makes us think of an even dreamier Karen Dalton or a more rustic Hanne Hukkelberg. While Hush is best known as the Portland label that first put out Decemberists records, this gem by Laura Gibson is the new jewel in their crown we think!!
NEW NICK CAVE!!!! NEW NICK CAVE!!!! NEW NICK CAVE!!!! And for any fan of The Birthday Party, Bad Seeds, or anything else Mr. Cave has released in his vast and varied career, you will not be disappointed by this, the first release from GRINDERMAN!!!!
For this new project Cave has taken a turn towards caustically energetic. This record is frenetic and convulsive, reminding us a bit of The Birthday Party combined with the refinement of The Bad Seeds. The songcraft is definitely up to snuff with Cave's entire oeuvre, but what makes this album exciting is the fact that Cave has closed the lid on his piano (an instrument which has been his main writing tool throughout his career), and picked up the Stratocaster! The resulting sound is noisy and bombastic. The guitar lines are as hooky as they are interesting, and at points are actually trippy as hell. Phasers and wahs aplently. The other element that sets this album apart are the droney loops created by Warren Ellis, the best example of which is heard on "When my Love Comes Down" which starts with a scraping violin loop that remains throughout the entire swampy shuffle. That's not to say there aren't tender moments on this record. "Man in the Moon" for instance is a beautiful Fender Rhodes ballad, a sad little musical picture for sure.
All and all, this record is awesome. If you are an avid Nick Cave fan, as we are, you will love this record. Cave's lyrical content is consistent with most of his work...dark and sexual and greasy and smart. The sound of this record is also vaguely psychedelic, which is an interesting development that seems to spring mostly from the fact that Cave's guitar tone is fuzzed out and heavily effected... SO RULING!
We made the debut full length from this Bay Area one woman dream drone outfit Record of the Week a while back, and ever since, have been waiting patiently for another slab of her beautifully dense ghostlike soundscapes. Since then, it seems like any one with a microphone and a delay pedal has decided to make some atmospheric vocal based drone record. And while some of those have indeed been quite good, few can come close to the utter abstract beauty of Liz Harris and her Grouper project.
When describing Grouper, the most mentioned comparisons seem to be Arvo Part and Morton Feldman, Part no doubt because of the vocal/choral aspect, and Feldman because this is definitely a sort of dreamlike minimalism, but Grouper is definitey something else entirely. A murky dreamworld of shimmering guitar and indistinct voices, swirling clouds of smeared melody, drifting whirls of warm thick delay, and dense layers of mumbly reverb. It's the sonic equivalent of wandering through some ghost town, almost everything obscured by thick fog, the streetlights, like distant lightning bugs, warm orange glows, staining the fog like a child's fingerpaints, even sound can barely travel so you exist sonically in a tiny muffled and muted cocoon, like listening to the world around you with ears full of wet cotton. Drifting disembodied vocals drenched in thick dubby FX are spread out paper thin into nearly transparent sheets of gauzy whir, like a chorale of ghosts, singing in some vast underground cavern. Within all of this murk and fog, lurk heartbreaking melodies, perfect little melancholy pop songs, but almost completely obscured from view, so instead of hearing songs, it's like barely remembering a little melody, or getting a tune stuck in your head only to have it fly away moments later, and struggling to remember just how that song went. A strangely emotional sonic trigger for lost memories, and indescribable landscapes, amorphous sounds, and a world both familar and completely alien.
Unlike her freenoise / dronerock / whatever contemporaries, who are happy to just make a big loud sound, or push a few buttons and start a low rumbling drone, with Grouper, it's more like the songs started out as proper songs, verses, choruses, sweet little melodies, gentle lilting vocals, but those songs were left in a corner, and allowed to get dusty, then set outside where they leaned for weeks, propped up against the side of the house, getting rained on, dappled with morning dew, they began to rust, and decay, weeds grew up around them, small animals made nests in them. Eventually, they were collected, and placed in a dusty old wagon, where they spent the majority of the journey, getting bumped and jostled, pieces breaking off, bits smearing into other bits, becoming less and less obviously songs, and more like the decayed husks of songs, still beautiful, and lovely in their own way, but lonely, and forgotten, until one day, they were all gathered up and placed in order, dusted off, polished up until they glow with some dim inner light, and thus they become Wide, and we close our eyes and listen...
Pretty much every Hala Strana release has been a unanimous AQ favorite, most finding their way on to many of our year end top ten lists, and this new one looks to follow suit. Hala Strana is the work of Steven R. Smith, who many of you might recognize as a member of AQ faves Thuja as well as from a handful of solo records that have been heaped with praise on this here very list. Hala Strana is a vehicle for Smith to explore, cover, rework and reinterpret Eastern European folk music. Each record contains a handful of cover songs, some straight, some completely reinvented, and originals informed by Smith's love of that musical tradition.
The originals on Heave The Gambrel Roof are dark and drone-y, plenty of steel string buzz, all stretched out into moody psychedelic free folk drone drift divinity. Subtle melodies, simple strumming, over lush backdrops of shimmery ambience, woven together from all manner of traditional and homemade instruments. A dark moody Appalachia with an Eastern sensibility, folky for sure, but with a definite raga component. One in particular, "Marl", introduces drums and sounds almost like country rock, albeit with a decidedly lo-fi production and a distinctively un-poppy vibe, but it's propulsive with mandolin and acoustic guitars, simple shuffling drumming, moaning distant ambience, it's maybe the most out of place song on the record, but it's a testament to Smith's skill that somehow it fits just fine amidst all the drone and buzz and drift.
The covers here, of which there are a handful, Smith makes his own, gorgeous bits of traditional strummy folk become mesmerizing and hypnotic, figures and melodies looped and repeated, sympathetic notes allowed to buzz and wash into one another. A few of the covers sound pretty straight, with just a tiny bit more buzz or drone, but a few are completely transformed, becoming extended atmospheric dreamscapes, like on "Wedding Of The Blind" which sounds like seventies Japanese psych drone ensemble Taj Mahal Travellers jamming with Jack Rose. Absolutely gorgeous.
While they last, we have the super limited deluxe version that comes wrapped in black felt, packaged alongside a thick piece of LP sized wood, with the cover art and the liner notes silkscreened directly onto the wood (and it smells amazing too, fresh wood, all foresty and outdoorsy). LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!! Each one is hand numbered with the number hand carved / branded into the wood! Once these are gone, we will have the less expensive regular vinyl version, which is probably a good thing as we imagine these will go pretty damn quick.
Brand new record from SF weirdos Hans Grusel's Krankenkabinet, who according to most reliable sources include members of SF underground rock institution Caroliner Rainbow. Which makes sense when you see them live. Caroliner would perform amidst wild hand made cardboard and foam landscapes, whereas Hans Grusel perform with huge wooden houses on their heads, like a suburban Residents.
This latest disc is a brain melting chunk of avant what-the-fuck dada-esque soundscaping, pulsing underwater rhythms, lots of kitcheny clatter (sounding at times like a pots and pans This Heat), dolphin sounds processed into creeped out soundscapes, bits of shouting and wheezing music boxes, tapespeed warble and confusional stretches of atonal sonic collage. Just a synapse frying blast of gurgle and grind and hiss and drone and crunch and creak, like someone dosed Nurse With Wound and let Stapleton and company wander in some abandoned music shop armed with hammers, microcassette recorders and huge wooden houses to wear on their heads. Weird and wonderfully damaged.
It's not so much like staring into a funhouse mirror, it's more like bashing your head against it over and over and over until it shatters and you can finally see and hear exactly what strange things exist on the other side.
Pressed on thick clear vinyl and housed in a HUGE 6 panel fold out poster sleeve, one side adorned with angry anthropomorphic houses, the inside, those same houses rendered in full color, given bodies, and allowed to roam and misbehave in an eyepopping, bad trip, small town landscape!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
Hatred is another Wolf Eyes side project, this time, it's Nate Young of Wolf Eyes along with his special lady Alivia Zyvich, and if this record is any indication, the Young/Zyvich household must be one
The disc begins with what sounds like some ultra lo-fi Ryoji Ikeda style minimalism, with piercing high end tones and barely audible low end pulses, all woven into mysterious minimal harmonies and slowly shifting microscopic textures, before launching into a dense loopscape of what sounds like snatches of other songs, short sharp samples, chopped and sped up, distorted and bathed in effects, transformed into a glitchy hiccuping hiss-scape peppered with little bursts of sizzling percussion. But most of the record is taken up by a looooooong burbling swampy low end smear of sound, extended stretches of squelchy keyboard electronic grit and looped fuzz, with haunting distant bells shimmering way in the background. It sounds a bit like Italian creep-prog outfit Goblin being held underwater in the bathtub, or a super damaged noise rock record on Kompakt. Awesome.
Packaged in a MASSIVE fold out, thick paper poster, the outside adorned with black and orange monster faces, snarling and grimacing in a field of sloppy cross hatching and chicken scratch, inside, and eyeball melting monster head rendered in that sort of 3D without the glasses green and red, that moves every time you look at it and makes your eyes ACHE!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! Already out of print and sold out at the label so these are the last copies ever...
The third album in the exciting collaboration between electronic wizard Kieren Hebden (Four Tet, Fridge) and free jazz and beyond living legend drummer Steve Reid who over the years has manned the kit for everyone from Sun Ra, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, Martha & The Vandellas and Fela Kuti. Their first two collaborations together (The Exchange Sessions) were marked with great extended pieces that perfectly blended electronics and free jazz into one seamless whole. Tongues offers a more song based album, with shorter tracks but just as much vibrancy and color, the two of them constantly bouncing sounds and ideas off of each other. These two gifted musicians from two different generations have tapped into something so exciting together. Sure to stand the test of time, Tongues is truly the work of two people dedicated to the endless search for new sounds and free expression. So good!
Originally for sale as a tour only release, this little chunk of ear drum punishing goodness is finally available to the noise starved masses.�Most AQ customers should be pretty familiar with Hototogisu by now, the duo of Matthew Bower (Skullflower, Total, Sunroof! and more) and Marcia Bassett (Double Leopards, GHQ, Zaimph) as well as Burning Star Core, aka C. Spencer Yeh (although here, BSC is expanded to a trio including some folks from Hair Police), and thus are probably pretty excited to hear what might happen when these two freenoise behemoths join forces.
And what in fact happens, is a big sprawling chaotic blown out spaced out free rock noise jam. The addition of drums makes a huge difference, grounding the sound in 'rock', but said drumming is free and abstract enough to let the music breath and expand and spread out like a black fog. The opener is a static Dead C style jam, a simple plodding beat, cymbals and kick drum mostly, while all around, dizzying swirls of guitar fuzz and thick swaths of distorted synth, and in there to some damaged electronics and of course some of Yeh's FX drenched violin. The backdrop is a constantly shifting swirl of noise and sound, but the simple plodding rhythm makes it sound like some ultra gritty lost krautrock rehearsal tape.�
The second track is a bit more unhinged, the background of the first song, brought to the fore and allowed to swallow everything up. The drums this time are just an incessant clanging buried in the mix, like a railroad crossing bell heard from within a tornado. Part way through some of the noise seems to coalesce into sort-of-riffs, and suddenly it a strangely propulsive slab of white hot white noise, albeit with a bit of groove to it. The next track is the most melodic, a gothy, doomy sort of glacial dirge, almost like an ultra lo-fi Hawkwind, crushing drums and more of that noisy blown out squall jammed into every crevice. The drums drop out almost entirely for the next number, the guitars and synths and violins and vocals spread out into long effulgent streaks, super noisy, but strangely hypnotic and dreamy.�
The final track is a sort of throwaway, a brief sputter of creaks and clatter, scrape and grind, angular and atonal, a blown out noise coda, but it's the loooooong tracks that make up the rest of the record that really hit the drone-dirge-noise spot.�
Packaged in a cool, black plastic case with a black and white cover, black and white insert, and each copy includes a button, one of 5 different designs chosen at random.�
- MPEG stream: One
- MPEG stream: Two
Various permutations of this disc have been floating around for a while, each in various states of completeness, but every one we'd heard sounded even better than the last. But this is the one, the final, finished product. The long in the works Human Quena Orchestra, the work of Ryan Unks, formerly of techgrind combo Creation Is Crucifixion, but don't be expecting grind, or even technicality, this all the way on the other side of the spectrum. Abject, filthy, pummeling, slow motion noise drenched doom. A plodding sonic monster, guitars, not just distorted, but treated and twisted into harsh, skin scraping, caustic slabs of sinister sound, a low end so thick, it's like dunking your head in a cement mixer, insane sounding drums, each snare crack like the recording of a million breaking windows, each kick drum the sound of a slowed down car wreck. And beneath it all, thick swells of black ambience, drifting and slithering, pulsing and swelling. A lurching, stumbling blackened doom dirge behemoth.�
Think�Swans, Godflesh, Pitchshifter, that sort of machinelike apocalyptic industrial pound, mixed with some funereal ultra doom a la Moss, Bunkur, etc., but filtered through a druggy psychedelia, with a minimal shimmery drone bent, that ends up sounding like a way more�brutal, way more harsh, tripped out, psychedelic, industrial version of Jesu, that sort of blissed out sun baked vibe, but as if played by some misanthropic black metal horde,�harsh blackened vocals, shrieking hysterically and growling demonically over the relentless amp melting metallic trudge. Every track is rife with layer after layer of undulating low end. Like being tossed about on a stormy sea, but instead of water, it's an endless expanse of roiling black sound waves, rumbling drones, and thick snarled streaks of throbbing bass.�
The magic Of Unks' Human Quena Orchestra though is that this hellish harshness is balanced with a nearly equal amount of meditative ambience, long stretches of deep shimmer, and even some of the harshest tracks are tempered by the swirling low end drift lurking beneath. So brutally gorgeous. Definitely essential listening for fans of all the above mentioned outfits, as well as Monarch, Nadja, the Angelic Process, Fear Falls Burning, Skullflower, Abruptum, Monument Of Urns, Trollmann, Khanate, The Body and all our favorite purveyors of crumbling downtuned beauty and dreamy damaged doom.
Packaged in a gorgeous hand screened multiple panel fold over sleeve with super striking ADD style microscopic super detailed artwork.�
By the time this is read, I Am Spoonbender will have�played their first show in 3 years. A meticulously planned and extensively elaborate sonic and visual feast for the eyes and the ears. In honor of this rare and long overdue live performance, IAS have�made a limited cd pressing of their latest full length album,�which was previously only available as a�free download from their website. It too is meticulous and elaborate, sonically and visually!
From the beginning,�IAS (featuring AQ's own Cup, it must be said) have always had their feet planted firmly outside the traditional trappings�of what it means to be a band. Instead, they are more aligned with the tradition of performance art and ongoing dialogue, which�sometimes takes the shape of albums and songs while other times is expressed through imagery, mirrors,�card sets, film scores, and their psychedelic 1.1.1 alter-ego.
Buy Hidden Persuaders finds IAS in the unique�position of being both avant-minded yet so immediate�and musical. Proggy and spazzy, paranoid and�poppy, rife with futuristic undertones and oh so undeniably melodic.�Elements of electronic progsters Heldon and prime-time new wavey Gary Numan are still integral parts of the IAS fabric. BHP is the�sound of a new propaganda created by examining the effects on the psyche�of the onslaught of insidious images and ideas, the ones we are bombarded with on a�daily basis. Fighting fire with fire, or more specifically with a driving and rhythmic�musical flame much like the trick candles on a�birthday cake that refuse to ever go out. Inextinguishable, it will burn images and ideas into your mind until you're armed with�new questions, and no simple�answers.�A contagious conflagration n' confrontation in musical form.
Presented in a special lp-sized gatefold, with their�trademark immaculate packaging and filled with stream�of consciousness text that further underscores their ongoing�desire to create, illuminate and compel. Very limited so�don't blink...
It's a funny thing, a lot of times, for us at least, as black metal bands get better, and tighter and more polished, they don't necessarily get better. Or more specifically, we don't actually like them any more than we did when they were struggling to realize some musical vision well beyond their technical grasp. I suppose that's true of any music maybe, but it seems more obvious with black metal in particular. When a band finally records in a studio, and has spent the last year honing their chops, it often sounds -amazing-, but just not as weird or personal or uniquely inspired. A good example is Behemoth, who we do love, still, but who are now a super tight technical, nearly overproduced, slick, fast, sharp and super complex black metal juggernaut. But in the beginning, they were making buzzing Burzumic black metal, with basically just acoustic guitars and drums. So they would be playing these classic sounding riffs, right there alongside stumbling blast beasts, but with some janky acoustic steel string guitar. And the results were totally inspired! It's that sort of inspiration and invention that can only come from absolute necessity. Which is precisely what is so appealing about so much black metal.
But there are exceptions, one obvious one being this new record from Inferi. Previous recordings (two tapes) found the band a stumbling, chaotic, mess, a glorious mess, but a mess nonetheless, lots of buzz and blackness, but terrible recording quality and some super stumbling performances, which in that case, kept the band from expressing the sounds they were hearing in their heads. But on Shores Of Sorrow, Inferi, have done everything right. The sound is loud and heavy, thick and clear, but without losing the grim buzz that so defined them. And the playing is better too, but instead of trying to become some super technical BM band, they continued to hone their gorgeously sorrowful, midtempo blackness, and the result is totally captivating. Quite possibly one of the saddest sounding black metal records ever. Each of the four lengthy tracks is a blurry, buzzing, minor key dirge, thick swirls of distortion wrapped around totally emotional and super sad sounding melodies, all draped over loping lurching midtempo rhythms. Occasionally some awesomely unexpected double kick drumming surfaces, but all it does is up the tension factor, and make the song seem even more sad and intense. The opening track sets the tone, 12 minutes of mournful acoustic guitar, a gently lilting minor key melody, drifting beneath sheets of raw blown out black buzz, sort of seasick and dreamlike, harsh vocals howl above the melancholy blackness. The drums don't even kick in until the last few minutes, and then this black near-ballad turns into a heartbreaking dirge. The next two tracks follow a similar pattern, epic and sorrowful, gloriously miserable droning buzz. It's everything we love about Burzum and Xasthur and Nortt and Make A Change... Kill Yourself, stripped to its very essence, the simplest buzzing black representation of utter misery, so completely mesmerizing and totally soul stirring. The final track is blazing fast, at least compared to the first three, a furious not quite blast beat, over dense drifts of swirling black buzz, and like the rest of the disc, still totally minor key, utterly doleful and despondent, austere and disconsolate, and so goddamned good.
Fans of any of the above mentioned bands, and any one into buzzing beautiful sad blackness might just have a new favorite disc to drown your sorrows in...
We have no idea where this band is from, who is in the band, we could find nothing at all about them on the internet, but whoever they are, we like them. A lot. Ultra lo-fi midtempo black metal buzz, a la Burzum and about a million followers, but like many acolytes of the mighty Burzumic one, a handful of killer riffs, some strange sonic ideas, and some serious emotion and passion, and it's easy to transform that worship into something that stands up on its own. Inmitten Des Waldes starts things off with wild streaks of feedback, and maybe the most lo-fi drum recording EVER, with the guitars not far behind. This is definitely some serious boombox, garage / rehearsal space recording, but even with cymbals and hi-hats sizzling all over the place, and the guitars sort of washed out by the drums, it's still easy to feel the power of these riffs and what could be if these guys made it to a proper studio. That said, the sound is almost as much a part of what makes this so great as the music. The fuzz and hiss, the super intimate raw vibe. Plus it seems to be instrumental, or if there are vocals, the guy was shouting them NOT into a mic, so they are lost and buried, but that's kinda cool too, making Inmitten Des Waldes sort of like a black metal Gore!
Here we go again, another spectacular mini-album from Jasper TX, aka Dag Rosenqvist. It's getting hard to keep up, but we're sure having fun trying. Each and every one a gorgeous little sonic gem. This time it's another 5 songs, stretched out over 20 minutes. Each track a miniature soundworld of resonant rumbles, creaking metallic streaks, long languorous stretches of slow shifting low end whir, huge speaker rattling bass swells, disembodied reverbed guitars, everything casting shadows of haunting buzz and smeared shimmer. The final track is maybe the loveliest, a fuzzed out, foggy melodic drift, barely visible through the dense sheets of druggy ambient swirl. So gorgeous. Another disc that could have gone on forever and ever and we wouldn't have minded one bit!
AS with all these little treasures, incredible limited, so act fast...
Visionary cult cinephiles get ready to drool! If you were as excited as we were about the recent reissue of Kenneth Anger's early films, then this incredibly packaged and affordable 4dvd+2cd box set of the early films of Chilean theatrical genius Alejandro Jodorowsky will surely make your head explode!!! Fando Y Lis! El Topo!!, HOLY MOUNTAIN!!!! Marvelously restored and beautifully remastered, there is so much amazing material here that has either never been available before, or only available previously as extremely hard to find poor quality transfers from mediocre prints.
AND there's more! This set also includes the absolutely killer SOUNDTRACKS to both El Topo and yes, Holy Mountain!!! The Holy Mountain Soundtrack has never been released before and it so totally kills, and why wouldn't it, Don Cherry is all over it! But more about that in a minute, there's also bonus features, interviews, deleted scenes, audio commentary, a documentary and a short film from 1957 that was presumed lost until it was found early last year.
So for those who may be unfamiliar with Jodorowsky's films, a bit of back story:
Born in Chile and struggling to become an actor, Jodorowsky became fed up with the idea of scripted theatre and moved to Paris to study mime. Working with the great mime, Marcel Marceau while at the same time influenced by the Surrealists, Antonin Artaud's Theatre of Cruelty, Jean Cocteau's mythical fantasias, and the European Art House cinema of Fellini and Bunuel, Jodorowsky relocated to Mexico to form the theatre troupe, The Panic Movement, which would stage early happenings (involving lots of nudity and rotting food) and existentialist plays by Ionesco, Beckett and Fernando Arrabel. It was Arrabel's play, "Fando Y Lis" that would inspire him to move away from the theatre into cinema, but far from any structured or direct form of filmmaking. Jodorowsky wanted to re-interpret Arrabel's play by filming it completely from memory and in a remote and ruggedly extreme locale. Here he would bring together all the soul-baring psyche of experimental theatre, the role-playing excess of costumes, props and pageantry, the ritualistic entanglements of violence and beauty as catalysts of transformation, and most importantly the notion of existence as a journey through all kinds of personal and mystical revelations both sacred and profane. All of these qualities permeate each of the three films here.
Ok, you get the idea. So let's just break it down for you, what you get from this awesome box set:
--Fando Y Lis (1968): Jodorowsky's first full length black and white feature started riots at its premiere at the Acapulco Film Festival and was banned in Mexico due to its violent sexual imagery and ritualistic mocking of church beliefs. Based on Arrabel's play about a pair of dysfunctional lovers (one impotent, the other paralyzed) in a Fellini-esque quest for the spiritual city of Tar.
Extras on this disc include the 1994 French documentary, La Constellation which features interviews with Marcel Marceau, Peter Gabriel (who was inspired by El Topo, when he wrote The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway), and the French sci-fi illustrator, Moebius, who began working with Jodorowsky on the failed attempt to film Frank Herbert's Dune, which sparked Jodorowsky's interest in graphic novels.
--El Topo (1970): The bloody surreal western that spawned the Midnight Movie. Funded by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, this film is like a Sergio Leone film on a serious dose of brown acid.
Extras include an interview with Jodorowsky about the Midnight Movie phenomenon.
--Holy Mountain (1973): The ultimate spiritual quest film. Jodorowsky takes us through every imaginable belief system only to completely shatter our preconceptions about spiritual enlightenment.
Extras include deleted scenes and commentary about Jodorowsky's continuing interest in the Tarot.
--La Cravate (1957): A 35 minute silent film in color based on Thomas Mann's The Transposed Heads about a girl who sells heads and the men who are her customers. This film was presumed lost until its discovery last year in someone's attic in Germany!
--El Topo Soundtrack: 18 tracks composed by Jodorowsky and John Barham inspired by both the soundtrack work of Ennio Morricone and Nino Rota. Full of flutes and droning horns, accordions and organs and twisted Mariachi styles.
--Holy Mountain Soundtrack: 24 tracks composed by Jodorowsky, Don Cherry and Ronald Frangipane. Ranging from spiritual free drones to acid rock to Moroccan desert jams to pensive marches to soft jazz and everywhere in between. There are even themes for each of the nine planetary characters. Such a wild, weird, and wonderful soundtrack and it alone is worth the price of admission.
Phew! So can you guess, that this is totally and absolutely recommended!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We slipped this one in the cd player this morning, and started our day off right... with some 'get the blood flowing' remixes of Junior Boys' tracks. Hot Chip, Carl Craig, Kode 9, and Tensnake all take turns at flavoring the already infectious tracks from JB's latest album So This Is Goodbye ("In The Morning", "Like A Child", "Double Shadow" and "FM" respectively). But bringing Dead Horse to a cool down close sans beats is the cdep's highlight, Marsen Jules' remix of "FM" which opts for a lulling wash of hazy static and ethereal sighs. That cd-only track fits snugly (and snuggly!) between your Ovals and Panda Bears. Aaaah.
Yes, lords and ladies, here's another new band that the UK press are shitting their pants over... Sometimes their hyperbole can be utterly maddening and other times we'll admit we're right there with 'em... like maybe this time. Good thing it's a laundry day. Anyways, in our ongoing series of 'what if' musings, here's another one for you: what if TV On The Radio took a fistful of amphetamines before leaping into the recording studio (or onto a stairmaster for that matter -- hahaha!)? We'd bet the results would sound a lot like this, The Klaxons' debut album. No, it's not a new sound, but it is a very 'now' sound. Really the resemblance between the two bands carries through from the falsetto-reaching vocals to the densely packed production to the overall heady, brooding quality. These Londoners' vigorous, rigorous modern rock arrives full force like a giant tidal wave. Infectious, feverish, at times overwhelming and very cool. Some might call this a guilty pleasure, but we think it's simply a pleasure.
The return of KTL! Maybe our favorite of the many satellites circling the Sunn 0))). One half of that dynamic doomdrone duo, Stephen O'Malley, hooked up with Austrian noisemaker Peter Rehberg (aka Pita) a year or two back, and the result was the godlike s/t debut, the soundtrack to a performance art piece (of which this also contains elements), which we can only assume was dark and creepy, considering the music on that disc was a black hole slab of expansive subterranean drones and damaged digital buzz. KTL managed to create an intense chunk of dark art, in the midst of a million bedroom drones, so while we played that disc to death, we secretly hoped it wouldn't be the last we'd hear from these two.�
Not a year later, and KTL are back, with another sprawling journey, trawling through the bottomless depths of some hellish underworld and drifting weightless through a starless black sky. A bleak, but occasionally jarring landscape of sonic mystery rife with plenty of drone and buzz.�
The opener is a bleak expanse of claustrophobic sound, the sound of waking up in pitch blackness, wet, cold and alone, wandering blindly, feeling your way, hands rubbed raw from sliding along rough stone, the tiniest sounds magnified into some lurking beast ready to pounce, gusts of warm wind rush past, as do strange slithery shapes underfoot, you can hear the wide open space towering overhead, but you can feel the walls closing in, suffocating. Gorgeously dark and bleak, ominous and so creepy. The perfect music for being buried alive, miles below the surface of the Earth. As the first track dissipates, a strange percussive thump gradually surfaces, a heartbeat maybe... a dense layered backdrop of shimmering low end and muted pulses undulates beneath the murky throb, very slowly building in intensity, as streaks of high end grit and buzzing glitch, and strange high pitched melodic fragments begin to materialize all around, like suddenly finding yourself inside a lightning storm, it's almost pretty, but still sharp and jagged. As the upper register peals intensify, they suddenly coalesce into some sort of deafening angelic chorus, a gorgeous layered textural wall of dreamlike skree, some demonic string section, surprisingly melodic beneath all the sonic barbs and white hot buzz. Hard to describe other than to say it's a bit like Nadja or Jesu, run through a bank of alien FX pedals and broadcast through a million tweeters. So intense and gloriously blown out.�
The next step in the journey involves visiting the "Abattoir" (much of this disc was in fact recorded in an actual French Abattoir) , and it sounds just like you'd imagine. A bit like O'Malley's Sunn 0))), with layer upon layer of constantly shifting coruscating guitars, a drone metal Niblock maybe, stretched out and hypnotic, the texture of the guitar constantly ever changing, going from smooth and washed out to rough and sharp, a bit like Spacemen 3 or Loop at it's most propulsive, a sort of churning distorted chordal whir, and a lot like Sunn 0))) at its most static. But all throughout, the rough raw shimmer is disrupted by all manner of textural disturbances, bits of grit and muted glitch and subtle shards of fragmented melody.�
Finally, the record winds down with an extended coda, thick shards of glistening guitar suspended in gauzy clouds of electronic flutter and swirls of soft sonic snow. Eventually the sharp edges are worn away leaving a strangely haunting slightly degraded Basinski-esque drift that is smoothed even further out, into shimmery spacey synths and sweet chordal swells that drift away leaving nothing but static.
Dip is quite possibly Aidan Moffat's most expansive and varied L. Pierre release to date. So much so that it's easy to get lost in and forget who you're listening to. It's quite unlike anything we've heard from him (either on his previous L.Pierre and Lucky Pierre recordings or his other band Arab Strap's). With considerably more forward motion and development, each of the six tracks certainly seem far less loop-centric than 2005's Touchpool. Super pretty at times quite majestic.
So Lavender Diamond have finally released their much buzzed-about Matador debut, and anyone familiar with said buzz has probably heard the words, "precious" and "winsome" too many times to keep count. While those words do describe frontwoman Becky Stark's particular vocal charms, a
gauzy theatrical mix of Linda Ronstadt, Julee Cruise and Margo Timmons from the Cowboy Junkies, they don't accurately quantify the listening experience of this particular record which is sunny and wide-eyed in a seventies soft rock way without becoming as cloying as one would expect from such superlatives. We enjoyed their first EP, and have been waiting for what seems forever for this to appear. While it's a perfectly solid record, it falls just shy of being great. The band thankfully grounds Stark's soaring vocal delivery, but we wish that with such wealth of musicianship from Jeff Rosenberg (Lumen, Young People etc.) Ron Rege Jr. (The Swirlies) and Steve Gregoropolis (W.A.C.O.), they were given more room to expand on their strengths. But this is understandably Stark's show, which initially began in Providence as an indie operetta and has been developing through acclaimed live performances up to this current incarnation. They've definitely carved a niche for themselves that has avoided the pitfalls of freak-folk to be a more pliant pastiche of seventies alt country folk pop. Quite lovely indeed.
A new singer/songwriter joins the sisterhood of Americana earth mothers... y'know, those wonderful ladies Paula Frazer, Laura Cantrell, Kelly Hogan, Margo Timmins of Cowboy Junkies, and Sally Timms. Each artist possesses a richly nuanced voice -- affecting the listener not with flash and glamour, but with understated elegance and vividly scripted personalized lyrics. As the title suggests this album has an ever darkening mood. Much like the seasonal overcast skies of the Pacific Northwest where she's based, Vivian Linden's music is somber with a slight aching chill.
Let's face it, there's a lot of singer/songwriter acoustic folk out there. Some we could simply live without, and many straddle the fence between good and not greatly stand-outish. An album can toe the line pretty convincingly with beautiful singing and decent guitar strumming, but the lack of well crafted songwriting becomes crystal clear when you hear a strikingly great singer/songwriter like Carolyn Berk, the brainchild behind Lovers. On Sleep With Heat, Berk's beautifully melancholic vocals paint scenes of love's exciting inception, unfortunate demise, and the subsequent struggle to let go so vividly that you can't help but be swept up in her emotional rollercoaster. Berk might be the broken heart of Lovers, but she couldn't have asked for a better backing band who sparingly contribute guitar, violin and drums as heavy hearted as the lyrical content. Highly recommended for fans of Mascott, Mirah, Mazzy Star, post-punk Raincoats and Bright Eyes or for anyone who needs a soundtrack for heartbreak.
A classic release of "Boersk Blek Metle" from Belgium's carrot-brandishing metal mavericks Lugubrum, one of our favorite black metal (blek metal? brown metal?) bands ever! We just listed their new one, De Ware Hond, and when re-ordering more of those direct from the band's own Old Grey Hair label, we decided to get some of Bryune Troon too 'cause we'd somehow never had this particular disc in stock before. It's a 2001 release, recorded 'round about the same time as their now out of print Al Ghemist album, which was the one that started our sick fascination with this bizarre band in the first place, and if you like Lugubrum as much as we do, you're gonna want it.
Unlike some of their more recent output, Bryune Troon strikes a balance of metal vs. not-metal weighted more towards the metal side of things. You won't hear much saxophone, for instance (though we think maybe we hear it on the track "Low Dog", is that what's credited as "Lovendegm chainsaw vomitor"??), but there certainly is plenty o' weirdness creeping in around the edges of everything here, Lugubrum's blasting, wretching black metal already twisting away from the Darkthrone/Emperor/Mayhem template into beyond-Ved-Buens-Ende madness. "Recorded...under handicapped and alcoholic conditions", this incorporates loping, lumbering low-end dirge, atmospheric drone, weird watery field recordings, banjo riffage, scatological subject matter, Viking stoner psych ("Holebeard Blues") and gypsy folk... plus gobs of fuzz and buzz in the best black metal tradition. All this and more has swirled down into the clogged-pipe-plumbing of Bryune Troon, leaking brown liquids all over "side midget" and "side dung".
As we've said before, Lugubrum MIGHT be joking around. They almost have to be. Yet when you listen, it's not silly. It's serious, even scary. Some of the songs here are sung in English and the lyrics, about "moldy cloaks" and "flab" and "red hot sauce" that we can understand...we can't understand. Any jokes they're making are the obverse of funny ha ha in -our- universe, which surely ain't where these folks dwell.
Another in the recent deluge of self released cd-r's from Machinefabriek, aka Rutger Zuydervelt (a flow of continuous releases rivaled only by Machinefabriek contemporary and collaborator Jasper TX and his own seemingly never ending series of releases), but we're not complaining, not at all. Other than the hassle of the short form, of having to get up after 10 or 15 minutes to switch discs, we could listen to this stuff forever. In fact we're secretly hoping that Jasper TX and Machinefabriek will collaborate next on some 200 disc cd player, each slot filled with a collaborative 3" cd-r, for the ultimate in dreamy droney fuzzy ambient sonic overload. If only!�
But for now, it's the repeat button for us, and this, the latest (and shortest) Machinefabriek release yet. A little rectangular business card shaped 3" cd (still playable in most cd players) clocking in at an impressive 5:31, recorded with only a singing bowl, a contact mic, a vinyl record and a laptop, and originally created as a private pressing.
Stofstuk is a one of the most gorgeous slabs of shimmery minimalism we've ever heard. And this is where the brevity is so frustrating. Music like this definitely deserves to sprawl and spread. Needs to. But for five glorious minutes, deeeeeeeep notes are loosed, lush and resonant, allowed to billow out like sonic ripples, every once in a while, some massive bass kicks in and washes over the listener like a huge slow motion wave, it's strangely transcendent, rich with intense emotion and sonic impact. Around these cavernous swells, various drawn out notes drift and shift, soft focus layers laid upon one another, gauzy and ephemeral, all hovering blissfully over a gorgeously muted field of barely there record crackle. Wow. Like a warm and dreamy Jeckian take on Raster-Noton, or some cosmic minimal meditation music. So totally beautiful.�
Pressed as a strange rectangular business card shaped cd-r, housed in a thick plastic jacket and a striking miniature black and grey sleeve. And of course, incredibly limited...
During the past couple of weeks, there has been a deluge of reissued material from the German ensemble Maeror Tri, whose exceptional, post-Industrial dronemusik straddles the current obsession with the doom-laden atmospherics of Corrupted, SUNN O))), Earth, etc. and the sublime impressionism of Jonathan Coleclough and Mirror. The Beauty Of Sadness was one of the last cassettes that Maeror Tri released before calling it quits in 1996; and as one might be able to discern from the title, this record finds Maeror Tri shifting their drones away from their heavy, menacing bleakness and toward a transcendent etherealism. Out of the churning wash of sound from their dynamic use of reverb, delay, and flange effects boxes, Maeror Tri push through honest to goodness songs of hypnotically repetitive guitar chords, melodies, and harmonies, making The Beauty Of Sadness come across like a rough-hewn but equally effective version of My Bloody Valentine's bleary eyed monotone found on Loveless. For those familiar with the recent work of Troum (whose members were two-thirds of Maeror Tri), The Beauty Of Sadness is an obvious precursor to thier marvellous first chapter in the Tjukurrpa trilogy.
Limited to 200 copies each wrapped in a slipcover that fits (almost too) snugly over the jewel case. There's a good chance we won't be able to get more and if you happen to concern yourself with the collectability / condition of your cd's, we would urge to take care when removing the jewel case from the slip cover.
Ever since we heard Wave-Lox, possibly the most famous piece by composer/pianist Lubomyr Melnyk, we were totally smitten. The sound an impossible mashup of Terry Riley, Steve Reich and Charlemagne Palestine. A modern reimagining of the minimalist tradition, with his Continuous Music system developed over years and years, finding inspiration in harmony and expressing it through fluidity and virtuosity, dense flurries of notes. Later, the playing would become faster, even setting a world record, but always at the core of Melnyk's sound, was harmony and melody and simple beauty.�
It's appropriate that KMH is the first actual Melnyk cd ever released (all the rest have been cd-r's) as this was his first actual recording. After years of perfecting this new technique, KMH was finally released in 1978, and while reminiscent of Reich's Music For 18 Musicians, it was something entirely new. Sound based on the movement of dancers, the music of moving and standing still all at once.�
For those of you familiar with other Melnyk discs we reviewed, the sound here, while notably different, will at once be quite familiar, the main difference being that the sound is not so dense, there are not so many notes, the playing is not quite as fast, instead, it's deeper, and slower and almost dreamier, still warm and magical, but like a slowed down, relaxed version of Wave-Lox. Almost more traditionally twentieth century sounding, but at the same time, still wonderfully unique, and much more emotionally resonant than much modern minimalism.�
For those who have yet to experience the amazing sounds of Lubomyr Melnyk, this is the perfect introduction, the first recorded instance of his Continuous Music, a technique involving continuos melodies, constant playing up and down the keyboard, with the pedals constantly depressed, allowing the notes to ring out and drift into one another, the various notes and overtones blending and beating, creating strange and mysterious harmonies.�
Little fluttering clouds of notes drift in weightless swirls, like dust motes in beams of sunlight. It's like the musical equivalent of a snowglobe, notes drifting and floating everywhere, forming shapes, and then just as quickly turning back into separate notes again, the sound both wintry and warm, dreamily dizzying and serenely soothing. So totally captivating. A glorious glimpse into the formative stages of one of our favorite modern composers.�
Packaged with all new artwork, new liner notes, photos, and the original liner notes from the original release.
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Oooooh, this is a keeper! Really folks, don't your ears need a hug every now and again? Mice Parade's seventh album fits the bill perfectly. Go on, immerse yourself in the dreamy swirl and sway of these nine songs. This time around head Mice Parader Adam Pierce moved away from the Big Apple into the woods of upstate New York, setting up house and studio near Bear Mountain Park. He was joined in the wilderness by Jay Israelson (of Lansing-Dreiden), Dylan Cristy (of The Dylan Group) and Doug Scharin (of Rex and June Of 44) for this gentle unwinding. Despite the remote recording locale, a few city lights do glint faintly in the distance. If you swoon to the sounds of Sea & Cake and Archer Prewitt, you should know that Mice Parade are slipping their way deeper and deeper into their increasingly downy, post-rock mellowness. Plus, lifting the album up even further with their angel winged vocals are guests Stereolab's Laetitia Sadier and Mum's Kristin Anna Valtysdottir. Oh my lovelies, 'tis such a glorious dew-dappled dream.
Midnight Movies' latest full length Lion The Girl exudes an irresistible sexy confidence. Believe you me, it is your new favorite if you happen to be a sleek late night jetsetter. This is great driving, moody pop a la Metric or Electrelane. Y'know, the kind that's deeply influenced by the shadowy side of '80s new wave, a bit of post-punk tension and maybe some Stereolab too with their penchant for propulsive krautrock-y organ lines. The robust combination of Larry Schemel's guitars, Jason Hammons' synthesizers and new drummer Sandra Vu's drums pack quite the walloping backdrop for Gena Olivier's sultry vocals. Occasionally the L.A. band take a bit of a breather from their fevered pace for a gentler '60s girl group vocal style slow number ("Ribbons") or a druggy space rocker ("Lion Song"). We like! Recommended.
If they gave out Nobel prizes for doom metal, whoever it was that managed to get UK doomsludge combo Moss together with French Sanrio doomsters Monarch, would be a shoe in. And it's not just the killer combo, or the alliterative band names, it's the song choice. As if Moss doing Discharge weren't enough for you, Monarch tackle Turbonegro's all time classic "I Got Erection"!
Moss transform Discharge's punky stomp into a barely moving morass of sludgy pound. Sounding very much like Eyehategod, with simple pummeling drums, howled vocals, and of course guitars tuned as low as they can go before the strings drop off like wet noodles. On top of all the murk, drift weird high end streaks of surprisingly melodic feedback, giving the whole track a haunting and ominous vibe.
Where Moss, turned their song inside out and basically made it their own, Monarch, after a misleading ultra slow count in, do "Erection" pretty straight (ahem), the riff immediately recognizable, same with the "woooooah ooooh" background vocals, so it's up to vocalist Emilie, to make "Erection" her own, and she does, delivering the goofiest, most brilliant lines ever, in a raspy feminine snarl "When I dig a hole... Erection!" It's definitely Monarch at their speediest, and certainly most melodic, and we have to say it sort of suits them. Maybe even better than when black metallers Satyricon covered the same track on a Turbonegro tribute disc some years back, and that was pretty killer too.
And of course, SUPER LIMITED!
We first heard from UK spacerock outfit Mugstar on a super limited 7" we listed a while ago, where we described them as sounding like a supercharged, way more metallic Stereolab, but HOLY SHIT, that 7", as much as we loved it, just did not do these guys justice. They are so much weirder and heavier than that ep let on, it makes sense that it took a full length record for us to see that, their sprawling drone drenched FX doused instrumental metallic space rock is way more suited to the extended format, with the tracks being allowed to stretch waaaaaaaaaaaaay out, locking into mind blowingly cyclical psychedelic spacekraut blowouts. It's hard not to hear a lot of Loop, as well as some Spacemen 3, and yeah some Stereolab, definitely some Circle, but as much as it may be hard to believe, and a little sacrilegious to even say, lately we're digging this a whole lot more than any of that other stuff. A lot of it has to do with not just the sounds, but what these guys are able to do with them.�
The opener is a planet crushing, skull caving slab of glorious Hawkwind worship, propulsive, relentless rhythms,�dense swirls of FX,�churning bass lines, over nearly static, looped sounding riffs, it's a gloriously unholy tangle of space rock and krautrock. And while that tends to be the basic template for most of the record, it manages to veer dramatically in all sorts of different directions. A handful of the tracks devolve into�dense blown out noise jams, that are so distorted and washed out and in the red, they sort of sound like M83 being broadcast through a vacuum cleaner. Awesome!! Some tracks get all blissed out and sort of lope along lazily, still spacey and druggy and trippy, but sounding more like some sort of�hard rocking Necks, albeit with a serious doom bent, lurching and trudging through dense blackened clouds of acid fried shimmer. Some tracks are jagged and hyper rhythmic, the drum pulse and guitar crunch locked into mesmerizing loops of pulse and throb, reminding us of a metallicized Neu! Elsewhere the guitars get tangled up in dense little melodic snarls, or are spread into diaphanous sheets of gauzy thrum, but always wrapped around a dense core of relentlessly rocking rhythms and killer heavy riffing. So fucking awesome! Fans of any of the above mentioned bands need this for sure, as does anyone into blown out spaced out freaked out drugged out heavy rock spacegroovekrautpsych!! So recommended.�
First, a short-hand point of ponder: What if the Squirrel Nut Zippers were reincarnated as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Hmmm. Hot stuff? Actually, yes!
Allow us to elaborate...
Characterized by the come hither / cold shoulder / scarlet clawed vocals of singer/bass player Shingai Shoniwa, the Noisettes' tightly wound, fiery music stirs up visions of times long past of unsavory characters inhabiting dark lit speakeasys. Lots of smoke and steaminess. Really, where was this London trio when the movie makers were putting together the soundtrack for Frank Miller's Sin City? Their tempestuous noirish rock keeps the joint jumping with plenty of plot and tempo twists of its own. Can you smell the burnt rubber as the hip kids get all hot under the collar for this mighty band? Oooh, just watch the sparks fly.
Meandering hazy four-track psych-folk here from a Swedish sugar-beet farmer (so we're told) by the name of Jakob Olausson, whose deep voice and acoustic guitar wooze wends through these gently-hewn tracks like a wannabe Kiss The Anus Of The Black Cat (that's a weird thing to say), but as though he's bringing his songs along to the farmer's market to offer 'em up honestly along with his equally earthy, dirt-covered root vegetables, which is to say, that this is nice and muddy sounding.
Page France And The Family Telephone returns with another generous serving of twinkly twee pop! We liked his last album 2006's Hello Dear Wind very very much, so we welcome this new one with open arms. And it doesn't disappoint! Mainman Michael Nau's like a more child's view cousin of Destroyer or a prepubescent Flaming Lips. His toothsome storybook tales, singsong-y vocals and chiming melodies could easily have tumbled out of Mr. Rogers' Land Of Make Believe. Cute as a button!
They may not be very good at spelling, but they've sure studied their rock history books. The Ponys are revivalists of a sound that never really went away. They fuse together all the many flavors of nineties college rock which in turn drew influence from the lanky rockers of the seventies. Turn The Lights Out is packed with big wall o' effects dissonance, sinewy picked guitar melodies, trippy space rock noodlin' and more straight ahead rock'n'roll bombast. Easily conjures up references to rock heroes Sonic Youth, Television, Jesus & Mary Chain, Pixies, Husker Du and Dinosaur Jr. Oh and did we mention that they even have a song titled "Exile On My Street"? Uh huh, check.
Noise is always a tricky proposition. Some folks just want that harsh, brutal, paint peeling, speaker shredding white noise aural assault, while others (like us) like their noise with a little bit of structure, and texture and -gasp- maybe even some melody and dynamics. Our favorite noise records tend to be those that do something special or original with noise. There's plenty of Merzbow we could do without, but a handful of his discs are truly innovative blasts of gorgeously crafted corrosive sound. Gate's Golden is another example of a 'noise' record that manages to be as pretty and mysterious as it is harsh. And there are a bunch of noise(y) discs that completely kick our asses, records from Hijokaidan, Hototogisu, Hanatarash, Gerogerigegege, Incapacitants, Nerve Net Noise and more, sure we love us some full bore NOISE!!, but typically, of that stuff, the discs that gets the most play, are the ones that aren't just a straight wall of noise.�
We recently reviewed a killer disc of remixes, various artists reinterpreting and recontextualizing tracks from�Kurdish Melodies On Zorna by Zadik Zecharia, a pretty solid AQ fave. The Zorna is�a traditional Kurdish instrument like a longer more narrow trumpet or Scottish bagpipe, and Zecharia got work magic with his, weaving dense tapestries of joyful sound. The highlight of the remix record was Israeli noise unit Poochaltz's mix, turning Zecharia's playful Zorna into an instrument of doom and gloom! It definitely had us hankering for more.�
So�here it is, the latest release from Poochaltz, a single nearly twenty minute track, and it's pretty caustic. Harsh and bleak and distorted and blown out and indeed very very noisy. But there's a lot going on, within the noise and beneath the surface. The whole track exists in a black cloud of squealing feedback, moaning slabs of downtuned guitar, jagged slabs of glitched out electronics, everything muddy and murky and crumbling, but beneath this wall of abject brutality, hover strange barely audible majestic melodies, what sounds like snippets of songs buried way way down,�howled blackened vocals, distant demonic roars, streaks of sound all tangled up with smears of disembodied percussion, some almost black metal riffing pulled apart into weird blurry buzzes. On first listen, it's like sticking your head in a hornet's nest, but once your head is firmly lodged in there, the buzzing and constant stinging begins to feel soothing, almost tranquil, you head begins to swell, your ears swollen shut, all sound reduced to thick slabs of whir and shriek, so intense and strangely alien. Think Whitehouse versus Skullflower versus Wolf Eyes versus Prurient with some strange shoegazery pop ambient referee trying desperately to keep the fight fair and failing miserably. A beautifully brutal slab of dreamy (nightmarish?) noise. Recorded live too!
Andrew Douglas Rothbard, the self-taught keyboardist, bassist and vocalist formerly of potent (and elusive) aural conjurers Pleasure Forever, Slaves and The VSS, has returned with his first solo album. On Abandoned Meander, Mr. Rothbard seems unconcerned with... no, make that completely detached from trends and popularity contests, and his openness to reinvention results in music which flows forth so naturally it seems effortless.
While passages of Abandoned Meander are fleetingly reminiscent of early T-Rex, Zoso-era Zep or more recent artists such as Devendra Banhart and Ariel Pink, these generally lo-fi but ultra textural and weirdly 'orchestrated' creative forces exist in a realm far outside and beyond the current crowd of experimental psych-folk artists. Time is just another word in the as above / so below matrix of this release, with the I-ching derived musical concepts and astrological / musical conjunctions aligning just in time for us to hit 'repeat play' and reenter Abandoned Meander's audio alchemy. It's swirling strangeness also has the good sense to leave behind the faux eccentricities and posturing of mere mortals, with each hazy number crafted from an open palette of conventional and more unorthodox instrumentation. New and different but not wholly unfamiliar, Abandoned Meander may initially conjure a neo-psychedelic folk impression, but just as swiftly an altogether distinct and personal delirium takes over... and it's not one that we want to escape from anytime soon. Need we say? Highly recommended!
Tokyo artist Sawako crafts her delicate, minimal ambient soundscapes from interwoven slivers of piano, voices, field recordings among other things.
The results are ultra ethereal and soothing. She would fit very well in either the Mort Aux Vaches or 20' to 2000 series. Hum also features additional instrumental contributions from Taylor Deupree, Aoki Hayato and Kenneth Kirschner. For fans of Deupree, William Basinski, Oval, Colleen and Pan Sonic.
It's been four long years since the last Sea And Cake full length, and it sounds like Sam and the boys might've drank a couple of Red Bulls to get the juices flowing before laying down these tracks. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but honestly, Everybody surprised all of us with its unexpected burst of energy. It's downright lively by Sea And Cake standards, and the change is a welcome one. Early on there were many around here who swooned to the sounds of Sea And Cake. What wasn't to love? Archer Prewitt, Sam Prekop and John McEntire? Sold! But over the years the band's sound mellowed out more and more and more, until it resembled the most vanilla easy listening '70s AM radio fodder. And we'll admit somewhere along the way we drifted apart, but this new album has drawn us back into this Chicago band's aural embrace and then some. Fear not dear fans near and far tho', it's not a jarring shift. All of the key Sea And Cake treasured elements -- gently grooving guitar and bass melodies, kickass drumming, and adorably dulcet vocals -- remain still completely intact. Wonderful.
God, we love this record! We've never stopped loving it. In its fourteen years of existence, it's never sounded tired or dated. Can't say that for a whole lot of other electronica records. So we are really glad to see our good old friend back in print again with this super nice 2cd deluxe re-issue. If you missed this the first time around, then you are in for a real treat, and if you bought this the first time around, you may just need to buy it again to get the whole extra disc of unreleased tracks and alternate mixes. We have been playing this daily since we got it, and we're surprised how many folks have never heard of Seefeel or experienced their incredible ocean of sound.
So what is all the fuss about, you say?
Well, Seefeel at their peak were one of the main players that spawned the nineties electronica genre, at a time when there were only Dance and Rock sections in most music stores. Their sound was a delirious mash-up between the shoe-gazing swirl of My Bloody Valentine, the machinic rhythm programming of Autechre, the ambient chill of Aphex Twin and the driving pulse of Stereolab, with an early hint toward the looping repetitions of William Basinski. They bridged ambient techno and indie rock by foregoing rock music's verse and chorus structures in favor of beats and loops wrapped inside icy motorik rhythms, industrial whirs, blurbs of female vocals and dubby bass lines. Like the best work of minimal composers, Seefeel's long-form compositions create a warmly hypnotic form of static movement that refused to fit neatly into music for either dance floors or chill out lounges.
Quique was their head-turning debut following two EP releases featuring remixes by Aphex Twin. That connection surely gained them a bigger following, but Seefeel was always one of those bands that should have been bigger. Of course such a potent and influential debut would lead to many of their contemporaries, bands such as Bowery Electric, Labradford, Boards Of Canada and Flying Saucer Attack, to take Seefeel's initial explorations in sound further into Post-Rock, Trip Hop, IDM and Neo-Psych territories, leaving Seefeel at a bit of a loss for a follow-up. Signing to Warp, they delved further into a dark ambient direction in the vein of groups like Main, Ice and Scorn, that was just too stark for a wider audience to appreciate. They put out two more albums before splintering off into various side projects such as Scala, Disjecta and Sneakster.
The bonus disc contains six previously unreleased tracks, and three alternate mixes from a limited white label 12" and two ambient compilations. Out of the unreleased tracks, "Clique" sounds like it just barely missed the cut from the original album line-up while "Silent Pool" is a longer version of Quique's closing track "Signals". "My Super 20" and "Is It Now?" are long beat-less swims that are a warmer hint at their future direction and the two other unreleased tracks are versions of opening track "Climatic Phase #3, and "Time to Find Me" from their first EP. It might sound like at first listen that there is some repetition between the two discs, but it's really more in line with classic ambient music's infatuation with the Dub tradition of versioning, the adding or removing of various elements in a song to give it a totally different spin. Each version really does give a different feel even if the basic structures seem similar. Seriously, the second disc is just more of what you love already, and gives us a little more of the stuff we've been missing for ages.
Listening to Quique fourteen years later, it has lost none of its powerful splendor and warmly chilled charm. Add this to the list of favorite one record bands like My Bloody Valentine and Stone Roses. So Amazingly Awesome!!!! Reissue of the year so far and so totally recommended!!!!!!!!!
We found ourselves showering Doug Shepherd's two new-to-us releases with much adoration even before finding out that he's stacked his decks over the years with terrific guest players from aQ faves Aislers Set and Calexico! Certain familiar traits of those two bands -- bittersweet pop inflections and a bit of rustic desert twang -- make their presence felt, but not obtrusively so. This Portland, OR gent's folk pop songcraft stands strong all on its own. His music runs the pop gamut from gentle and lulling to uptempo and peppery to breezy and janglin'. Aww, all the stuff we love.
Mass Amount Of Love is his 2001 debut full length that was actually recorded back in 1998 right here in SF by one Mr. Wyatt Cusick (of Aislers Set, Track Star and Still Flyin). Imperial Teen's Roddy Bottum and the whole Aislers Set gang contributed to this indie pop luv fest. So wide-eyed and charming, the album closes with a terrific cover of Opal's "A Falling Star".
Psst, the other release that we just got in stock from the man himself is a limited edition cd-r recorded at the famed Wavelab Studios in Tucson, AZ where the wonderful likes of Calexico, M. Ward, Giant Sand and Neko Case frequently work their aural magic. Both are mighty fine and very recommended for fans of all of the abovementioned folks.
We found ourselves showering Doug Shepherd's two new-to-us releases with much adoration even before finding out that he's stacked his decks over the years with terrific guest players from aQ faves Calexico and Aislers Set! Certain familiar traits of those two bands -- rustic desert twang and bittersweet pop inflections -- can't help but make their presence felt, but not obtrusively so. This Portland, OR gent's folk pop songcraft stands strong all on its own. His music runs the pop gamut from gentle and lulling to upbeat and peppery to breezy and janglin'. Aww, all the stuff we love.
The ep's delights start right from the opening track "Liquid Gold" which is graced with pretty female backing vocals and some trumpet too (we're guessing it is Rachel Blumberg and Jacob Valenzuela respectively, the credits aren't specific). The following bright tune "Pure Cinema" kicks the tempo up considerably. Good stuff!
This limited edition cd-r's five songs are from a session recorded at the Tucson, AZ studio where the likes of Calexico, M. Ward, Giant Sand and Neko Case regularly lay down their awesome tracks. It's the second release in the studio's Wavelab Sessions series, and is limited to 200! Be quick like a jackalope!
"Cunts With Roses" doesn't really seem like such a surprising name for�a Shit And Shine record when you cast you mind back a few months to their equally problematically titled "Toilet Door Tits" lp on Conspiracy. But then why should a band with such a brilliantly problematic sound, not follow suit with their song titles, album titles and artwork? (Oh, did we mention the cover of�"Cunts With Roses" features a close up of a booty being extricated from a thong, with the band name printed in fancy metallic gold leaf? Yep.)
So here we have a crushing archival recording from these UK noisemakers, captured live in a rehearsal studio, preparing for a show opening for the mighty Laibach. Supposedly this is the first recording EVER of the live Shit And Shine experience, and it's a bloody earful for sure. TWO SIDES, ONE RIFF. That's right, just one. But one's really all you need, any more than that and you're basically a prog band, right? A relentless pounding pulverizing repetitive crush, a looped tribal brick to the forehead, churning over and over and over and over and over, it would be quite lulling and soothing if it weren't so fucking skull crushing.�
The sound is almost industrial and machinelike, an army of zombie drummers pounding away amidst roiling coils of vacuum cleaner ambience, shouted vocals are sucked under, the bass is slung waaaaay loooow, not so much rocking as churning and throbbing, everything wrapped in a thick crumbling coat of crusty sonic filth. Think Aufgehoben, Swans, Butthole Surfers -- maybe if you took all three, lobotomized them, locked them in a dank cellar with nothing but drums and amps and a tape recorder, and dosed them with PCP, until the whole lot of them went completely berserk, a moldy basement full of convulsing noise rockers pounding and howling and droning as they slowly rot and fall to pieces and lose their minds completely. In other words, WAY recommended.�
Ultra limited of course, and a bit pricey cuz of the crap exchange� rate and the weight of vinyl shipped overseas. But well worth it for those of you who need a good sonic bashing, which we'd guess is most of you.
Latest release from these purveyors of funeral folk avant ambient doom, Silvester Anfang. You may remember their last lp because of the very striking cover image, a sort of Mentors meets the Ku Klux Klan, shirtless men wearing hoods with goats in the middle of a forest. Very fucked up and creepy, which perfectly matched the music inside.
Not too much has changed sonically, if anything, they seem to have gotten even more abstract, a sound with definite nods to the Finnish folk contingent, trashcan percussion, lots of shakers and rattles, a distant keening buzz, far off swells of minor key rumble, creepy tin whistle melodies, bits of guitar, obtuse and angular. The sound is very heavily rhythm based, with various other instruments and sounds ebbing and flowing around the primal percussive chaos at Silvester Anfang's core. Every once in a while the group locks into simple rhythmic folk jams with buzzing guitar and insistent propulsive percussion, but it always seems to dissipate into blissed out clouds of drone and clatter, but the drums and shakers never waver, always there, often in the foreground but just as often lurking mysteriously below the surface.
Side two is a much rockier proposition, the band falling into some almost groovy krautrock territory, heavy fuzz bass unfurling a propulsive riff, beneath warbly seasick guitar and tons of swirly lo-fi fuzz. The disc winds down with a bit of traditional folkiness, almost like a jig, but looped into a repetitive groove, mesmerizing and hypnotic, buzzy and almost raga like, and like the rest of the record, beautiful, haunting and creepy.
Without a doubt, the years Elliott Smith spent on Kill Rock Stars will always have a very special place in our hearts. His 2nd and 3rd albums came out when the label was still a somewhat small and emerging indie usually more associated with riot grrrl and the artier side of indie rock and punk than dreamy wistful folk. His self titled album and Either/Or spoke to all of us, across the board, even to ears that weren't at all used to hearing just one man and a guitar. This was several years before any kind of new folk revival.
This two disc collection features recordings from that era that didn't make it on to either of those two amazing records, but many of which are just as great and jaw dropping as the ones that did. As much as he would later be attracted to grander orchestration and a lush and full sound, there is something about when it was just him and his guitar, that perfect voice, so moving and vulnerable. So many in our generation can remember watching the Oscars for the first time ever with true excitement, when he was nominated for "Miss Misery." When he took the stage in his white tuxedo there was something so honest and real happening in a space that is usually void of true emotion and honest heartbreak. Of course Celine Dion walked away with the statue, but that night you couldn't help but feel so proud that this gifted songwriter was getting the widespread attention he deserved. Not much was added or done to these stripped down recordings. But they really didn't need it anyway. The songs are practically perfect as they are. It's just another reminder that not many people are capable of creating bitter beautiful sounds as sweetly at Elliott Smith did. And sometimes the emotional cost is devastating. These aren't just some unnecessary out takes from a famous dead name. These are songs that will find their way on to any Elliott Smith mix you will make from now on. Simply said, a must have for anyone who loved his music as much as we did.
While recent albums by Patti haven't done much for us, we were blown away by her performance a couple years ago for the 30th anniversary of Horses. It showed that somewhere inside of her she was still able to channel some seriously charged energy. So every time she comes out with something new we still want to believe it's going to be the new record that finally makes us fall in love with her all over again. Sadly it just never happens. This time out it's a covers record. Oh the possibilities...We would have loved to hear Patti Smith covering Cat Power, Elliott Smith, PJ Harvey, Sonic Youth, but no...instead we get the most overplayed and obvious covers anyone could think of. "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "Are You Experienced", "Everybody Wants To Rule The World", "Soul Kitchen". Yikes! It's almost like she hasn't listened to any music that isn't played on the radio ad nauseum for the last two decades. This ends up sounding like listening in on someone's night out at karaoke, but without the cool images on the screen or your friends there to laugh with. Oh well, we still have Horses to hold on to.
From 1967-1970, deep in their own little world in Urbana, Ill., the Spoils of War started making peculiar pop songs, layered with exotic instruments and experimental electronics, all performed with infectious warmth and emotion. One moment, the group is creating music that sounds like a jingle that sticks in your head forever, while the next moment, they allowed a folky sense of emotion and levity to rise above all else.
You know something pretty great is going on when you hear instruments more common in Afghanistan and Russia -- such as the domra and rubab -- on a record that also encompasses lots of heavy organ, male and female vocals, and a '60s fuzzy rock guitar sound. The Spoils of War had an ability to be both smart and catchy, sultry and playful, haunting and wholesome. They were the even-more-obscure sonic cousins of the United States of America. The spike in the drink of the Free Design. The fun daydream of Van Dyke Parks hanging out with the Monkees. Acid rock with a skip to its feet -- and a whistle in its pocket. Not a new reissue but one we just had to get around to listing.
Even the few of us who don't really dig this all that much, LOVE the bonus tracks, live and blown out acid drenched droning krautrocky nirvana, spacey and murky, heavy and so weird and amazing!
Oh, Stinking Lizaveta, why do we love you so? We'd count the reasons but it's tough to write about a band that's like, one of the best bands EVER, we'd have to say, particularly if you ask Allan. We'll wax poetic about 'em, for sure, but it's gonna just sound like fanboy hyperbole. And having said that, can you expect an unbiased review here? Hell no, we're proudly biased regarding this virtuoso instrumental three-piece (rock god guitar, Energizer drums, upright electric bass) from Philadelphia. What we'd really like to do is just humbly suggest that you GO SEE THEM PLAY whenever you get the chance, which is more likely than you might think, since they're indefatigably touring pretty much all the time. If only like five percent of the people reading this right now are moved to sometime go see Stinking Lizaveta for the first time on our recommendation, we can feel like we've done y'all a service, since we're super duper sure that anyone who does will be amazed and become big fans too. Who can resist the exuberant, enthralling instrumental prowess displayed by this telepathic trio playing their unique blend of mathy metal, post rock, and heavier-than-thou hippiepunk jazz?? (They call their music "doom-jazz" by the way.)
This new album, their fifth (as always, engineered by Steve Albini) is an excellent demonstration/distillation of everything that's great about Stinking Liz (though we'll offer our usual caveat that they're EVEN BETTER live, you just can't entirely bottle/record that magic). These 16 new songs are some of their best yet, full of the ponderously head-nodding riffage, gorgeous arcs of lead guitar, and explosive rhythmic excitement we expect from 'em. There's moody tension throughout, with clusters of dense note-spirals building to ultimate release. Slow-burners like "Willie Nelson (Tired Of The War)" coexist with the sheer metallic chug of "Indomitable Will" and the darkly psychedelic storminess of "Cyclops", to offer a few examples, these elements prevalent all across this disc, no tracks lacking. And despite being an all-instrumental band (but for Yanni howling into his guitar pickups upon occasion, as on "Soul Retrieval") this isn't just a techy display of chops, it's passionate creativity drenched with sweat and emotion. Another all-instro trio y'know we love is The Fucking Champs, but Stinking Lizeveta are waaaay more soulful. They come a lot closer to the aesthetic of Earthless (another of this list's highlights), but instead of untethered interstellar exploration they compress and complexify that jamminess into tightly-wound compositions. Stirring stuff. And soooooo recommended.
Sword + Sandals are a two saxophone and drums trio comprised of local artists Shaun O'Dell (Corn Silo of Skulls, Beak), Randylee Sutherland (head of new cd-r label Freak Out) and the irascible John Dwyer (Coach Whips, The OhSees, etc.) on drums and they have been creating quite a stir at recent art openings and cafe performance spaces. Like the angel/gladiator/Greek philosopher imagery their name implies, Sword + Sandals engage in tumultuous bouts of free interactivity, wrestling sonic foes in the name of some higher ideal. Here in this live set at 21 Grand in Oakland, the cavernous acoustics of the space allow each of the horn players room to roam without straying far from the core idea. But what is that core? Without relying on a foundation of melody, steady tempo or a calculated harmonic plan, each player manages to defy complete cacophony by intuitively overlapping across similar but microtonally separate aural paths, creating mesmerizing dynamic regimes of sound through tense build-ups with intermittent breaths of space. A refreshing new addition to this city's dearth of inspired free jazz-not-jazz performers.
Nope. It's not actually a choir, but rather the solo project of Peter 'Sleazy' Christopherson, the enigmatic musician whose electronic sleights of hand steered the course for Throbbing Gristle and Coil as the charismatic frontmen for both ensembles proclaimed all things transgressive. Now that Sleazy has stepped into the spotlight on his own, it is apparent that his vocabularies for twisted nursery rhyme melodies, cross-pollinated electronic algorithms, and sinister soundscapes were as absolutely crucial to the development of Industrial Culture at large, with or without the presence of Genesis P-Orridge or Jhonn Balance. Nowadays, Christopherson resides in Thailand, far from his birthplace in Britain; but the sounds he crafts in Southeast Asia have all of the trappings of the English esoterica he's authored for nearly 30 years now. Christopherson digs into his bag of magical tricks for another fantastic album, which seamlessly follows from where Coil left off on their posthumous album The Ape Of Naples as well as The Remote Viewer and Black Antlers. Constantly ascending melodies mutate and fold on top of each other, fluid basslines counterpoint stochastic stabs of monotone arpeggiations, and the castrati boys who wailed at the conclusion of The Ape Of Naples return with their beatific innocence and darkly charged sexuality with their voices crooning over music box melodies playing just slightly faster than they are supposed to and thus appearing sharply atonal. While Christopherson has proven himself a deft engineer with all sorts of audio software, he intentionally gravitates towards the much simpler patterns generated by the Fairlight sampler, the machine which dominated so much of the early Coil records. These structurally evolving patterns and overlaid melodic repetitions result in a creeping hypnosis and seductively powerful atmosphere. It's no surprise that his Threshold Houseboys Choir successfully conjures the ghosts of Horse Rotovator, the masterful Coil album from 1986.
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Whoa, this first few songs on this new Mary Timony album sounds about as close to her old band Helium as it could possibly get. And in our opinion that is a mighty good thing because although we've appreciated her many solo flights of fancy into fantasylands filled with castles, wizards and unicorns, our hearts still pine for the good ol' college radio solid Helium. On The Shapes We Make, Timony slips easily into each of her different musical guises that she's assumed over the years. Medieval maiden, indie rock firecracker, piano parlor princess, woodland pixie, dissonant axe goddess... yes, she's been all of those and then some. This is one of her best, most well-rounded albums to date! Recommended for old fans and neophytes alike!
