*Acid Mothers Temple alert!* *Acid Mothers Temple alert!* *Acid Mothers Temple alert!* Those alarm bells are ringing extra loud 'cause it's not just ANOTHER always amazing cd release from these Japanese hippie-kraut-psych-prog freaks... no, it's a tour documentary, their first-ever DVD, with live footage of fan faves "Pink Lady Lemonade", "La Novia", and big improv jam... also plenty of off-stage, on-the-road, behind-the-music, culture shock stuff (Japanese band, French filmmakers, USA tour). Bonuses on this DVD include a clip of AMT playing at the WFMU studio, and more. Limited to 1000 copies!
Another long overdue reissue from these French Canadian masters of stripped down black buzz. We reviewed their amazing 2001 debut, Goetie, a few lists back, and now we've got Sang Nordique originally released in 2002, it's just as black and buzzy, offkilter and strange. And as hard as it is to believe, maybe even better than the debut, certainly weirder!
Beginning with a damaged super reverbed guitar intro, that sounds like some impossible cross between blackened surf music and a Morricone western score, featuring a gorgeously melancholy, super distorted guitar buzzing within a cloud of thick reverb, the band immediately launch into some gloriously relentless Darkthrone-ish pounding old school blackness, with looped riffage, killer blastbeats, and some super harsh hellish howls. But by the next track, they've switched gears, and are spitting out some weird sort of crusty punk rock, flecked with a little old school classic metal, sounding for the most part, minus the blackened vocals, like this could be Doom or Discharge or some missing D-beat band from the eighties. Track three, the title track, has them switching it up once again, with a strangely melodic midtempo groove, pounding out a garage-y sort of stomp, sounding not a little bit like the Brainbombs, filthy and blown out, in the red and dripping with crumbling distortion, lots of swagger and groove, but painted all sorts of black.�
The next two tracks are straight ahead D-beat black thrash, furiously frenzied blasts of buzz and howl, veering from full on black metal, to more of that sort of blackened crusty punk. But then things get super strange... The second to last track, "La Nature De Mon Pans", begins as a loping swinging dirge, all demonic howl, caveman pound, and some super stripped down riffing, until the -other- vocals come in, a monotone Jandekian drawl, a slightly atonal croon, that suddenly gives this a Circle Of Ouroborus vibe, and the track is transformed into a lurching demented, seasick downer slab of doomy crust pop, complete with soaring minor key lead guitar. Whatthefuck?!? So goddamn good! It had us almost wishing the whole record sounded like this.�
At least until the final track, a 10+ minute drone and buzzscape of rumbling low end glitches, distant reverbed drum pound and haunting vocals, like a black metal Whitehouse maybe, the whole track a grinding rumbling glacial dirge, with those creepy vocals drifting ghostlike over the machinelike murk. Another seriously amazing WTF moment on a record packed with 'em. Definitely one of our favorite weirdo black metal bands, and Sang Nordique is one of their best records for sure. We can hardly wait to get their most recent full length�La Grande Infamie (from 2006) reviewed and on the list! But until then, this should most certainly hold you over...
Well over a decade ago, Bristol was the birthplace of a community of psychedelically inclined art-rockers. At first, there seemed to be an open door policy to the projects that emerged, with members rotating between Flying Saucer Attack, Third Eye Foundation, Crescent, and AMP. Eventually, all of these projects settled into their own particular aesthetic with Flying Saucer Attack continuing an overblown 'rural psychedelia,' Third Eye Foundation completing the project that Kevin Shields never finished of bridging darkcore drum 'n' bass with snarling guitar distortion, and Crescent sinking into an abject grit of narcolepsy. AMP had been the most elusive of the four, shifting between luminously smeared space rock and ungrounded electronics-plus-guitar noodling. When AMP were focused on their somber tunes, the smoldering washes of distortion and fuzz worked very well (i.e. their debut album Sirenes and their two proper albums on Kranky); but the exploration of guitar drone and post-Eno ambience proved to be less successful for AMP. This triple cd collection of singles, compilation tracks, and rare material from AMP showcases the highs and lows of their career. Fortunately, the less than inspired ambient noodling merely drifts into the background of this collection. It's never offensive, but just lulls and drifts, waiting for one of AMP's exceptional, slow burning crescendos balancing between Bardo Pond at their druggiest and the early '90s shoegazing contingent.
We went from discovering what we believed to be the only recording from this Southern blissed out doomdrone duo, to suddenly being inundated with a bunch of recordings, old AND new. We're not complaining, cuz if you're anything like us, you can NOT get enough of this sort of My Bloody Valentine metal, epic swaths of blown out beautiful heaviness that drifts and shimmers as much as it pounds and pummels.�
It's hard to know what to say about�We All Die Laughing that we haven't already said about all of the other Angelic Process records, if you're a fan of stuff like Jesu, Nadja, Hjarnidaudi, odds are you're already hip to the gorgeous sounds of the Angelic Process. In iTunes, the genre comes up as 'new age' which in a way it sort of is, but it's OUR sort of new age, blissy and dreamy and washed out and soft focus and blurry and abstract, but also heavy as fuck, massive and crushing and completely overwhelmingly intense.�We All Die Laughing is no exception, from the first track, which begins with a simple machinelike rhythm, and swirling ambient swells, a barely there guitar, before an avalanche of guitars drops from above, obliterating everything, somehow at once dense and heavy, yet so completely beautiful and packed with melody. Which is pretty much how the whole record stacks up, there are long stretches of low end shimmer, and simple tribal drumming, bits of ambient whir and fragmented melodies, but these are just breathers between the crushing black holes of sound, the million vacuum cleaners tuned to 'E' roar of their impossibly heavy sonic crush. You can read more of our AP gushing in any of the other reviews, but what more do we need to say, if you want it heavy, and want it beautiful, it really doesn't get more beautifully heavy than the Angelic Process.�
Packaged in slimline cases, with full color artwork, professionally printed cd-r's, each one signed by both members of the band!�
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.
Man, are we ever so excited to get this title, Dorothy Ashby's third and most originally authorial album with Richard Evans, The Rubaiyat of Dorothy Ashby. Based on the mystical poetry of the eleventh century Persian astronomer, Omar Khayyam, Ashby has created ten original compositions that feature an array of far eastern instrumentation and for the first time, her voice. Sung and recited, sometimes in bewitched multi-vocal incantations, the mystical vibe is heightened by electrified harp, distorted kalimba and koto but grounded in the driving percussive and bass grooves of Richard Evans' majestic production which evokes Egyptian, Middle Eastern and Pan-Asian sensibilities. The opener, "Myself When Young," has the cinematic power of a James Bond ballad. Her voice, commanding but never over-powering, becomes more intriguing and mysterious as the album progresses, immersing us deeply into the esoteric cosmos of her muse. A truly magical record and it can't be recommended enough!
Another super limited release from Mr. Aidan Baker, the first since, well, since the last list in fact, but as with that disc, Figures, this one too holds up just as well as any of his other numerous releases, and as usual the more we listen to it, the more we discover and dig about it. Unlike Figures, which was Baker in slowcore band mode, this is the slow languorous drone sound we originally fell in love with way back when. Orange finds Baker hooking up with another sonically like minded individual, Eric Quach, who records as Thisquietarmy. It seems both have a thing for the dark and drone-y, the lush and laid back, a world of expansive slowly shimmering deep ambience, as Orange demonstrates. Four tracks clocking in at 30 minutes, Orange is a darkly gorgeous drift in four movements, shifting lazily from dense rumbling reverberant low end explorations, to airy soft focus flutter, to lumbering slow motion whir, to subtly melodic epic cinematic ambience. It's hard to know what else to say about this stuff, other than it's gorgeous, dreamy, serene, haunting and so so so beautiful. As if there was anything else you needed to know.�
Packaged in an�orange, yellow, red and white sleeve and pressed on a cool matching silver/orange cd-r.�
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!!!
A surprise of sorts comin' at ya from those beloved lil' Beasties. They've dished out a completely instrumental album! That's right no samples and no vocals whatsoever! The absence of their telltale voices allows for the tracks to reveal more clearly the deep and broad influences that other musical genres and elder artists have had on the Boys over the years -- '70s funk and soul, '60s spy movie kitsch, old school hip hop, Perrey & Kingsley, Afrika Bambaataa, The Meters, Santana and Run DMC. They checked their youthful, snotty, smartaleck, punky 'tudes at the door long ago, but despite their tempered maturity and composure, they clearly haven't lost their rambunctious playfulness. This is some solid fresh and funky goodness from start to finish. And yes, the ultra groove pop meister Money Mark is along for the ride too!
If you dug their 1996 In Sounds From Way Out! collection of instrumentals from their Ill Communication and Check Your Head albums, you won't wanna miss this.
Bird Sister Blasphemy is the most recent release on Battlecruiser, the outsider metal sublabel of the mighty Celebrate Psi Phenomenon which in the past has birthed such hellish AQ faves as Black Boned Angel, Mirag, Mrtyu, Wardagger, Wings Of Vengeance, Wolfskull, You Should Have Slain Me, Ghoul, Ming, Cicadashrine and The Cops among others. This is the first time a Birchville disc has found its way onto Battlecruiser, but once you hear it you'll understand why. A�sort of a dark side addendum to the also just released (and reviewed elsewhere on this list) full length�Birds Call Home Their Dead. Four songs, twenty six minutes, a no brainer if you're a BCM fan obviously, and especially if you just bought�Birds Call Home Their Dead. The first track begins a dark meandering drone before the band launches into what sounds remarkably like a blown out version of the intro to Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher", and the song just sort of locks into step right there, turning that sort-of-intro, into a looped free-rock space jam, relentless drum pound, swirling clouds of freaked out FX, throbbing rumbling bass, and squiggly guitars and synths all over the place. The second track is like the harshest buzziest black metal record, made somehow even more harsh and buzzy, a relentless blast of blown out white noise fury, with some semblance of rock, buried way way way way down in the mix. Track three is some sort of tribal ur-drone free-skree raga workout, with layers of buzz and drone, what sounds like guitars and bagpipes and clouds of feedback and amp buzz and thick swells of screech and shimmer, all underpinned by a relentless drum corps krautrock rhythm jam. The title track finishes things off, and manages to take all the sounds from the first three songs and blow them to smithereens, whatever color comes after red as in "in-the-red", that's where this track is, pegged WAY beyond the red, a wall of vacuum cleaner guitar and squealing horn skree and some wild tribal drumming, relentless and circular, threatening to shred ear drums and speakers, before drifting off in a soft swirl coda of chants and mumbled percussive flutter. Phew. Maybe not as metallic as many� of the Battlecruiser releases, but in no way is this the softest or the easiest on the ears. Fierce and furious and dense and harsh, but as with most BCM stuff with plenty of melody lurking within the chaos.�
Bird Sister Blasphemy definitely holds up on its own, and is as good as anything in the series, but�once you dive in, it's easy to hear the sonic connection to its�Birds Call Home Their Dead big brother, and it's equally easy to see that you probably need both!
Latest blast of brutal beauty from the Kiwi king of soft noise, Campbell Kneale, aka Birchville Cat Motel.�Birds Call Home Their Dead is a three track epic, packaged in new ultra fancy packaging (more on that in a sec) and as always as lovely and dreamy as it is harsh and heavy. The opener, the title track, is nearly a half hour, beginning with layers of slowly shifting keyboard swells, little clouds of glitch and buzz, and a slowly developing krautrock beat. The keyboards sound like some damaged loop, yanked out of "Baba O'Reilley" and turned inside out, allowed to shimmer and shake, and to eventually erupt into a thick coruscating wash of jagged buzz and swirling noise. The drums remain an incessant pulse, like a Can rhythm track dropped into a Dead C b-side, and everything run through Kneale's magical bank of special FX. Like a supercharged outerspace noiserock Godspeed or something, that builds and builds and builds until the whole thing explodes into a full on in the red space rock free jam, like Monster Magnet, Hawkwind, F/i, Mugstar, the Telescopes, Circle and the Heads all jamming simultaneously. A dense cloud of FX, psych guitar, clouds of swirl and shimmer, streaks of feedback, walls of amp buzz and high end skree, all hovering over that unstoppable motorik beat. Eventually, the guitars drift off leaving just some strange random clattery and the sound of birds and insects and nature.�
The second track is a brief burst of gorgeously languid high end shimmer, layers of guitar and tangled melodies as well as deep reverberant swells all woven into a swaying static sound field of notes beating against one another amidst a dreamlike raga drift. A pretty killer one two punch.�
And as if that wasn't enough, for those of you who snoozed and losed on the recent ridiculously limited tour only cd-r�Her Anger Is Limitless, well, you're in luck, cuz that whole disc is tacked on here as track number three.�A single half hour track, created out of what sounds like manipulate samples of voices, is transformed into a massive glistening technicolor shower of sound. You know how when it's crazy hot, kids open up the hydrants and just run around in the street as tons of cool water rains down on them. Imagine a similar situation, except when the hydrant is cracked, out comes thick torrents of billowy fuzz and grinding whir, all sparkling and dense and warm and thick, and you just close your eyes and let the sounds wash over you and fill your ears. It sounds like a million guitars, and guys outside cutting down trees and tossing them in the wood chipper and some sort of futuristic synth battle and thousands of little bells and chimes and a roomful of amps turned on and buzzing with no instruments plugged into them, all smeared into one gorgeous glimmering sonic deluge.
As always, so absolutely amazing. And as we mentioned before, this is the first release in the swank new Celebrate Psi packaging, a full color, eight paneled digipak style sleeve, the outside retaining the CPsiP wallpaper motif, but the inside offering all sorts of gorgeous photos and some minimal liner notes, with the cd affixed to a little foam nub on one of the panels. Nice!
More amazing and freaked out noisy bliss from down under, this time a tag team match up between Black Widow, aka Rob MacManus from the Grey Daturas, and Blarke Bayer, Ben from Aussie grinders�Agents Of Abhorrence, who have probably toured together a million times and played in tons� of bands together, but this is the first recorded document we've seen of the two teaming up for some serious noisemaking.�
Although noisemaking might be misleading, as this is actually more drone-y and ambient than it is noisy. Thick washes of crumbling guitars move glacially over bits of percussive skitter, slivers of feedback surface here and there, some simple tribal thump, all nestled amidst lots of low end rumble. Imagine a much more subdued SUNNO))) and you might have a rough idea. But that's only the first track (of three). The second track sounds like someone playing the inside of a piano, lots of buzzing steel strings, scraping and haunting low end reverberations, someone is obviously on the outside of the piano too, pounding out simple creepy low end chords, the result is like some super abstract Argento soundtrack, moody, mysterious and intense, becoming more and more abstract and 'free' as the piece progresses, as if each player, on the inside AND outside of the piano are quickly pulling it apart into a pile of splintered wood and broken steel strings.�
The final track, the shortest of the three, is also the dreamiest, with a simple minor key guitar figure drifting in a wide open expanse of muted percussive swirls, and dense tangles of finger picked melodies, the whole thing sounding like the soundtrack to some experimental western, like if anyone ever dared remake Jodorowsky, it wouldn't be a long stretch to imagine this as the perfect music to accompany some of that gorgeously unsettling Jodorowsky imagery.
Surprisingly subtle and really cool.�
Latest expansive excursion into the wild forests of sound and the unexplored sonic wilderness of this Australian outfit. We first heard Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood back in 2005, when they released a disc on Campbell Kneale's Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label, and since then a slow but steady stream of releases have surfaced on other underground labels like Root Strata, Digitalis, Students Of Decay and now Music Your Mind Will Love. Fans of any or all of those labels will undoubtedly know what to expect, a ramshackle assemblage of fractured folk, abstract ambience, and rambling shambling free rock drift. Much like the title,�Enter The Cult Until The Dust To Represent The World Has Discovered The Hallucinogens And Bent Us To Their Use, this musical missive is looooong, a massive triple disc sonic sprawl, the band's sound allowed to unfurl and spread out unchecked, and as with most bands of this ilk, it suits them, they definitely flourish given enough space, their music like weeds in a garden, getting all tangled up with everything, and then when you least expect it, blossoming with multi colored flowers and gorgeous foliage.�
A dizzying swirl of stumbling acoustic guitar, fluttering flute. simple childlike rhythms, voices chanting and shouting as often as singing, primitive FX, analog synths, hand drums, shakers and chimes, handmade electronics, crumbling distortion, industrial clatter, psychrock guitars, all cobbled together into a super inventive, Rube Goldberg-esque musical contraption held together by vines and branches, sticks and twigs and stones, that emits, delicate spidery folk rock, intense damaged psychedelic freakout, wandering ambient clatter, percussive free noise, primitive tribalism and every variation in between.�
No Neck Blues Band, Sunburned Hand Of The Man, Avarus, Kemialliset Ystavat all travel a similarly shambolic and spiritual sonic path... so amazing.�
Super limited, packaged in a massive eight panel handpainted fold out sleeve, every one unique, with two printed inserts and held shut by a textured paper obi.
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How many Tortoise drummers does it take to make a totally great breakbeat album? Nah this isn't the set up to some dumb post-rock joke, the answer is three. Dan Bitney, John Herndon and John McEntire in fact. These three use their percussive chops to make a killer record that showcases some awesome breaks from all over the map: funk, African, Brazilian, Latin music and more. Makes perfect sense too that this would be on Stones Throw and not Thrill Jockey... as a bunch of these are the kinds of breaks most of the groups on the Stones Throw roster would be drooling over and sampling left and right if they found 'em on some obscure piece of wax. In fact, we're quite excited to see if there will be plans for some sort of remix record where different folks like Madlib, Peanut Butter Wolf, and Four Tet take these breaks and make 'em into actual tracks. While we wouldn't want to hear just any three drummers these 23 short tracks get right to the point and bump so delicious.
One of the Cave In dudes (guitarist Adam McGrath) goes nuts with hard rock/punk/psych/dub side project. Yes, that's what we just said. And name-checks Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa in the thanks list. It's all over the place but actually pretty cool. In fact, it's one of those side projects that make you wonder why dude didn't save some of these ideas to spice up his main band's next album, y'know? Blowing off some creative steam on a "legendary demo" put together with some hometown friends is just psychologically easier we guess. So we're glad Hydra Head pressed this to cd, and even if you don't care about the proggy metalcore of Cave In you still might totally dig Clouds.
This starts off with a couple shitkicking tracks of behind-the-chicken-wire hard rock/metal with badass boogie '70s riffage and guitar wailing, a bit like Bay Area heroes Drunk Horse. As this goes on, a few short, sharp punk rock turns are taken, things quickly steaming back into the stoner rawk realm tho ("Party Grunge" being a minute-long, aptly titled blast from both angles). Penultimate track "Magic Hater" manages to segue from a hardcore intro into a freaked out, blues'd n' boozed Beefheart homage. That barely preps you for this album's psychedelic 20 minute finale, "Quartulli Dub", featuring Funhouse saxophone skronk, backwards guitars, and yeah, dubby rhythms and FX. By the time all's said and done, you'll realize your Comets On Fire albums have a new best friend.
Last year, a few months before her passing a few of us here were lucky enough to see Alice Coltrane live at one of her last performances ever. It was a night we will never forget. She is one of the few people whose mere presence gives us goosebumps and effects our soul in such a tangible way. We thought it would be nice to shine some light on one of her lesser known albums which we feel is one of the best records she ever made. Alice Coltrane would always be the first to say that she was not just a jazz musician. There was a higher calling to her music making, a wider sphere of influence she was drawing from. Radha-Krsna Nama Sankirtana is one of the most beautiful examples of her extraordinary range. While much of her music had a huge Eastern influence it's on this record where she really let the spiritual side flourish with most amazing results. A series of devotional chanting songs, with Alice backing a vocal choir on Fender Rhodes and organ along with a couple traditional Indian songs, Coltrane absolutely soars on these tracks. One number here is a short but stunning song with her majestic harp accompanied only with Tamboura and the albums closer is an 18+ minute fantastical odyssey with Alice on her Wurlitzer organ channeling outerspace sounds like only she could, with John Coltrane Jr. on drums. The chanting songs are fantastical psychedelic hymns with elements of pop mixed in, throbbing and pulsating, elevating the songs to a greater place. We can imagine that this record has had a huge influence on folks like Noah Lennox (aka Panda Bear) as it's a striking example of using vocal chants, repetition and melody to reach harmonic bliss!
Radha-Krsna Nama Sankirtana is an album from the heavens. While words like soulful and spiritual are used so much that they often lose their meaning this is the real deal. These are sounds that not only uplift the spirit but also move us in a way few artists are ever able to. Alice Coltrane was one of the truly special ones. Of course we have to urge you to get many of her other albums too, as they are some of the best records ever made (all hyperbole aside, really)! Check out Journey In Satchidananda, World Galaxy and A Monastic Trio which are three of our all time favorites... We will miss her so much but luckily her spirit lives on within her amazing music.
Yay, this long out of print Chain Reaction classic from Finnish minimalist Vladislav Delay is now reissed by Huume... here's what we said about it long ago, the first time 'round:
The scope of the anonymous metallic techno sound of the Chain Reaction / Basic Channel core of artists has been fractured by the simple fact that Berlin is no longer the locus of activity. Rather, Fluxion, Hallucinator, and Vladislav Delay (the latest wave of Chain Reactors) come from lands quite far from Berlin. Finland's Vladislav Delay retains only a semblance of the Chain Reaction 'heroin house'. Instead of stripping the already minimal techno to its most hypnotic particles, Delay densly layers murky percolations of dubbed pattern phases with the teutonic 909 thump only sporadically emerging from the sonic substrata. An exceptional variation on a proven theme.
Two AQ favorites team up together for one great lp that shows a more pensive side to these noise rock heavyweights: Aaron Dilloway (Wolf Eyes) and C Spencer Yeh (Burning Star Core). Squid delivers on its title as the sounds on this lp make you feel like you're deep underwater tangled by up in the undersea world. Using tape loops, bowed tape, tape delay, violin, voice and electronics, Dilloway and Yeh create dark, moody textures brimming with mystery, suspense and restraint. We could totally hear this as the score to some Matthew Barney piece, as it shares much of the same influence as his films. As much as we love Wolf Eyes there is something pretty magical and always unexpected about what happens when Dilloway steps away from the world of his main band. And C Spencer Yeh continues to show that he has one of the most unique visions in the noise scene. And together it's pretty fucking magical. Excellent!
First in a super limited series of lp-only releases from everyone's favorite Japanese doom-drone-psych-rock overachievers Boris! For this limited double lp, they've teamed up with Boston's Doomriders, which just so happens to feature members of Converge, Old Man Gloom, There Were Wires and more...
These records capture live shows recorded back in 2006 when the two bands toured together.�
The Doomriders for those who don't know, are a straight up Motorheady rock and roll band, they even start their set with a bellowing roar: "We are the Doomriders from Boston, and WE PLAY ROCK AND ROLL!!!" And they do, pounding and simple, not thrashing or blasting just riff heavy big drum blasts of kick ass RAWK. The perfect sonic match up for the more rock side of Boris.�
The first track, though, on one of Boris' two lp sides had us fooled, a massive churning droned out low end sludge, the heaviest thing we've heard from them since Flood (not counting the Altar collab with SUNN) but after that it's back to the full blown, in the red, ultra distorted pedal to the metal blasting Pink-style wild psychedelic garage rock stomp that have become their modern sound. And it sounds great. Super saturated production, amazing sound, loud Loud LOUD!!! Obviously essential for all you Boris freeks...
And of course super elaborate packaging as always. Deluxe metallic gold gatefold, super thick stock, killer Screaming For Vengeance Judas Priest homage artwork, clear yellow vinyl...
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES, half red, half yellow, the copies we have are yellow, and this is ALREADY SOLD OUT and selling for crazy $$$ on eBay. We tried to get 100 copies, and got less than half that. Needless to say these will be gone before you know it. ONE PER CUSTOMER.�
Dr. D is a New York DJ best known to us for mashing up obscure '60 psych with current, crunken hiphop hitz. This limited edition cd-r mix, however, is pretty much all '60s and '70s grooves as far as we know -- no hiphop anyway. And it's got our number, 'cause so much of what he's spinning is that Turkish psych stuff we love, mixed in with some old and new Afrofunk a la Ethiopiques and Tinariwen, along with some further exotic flavors that fit. Some names we know/tracks we recognize: Selda, Bunalim, Edip Akbayram, Les Mogol, Erkin Koray, Baris Manco... and of course there's a bunch more we don't, all of it pretty cool though. It's a bit like that Trap Door mix, in a romantic mood. Plus this is a true turntablist mix, featuring 31 short selections (mostly 1-2 minute edits), flowing quite nicely, occasionally enhanced with some scratchy-scratch whip-whip-whap. The discs we have are from the first numbered 250 copy edition, in screenprinted cardboard sleeves.
Still more bizarre and amazing unblackness from one of our favorite new record labels, E.E.E. Recordings. The home of the cream of the UNblack metal crop. For those of you who have yet to discover unblackness, well, quite simply, it's christian black metal, which we know, seems like it would not compute, and for lots of folks it doesn't, since black metal is predicated on the message more than the music, but fuck it, some of the best black metal we've heard in the last few years has been from un-black bands. However, we almost don't need to have this discussion here since Drommer are not Christian, and are not really black metal. The are, according to the label 'non-religious dark ambient', but the music of Drommer is way to weird and varied to be summed up that simply. It most certainyl is dark, and ambient, at least sort of, hard to gauge the religious part as they are instrumental and ambient.�
But dark ambient gives the impression of swooshiness and dreaminess and drifty droniness, but this, the third disc we've reviewed from Drommer is so much more.�
Our favorite track might be "Shallow Water Residence", a swirling squall of crumbling white noise chopped and layered over moody mournful piano, the two elements constantly battling, it's quite intense and dramatic. But the rest of the record is just as unexpectedly amazing. The opener, "Oceans", is a long stretch of decayed drones, wavering and beating against one another, emitting sporadic rhythms, and coalescing occasionally into fragmented melodies, all very buzzed out and fuzzy, and with a constant tense minor key quality to it, almost like a Niblock piece recorded onto some old tape in William Basinski's attic. A lot of the record sounds like the sort of ambience one might expect to find on a Wold record. All damaged and corrupted, the sound quality so degraded that the imperfections are like another part of the composition. But then all of a sudden, the band will whip out some crazy majestic slab of moody instrumentalism like on "Ashen Sea Of Grey", the beginning of which sounds like it came straight off a Daniel Higgs record, before halfway through it splinters into shortwave interference, and becomes some murky childlike lullabye. Then there's the final track, all simple percussion and dramatic acoustic strum, like the rough mix of some lost Woven Hand song or a Nick Cave outtake, albeit peppered with strange digital glitchery and buzzy reverb...�
This record is just so gorgeously demented, and unpredictably intense.�Imagine if you can, Tim Hecker making (un)black ambient music, and you'd get a rough idea, but Drommer is way more schizophrenic, somehow without losing cohesiveness, every bizarre twist, or jarring shift, sounds completely natural, it's almost like Oceans is the soundtrack for the strangest film you've never seen. One of our new favorite records for sure... black, unblack or otherwise.�
From the same label that brought us music from Bethlehem, Costes and the debut/swansong recording from SF's The Gault (featuring members of legendary SFBM outfit Weakling) and which just so happens to be run by the guys in Diamatregon (who have a record out on Andee's tUMULt label, and a new one on the way!) comes this bizarre black beauty, the debut full length from bizarre German black horde Egonoir.�
The label mentions the usual blackbuzz culprits in their description of Egonoir:�Burzum, Leviathan, Bethlehem, Strid, Manes, and while it does have much in common with those obvious influences, it is somehow so much more. Darker, moodier, more melancholy, prettier, and definitely weirder.�
The root sound is a slow crawl, a barely midtempo buzzing Burzumic plod, with harsh vocals, and blown out guitars, but the whole thing is wreathed in a strange smoky production, making everything fuzzy and murky and muted and strangely lovely. The tracks often drift into swirling ambience, with the buzzing guitars transformed into amorphous clouds of foggy blurry guitar, a backdrop to the lilting melodies in the foreground.�
Then there are the vocals, that range from harsh howls, demonic growls to haunting crooning, but the strangest thing, and what makes Egonoir sound so unique, is the bizarre humming/crooning that lurks beneath the more traditionally blackened vocals, almost like American Music Club or Crash Test Dummies or Leonard Cohen, drifting darkly and melodically beneath the buzzing crawl... at some points female vocals drift into the picture, and suddenly it's a black metal Mazzy Star, almost, it's these creepy beautiful vocals that make this sound like some ultra depressing black metal lounge band, performing at some blackened dive perched on the edge of the abyss, flames licking at the foundation, the facade illuminated by buzzing black neon signs, and packed with a motley crew of hellish beats and down on their luck, southward headed earthlings.�
Lots of acoustic guitars (a couple tracks are mostly acoustic), muted wandering bass lines, gorgeously sorrowful melodies, those crooning humming vocals, loping seasick tempos, arpeggiated guitars, hushed monk-like chants, snippets of German wartime speeches, all wrapped in thick swaths of buzz and reverb, slowly drifting, like some buzzy black dream.�
Fans of all things depressive and slow, blackened and Burzumic, fuzzy and washed out, will freak for this. If Make A Change... Kill Yourself, Burzum, Xasthur, Nortt, Inferi and the like are your late night�downer black metal soundtrack, Egonoir might just be perfect for those bleak early morning hours after a long night of misery and hopelessness...
Or as the label so succinctly puts it: "Total psycho dark metal,�noir, noir, noir."
More unblack metal, this time from way off in Poland, probably most notable, metalwise at least, for the mighty Graveland, but this, the 2004 release from Elgibbor, now remastered, remixed and re-released, has very little to do with Graveland, sonically, religiously, or politically.�
The sound of Elgibbor like much of the stuff on E.E.E., the home to most of the crucial white metal being produced and released these days, is utterly bizarre, all over the map, with a wide range of sounds and songs and even production qualities. The opener is super fast, completely distorted and ultra blown out, the drums and guitars and vocals, become one thick layer of buzz, so fast and distorted it almost sounds like some sort of noise record, but close listening does reveal some furious blasting and some intense buzzing riffage, the weirdest part is the keyboard, which hovers and lurks underneath the buzz, almost as if it had nothing to do with the songs themselves, a bit of random ambience, deep keyboard swells that ebb and flow hauntingly in the background, beneath a thick sheet of blacknoise. But then there's the second track, all clean reverbed guitars, distant chug, simple way-up-in-the-mix drumming, and super emotive actual singing. Like some strange deconstructed metallic pop. Song number three confuses things even more, with some midtempo Burzumic buzz, but with some strange glitched out rhythms, and some ultra distorted garbled vocals, it almost sounds like some sort of unearthed DHR demo. It goes on and on like that, some swirly ambient swirl, muted black metal blurred into soft focus fuzzed out dreaminess, some super strange techno-black metal, with rhythms that sound like boiling liquid, while all around it guitars churn and vocals howl, and probably our favorite song "Awesome God", that sounds like a choir singing hymns with black buzz wrapped all around it, the results are less evil than they are totally bizarre, it's like a Merzbow remix of Wold covering Incredible String Band. Worth it for that track alone, but the rest of the record is just as far out and fucked. Once again, the unblack bands are upping the ante on truly damaged demented and inspired musical 'blackness'.
This is a Krautrock masterpiece!!! This cd reissue of the 1975 debut release by Eroc has totally floored us. Eroc's the solo project of Joachim Heinz Ehrig, who was the drummer in Grobschnitt. He used his solo project as a way to explore electronics, cutups and sound collage all surrounding totally beautiful & harmonic instrumental pieces. Of the albums he made under the Eroc moniker this is the one that shimmers with the most beauty while still showing his crazy range and unpredictability. From the blissed out to the bizarre, Eroc 1 is one of those records that you can't believe you've never heard before, and one that once heard will surely go down as one of your favorite psych/kraut/prog gems of the '70s.
Every time this plays in the store, someone in the back inevitably comes up front to see what the heck is playing. And often they begin to think that if this keeps up, they just might just have a new favorite record. Striking the perfect balance between experimentation and melody, Eroc melded the use of modular synthesizers, tape, overdubs, sound generators, guitars and percussion into an incredibly forward thinking, densely layered, crazily original sound. There is a golden sonic glow reminiscent of the best moments of Cluster / Harmonia, every track is fantastic and original, each one drives us wild, and the four bonus tracks on this collection are just as good as any of the tracks on the album proper! You can hear the early blueprints of so many musical movements that would take shape in the decades following Eroc's 1975 debut. Moments of dreaminess that foreshadow Durutti Column, glimmering electronics that anyone on Morr Music would kill for, and an integration of so many elements that sonically predate groups like Fridge by decades! We can imagine Andy Votel (Prog Is Not A 4 Letter Word, Finders Keepers) freaking out over this album much like Julian Cope who sang this disc's praises on his Head Heritage website.
And certainly all of us here at AQ have discovered a record that is pretty much a shoe-in for many of our all time favorite lists!
Previously unreleased 3rd (double) album from cult krautrock trio Exmagma (no relation to French prog masters Magma). Recorded in 1975 at Conny Plank's studio, this excellently-produced opus somehow eluded release for over thirty years. Now finally here it is, with vintage artwork, informative liner notes, and most importantly, 17 tracks, 69 minutes of quirkily wacky krautrock that had lain dormant for far too long. If you've heard either of their first two albums (the self-titled from '73 or Goldball from '74, both of which were once available together on a single cd reissue that's now sadly out of print) then you know they're a freaky band, a bit like Guru Guru but with more jazz-fusion stuff going on. This is still pretty jazzy but more rock than before -- with more singing too. Definitely betrays the influence of Captain Beefheart (with the track "Torpedo Tits" perhaps coming uncomfortably close to Frank Zappa lyrical territory) but also that of Miles Davis as well. A lost krautrock effort that we'd wager doesn't sound like too much else in your cd collection, with hard, angular grooves, druggy concepts, zany rock, confusional hippie humor, and journeyman jazz chops -- for a gonzo Frankenstein of an album only Exmagma would dare design and build.
The third and final installment in a series of short-form but jewel-like eps from this ethereal and esoteric collective project. Centered by Clodagh Simond's (Mellow Candle, Current 93) magisterial vocals and featuring a superstar roster of players, which this time around includes Robert Fripp, John Contreras, Steven Wilson, Michael Begg, and Percy Jones with overall production overseen by Colin Potter. Subtitled "Allure" (the first was "Bloom", the second "Huge"), the arrangements are still haunting and cathedral-like but at the start tethered in more traditional structures with harmonium, zither and strings setting up the mood before dissipating into the gossamer of treated guitars, tonal harmonics and ambient drones. The appearance of Robert Fripp's beguiling guitar theatrics on "Long Distance" nicely underscores Simond's climactic vocal incantations and treated bohdran percussive rhythms before settling into the third and final act, a beautifully charged and vocal-less epiphany of melancholy and fragility that like its title is neither spoken nor silent, but exists in that rarified space of being satisfyingly unsolved.
British pianist and bandleader Michael Garrick is probably not too well known in these parts, but his 1964 debut, Moonscape is still something of a legend in England. Released as a 10" record in a run of 100 copies, it's probably one of the most collectable British Jazz records ever made and for good reason. Sprightly and pastoral, yet tightly wound and at times completely unhinged, the piano melodies, reminiscent of the best Vince Guaraldi albums, wrap swimmingly around your head while the drums and bass propel your body with mad-dog intensity. Perplexing titles like, "Music for Shattering Supermarkets" and "Man, Have You Ever Heard" coupled with the enigmatic titular cover art lend an intriguing figure to the sounds inside. Not quite cosmic, yet anything but pedestrian. Since this was originally a 10" record, this is rather a short set, clocking in about 22 minutes. We suggest you put your player on repeat, because it's worth hearing all day.
Yay! It's a new outing from one of the most wildest, sassiest & sauciest bands anywhere on the globe. Of course they live right here in the Bay Area doing us proud and carrying the torch for carefree, queer & proud, all-out fun in your face pop that draws just as much from bubble-gum and girl-groups as it does garage rock, electro-pop and riot grrl. All The Sweet Stuff is by far their best album so far, with guests like Sugar & Gold on a few tracks and Hey Willpower adding his sexy voice to a Frenchified version of Dee-Lite's "Call Me." Filling that great American void of party-pop that folks abroad have been doing so well (CSS, Bonde De Role, Stereo Total). There is no one else we'd like to play our party than Gravy Train. They are like the bouncy offspring of the Cockettes & The B-52's. They make you wanna stay up late and see midnight movies, and have a slumber party, eat lots of candy, make crank calls, and play a scandalous round of spin the bottle. If the kids know what's good for them they'll all be jumping on the Gravy Train and so should anyone with a young heart and a taste for trashiness done so right!
Can you imagine if "Music To Moog By" maestro Gershon Kingsley had dropped acid, joined a commune, got religion, and jammed with the Silver Apples and Lothar And The Hand People? That might approximate what the unique, wondrous psych-pop "Mooglove" of 1970's The Electric Lucifer sounds like!
YES!!! It's about time. We've always wanted this album to come out on cd. This HAD to be our Record Of The Week. Heck, years and years ago, Allan (long before he worked at Aquarius) became a bit obsessed with this record. He'd found a beat-up old LP of it at a yard sale, bought it mainly 'cause of the title and the freaky colorful cover graphics, and then was blown away by the weird music within. It's what we've described as being "perhaps the most awesomely bizarre psychedelic pre-Kraftwerk electronica album ever to be released on a major label (Columbia) or elsewhere." Allan actually went so far as to try to track down Bruce Haack for an interview, but without any luck (turns out Haack had already passed away back in 1988, a couple years before Allan discovered the record). And Allan's not the only one here at AQ to have a longtime soft spot for this record... so we're all so happy that it's finally, FINALLY been given the cd reissue treatment. It's absurd, really, that this wasn't reissued sooner. The legend of eccentric electronica pioneer Bruce Haack has only grown in recent years. There's been several compilations of his work (Hush Little Robot was the best, since it featured a couple tantalizing cuts from this album), expensive imported Japanese reissues of several of his Moog music albums for kids, a posthumous Electric Lucifer sequel from the vaults, and even a documentary released on DVD, entitled Haack - The King Of Techno! But Haack's crowning glory, his masterpiece The Electric Lucifer, wasn't available at all. Until now. And The Omni Recording Corporation (a label new to us) have done it right, even down to the very welcome notion of including a 5-minute track of silence to separate the 13 tracks of the album proper from the over thirty minutes of additional bonus material that they've added on -- which consists of a 1970 Canadian radio interview with Haack on the subject of Electric Lucifer and an alternate take of "Electric To Me Turn". The packaging is top notch as well, reproducing the amazing artwork and Haack's trippy sleevenotes from the original LP (wherein he discusses his concept of "Powerlove"), plus cramming tons of additional stuff into the thick cd booklet. There's loving liner notes by several of Haack's friends and colleagues and lots of vintage photos and graphics. Nicely done.
How can we explain the utter charm of this album? Well it's about as psychedelic as you can get, a concept album that's futuristic and Biblically ancient at the same time. Haack used an electronic "computer voice" (long before it was cliche) that he named FARAD, as well as regular human vocals, to convey deep Age of Aquarius astrological/philosophical concepts, sometimes in the form of sinister liturgies, at others like playful rhyming lullabies. These Moogy, moody and groovy compositions feature churchy organ sounds, bleeps and bloops, and rhythmic percolations that wouldn't sound out of place in the Star Wars cantina. There's lugubrious droney passages, mechanical beats, switched-on classical flourishes, and musique concrete style sound collage. Very weird *and* oh-so-catchy. It's definitely every bit as wonderful and essential as the Silver Apples albums, which we know so many AQ patrons love dearly. Again, we're so happy this has been reissued. Highest recommendation. Listen to the love angel, people!
Drone records are a dime a dozen these days. Not that we don't love drone records, we do. In fact, often we're way too easy on the purveyors of drone, since the very essence of that sound, is so simple, and yet so completely satisfying to listen to. A guitar against the amp, a handful of keys on a keyboard held down, a loop cycled over and over and over, almost any sound smeared into a near static drift, we could listen to that stuff forever, and often do. But it's the rare drone record that uses the drone as just the jumping off point, as a foundation upon which to build a fragile and ephemeral structure of minimal melody and movement, instead of the beginning AND end. Stars Of The Lid are a good example, as is William Basinski, Tim Hecker and a handful of others.�
Horseback too. We were sent this disc out of the blue and immediately fell in love. Only later to discover that this was the work of a faithful AQ mailorder customer by the name of Jenks Miller! Small world. Horseback is most definitely a drone record, but manages to incorporate plenty of not specifically drone-like sounds. At once massive and dense, dark and distorted, but also ephemeral and airy, soaring and dreamlike. The root of the sound is a guitar, or guitars, allowed to reverberate and ring out, unfurling billowing clouds of distorted buzz and whir, that settles on the speaker like a thick blanket of snow, glistening and blinding, but at the same time warm and enveloping. The guitars pulse and swell, melodies drifting in and out, streaks of feedback, all wound up into a huge softly roiling glowing orb of sound.�
It's almost unfair to call this a drone record, as it's so lush, and rich, and full of motion, sprawling out like some sort of sonic sunrise, the sounds gradually changing color, everything shifting and shimmering and transforming subtly as the record progresses. So much more than just a simple 'drone' record. In fact, it's easy to hear Galaxie 500, Spacemen 3, Loop, Flying Saucer Attack, that sort of spaced out doped up drift, all smeared into Horseback's haunting sun dappled world of slow burning sound.
Elsewhere piano drifts amidst the dense guitar swells, and rhythms are provided by pulsing guitars and various sounds beating against one another. Vocals hover way below the surface, barely audible, but adding another layer of lilting mystery, near the end, the guitars peel back gradually revealing a blurry expanse of swirling cymbals and splattery free jazz percussion, all spread out into a buzzy sizzling swirl, over which the final haunting piano notes drift and fade. So gorgeous. Absolutely one of our favorite new records, a practically perfect fade-out-drift-off-drone-dream-disc, and quite an auspicious start for this brand new label...
If slow and steady wins the race, Interpol's third album will surely be in the winner's circle. Moody post punk pop for the masses? Maybe! Their first release on a major label happens to be their most moderate and perhaps most broadly appealing. Few studio pyrotechnics and overarching productions, Our Love To Admire is simply a solidly crafted and executed. Tastefully tame, it is. In particular Paul Banks sullenly tormented vocals are more restrained that on either of their previous albums. In some ways this is a plus. That is, his performance comes across as much more effortless, but we do miss some of his bombastic anguished ennunciations. After a couple listens we can say that none of the songs have jumped out and bitten us on the nose nor nailed us in the heart quite yet. However much like Antics did, we have a sneakin' suspicion that this will be a 'grow on you' album, gradually taking root with each listen. (Andee listened to it on the plane back from New York, in an exhausted sleep deprived stupor, and emerged with Our Love To Admire as one of his new favorites, its languid droniness and laid back dolor the perfect soundtrack for being lost in strange cities, being trapped in grey walled airports, staying up all night, and wandering through sweltering summer city streets!)
Psst, for super fans and collectors, there's also a limited deluxe version which comes in an elegant black hardcover book style package with a 24-page booklet and 18"x24" poster. Don't know exactly how limited it will be, so hop to it if you wanna secure a copy for yourself.
If slow and steady wins the race, Interpol's third album will surely be in the winner's circle. Moody post punk pop for the masses? Maybe! Their first release on a major label happens to be their most moderate and perhaps most broadly appealing. Few studio pyrotechnics and overarching productions, Our Love To Admire is simply a solidly crafted and executed. Tastefully tame, it is. In particular Paul Banks sullenly tormented vocals are more restrained that on either of their previous albums. In some ways this is a plus. That is, his performance comes across as much more effortless, but we do miss some of his bombastic anguished ennunciations. After a couple listens we can say that none of the songs have jumped out and bitten us on the nose nor nailed us in the heart quite yet. However much like Antics did, we have a sneakin' suspicion that this will be a 'grow on you' album, gradually taking root with each listen. (Andee listened to it on the plane back from New York, in an exhausted sleep deprived stupor, and emerged with Our Love To Admire as one of his new favorites, its languid droniness and laid back dolor the perfect soundtrack for being lost in strange cities, being trapped in grey walled airports, staying up all night, and wandering through sweltering summer city streets!)
This deluxe version comes in a hardcover book style sleeve, with a bunch of extra photos and a poster, but no extra music....
A little sneak peek at what's to come on the new Iron & Wine album which isn't comin' out until September. Oh cruel world, can we wait that long?! Well, we're just gonna have to. So in the meantime let's enjoy this one album track and two b-sides. Fifteen quality minutes of Iron & Wine is better than nothing. There's no drastic departures, maybe a few variations in instrumentation is all. Sam Beam sticks to his tried and true sleepyhead folk pop dreaminess.
It's true. THREE new Jazzfinger releases! On this list alone. If it was any other band, we might scoff, but hell, Jazzfinger are making up for some serious lost time. In a big way. And while there are plenty of bands we can't get enough of, Jazzfinger are one of our favorites. For years we subsisted on their debut, assuming the band had broken up or disappeared, until discovering that they were indeed still a band, just not a very prolific one. But that all changed fairly recently, and the band has been spitting out new releases, like one a month. But we're not complaining. Not at all. In fact we've been waiting for the Glass Key for ages, having heard rumors of it's existence. The second in a series of insanely elaborately packaged cd-r's. The first, The Well Of Used Dreams is long gone, and when we did have it, it flew out of here in to time flat. Which makes sense once you see it. And hear it.
For those new to Jazzfinger, they exist in the same sonic orbit as groups like Skullflower, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sunroof! crafting epic worlds of drone and buzz, strange little fragments of some undefinable musical whole. Unlike their sonic brethren, they are not as concerned with massive walls of sound, or huge swirls of guitar or clouds of keening reeds, instead, Jazzfinger explore texture and shape, shrinking themselves down and crawling physically through the minutiae of music, drifting through strange alien worlds of sounds, surrounded on all sides by vast expanses of sonic wonder.
The Glass key is a wonderfully mysterious song suite, a varied sampling of Jazzfinger's musical wares. With all the songs and sounds connected, a distinctive, yet hard to describe musical thread running clean through. Spread out over 70+ minute the band takes us along, on their tripped out psychedelic journey. Haunting pianos drift beneath a thick layer of fuzzy grit, distant warbly organ, and a scraped violin that either sounds like a crying baby or a meddlesome mosquito. Jack Hammers are muted and smeared into soothingly rhythmic flutters, epic expanses of cavernous echo and cymbal shimmer underpin buzzing distorted guitars that slither dirgelike through fields of chimes and coruscating feedback. Voices are chopped up and spread out over wheezing smears of huffing harmonica, warm clouds of Eastern melodies and raga like buzz hovering like a storm cloud over a loping funereal piano. So totally amazing.
Packaged in a massive oversized cardboard sleeve with super tripped out collages affixed to the front and the back, while on the inside the liner notes are affixed to the rocket shaped cardboard insert that functions as a sort of pull out tray, with the black cd-r in a sleeve attached to the front. Quite stunning. And incredibly elaborate, and totally time consuming to hand assemble. Needless to say, there were very few of these made, they are already sold out from the band, we only got about 20 and will never be able to get more, so don't blow it. You'll definitely be sorry.
Those heavier (and angstier) than thou sludge dooooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooom lordz Khanate may have called it quits, but thanks to the aptly named aRCHIVE label, their fans still have some lost, low-end transmissions from beyond the grave heading their way.
This one was previously released a while back by aRCHIVE in a 500 copy edition, and has now been remastered and repressed in an edition of 1000, with new layout, tri-fold cover, vellum obi -- all the expected excellent design for which both Khanate's Stephen O'Malley and the aRCHIVE label are known -- and comes sealed in one of those silvery metallic plastic "static shield" bags. Recorded live in the USA during Khanate's final tour in 2005, it features three long tracks, renditions of "Capture", "Release", and "Pieces Of Quiet". Each track is utterly agonized, distorted bass drones split by shrieks and silence, with drumming that gives this a perverse free jazz feel. As tombstones go, this (and also its companion, Live In Stockholm) is awful dense and heavy, cracked and crumbling.
SICK AND LIMITED! Buy now and/or cry later (either way).
Those heavier (and angstier) than thou sludge dooooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooom lordz Khanate may have called it quits, but thanks to the aptly named aRCHIVE label, their fans still have some lost, low-end transmissions from beyond the grave heading their way.
This one was previously released as a tour-only cd-r limited to fewer than 75 copies, but is now available (for the moment!) as a remastered cd pressing in an edition of 1000 copies, with new layout, tri-fold cover, vellum obi -- all the expected excellent design for which both Khanate's Stephen O'Malley and the aRCHIVE label are known -- and comes sealed in one of those silvery metallic plastic "static shield" bags. The three long tracks here, "Fields", "Pieces Of Quiet", and "Under Rotting Sky", were recorded live on tour in Sweden in 2004. The sound of wretched life, wretched death incarnate, extended trawls through ugly feedback and gorgeous shimmer, lumbering dirge catastrophe to the utter extreme that pretty much only Khanate has pushed it. We hope it was cathartic for them, and any listeners who didn't just run for cover, or curl up under the hot water in the bathtub with bleeding wrists...
SICK AND LIMITED! Buy now and/or cry later (either way).
We carried a cd-r version of Temporal Exclusion a short time ago, but the Paradigms label has scooped it up for a proper cd release, albeit a limited pressing of 750. In the interim, mainman Kris Berry fleshed out the 4-track ep into a 7-track full length. It now comes in cardboard sleeve within one of the series' now familiar printed envelopes.
Berry is joined by Ronald Aveling (voices and samples), percussionists Ches Smith, Stephen Flinn and Mike Hoffman, Faraz Minooei on Santour, and Monica Aiken on cello. Their strings, percussion, vocals and collaged samples weave together and apart in this an industrial edged dismemberment which inhabits a dank, gloom filled theatrical setting. It's a work haunted by intercepted television or radio broadcasts and other mysterious transmissions encountering pregnant pause piano strikes, the chanting of monks, deep choral intonations and other anguished distorted voices which often offer more texture than words. Enshrouded and somber.
Those of you who live in San Francisco may have seen or even bought some of the many self released casettes by the mysterious one man black metal band called Leviathan. Or some of you may have seen Andee or Allan sporting their Leviathan shirts, or you may have even seen Wrest, the man behind Leviathan lurking around AQ...regardless, Leviathan is the latest and certainly one of the greatest of the Bay Area black metal bands (Ludicra, Sangre Amado, the godlike Weakling [also on tUMULt], etc...) who seem to exist in some sort of vacuum here while elsewhere, band after unoriginal band keep getting signed to huge labels and hyped to death even though most of them suck.
For this release Andee and Wrest went through the 13 full length Leviathan cassettes/cd-r's (as of today that number has leapt to 15!) Leviathan had recorded since 1998 to compile a good overview. But they couldn't whittle it down enough so one disc became two, with the first disc being the newer stuff, and disc two being the older, raw-er material.
Verrater is pure, primitive, cult, home recorded evil. Two discs, twenty two tracks, one hundred and forty three minutes of buzzing, howling, pummelling, black metal. Think Burzum, Darkthrone, Immortal, that sort of thing, but with all sorts of weird twists and sonic surprises. Yes, Leviathan is grimmer than grim metal that the frost & forest lords of Norway should bow down to, but it's also pure expression unfettered by genre restraints, although informed and inspired by them. Like Weakling, Mistigo Varggoth Darkestra, Caacrinolas, Ludicra, Potentiam, Enslaved, and some other AQ-championed black metal acts, this is not just one for fans of black metal only! It's dark, weird, noisy, disturbing art embodying one man's vision that should be heard by anyone into avantgarde, experimental, psycically and physically powerful rock music. From blasting howling fury to moody ambient blackness to off kilter weirdness to droning riffery to soul crushing heaviness. What's truly remarkable is that one man, playing all the instruments himself, and recording at home, can evoke such strong emotions and invoke such musical demons. Original, evil, hateful, misanthropic, bizarre and truly black metal.
Finally, the debut from these Swedish twisted doom pop black metal freeks is available once again. We listed record number two, Erotik, a while back, and like us, everybody freaked out, digging these guys' strangely off kilter black melancholia, so much that we had trouble keeping it in stock. Like a damaged, blackened Katatonia, Lifelover are creating some of the most original and not entirely black, black metal we've heard in ages.�
On the same label that brought us discs from�Bone Awl, Urfaust, Planet Aids, Vrolok, Emit, Gauhaert, Lifelover's sound couldn't have been further from what we were expecting. Our first clue should have been the cover art. A series of photos of a nude blonde woman, covered in blood, reclining in lush grass and blossoming wildflowers. Inside, old woodcuts, photos of boats, apartment buildings, and then the creepy band photos, featuring all four members, the strangely named (), B, LR and 1853.
But what exactly does it sound like? Well, Katatonia is definitely a good starting point, super moody and melancholic, soaring and dramatic, guitars that do almost everything else but buzz, jangle, strum, shimmer, keen, roar, and ok, maybe they buzz a bit, but they tend to be much more melodic than textural, although the sounds is definitely lush and layered. The arrangements are simple, but never straight forward, there is piano all over the place, the vocals are wild and unkempt, howling and hysterical,� sometimes haunting and spoken, drenched in reverb, the drums go from simple time keeping to strange stumble to thunderous pound usually during the same song, and amidst and within the music are all manner of samples and found sounds, Swedish folk songs, panicked crowds, weird voices, record crackle, amp buzz, and lots of other indescribably sonic events.�
It's easy to hear some Factory records here, some Joy Division for sure, definitely a bit of the Fall, Gang Of Four. Minus the metallic buzz and the unhinged vocals, these guys might even be entering Interpol / Editors territory. A sort of modern moody new wave. Downcast and introspective, but with Lifelover, it all ends up completely twisted and damaged and a bit buzzy. In a very very good way. There's been much discussion here about which Lifelover record is better, Pulver or Erotik, and the split is pretty even, but no matter which side anyone falls on, they definitely agree that BOTH are absolutely essential.
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.
Here it is, drooling Magma fans -- the third, penultimate "Epok" in the eternal French "Zeuhl" gods triumphant live four-disc DVD series, Mythes Et Legendes, celebrating 35 years of their utterly unique, heavy prog sounds. Recorded in May of 2005, the nine compositions performed here begin with a full 32 and a half minute rendition of their epic "Kohntarkosz" from 1974, continuing on to include such classics as "Emehnteht-Re", "Hhai", and "Zombies", hitting (at least some of) the highlights of the Magma songbook up to 1977 or thereabouts, drawing from such albums as Kohntarkosz, Hhai/Live and Attahk. If you've got the first two dvds (hard to imagine you'd be getting just this one) then you know that Magma drummer/vocalist/mastermind Christian Vander's current band totally KICKS ASS. Besides Vander himself, the Magma documented here features the vocals/percussion squad of Stella Vander, Antoine Paganotti, Himiko Paganotti and Isabelle Feuillebois, alongside James Mac Gaw on guitar, Emmanuel Borghi on Fender Rhodes, and Philippe Bussonnet on bass. Former keyboardist Bentoit Widemann guests on Fender and Minimoog as well. Brilliant. NTSC, all-region, 115 minutes totale!
(A bonus feature on this disc is the special DRUMS-ONLY viewing angle available for the Attahk track "The Last Seven Minutes". They know their fans!)
Poly.Sci.187? Hmmm, instead of political science, we get the impression that the lesson Mansbestfriend (aka Sole) is teachin' on this cd is that this is what DJ Shadow's album after Endtroducing -should- have sounded like. It's a lush, but somewhat lo-fi, sample laden instrumental doom hop collage. Alternately bleary and bracing. Pretty fucking great...
Jeffrey Manson is a new indie folk troubadour from right here in SF. This lo-fi home recorded album is filled with rootsy, rough hewn tunes which seems very much inspired by the earnest heart baring voice of Jeff Mangum. Best listened to in the great outdoors, far from the roar of the city. Dozing In The Abandoned Gunnery was released on the new indie label Recolote Music whose roster already includes a number of other likeminded homespun Bay Area artists such as Chinatown Bakeries, Ryan Stively & His Poison Band, and Port O'Brien. They release mostly limited run cdrs in lovingly handmade packaging.
You ever have that problem where you're in an internet sex chat room, and you make a date with some pervy girl for a phone sex session, and then when you call her up it's actually some jerk with a sampler loaded with a sexy female voice telling you things
A few of the callers figure it out, and then it gets even more pathetic as they continue to masturbate, being such geeks that they're turned on by the technical details of the joke (one guy asks, excitedly, about if the sampler is triggered by keyboard or mouse). But most of the guys are so clueless and horny that they're completely unfazed by Kathy's bizarre comments ("I think you might be racist", "I want to have your retarded babies", "I've got a pickle in my ass") and limited vocabulary (she says "Yesssss!" the same way every time), or her deafeningly noisy, Merzbow-level obviously-looped screams of orgasmic ecstasy. We could go on, but we don't want to reveal too much. Just get this, it's the best crank call disc we've heard in a long time. You'll be playing it for everyone you know, except maybe your mom. Absurdly funny.
Antony Milton is one busy man, not only does he run the amazing PseudoArcana label, but he also makes tons of music as A.M., Mrtyu, in the Stumps, the Nether Dawn and more. Did we also mention he's a postman?
The End Of This Short Road is the latest from this underground dynamo, and is most definitely the most song oriented. We know full well Milton is capable of weaving gorgeous expanses of droney bliss, as well as monstrous slabs of downtuned brutality, but who knew he had such a deft hand at delicate songsmithery, but he does, and pretty much every track on The End Of This Short Road is a gem. Fear not, the weird lo-fi warbles and buzzy drone drenched whirs are still present and accounted for, but they tend to be beneath bits of jangle and croon, instead of on their own (although that does happen here and there).
The quieter pretty songs sound a bit like a more lo-fi Sparklehorse, with a little Alastair Galbraith mixed in and maybe with Roy Montgomery on guitar. Soft whispery vocals over delicate melodies, all filtered through that distinctly NZ filter. While the more rocking songs, are super psychedelic, with aggressive strumming, lost of reverb and delay, intense little squalls of minor key jangle and crunch, that manage to be both noisy and pretty, intense but strangely sad and wistful. Recommended for soft hearted noisies and noisy hearted folkies...
Second Rune Grammofon album from this extreme improv duo from Norway! It makes sense that they'd have an exclamation point as part of their name, as their music is indeed punctuated with glitchy outbursts, zaps of loud guitar/drums/electronics. Meanwhile, "MoHa" simply references their names: Morten J. Olsen and Anders Hana, both of whom are members of Ultralyd as well. We compared their first disc of hyperactive skree to some of Mick Barr's stuff, and to the most nutty bits from their labelmates Supersilent. Now we can add that shortly after our first listen to Norwegianism, we put on a classic avant-garde electro-acoustic album from 1970 by Luciano Berio, and after a few minutes got confused and thought we were still listening to MoHa!, when the Berio got into a particularly crinkly and chaotic passage of electronic bleepage. We like it best, though, when MoHa! pace themselves, give the music space to breathe, maybe even settle into some broken-down rhythm for a while (which are the parts that remind us of Supersilent), as on the track "Home Two".
We guess they may have titled this album Norwegianism 'cause they recorded it in Geneva and mixed it in Berlin, and felt that they were bringing some Norwegian noise to those locales. Also it could be in recognition of the fact that they get monetary support from the Arts Council Norway -- apparently Norwegian taxpayers are a lot more musically open-minded than the typical US citizen!
Latest disc of sonic exploration from this Swedish dronescaping ensemble. With such a darkly minimal sound, it's amazing that, at least for this recording. Moljebka Pvlse included ten members! Credited, with among other things, sounds (yep, just 'sounds'), no-input mixing board, synthesizers, melodica, field recording, cymbals, guitar, voices, flute, electric piano, text, didgeridoo, mbira and supercollider(!), this expansive ensemble takes all of that and manages to distill it into the darkest and simplest of sounds. A nearly seventy minute single piece, slowly sprawling out from a stretch of barely there shimmer into gradually more and more active low end minimalism. Long drawn out tones, mysterious bits of glitch and click, haunting voices, moaning and mumbling, chanting and intoning, bits of creaking and tiny swirls of FX, deep swells of synth and barely discernible rhythms, everything constantly shifting and gradually changing shapes, some parts almost coalescing into fragmented bits of actual pop (albeit stripped down and smeared), while others are mostly melody free, remaining stretched out and abstract. Quite sinister and lovely, dark and subtly intense, not all that far removed from the sounds of Troum and Thomas Koner and other practitioners of the drone and drift. Which as avid AQ customers should realize, is indeed a very good thing.�
You know that Ed Wood movie, where the guy is sitting on his throne, atop a pile of gold, waving his arms dramatically, shouting "More gold!!! Mooooooore gold!! Sometimes we feel like that, only instead of gold, it's doom we're after. "Moooore dooooooom!!! Mooooore doooooooom!!!" And the powers that be seem to have heeded our call. And indeed blessed us with more doom.
This time around it, it has come in the form of French outfit Mourning Dawn, who traffic in an epic and majestic blackened doom.
Huge mournful riffs, simple plodding drums, but unlike most doom, the vocals are a blackened shriek, closer to Xasthur or Weakling than any traditional doom band. Harsh and raw, the vocals drift atop a relentless flow of classic doom. This is not so much filthy and funereal as it is epic and timeless. Less Moss and more My Dying Bride, more Solitude Aeturnus and less Esoteric. But this is not nearly as polished as that might lead you to believe, Rough edges still abound, but the root of Mourning Dawn's sound definitely lies with Cathedral, and My Dying Bride, Katatonia, Paradise Lost, and the like. Doom certainly, but with plenty of death and black swirled into the mix.
The songs are intense and emotional, dark and sorrowful, soaring melodies wrapped around dense slabs of sonic misery, gorgeous stretches of plodding doom joining blasts of midtempo buzz, but everything, always, wrapped in a black fog of abject misery, a neverending melancholia that seeps into every note like spilt blood. Killer.
Very much like how all the black metal bands in the Ukraine seem to be made up of the same 5 or 10 people, just in different combinations, black metal bands in Russia also tend to revolve around the same 2 or 3 visionaries, along with whatever black legions they can enlist from their little scene to help shape their black musical world.
We recently reviewed the only currently available disc from Russian cult underground legends Old Wainds, who as we mentioned in that review, are THE grim cult horde of choice among the black metal elite. And almost appropriately, all of their records, minus the just reviewed demo disc, seem to be way more difficult to track down than they should be, and thus of course, are seriously big ticket items on eBay.
So here we have the group Nav, also known in Russian as HABb, a black metal band made up of 50 percent of Old Wainds, primarily the project of Old Wainds drummer Izbor, so as you might imagine, the sound does not wander far from Old Wainds' grim frosty buzz. Which is of course a good thing. The same sort of fuzzed out primitivism, a gloriously murky production. But Nav add plenty of their own unique style, everything is so strangely mixed, with loud LOUD drums and guitars that swirl into a nearly impenetrable blackened haze. Demonic vocals that go from buried way down in the mix to a blown out raspy roar often within the same song, and bits of chaotic rhythmic stumble and haunting ambient weirdness, complete with the thunderous sound of horses hooves.
And unlike the straight black buzz of Old Wainds, Nav sounds a slight bit more melodic, with much of the riffing displaying a classic metal vibe, as well as rhythms that vary from the old black stand-by, the blast beat, lurching lopes, galloping thrash, pounding doom, lots of fuzzed out midtempos, all twisted amidst some strange breakdowns, where the rhythms constantly shift and the riffs contort and morph into slightly different shapes, there are even some super demented LEADS! Still, all the while the band continues to forge a wholly unique pitch black path. Fans of all things dark and frosty and cult and grim would do well to bow before the black knights of Nav!
We haven't been able to track down the cd, but we do have the ULTRA LIMITED vinyl version. Gatefold sleeve. Limited to 300 copies!
UK label Barl Fire has a darn near perfect record with kick ass releases from James Blackshaw, Rameses III, Robert Horton, Lamp Of The Universe, Floating World, United Bible Studies, The North Sea, Uton and more. Their focus seemingly on drone folk and free rock. Their last two releases however, this one, and the James Reid (reviewed elsewhere on this list) have begun to drift more toward straight ahead folk, or at least the sort of modern folk of New Weird America and similar minded hippies. Where as the James Reid channels the spirit of Nick Drake, the Nihil Project is more of a pagan ritual, a sort of Renaissance Wicker Man mystickal magickal folk. Sitars and zithers, tablas, harpischords, violins, along with more traditional acoustic guitars and flutes as well as some little more modern electronic flourishes. Crooning vocals, lilting melodies, occasionally dark and ominous, but just as often playful and festive. Definitely for fans of the Wicker Man, Pentangle, Incredible String Band, Fairport Convention, Forest, Comus, as well as the new breed of modern folk a la Devendra, Brightblack, Newsom and the like...
Recorded way back in 2004, in and around Tulsa, Oklahoma, this is the latest from Digitalis mainman Brad Rose's solo psych folk project The North Sea. Utilizing a free folk arsenal of acoustic guitar, glockenspiel, melodica, kalimba, bouzouki, field recordings and a bunch of other stuff, Rose crafts glistening folkscapes of twang and drift. Less free and abstract than many of his sonic brethren, Rose often writes actual songs, with riffs and parts and lyrics, lovely lilting forest folk, that just seems to glow and shimmer. His soft falsetto drifting above lush steel string guitars and random sounds of nature, birds and wind and running water. But he can get loose and free with the best of them, offering up primal forest drones, rife with percussive clatter and steel string buzz, abstract ragas, plenty of soft shimmer and warm warble, but even those tracks are infused with a certain lyricism that ties them to his more song oriented side. So lovely. Definitely another essential addition to your already bursting at the seams modern free folk collection.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!! Packaged in a swank white digipak, with full color insert and pasted-on front cover artwork by George Parsons of Dream Magazine.
