An awesome 4 band pile up, the state of modern black noise, or blackened noise rock, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. This stuff is fierce and heavy and demented and so great. From the same label that brought us the primitive black metal of Malkuth (reviewed elsewhere on this list), the raw black fury of Bone Awl, those killer Akitsa reissues and a recent MB reissue, comes this killer 4 band anvil to the head. Up first is the Vegas Martyrs, featuring Hospital head honcho and Prurient mastermind Dom Fernow, and just like the recently reviewed lp, it's another gloriously blown out and beautiful slab of blackened pop flecked noise rock. In the red and on the verge of destroying your speakers, VM offer up a killer Maiden-like riff over super distorted drums, garbled FX drenched vocals, super hypnotic and repetitive, all wrapped up in a crumbling stereo killing production, finishing off with several minutes of glitchy grinding murky noise...
Up next is Air Conditioning, who sculpt their noise into something sorta pretty, huge swaths of blown out buzz over blurred buried melodies, layer upon layer upon layer, all shifting and shimmering, it almost sounds like a super charged noiserock Tim Hecker. Abrasive but surprisingly lovely. Up third is The New Flesh, show kick out the jams, ultra lo-fi style, a noisy practice space sounding garage rock sludge jam, all downtuned guitars, distorted trash can drums, and a weirdly deep voiced vocalist, who occasionally let's loose with a glass gargling screech. Dirgey, grimey, almost like some long lost Swans rehearsal tape. Finally, finishing things up are the Coughs, who weave some strange drone-y dirge with skronky sax and buzzy bass, fuzz guitar, all in short sharp bursts, creating a weirdly spacious plod, looped and cyclical, until the wild female vocals come in, and suddenly the Coughs sound like they're channeling old school Riot Grrl through new school noise. Out of nowhere comes a blast of spastic drum freakout before returning to that gorgeously relentless sludge-y pulse...
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES. Packaged in a thick black on green paper sleeve, printed inside and out, pressed on clear green vinyl.
I (Sally) loooooove Ellen Allien. When I bought her album Thrills a coupla years ago, I was busting out dance moves for weeks in my bedroom that I didn't even know existed inside of me. When I'm at a dance party/club, I can catapult the DJ from all right to great (in my head) in a matter of seconds if they throw on Ellen. Her presence was a gift to collaborator Apparat on "Orchestra of Bubbles." Her music is electronic perfection as far as I'm concerned -- seemingly simple, yet complicated and hella sexy. Though all of Allien's records are incredible throughout, I've found that there are always one or two songs I could listen to on repeat for days. On Thrills it was "Magma" and "The Brain Is Lost," and on Orchestra of Bubbles I couldn't get enough of "Way Out." Following suit with Fabric 34, a remix record, "Harrowdown Hill" (Thom Yorke) alone makes this record worth every cent. Allien has achieved exactly what you hope for in a remix -- she's taken a nearly perfect song and pushed it over the edge to absolute perfection. Overall, Fabric 34 tends to be a bit more ultra-loungy than her previous works, but she manages to still throw in the special stuff that really makes her music stand out.
Arcade Fire fans, we're sure you're more than familiar with the song "Intervention" from the band's most recent full length. It's a dandy, right? But do you also recall another tune from the same album, the one with the awesome horn section (otherwise known as the Calexico brass)? Yeah, you know the one... "Ocean Of Noise" (which we consider the aural equivalent of a peanut butter cup)! It's definitely one of Neon Bible's highlights. Well, Calexico went and recorded their very own rendition of the song, and no surprise, it's a splendid, somber, shimmering wonder! So, for the latest Arcade Fire single, Merge Records wisely included Tucson's finest on the flip side. It is THE reason you need this (whether you dig Arcade Fire or Calexico, both or neither). So good!
Yeay! We have a new pop crush on our hands. Arthur & Yu come from the Pacific Northwest and offer up some delicious and classy timeless tunes that are so perfect and summery. Arthur & Yu is actually the work of Grant Olsen and Sonya Westcott. Together they follow in the footsteps of such luminous duos as Lee Hazelwood & Nancy Sinatra, making beautiful music both breezy and subtle. Like the more twee and dreamy early moments of Belle & Sebastian or the smart sweetness of Camera Obscura covering a Vetiver song, Arthur & Yu have found themselves a perfect place alongside pop's elite with this debut. We'll be sitting on the porch sipping fresh lemonade for the rest of summer with this one spinning on the stereo. So nice!
We really didn't have very expectations for this one as most big time punk reunion records have been pretty dismal and depressing. But we're happy to report that this is not bad at all, in fact it's pretty damn good! With the original lineup together and Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys on production duties, Build A Nation was recorded like the good old days, right to tape. Of course nothing Bad Brains could do will ever replicate the fire and intensity of their legendary ROIR debut, but this is for sure better then any of their releases in the '90s. Going back to their roots the record finds a nice balance of punk rock songs and HR's love of roots reggae and offers up a much less metallic slant then their last several discs. You can tell that Adam Yauch put a lot of love and care into recording his heroes and he really was able to get a sound from the band that represents so much of the best parts of who they are. Any self-respecting punk/punk-lover knows that Bad Brains are one of the most important bands in the history of American Hardcore so it's very nice to hear a new record from them that kicks serious ass...
Another slab of blissed out dreaminess from AQ fave Aidan Baker. His umpteenth release this year, every single one of them fantastic. This one, titled like a Damien Hirst piece, I Will Always And Forever Hold You In My Heart And Mind, is one single 50+ minute piece, separated into 12 parts, one for each word of the title, all woven into a single expansive whole.
The opener took us right back to Oval's Diskont 94, a shuffling shimmering underwater swirl, but instead of skipping cds as source material, Baker seems to be using some sort of loping Three Mile Pilot like bass, chopped and looped and smeared over a wash of drawn out synth drones, totally tranquil and dreamlike, but with that bass, lending the track a bit of subtle forward momentum. In fact the whole disc seems to be rooted in the interplay between droning synths and that processed bass. It's a bit krautrocky at times, a little bit Popol Vuh, ambient and abstract but propulsive at the same time. Some of the tracks are more layered, with strange muted bits of percussion, or more distinct melodies (also muted), while others get more and more distorted threatening to crumble to pieces, and still others, remain austere and minimal, throwing a shimmering sonic cloak over the hypnotic circular melodies and slow shifting sonic swells.
What more to say? As always, totally beautiful and completely hypnotic. Another perfect late night soundtrack for spacing out and drifting off...
LIMITED TO ONLY 156 COPIES, so you know what that means, each hand numbered, packaged in a super elaborate die cut sleeve, with a two sided insert, the disc, and the insert all visible around the custom cut outer sleeve. quite striking.
We've been enjoying quite a nice run of summer fever here in SF. Lots of outdoor adventures, picnics in the park, trips to the beach, fresh fruit to eat, naps with the windows open. So we thought while we've been indulging in all of summer's glory we would take the time to actually list one of our all time favorite Beach Boys records, even though its not a new reissue or anything. In fact it's two albums on one cd. While of course Pet Sounds always gets lauded as the Beach Boys' masterpiece, we think that Friends might be a contender for one of their greatest records as well. Every single track on Friends is pure pop perfection! You can hear the next several decades of smart pop music foreshadowed in the songs on Friends. "Busy Doin' Nothin" is like the sweet and quirky song Beck is still trying to make, "Little Bird" sounds like one of Yo La Tengo's most bittersweet numbers and the amazing instrumental "Diamond Head" with its reverb and ocean wave sounds provides the sonic blueprint for one of our favorite records of the last year, Panda Bear's Person Pitch. Not one clunker in the batch, Friends is truly one of the greatest pop records of all time!
While it would be worth it just for Friends, this two-for-one cd also contains 20/20, the Beach Boys' last album of the '60s. It's got a couple misses but wow are there some amazing musical moments to be found. You can definitely hear some bits and pieces that would end up as part of the soon-to-come masterpiece Smile, as well as some of the best songs Dennis Wilson wrote and sang for the band. It's also the album that features an uncredited (for obvious reasons) contribution from Charles Manson. He and Dennis Wilson had become friends before the Tate / LaBianca killings and as a gift he gave Dennis a song "Never Learn Not To Love" which was simply credited to Dennis after the Mason murders went down. The collection also includes 5 bonus tracks and really nice track by track commentaries in the liner notes.
The perfect music to make this an endless summer (as is, umm, well, probably the BB's Endless Summer too). If you don't have these Beach Boys albums we can't recommend these enough. Pop perfection!
We know close to nothing about this band, other than it's the work of an 18 year old Venezuelan kid who lives in Belgium (and is now a member of Silvester Anfang) and who in addition to having a cool and mysterious name, has managed to whip up a pretty seriously blissed out and beautiful record of gorgeous psych-drone.
Two sidelong krautrock drone jams, mining similar territory as fellow noisemakers like Astral Social Club, Hototogisu and Burning Star Core. The first side begins with glistening streaks of fuzzed out synths and decaying tape loops, all wrapped in smeared clouds of blissy FX, but it quickly transforms into a very SUNNO)))-like low end dirge, bombarded on all sides by hiss and glitch and crumbling effects before building into a fuzzed out epic, a wall of rich, thick, subtly shifting sound, droney, dreamlike and sort of cinematic.
The flipside is another slow building epic, this time a wash of fuzzy warble and layered drones, voices and melodic fragments all processed and blurred into a gorgeous abstract soundscape, peppered with bits of percussion and all sorts of swirling sonics. Eventually, the track begins to fall apart, until all that is left is a strange chaotic swirl of percussion, hissy and buzzy and murky, while a ghostlike super distorted melody drifts and sways in the foreground.
LIMITED TO 525 COPIES! Each cover is signed and hand numbered. Super striking paste on covers, SUPER thick sleeve, pressed on 180 gram vinyl, with a photocopied insert.
Third times the charm for the Bee Gees, as we finally get around to reviewing the third double-disc remastered deluxe reissue in a series, this one of their 1968 third record, Idea. And it's not because this is our least favorite release, but quite the contrary, it's become the album we revisit the most frequently. Often letting it play in the store repeatedly through both stereo and mono versions.
A slight departure from the baroque arrangements and epic songwriting of 1st and Horizontal (but which they will return to in full form on 1969's Odessa), Idea focuses more on the band as an integrated rock combo rather than a harmony-pop group with accompaniment. The orchestra arrangements take a back seat in the mix, while the group utilizes a more upbeat hook-laden rocking sound in the vein of other seminal (and underrated at the time) albums of the era such as Something Else By The Kinks, The Notorious Byrd Brothers, and Headquarters by The Monkees (and influencing such later bands as Elf Power, Beachwood Sparks and Vetiver). Spotlighting electric guitar, 12-string acoustic, harmonicas and organ, as evidenced on the title track, "Kitty Can", "Indian Gin and Whisky Dry" and "Such A Shame", which stands out due to fact that it's the only song on the record not written by the Gibbs, but by then lead guitarist Vince Melouney.
But of course, this wouldn't be a classic Bee Gees album without some melancholic orchestral balladry which they were more known for, so we assume that is why opener, "Let There Be Love" with its piano and harp arpeggios, "I Started A Joke" and "I've Got To Get A Message To You" were pegged as the standout singles. All great songs surely, yet for us the lesser known songs are the real treats. Definitely one of the bands most underrated recordings and one which we hope this reissue will garner many new fans. Features both Stereo and Mono mixes and a bonus disc of alternate versions, unreleased tracks and even a couple of radio spots for Coca-Cola! Highly Recommended!!!!
Birds & Batteries kick off their debut album with a solid cover of Neil Young's "Heart Of Gold". It's a bit of an odd decision, but we guess it serves to illustrate an inspiration jumping off point for this SF band. Similar to that unpredictable Canadian singer/songwriter, B&B main man Mike Sempert has crafted a comfy blend of pop, traditional acoustic folk and country rock that is not without its share of gentle non-traditional twists. He seems to favor the latter a little more so here than on the previous Birds & Batteries cd-r release Nature Vs. Nature which interwove a rootsy singer/songwriter perspective with electronica and post rock elements. It's far more composed and cohesive. Nonetheless he keeps us on our toes, fleshing out and deepening some of the songs' timeless earthy folk atmospheres and melodies with occasional synth keyboard lines and textures. Sempert's songwriting is confident and engaging with lyrics drifting from the daydream-y contemplative to the yearningly melancholic. Highlights include the instrumental "Jungles (Oceans)" as well as "Star Clusters" and "Soft Surveillance".
The last Black Funeral record, Ordog, was one of our favorite black metal records of last year. We already liked the band quite a bit previously, but with Ordog, the buzzing blackness was transformed into some sort of experimental black noise metal, reminding us of bands like Spektr and Blut Aus Nord and Phobos, a sort of processed industrial vibe, lots of drones and ambient interludes peppered with machine like riffing and all sorts of black atmosphere. We should be used to it by now, but while we were blown away, much of the BM community shied away, not at all digging Black Funeral's new damaged direction.�
So we were pretty psyched to finally hear Waters of Weeping, the brand new record, to see where they took their black sounds next. And as much as we were secretly hoping they would do something super radical, WoW is actually more of a straight ahead black metal record, but then it's all relative. This is still plenty weird, just compared to Ordog, it's a bit more traditionally black and buzzy.
The sound and the vibe are very reminiscent of Xasthur and Leviathan and the like, the new wave of depressive black buzz-ers, with long drawn out minor key dirges, dense clouds of washed out buzz, loping blackened dirges, dense convoluted song structures, lots of creeped out ambience, but thankfully, here and there lurk some of that crumbling industrial blackness left over from Ordog. In fact, those are probably our favorite moments, like track 4, "Sha'arimrath, The Eighth Hell � HOD (Smal/Adramalech) � Mercury", an almost Godflesh worthy ultradistorted industrial dirge, with strange processed alien growls and pounding percussion, all wrapped up in buzzing synths and FX drenched guitars. But then the next track is a classic, old school sounding slab of relentless black metal buzz. But before you know it, we're on to track 6, and back to Ordog territory, "Lord Of The Dead � Tiphereth (Belphegor/Paimon) Tagahrim" another slowed down, black industrial buzz drenched plod that is SO fucking dismal and bleak and amazing. The more we listen to this disc, the more it all sounds so perfect. More and more and more like some meticulously assembled black artifact. The buzzing blackness spilling into the industrial pound, long streaks of minor key dirge wrapping inky tendrils around bursts of relentless black blasts... It's hard to explain exactly, but any of these tracks, take on their own, sounds pretty dang great, but taken together, as a sort of hellish suite, an extended ritual, they mesh into a�grim and black, buzzy and blown out, haunting and soul wrenching sonic journey...
This experimental supergroup, comprised of Tom Greenwood of Jackie O Motherfucker, the Opalia brothers from My Cat Is An Alien and frequent MCIAA collaborator, Ramona Ponzini, recorded these 4 untitled long-form improvisations live during a two month 2005 European tour. Sounding at times like early Ash Ra Tempel or Cosmic Jokers, the acid-y and druggily unhinged early krautrock influence is more apparent in this live setting than on previous studio-recorded outings from either camp, showcasing an immediate onstage chemistry that is refreshingly engaging!
We first heard from Salt Lake City black ambient technicians Black Seas Of Infinity on�The Trinity Of Non Being, a killer three way split with�Kaniba and Ugegi Aoiveae A Aer, released on Autumn Wind, the same label that brought us multiple releases from AQ faves Vomit Orchestra. All three bands' contributions were amazing, bleak and barren, dark and drone-y, since then we'd been on the lookout for any other releases by all three.�Amrita - The Quintessence is the latest full length from one man band Black Seas Of Infinity, and the brief glimpses we got of his dark universe on that split are allowed to sprawl here, to spread way out, an inky black cloud of roiling industrial whir and crumbling abstract drones wrapping everything within earshot in dense swaths of sonic shadow.�
Every track here is a dark missive from some lost world, a barren soundscape of deep resonant swells, of epic cinematic ambience and strange percussive glitch and rumble. Like the best ambient music, the sounds here are not sonic or simple, instead, constantly shifting and�changing shape, tonal color, rhythms surface like flotsam on some mysterious sea of sound, disembodied voices drift like ghosts, melodies are broken into fragments, the bits and pieces tossed into the abyss and carried like dead leaves on some vile black wind, crumbling shards of buzzing synth intertwine with strange found sounds and bits of simple percussion, massive billowing sonic ripples spread slowly out, shimmering in greys and blacks...
Think Wolf Eyes, Nordvargr, Vomit Orchestra, Lustmord, Anenzephalia, Wolfskin, MZ412, Hlidolf, Ruhr Hunter and the like... another ultra intense trawl through the mysterious blackened underworld, lurking beneath, around and behind all things pretty and happy...
In recent years we've had a geyser of dance punk, dance pop and dance rock, but dance metal? Naw, not really. The record label's description of this French duo gave us cause to brace ourselves. Mentions of Norwegian black metal fascinations, song titles like "Brenn Di Ega Kjerke" (Norwegian to English translation: burn your own church), acid house, '80s synth pop and My Bloody Valentine's Loveless piqued our twisted interest. However, dance metal it's not. Although heavy axe wielding machismo and well-oiled flexing do factor in throughout the album, this is more akin to the fevered techno industrial stomp of Primal Scream. More metallic than metal per se. And making just as strong an impression are the gentler moments when they fall more in step with the suave dramatics of Jarvis Cocker and Pulp. They also borrow a bit of lewd swagger from garage rawk trashies like The Cramps, the glammy bloat of Gary Glitter and Sigue Sigue Sputnik and the over the top vocal intonations of Laibach. No, it's nothing really new, in fact a lot of this sounds absolutely dated, but it sure is fun and a bit silly in an Andrew W.K. kind of way... but French.
Probably quite limited (Kning Discs are usually not long for this world!) live release from AQ fave UK guitarist James Blackshaw. Recorded in Goteborg, Sweden at the end of May this year, Blackshaw's live performance of the best of his catalog (Sunshrine, Celeste, and two songs from O True Believers) does not disappoint. For those who are not familiar with Blackshaw's majestic 12-string finger picking abilities (O True Believers was record of the week, a few lists back), this live document is a true testament to his amazing skills. Not a note is out of place and the sound quality is breathtaking. Don't miss out. We only have about 20 of these and may or may not be able to get any more when we run out, we don't know!
Three years have passed since we have last heard from Daryl Fitton and his Bola project. It seems that many of his contemporaries in the IDM community have also been enjoying lengthy sabbaticals. Boards Of Canada and Autechre have both been laying low for the last couple years, and Aphex Twin has kept a low profile too, well at least as Aphex Twin. Needless to say, after a hiatus as long as three years we could surely expect some noticable changes to the seemingly stalwart Bola sound; and yes, the dark veneers of jetblack melodies, spiralling electronic algorithims, and midtempo breakbeats do lighten up considerably. Fitton has always stated that his origins stand as a jazz drummer; and perhaps more than any of the other records do those jazz sensibilities express themselves here. The electronica grooves of Kroungrine have a jaunty spring to their collective step, and the mood is much more playful than before. A very nice listen through and through.
What is wrong with the world today? The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, babies are coo-ing, breezes are blowing, waves are lapping, clouds are drifting happily across a bright blue sky, but all everybody wants to listen to is hateful evil grim brutal downtuned miserable soul crushing anguished slow motion funereal death drone ultra doom. Not that we're complaining, but it is curious. There's been recent renewed interest in slow motion metal masters Earth, as well as a growing obsession with self-admitted Earth worshippers Sunn 0))), the massive ambient-metal explorations of Japan's Corrupted, the stomping garage psych meets doom drone of the mighty Boris, and a constantly growing roster of similar sonic sickos: Esoteric, Khanate, Asva, Fleshpress, Dot [.], Marzuraan, Ox, Rigor Sardonicus, Sons Of Otis, UFOmammut, Skepticism, Whitehorse, Planet Aids and now Bunkur. We've been trying to track down this cd for ages, and somehow ended up listing and reviewing the Planet Aids cd, a Bunkur side project, before we had even received the Bunkur discs. Well, now they're here and you won't be sorry. This Dutch outfit traffics in massive, miserable, impossibly lugubrious doom metal. This is a single 65 minute track, drenched in reverb and crackling amp buzz, crumbling distorted guitars howled vocals, very loose and spread out, the riffs exist in huge expanses of SPACE, a blackened vacuum of buzz and echo and the occasional trailing off of a vocal growl or a slowly dissipating feedback vapor trial. The kicker here though, and the thing that makes Bunkur so weird (and cool) is the drumming, stumbling lo-fi tripped out rhythms, that drift from plodding caveman pound, to spacious barely there accents, but most surprisingly hover in some strange alternate world of dub. Yep, you heard us, DUB. The drums often demarcate wide open spaces with a strange dubbed out, instantly recognizable: BAP BAP Bap bap bap bp bp bp bp .... a single snare hit that repeats, stuttering into oblivion. Giving the whole thing a weird hellish doom-dub vibe. Like Khanate recording with Lee Perry maybe? Okay, maybe not quite as extreme as that, but the dub is definitely there, whether purposeful or not. And it's really cool. Fans of dismal doom death drone and all things slow and sick will find this absolutely essential. Packaged in super cryptic metallic grey and black packaging with extensive liner notes in a completely unreadable rune font!
Another glorious blast of blown out bong smoke free rock dope jams the way only these Burnt Hills cats can do it. We won't bother going into too much detail as this puppy is limited to 50 COPIES, we got a bunch, but they won't last long.�
Burnt Hills, on this particular evening in May of 2007 consisted of NINE members, seven guitars, five drummers, one bass, folks obviously swapping back and forth, and it sounds like it.�A super fluid, chaotic confluence of sound. Like some lost subterranean Crash Worship Drum jam wrapped in thick sheets of Haino-like guitar skree, everything enveloped in thick clouds of smoky FX, like some musical opium den. The bass and the guitars are thick and slippery, swooping amidst the relentless percussion, and the wild squalls of psychedelic freakout. At times it almost sounds like some DJ rocking multiple turntables, playing several different No Neck and Sunburned Hand records as the same time, a blurry, drugged out free folk tribal mash up... Awesome.�
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES. Each disc hand numbered. Full color artwork in a mini cd sized dvd-style clamshell case, inside a sticker and printed vellum insert.�
Here's a glimpse of what's to come on Caribou's new full length set to be released on Merge Records next month! The Canadian one man band Caribou has always equally embraced indie pop and electronica in his music making. His latest ep marks a bit of a shift in the balance. Melody Day is the least electronica and most indie pop of any if his recordings to date. Still very soft and pretty, but this time Dan Snaith has opted for Flaming Lips meets Polyphonic Spree swirling luscious pop stylings. Particularly the latter with the title track's sweet, angelic group vocals that sound like a children's chorus. Oddly enough the next track, a remix of "Melody Day" by Four Tet, sounds more like Caribou! Easily fits in with the dreamy pop on Slumberland and Sarah Records as well as the abovementioned artists. Also includes the non-album track "Zoe".
Ahhhh, here's one you can take home to mom. Heck, you could even play it at grandma's house too! The Choir Practice are ten Vancouverite voices raised in song. Their debut album on Mint Records sounds like equal parts highschool vocal class, The Free Design and maybe a bit of Langley Schools Music Project too. While there are indeed some luminaries of the city's indie music scene gussying up the roster -- namely choir leader Coco Culbertson (The Gay, A.C. Newman Band), Kurt Dahle (New Pornographers) and Larissa Loyva (P:ano) -- there are also some dulcet-piped members whose resumes do not boast anything of the tuneful sort. There's a fashion designer, a radio producer, a photographer, a filmmaker, and a florist even! We all know that Canadian songstresses and songsmiths have a history of abundant earnestness that can inadvertently dribble into syrup territory (maple-flavored?), and The Choir Practice are unabashedly miquetoast. But for the most part, their soft pop sleigh ride glides gracefully through the Rockies... as if the peaks were frosted with vanilla buttercream instead of snow. The group's sweet sense of naivete strikes notes of endearment rather than saccharine ickiness. Their debut album's highs soar up into the fluffy cloud laced baby blue sky ("Failsafe"). The few falterings however almost seem comical. Seriously, when you hear the lyrics to songs such as "Loose Lips" (yes, they "sink ships"), you can't believe they're singing with straight faces. Leaves you wondering if the lyricist has a serious irony addiction or what? Nonetheless if you like Lavender Diamond or perhaps are seeking a less energetic Polyphonic Spree, this is soooo for you!
Much like the vibrant clothes of eras past that twenty-somethings are currently sporting to wild nights at dive bar dance parties, the soundtrack to those dance parties has become vibrant and '80s-esque, with a '00s spin. It's what you could call synth-wave with a digital flare. In fact, Chromeo's Fancy Footwork is the third ultra-Moogy album we've reviewed for this list -- check out our reviews of Justice and Digitalism... While those two tip their hats to the '80s with uber-synths and samples, they also combine more modern sounds (Daft Punk, Faint, and Fatboy Slim come to mind) to give an overall feel that the Deathstar has just descended on the sweaty dance party. Chromeo, however, has taken a more pure approach in their nod to the '80s, and it isn't the '80s that never stopped being 'cool' (Cure, New Order, Pet Shop Boys, etc). Oh no, Chromeo have managed to create the the sound of Don Johnson walking into the room and eyein' your girlfriend, that kind of '80s vibe in the year 2007. We're talking Rockwell and Ray Parker Jr. kind of '80s folks. We figure this balls-to-the-wall synth resurgence might go as fast as it's come, but will no doubt shape what comes next and will be remembered fondly by many as they look back when the decade has passed reflecting fondly on the raging party they attended when the world was so close to the edge.
We are glad to report that Nels Cline hasn't let his high profile gig as guitarist for Wilco get in the way of his prolific output. Before he got the gig with Wilco, Cline was one of the most respected avant guitarists in the country. He continues to work within the improv, jazz and avant garde worlds demonstrating that for once that you in fact can have your cake and keep it true too. Draw Breath is classic Nels Cline showing both his introspective moody playing alongside his more charged and out-jazz leanings. His group on this outing is Scott Amendola on drums, percussion & electronics, Devin Hoff on contrabass and his Wilco cohort Glenn Kotche adds some percussion and glockenspiel on one track as well. Good stuff!
"I Hate You, Rob Crow" isn't just a song from his latest solo album, it's also a super goofy music video. You get both on this cdep plus a couple other songs too! They are the non-album tracks "Sea Sawn" and "Slick" (which is the highlight here, aside from the vid). Short and sweet as it is, this release accurately captures the many facets of Mr. Crow.
Mr. Rob Crow is one very swell, very talented, very varied and very prolific chap. His awesome projects past and present include Pinback, The Ladies, Heavy Vegetable, Thingy, Optiganally Yours, and oh yes, Goblin Cock too! All of them bear the unmistakable crafty clever catchy stamp of Mr. Crow. His latest solo outing is no exception. All the good stuff that we love about this songsmith is here in spades -- time signature twists, endearing dreamy boy vocals, noodle-oodly guitar lines, and the catchiest hooks. He keeps a lot of the tunes short and sweet, getting right to the heart of the matter and movin' on. Most of the fourteen songs stroll along at a drowsy pace. It's like taking a wonderfully leisurely stroll or bike ride in the warm afternoon sun. As prolific as he is, it could be easy to take Mr. Crow for granted but how could we when he's for sure one of the best songwriters around! Need we say more? Recommended!
Three remixes of what just might be everyone's current fave tune from the band who just might be everyone's current fave band from Brazil! Who's doing the deed? Simian Mobile Disco, Calvin Harris, and Hot Chip! Yeah, loosen up, hot stuff! This saucy space robot funk electro disco punk is beckoning you back to the dancefloor.
FINALLY! The long awaited brand new release from mysterious French post-black metal horde Deathspell Omega. There are very few bands that instill the sort of worship and awe that these guys do, but it's well deserved. Deathspell Omega have tread a solitary path, twisting the sounds of black metal into decidedly unlikely shapes, culminating in their last record, the classic Kenose, almost more of a post rock record with bits of black metal mixed in.�
We had no idea what to expect from this new record, to be honest, we had a slight feeling, that they might abandon metal all together, or at least push even farther into avant rock territory, more sparse and moody meandering postrockscapes, and less full on blackness, but as we should have expected, DSO ended up doing the last thing we expected, and made a sort of slight return to their sound of old.�
Fas - Ite, Maledicti, In Ignem Aeternum is WAY more aggressive, relentless and pummeling. Those post rock elements are still very much evident, but the meat of these songs is a dizzying chaotic squall of black blasts, tangled obtuse guitars, minor key melodies, hateful howls and a super 'live' sounding BIG production, making everything sound even more intense and brutal.�
The record opens and closes with strange soundscapes of tinkling piano, regal horns, martial percussion, what sounds like some sort of medieval court music, big booming drums, muter trumpets, huge masses of choral chants, almost like an ultra blackened Arvo Part score, or maybe even a strangely melodic piece by Hermann Nitsch.
But then the band launch into some of the most furious, most chaotic material we've heard from them in ages. A churning pit of dizzyingly technical blackness, the guitars are everywhere, buzzing, grinding, the vocals growled and ultra low, but it's the drums that truly destroy. Unlike most black metal records, the drums don't just flip flop between blasts and midtempo jams, they are spastic and wild, fills all over the place, the drums stumbling and scrambling over every spare inch of space, like a continuous drum solo, but every beat, every flurry of kick drums, is somehow perfectly tangled up with some bit of guitar or some convoluted arrangement. The riffs are slippery and swoop wildly within the different parts, the drums pelting them from all sides with a never ending hailstorm of blown out battery. It's the sort of metal that has you gasping for breath between songs. In the store it sometimes sounds like a blur, but with headphones, it's much easier to hear everything that is going on below the surface. Ultra complex, hyper mathy, but strangely hooky too. Little trills of high end guitar pepper the blurry buzz, each song broken into about a hundred different parts.�
Most of the tracks have some sort of stripped down bridge, where the metal pulls back to reveal a lonely loping interlude, all clean minor key guitar and simple propulsive drumming, usually wrapped in all manner of sinister black ambience. A post rock meander through some dark forest or across some barren alien landscape before being swallowed up by DSO's massive wall of black sound.�
A few tracks definitely remind us of Kenose, the distinctly nineties sounding math rock intro to "A Chore For The Lost" could just as easily be the Dazzling Killmen, with it's guitar harmonics, angular riffage and crushing beats, or the sort of dissonant slowcore opening to "The Repellent Scars Of Abandon And Election", but both of those are just that, merely intros, that soon transform into spiky black beasts, crushing and burning and trampling everything in their path.�
The sound of�Fas - Ite, Maledicti, In Ignem Aeternum is so chaotic and so schizophrenic, it almost seems like it would just be way too much for the typical black metalhead, it's certainly grim and black and buzzy, but it's also dense and fucked up and obtuse and really really weird.... But if you're anything like us, which we think you are, then that all pretty much perfectly describes what could very well end up black metal record of the year.
Whoa, who has the hippest teachers in the universe? North Haven Community School! This sure wasn't a part of normal elementary school curriculum back when we were all whipper snappers, was it? Last year out in Maine, the kids at this small kindergarten to grade 12 school presented a ballet set to the music of Deerhoof's Milk Man album! Music and drama teacher Courtney Naliboff came up with the idea and transcribed the music and conducted the orchestra, while art and P.E. teacher Ken Jones took care of the choreography (which involves a rolling bowling ball among other things). Yes, it's adorable. Yes, the music is perfect for this age group. And yes, please allow a loose definition of the term 'ballet'. Think: more freely interpretive body movements than en pointe, plies and pirouettes. What an amazing way to take inspiration from the endlessly creative sounds of one of our favorite bands. Delightful for kids of all ages! This dvd is professionally shot and edited (or looks like it), looks great, sounds great, and is definitely fun to watch. The folks in Deerhoof must have been waaay stoked when they first saw this!!
With the exception of the Huume label's reissue of Vladislav Delay's Multila album, it's been a while since we heard from that masterfully skilled Finnish practitioner of minimal glitch-y techno, dub and house (aka Sasu Ripatti). Whistleblower is his new album, the follow-up to 2005's Four Quarters. It very well might be his most subdued work to date. A slow spreading presence of synth washes, melting drones and deeep basslines seeps out of your speakers. Anything resembling beats is muted into gentle pulses, sputters and stutters. Beautiful and understated.
The debut album from this German crunchy synth-rock duo fuses lots of analog keyboard, fuzzy guitar, open/closed post-punk hi-hat repetition, mantric vocoder vocals, and a pretty killer remixed "Fire In Cairo" (Cure) sample. Most songs build at a calculated pace giving listeners an overall sense that the circuit board is about to explode. Idealism is a really impressive first album that is highly recommended for fans of The Faint, Justice, M83, New Order, Daft Punk, Fatboy Slim, and The Rapture.
In hopefully what will be the last attempt to squeeze blood from the Nick Drake stone, we get this CD of 28 early home recordings that showcase the raw beginning of Drake's brilliant songcraft and the previously unacknowledged influence Drake's family, particularly his mother and sister, had on his musical upbringing. It's a pretty interesting (but not entirely essential) collection of lo-fi recordings some of which were sketches for songs that would appear later on Pink Moon and Five Leaves Left, and there are one or two tracks that were originally released on the Time of No Reply anthology. The highlights include a duet with sister Gabrielle called "All My Trials" that we wish there was more of, and "They're Leaving Me Behind" which sounds like an early version of "Parasite" from Pink Moon with different lyrics. Occasional classical pieces by The Family Trio and a couple of old songs sung by his mother Molly are nice but act as little more than interludes rather than the indelible familial influences the compilers claim them to be. Like the pitfalls that befell the Nick Drake documentary, A Skin Too Few, the slimness of Drake's output and life is stretched so thin in order to supposedly reveal the minutest new insights into a mysterious figure, that we forget that the enigmatic mystery is the reason his work is so compelling in the first place. Revealing every tiny sketch of an artist's process and claiming them important only gives fodder to the backlash campaign that has started ever since "Pink Moon" was featured in a VW ad. Which is unfortunate for an artist who has never had any say or control over his own legacy, save for three brilliant records, which should be plenty enough for anyone.
Who knew so much pure evil lurked deep in the depths of (supposedly) sunny California, especially right here in San Francisco. The legendary Weakling (R.I.P.), the ungodly blackened evil of Leviathan, the blazing, bleak torment of Crebain (also coming soon on tUMULt), and now the grim, funereal, majestic savagery of Draugar's From Which Hatred Grows.
Haunting and atmospheric, brutal and buzzing, blighted and black. Fingerpicked acoustic guitars explode into roaring, soul-shearing riffs, pounding drums demarcate hazy blackened soundscapes of misanthropic brutality and gorgeously melodic impurity, damaged and demented arrangements underpin hellish profane howls of utter anguish. Yeah, black metal at its best with nary a glacier or fjord in sight. Yet, as Burzumically brutal as it all is, you could be listening to this and suddenly forget and mistakenly think you've got some fucked up experiment in lo-fi ambient drone psychedelia on your stereo instead. Keyboards warble WAY above the mix, drums and vocals and guitars are whipped into Merzbow-ic blasts of white noise, blast beats are obliterated into gentle expanses of delicate acoustic guitars and droning ambient hum, the whole thing a gorgously perplexing blast of bizarre blackened sonic experimentation. Much like the infamous Benighted Leams confused and astounded us once upon a time with its outsider genius, Draugar transcends black metal musical norms, making truly abnormal, artistic sound with unknown boundaries. Like Leviathan and our other favorite California black metal act Xasthur, it's the one-man-alone, far from the "scene" aspect that seems to foster a creativity beyond that of many ordinary black metal bands. From Which Hatred Grows is one of those rare metal records that manages to be true and grim, buzzing and black, but also a truly unique sonic vision that should find its way into the collection of every adventurous music lover.
The problem with cd-r's, especially super limited editions, is that folks who are late to the party, usually through no fault of their own, end up missing out on so much amazing music. The other problem is that there really is no good reason for cd-r's to be limited, or to EVER go out of print. Because you can always make more! That was supposedly the whole draw of the cd-r, no need to press up 1000 or 2000 copies that may end up sitting forever in boxes in your house. Just make the discs as people order them. Sure, that doesn't play into the limited edition collector frenzy, and discs maybe seem more special if there are only 100 copies made. And sure we can understand wanting to move on and work on other projects, but as far as we're concerned, that shouldn't keep you from making more copies for folks who are dying to hear your music. After all, that's part of why we make music, for other people to hear, and enjoy.�
Anyway, the whole point of all this is, we've reviewed three different titles by Encomiast, all of them amazing, and unfortunately all of them no longer available. So now we've finally got a brand new disc, also a limited cd-r, that's just as gorgeous as any of those other now unavailable titles, we got a bunch but we have no idea how long they'll last, so if you're an Encomiast fan already you'll definitely want to grab one of these pronto, and if you've yet to experience the dark drifting beauty of Encomiast, well, then now here's your chance. And as the saying goes, you snooze, you lose...
Transit Bed is a glistening wide open expanse of interwoven low tones, spacious epic ambience, peppered with super reverbed percussion, and warm resonant swells. Besides the usual mysterious sounds, there are samples of a live performance, bits of flute and prepared piano, but those too are smeared into fuzzy indistinct shapes, left to float and flutter dreamlike amidst all manner of rumbles and whirs. Dark and dense, warm and so gorgeous. Highly highly recommended. And as always, it's highly recommended that you grab one of these sooner rather than later...
We've sort of been inundated with dreamy new sounds from this one man drugblissdrone krautrock revivalist outfit. We're definitely not complaining though. We absolutely can NOT get enough of Expo 70's drawn out guitarscapes, extended spaced out kraut raga drones, churning and pulsing and throbbing, spacey synths and thick rumbling guitars all tangled into haunting sonic transmissions. We're just sort of scrambling to get them all reviewed. So we figured we'd start with this one, the latest, a two track missive that is so dense and layered it might as well be two HUNDRED tracks. Especially since we find ourselves setting the cd player to repeat and just drifting off...
The two tracks here are further examples of Expo 70's washed out space rock SUNNO))) sound, both tracks begin as soft swirls of synth and FX, tripped out and abstract, keening high end, rumbling low end, guitars wiggle and squiggle, all very chaotic but still drone-y and meditative, the first track doesn't deviate too much, the guitars are warm throbs, underpinned by a thick wash of buzzing synth, eventually sloughing off all the FX, leaving just a gorgeous Niblock like minimal drone. But the second track, is quickly subsumed by huge walls of crumbling fuzzed out slow motion riffage, super processed though, so instead of sounding downtuned or even heavy, it just sounds even MORE spacey, and thick and warm and druggy, a single riff, pulled apart and looped over and over and over, super mesmerizing, droning and drifting along through a field of distant fuzz and buzz and warm swaths of subtle synth, eventually fading out leaving nothing but tolling bells... So great.
Packaged in thick textured blue paper mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi.
And as always, these are of course SUPER LIMITED -- just a mere 100 copies, of which we got a majority share! -- and will most likely fly out of here...
Extradition were an obscure early seventies Australian psych-folk group very much influenced by the British Folk revival, in particular, Fairport Convention and Pentangle. Fronted by singer, Shayna Karlin, whose high timbre voice falls somewhere between Pentangle's Jaqui McShee and June Tabor, and multi-instrumentalist and sometimes singer Colin Campbell, who wrote most of the bands material. What sets them apart is how they shade their haunting and graceful compositions with an adventurous use of natural elements as instruments including leaves, branches, water, sticks and stones along with more exotic instrumentation of Chinese and Turkish gongs, harmonium, harpsichord, tablas and a Lebanese bell tree. This creates a more alchemical binding of music and nature that transports us to another place rather than grounding us in a traditional past. This cd contains the whole of their lone 1971 album plus six bonus live tracks including covers of Tom Paxton's "Hold On To Me, Babe" and Leroy Carr's "In the Evening" which was also covered by Karen Dalton. Beautiful!
An oldie but a goodie (well oldie as in 2004) from Aussie low end sludge doom terrorists Fire Witch. Recorded live at a hotel in Melbourne, in, you guessed it, 2004, this set shows more sides of the band than we've seen. Very little of this is actually sludgy and slow motion, instead it's dense and chaotic and mathy, convoluted and HEAVY. The opener is a two minute burst of bass heavy groove, with a killer staccato break down, all machine gun snare and swooping crumbling bass. After that, the band stretch out and channel a bit of Lightning Bolt through their drums vs. low end arsenal. The drums a constant splatter, tribal and intense, fills everywhere, pound and pummel relentlessly while various chunks of bass throb and grind, all three players in some vicious fight to the death.�
Unlike�the usual breed of modern doomlords, the vibe here is way more math rock and Amphetamine Reptile than SUNNO))) or Boris. A super sludgy, groovy and convoluted mathdoom workout, slathered in low end and sent careening into the sweaty crowd. As is the case with most bands like this it's all about the drummer, and Jem Fire Witch is a demon behind the kit alternating between simple propulsive pound and wild off kilter chaos, but never losing sight of what the two basses are doing. A few of the tracks slow way down, and the band begins to sound like some strange bass heavy doomed version of the Necks.... which we shouldn't have to tell you is a very good thing indeed.�
Should definitely hit that math-doom-post-spazz-psych-bass-power-trio-sludge-metal spot, assuming you have a spot like that... We sure as heck do!
Packaged in a super swank fold out card stock digipak.
Another blast of unblack metal, from the heartland, the Midwest, where it seems most of these unblack hordes reside. A glowing white beacon of buzzing brutality, amidst a sea of evil and blackness. This is the first full length from the one man band Flaskavsae, and like much of the unblack stuff we've been obsessed with, it's not so much about just making black metal Christian, as it is totally twisting the sounds of black metal into something entirely new. And so far, Flaskavsae, the man and the band, have pushed this unblack sound to it's furthest reaches.�
Where many of the other bands, particularly Light Shall Prevail, demonstrate a similarly varied, and gorgeously obscured sonic palette, it often seems that those particularly obfuscated sounds are more a result or recording limitations than an actual sonic vision. Of course, it's obvious that those other bands embrace the strange production and all over the map sonics, but Flaskavsae seems more like a daring sonic adventurer, using black metal merely as a jumping off point. Like Wold for instance, the root sounds are buzzing guitars, and blasting drums, but it's how those sounds are twisted and colored that make all the difference.�
From the first track, it's easy to tell this is so much more than (un)black metal. A dense, roiling staticky wash of crumbling downtuned guitars, and drifting mournful melodies, buried beneath layers of hiss and fuzz, with all sorts of tape dropouts and recording inconsistencies that make it sounds like some black metal Basinski piece, constantly throbbing and changing pitch, cutting out and warbling unsteadily, all the while weaving a super dark and emotional landscape of sound. This is the sort of black metal that fans of Tim Hecker and Philip Jeck and Basinski could easily get into.�
On some tracks, the drums are more pronounced, and thus, the sound is slightly more traditionally (un)black, but even then, the buzz and pummel is bombarded on all sides by thick swaths of fuzzed out sound, hissy static like the sound of some sonic downpour, while way back in the distance, streaks of high end drift by, offering brief glimpses of the mournful melodies underneath. This may be heavy, and brutal and grim or whatever, but it's hard to tell as everything is just dripping with tons of FX and wrapped in dense clouds of swirling murk and blurred shimmer, which ends up making it sound dark and sad and so so beautiful instead.
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.
You might've noticed the recent flurry of Eastern European inspired bands -- for instance the dreamy rural acoustic sounds of Beirut, A Hawk And A Hacksaw and the Bay Area's own Karpov. Since 1999, New Yorkers Gogol Bordello have been taking similar influences into a decidedly more urban setting and whipping it up into an art punked gypsy-fied frenzy. Indeed, on their latest album, they opt for blinding neon brights versus the abovementioned groups' warm earthy hues. Leader of the pack Eugene Hutz might maybe have true Slavic roots but we thinks that this is not without a healthy dose of irony. At times Super Taranta! charges head first into a pirate-ish many bottles of rum drunken traipsing of the plank. Not ones for the subtle nor the soft, theirs is a garish, sweaty, loud and loose vaudevillian circus which the hipster scene has been all over for years. It screams 'New York' at the top of its lungs! This is the kind of wild, tawdry partying where glasses are smashed, clothing gets torn, and everything else gets trampled in its path. Good times? Fuck yeah!
Oh, how we were hoping this record would actually sound like worms crawling around inside a piano. Besides being a super evocative image, it also would have been the easiest review EVER. "Hannu's Worms In My Piano actually sounds like worms inside a piano..." or whatever. And to be honest, there are a few moments, where maybe it doesn't quite sound like regular worms, but possibly some sort of effervescent alien glowworms slithering up and down gently vibrating strings, like beads of water on one of those weird water lamps your grandma had...
Speaking of your grandma, a lot of this is soft and shimmery, spacey and so relaxed and laid back, not entirely unlike� a more hip Lawrence Welk were he still alive and signed to Type or Carpark. This is most definitely easy listening. So so so so easy... Everything warm and soft, shimmering and glimmering and sparkling like stars in the night sky. Delicate melodies drifting from mysterious music boxes,�little prismatic bubbles floating above some space aged ballroom, a tiny toy orchestra playing dreamy lullabies, a last dance on a moonlit dancefloor perched on the edge of a glistening galaxy, the world's slowest and dreamiest post rock band spinning dark drifting soft focus epics, that drift and dissipate like wisps of smoke.�
So dark and delicate and utterly lovely.
My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment Of What My Love Could Be. What an awesome title. And the record cover, a bull and a rooster and an ornate candle, the words Harvey Milk in tiny blue type over the rooster. On the cd, the text: "Harvey Milk is Cronos, Mantis, Abadon". Song titles like�"Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I",�"The Anvil Will Fall" and "Merlin Is Magic". By now most avid AQ customers are very familiar with the mysterious sludge rock power trio Harvey Milk, but when we first laid hands on this disc, back in 1994, we had no idea what to think. As if�the artwork wasn't enough to have us scratching our heads, the music inside was even more willfully difficult. And still is. Obviously borne of some serious Melvins worship, Harvey Milk, took the already difficult sound of the Melvins to new heights, or depths, crafting lengthy sludge jams, packed with as much space as riffs, long expanses of spastic John Bonham like drumming, vocals a whiskey soaked gravelly bellow, guitars thick black sheets. This was without a doubt some of the strangest music we had ever heard. But at the same time, somehow the most beautiful. The sound�of Harvey Milk was some impossible blend of noise rock, math rock, post rock, punk rock, twentieth century composition and METAL. All tangled into one huge gnarled black hole of sound. A sound that crawls more than it rocks, but when it does rock, it blows away pretty much any other band in the land.�
Lots of you no doubt already own Courtesy And Goodwill Toward Men, arguably one of the greatest records EVER, heavy, sludgy or otherwise. If you don't you need to stop reading for a second and go buy it right now. We'll wait...........
Okay, Courtesy was HM record number two, and found the band 'tightening' up their sound, taking the chaos of My Love, and crafting it into, well, more chaos. It's hard to say how they changed between these two records. My Love is a tiny bit faster. The best way to describe it is like this:�My Love is to Courtesy, the way Nirvana's Bleach is to Nevermind, more immediate and raw, but with some of the best songs the band ever wrote, and like Bleach, it's a record that tons of fans continue to insist is the best thing they've ever done. And while we are of the mind that Courtesy is in fact the best Harvey Milk record ever (unless you ask Allan, who would probably say The Pleaser, the -other- HM reissue this week, a killer disc of Harvey Milked ZZ Top worship) returning to My Love has us maybe reconsidering. We can't actually decide. There are so many amazing songs on My Love that we had forgotten about, as good as anything on Courtesy. It would probably be more realistic to proclaim�My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment Of What My Love Could Be /�Courtesy And Goodwill Toward Men as the ultimate math-sludge-slow-motion-dirge-doom-whatever one-two punch EVER. Maybe the greatest first and second record combo of all time. Needless to say, if you're at all into the current crop of slow motion doom mongers, and have somehow missed out on these records, you will lose your fucking mind (and odds are loads of you have never heard My Love as it's been out of print for ages). It's no exaggeration when we say every song on My Love is darn near perfect. But a few of our favorites:
"A Small Turn Of Human Kindness" was the absolute first peep we ever heard out of HM, and it's brutal and beautiful, so utterly confusing and unlike anything ever. A�frustratingly obtuse abstract jam, even calling it a jam is stretching the definition of the word jam, there's LOTS of space, the track begins with a minute of weird electronic noodling, a huge wash of cymbals and guitar scrape, a killer BIG drum fill, and then... nothing... a weird barely there buzz, some cymbal dings, a moaning cello.... How amazing is that?!?!? It isn't until halfway through the song before the riff finally kicks in, and even then, it's like pulling teeth to get these guys to let loose and rock. In fact, it's not until the last two minutes that the band really go for it. And it was worth the wait, but before you know it comes�"Women Dig it", slowing everything waaaaaaaaay back down. A super drawn out exercise in tension and release, with long stretches of just drums, big Zeppelin style drums, accompanied by mewled vocal, but which features one of the most awesome riffs EVER, so much so, that when it kicks in, it makes you want to rock the fuck out, which you could do if it wasn't just played once every couple minutes.... oh the glorious frustration!!! It's the sort of riff most bands would not only kill for, but that most bands would repeat over and over and over and base a whole song� around, whereas the Milk kick out that riff maybe twenty times, in the whole song, and all clumped together, with the rest of the song spent plodding and drifting and doing anything but locking into a killer groove. But that's what makes Harvey Milk so great, when that riff DOES drop, it's a ridiculous release, like an orgasm, this unbelievable rock-out relief, but like with most things it's the wait, the build up, that is the best part. Or at least the 'other' best part.
Another classic Milk track is�"The Anvil Will Fall", a moody drifting whispery ballad, peppered by huge bursts of downtuned pummel,�when out of nowhere, in come the strings, some patriotic hymn, an almost recognizable tune that Creston sings along too in his warbly raspy croon, even kicking it up into a wicked falsetto, before petering back out into the original hushed crawl, eventually launching into a super moving moody goddamned ANTHEM. The sort of song that should have sludge fans teary eyed with hat in hand, and hand over heart. And finally...
"Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I", besides being the best song title maybe EVER, it's also one of the greatest songs ever, a really really�fucking weird song, howled tortured vocals over a relentless tribal drum fill with occasional bursts of Zeppelin like riffage,�before the guitar transforms into a static rumbling drone, and the drums just sort of do whatever the hell they want, for ever it feels like...�and then the band launches back into it and it's some relentless bastardized groovy Southern sludge jam, but like all HM songs, they stop not long after to just sort of wander, and plod and wait, and pause, before doing it all over again....
We could go one and on, and get all mushy and fanboy about every single song on�My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment Of What My Love Could Be, but you get the drift. This record is magical. Majestic. Freaked out. Furious. Heavy as anything you've ever heard. Strangely pretty. Mind meltingly difficult. Crushing. Confusing. Baffling. Brutal. And pretty much one of our favorite records ever...
Got a few more copies of this final Harvey Milk album from '97. It's very different from their tUMULt release (the cd reissue of the '95 "Goodwill And Courtesy..." LP) which was super-heavy dronemetal to outdo the Melvins, but "The Pleaser" is still a great
A brief burst of mysterious musical abstraction, from one of our favorite purveyors of strange sound and minimal dronemusic. Two tracks, clocking in at about 18 minutes total, this is another gorgeously abstract and spacious drift through some lost alien soundscape .
Thee first track is all tinkling melodies, glistening high end, strange rumbling fluctuations way off in the distance, bits of creak and scrape, everything bathed in foggy reverb and warm wet swirls of tape hiss and atmospheric whir. Melodies creep in and out, as do bits of field recordings, it all feels like some cinematic bleary eyed wander through a hazy druggy flashback, a washed out world of lost memories and fragmented dreams. Here and there guitars grind and reverberate, and strange percussive sonic events drift into earshot, like an even more abstract Wolf Eyes maybe. Quite gorgeous and dreamlike.
The second track starts out the same, a smear of high end shimmer, but instead of spreading out into languid pools of blurry sound, things get decidedly more abrasive, the high end becomes sharper, the percussion is more clattery and jarring, a disembodied voice intones some creepy monologue over the top, effects swirl and swoop, deconstructed riffs chug and churn, everything dizzying and disorienting, like the nightmare analogue to the opening track's dream. Cool cool stuff.
Limited to 153 copies! Packaged in a super deluxe mini sleeve. A die cut two sided thick colored paper sleeve, screen printed, folded around a full color vellum inner sleeve, the cd face, the vellum inner sleeve, and the outer sleeve all visible in a super striking layered affect, so nice.
No sophomore slump for this terrific band of Canucks with genuine familial ties to The New Pornographers. Lead singer and keyboardist Kathryn Calder has certainly honed her craft touring and recording with her Uncle Carl's band. She's certainly come into her own since her band's debut Ones And Zeros only a couple of years ago. As a whole unit Immaculate Machine have advanced in leaps and bounds, bursting with confidence and a healthy dose of spunkiness. Where it is perhaps most noticeable is in the vocal department. Calder sings ever so sweet'n'strong, while Brooke Gallupe's voice has developed into a remarkably deep and smoothly expressive charmer that at times draws comparisons to Jarvis Cocker (as opposed to the drollness of Stephin Merritt on the last album). On Fables, they've tempered the brooding with the bright-eyed, the perky with the pensive. It's at once punchy and slouchy, sorta like a female-fronted Strokes. A great summer in the city album!
Holy waters of Nazareth! There's still a faint ringing in our ears after listening to this debut disco-metal machine of an album, whose title is simply a cross, by the much talked about French duo, Justice, on the French electro imprint, Ed Banger Records. No electronic group has received as much hype and hysteria (mainly via internet music blogs and much remixed material by big name producers and DJs) in so little time as Justice, and Gaspard Auge and Xavier de Rosnay, the men of Justice, more than meet expectations with all barrels blazing dishing out 48 minutes of a near-perfect, sinister beats 'n' synths face-off. We must admit, with all the long drawn out hype and remixing of their first few singles within the last two years, "Waters of Nazareth" (more or less the jump start for Ed Banger Records all together), their smash collaboraton with Simian, "We Are Your Friends" (which you probably would have heard everywhere in Europe in 2006), and their more recent single "D.A.N.C.E.", the two slowly began to drift out of our interest, especially with the 18+ months it's taken "Waters of Nazareth" to make it from French 12" to worldwide CD. But of course after hearing the debut, we were sucked right back in.
The opener, "Genesis", takes the electro cake, with a super theatrical intro building up to mysteriously cranky synth lines, slicing, over-compressed drums, and frazzled disco trills, reminiscent of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" but with a sonic twist. "Let There Be Light" is dirty disco pop with hints of Daft Punk-esque melodies and bass riffs. Justice thrill most when using old sputtering analogue synth sounds over momentous rhythms as in "Waters of Nazareth" and "Phantom" parts 1 and 2. "Stress" is a heavy beast of a track with it's chaotic string arrangements, backing sirens, and random abrasive sweeping glitch effects throughout the drums and bass. We ran like four red lights on our bike listening to this one (dangerous, kids don't try this at home). But there's an apparent balance within the album with sweeter numbers like "Valentine" with it's melodic electric piano, the popular recent single "D.A.N.C.E." voiced by the London Children's Choir, and the mashed-up funk of "New Jack" in which human voices are cut up and recycled into new arrangements.
As a whole, this album is filled with squelchy sound textures and wild arrogant dance patterns and rhythms.
In the last year everyone has been basically hoping Justice would release the equivalent to any of Daft Punk's epics, "Homework" or "Discovery", assuming Justice would emerge as the next big French electronic leaders. Though the comparisons to Daft Punk are inevitable, the album proves that Justice can stand on their own just fine without borrowing too much from their predecessor. Overall... a full on aural assault. A pulsing and shimmering piece of electronic music standing at the forefront of the current rock'n'rave collision.
If it wasn't enough that this hairy hippy rock guru, leader of Japan's prolific Acid Mothers Temple, is busy releasing NEW music at a frantic pace, now he's begun digging through his closet to find old stuff he made years and years ago and is re-releasing that as well. No complaints though, if the "Kawabata Makoto's Early Works" series turns up more material as enjoyable as this, originally released in 1981 on (Kawabata's own?) Revolutionary Extrication Project cassette-label, now reissued on cd in a limited edition of 500 copies.
Osaka Loop Line's title is suggestive of trains, and indeed the two long (22-23 minute) tracks here, parts one and two of the same extended piece, can be heard as chug-chugging (if not choo-chooing) along, a droning but active, abstract soundscape-in-motion composed of electronic hum and mechanical pulse. It's a bit different from the amped up and/or blissed out psych guitar explorations we're used to hearing from Kawabata, indeed we don't even know if he's playing guitar at all on here (he's simply credited with "all instruments and voice"). The Eastern ethnic elements found in much of his later AMT and solo work aren't so much in evidence, as this seems to be primarily influenced by '70s German "kosmische" electronics and proto-industrial experimentation, we'd guess. At the same time, it's not like he was making skinny tie New Wave punk or mimicking Journey or doing rockabilly covers or something -- this music does fit in logically with the krauty psychedelia we hear from the man today. Not bad at all for a youngster -- check out the cute photo on the sleeve of a youthful, beardless Kawabata!
Now the question is, how many Early Works are there? If he was as prolific back then as he & his cohorts are now, then from 1981-199? whenever we first encountered AMT, there's got to be a lot more cool Kawabata musical history to hear...!
It's ben a wild, weird and sexy ride through the strange world of sixties and seventies Japanese sonic erotica (serotica?) courtesy of the fine folks at Japan's Tiliqua label. And it isn't over yet! We were led to believe that number five, recently reviewed right here, the amazing and bizarre Girlfriend - Baby Doll by Petite M'Amie would be the last, but no, we were just resting, catching our breath, recharging as it were, and now it's time to plunge right back in...
What the heck are we talking about? It's Tiliqua's Erotic Oriental Sunshine series of Japanese erotic music from the sixties and seventies chronicling the criminally under-documented sounds of Iroke Kayoyoku, a sort of loungy exotica, equal parts Les Baxter and Ennio Morricone, a bastardized version of a more popular Asian music of the time, a funky, groovy, soulful soundtrack music, but sexed up with chanteuse like crooning, and most important of all, an amazing array of moaning and groaning and cooing and giggling, very playful and silly and sexy. The first five volumes were all fantastic, fun and funny and funky and far out, and unfortunately now all out of print, discs from Japanese sexy action heroine Ike Reiko, Japanese "Play Girl" Kuwabara Yukiko, seventies bondage / S&M queen Naomi Tani, legendary porn actress Taguchi Kumi, and most recently what could quite possibly be the first Iroke disc (and thus the rarest), from sexy Lolita, Petite M'Amie, aka Mari Keiko.
We also considered Keiko's contribution to the series to be the strangest by far, and while it was pretty weird, it sounds downright tame when compared to this, the latest in the series, Kokotsu/ Ecstasy by Masami Kuwahara & The Exotic Sounds, originally released in 1970, but practically forgotten and lost until now.
Unlike the other titles in the series, this one is not the recording of a particular vixen, instead, it's the work of composer and arranger (and future husband of Ike Reiko, Masami Kuwahara, who was responsible for many of the Iroke recordings, including Reiko's and this one right here. A Latin, late night Tiki mamba exotica lounge jazz mash up...
The opening track sets the tone, smoldering and sultry, with moaning late night muted trumpet, marimba and jungle drums, a sweaty sweltering vibe, with lots of Les Baxter like sonic filigree, while as is the style of Iroke, a lusty lady giggles and and coos, moans and groans, as if she is alternately being pleasured, tickled or spanked. In fact after a brief burst of furious congas and horns beneath the sounds of what definitely sounds like actual love making, comes the creepy third track, all fluttering flutes and tribal percussion, wherein another lady gets slapped or spanked, and squeals and squeaks appreciatively. You can even hear the man's grunts, his exertion and passion evident as he sexily slaps his woman, ummm, okay. Well, it was a different time, but that one definitely sounds more freaky than sexy, but the music, ohhh man, gorgeous flutes, and a minor key full moon marimba melody, the perfect soundtrack for a night of masochistic fun. Then the next track, things are off again, the drums wild and frenzied, the females rapid breathing and sounds of passion mirroring the intensity of the music.
The whole record sort of swings back and forth, from languid late night crawls, all warm and humid and romantic, to blown out blasts of intense sexy freaked out flesh and frenzy. Might be the first record in the series that is less 'gimmick' and more music, with every track steering well clear of the sort of Lawrence Welk meets Morricone smooth jazz of the other discs in the series and offering up some seriously bad ass Latin lounge-y exotica.
The final track, another of the slow sultry numbers, peters out, leaving one of the ladies to moan passionately, obviously in the throes of post coital bliss, seemingly as exhausted as we are from these nearly forty minutes of sexy sonics...
Packaged in a super deluxe Japanese miniature gatefold style cd sleeve, with a printed obi, extra saucy nude photos of Kawahara on the cover, and extensive liner notes in English and Japanese including an interview with the lady herself!
ULTRA LIMITED!!! Like most of the others in this series, this one is a one time only limited pressing of only 1000 copies, and is already pretty much sold out. There's a good chance once these are gone we will be unable to get more...
We have mixed feelings about dvds and cds that come with bonus material that are primarily comprised of demos, alternate versions, etc... amounting to a mountain of stuff that was rejected for the album or movie proper in the first place. In one hand we have the "More is better, isn't it?" argument and in the other we have the "It wasn't intended to be heard by the public, was it?" debate. More often than not the extras and bonus material serve as nothing more than filler.
Enter Killing Joke's new double disc compilation titled Inside Extremities: Mixes, Rehearsals And Live -- a standalone release which in its entirety is a bit of a convulsive listen, but an electrifying document of the band circa 1990-91. Simply stated, with a band like Killing Joke virtually everything is invaluable, nothing is extraneous.
For fans and recording geeks (like us!), the first disc of rehearsal recordings is a fascinating peek behind the curtain of this mighty band's process in preparation for the recording of their 1990 album Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions. It features undeniably the band's finest, most potent lineup: Geordie Walker's massive guitars snake and roam, but are never ever aimless; Paul Raven's bass is a dirty molten boil; Martin Atkins' drums with a precise yet thunderous tribal pummel; and Jaz Coleman's bracing vocals slice through anything in its path. Even with the (we assume) one microphone room recordings on a lot of these tracks, Killing Joke's raw ideas and raw performances are riveting and filled with conviction.
Oh yes, and let's not forget that there's a second disc too which is a recording of a 1991 live concert in France. The band's performance is blistering, a phenomenal rock maelstrom. Actually we were surprised that it wasn't made the central focus of the release. The disc of rehearsal recordings could easily have been made the bonus accompaniment to the live cd (or to the forthcoming reissue of the album proper for that matter). A strange decision, but nevertheless, as a whole this makes for perfect preparation for the imminent reissue of the Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions.
Knell comes from the same mold that has shaped the work of Jasper TX and Machinefabriek. While it remains to be seen if Knell will take the course of cd-r infinitude as both of the aforementioned artists have, it's clear from this debut recording that Knell (aka Johannes Buff) has the chops to pull off that expressive blur between art-drone soundsmear and elliptical patterns of darkened songwriting broken and stretched into lengthy constructs. Piano and harmonizing echoes set a shadowy stage at the onset of Last Ten Meters which Buff flushes out with unsettling squishes of sound as if aquatic creatures were unduly having their contents squeezed out of their pores. Eventually, a singular detuned guitar strum begins a melancholy dirge which steadily doubles and interweaves into a minor-key crescendo that all together falls somewhere between Larsen's post-rock hypnosis and the molten, subharmonic doom of Corrupted. After one of these smoldering peaks of downer rock riffs burns out in distant washes of distortion, the pools of metallic drone begin to coalesce once again and a fragmented song emerges once again. Yeah, Knell really does conjure the grim yet beautiful atmospheres as found in the best work of Jasper TX and Machinefabriek; hopefully, Buff will continue on with the Knell recordings in same exemplary fashion as his aesthetic contemporaries.
The Long Blondes are neither lengthy tressed nor flaxen haired, but we won't hold the false advertising against them. Ha ha! They are mighty hip and cute tho'! These three gals and two fellas from Sheffield, UK are raring to go go go with their high octane kicky punchy tunes. Their bio offers influential touchstones Human League, ABC and Pulp, but after hearing their debut album Someone To Drive You Home we'd bet their record collections are also heavy with '80s lipgloss'd goddesses Blondie, Kim Wilde and Pat Benetar. Super pop good times with more than a little sassy edge.
As if those guys in No Neck Blues Band weren't prolific enough, we've now got the mighty Malkuth to contend with, a killer grim black metal combo featuring a couple of No Necks in their ranks. And this is not a case of NY hipsters slumming, this is the real deal, grim and buzzing, classic sounding old school blackness. Think Moonblood, Beherit, that sort of thing... Dense slabs of primitive buzz, simple and mostly midtempo, guitars murky and muddy, the drums buried in the mix, but peppered with soaring epic classic metal melodies. Occasionally the band will burst into full on blackness, but even at their fastest, it's still more of a lurching punk rock sort of blast, thrashy and on the verge of collapse. The vocals are super distorted and buried way down in the mix. Everything super lo-fi, a definite demo-tape style production that just adds to the grim / kvlt vibe, this really sounds like it could be some Norwegian or Finnish basement recording from the nineties.
From pounding punky blasts, to loping midtempo buzz to epic minor key doom, everything dripping in blackness, distorted and buzzing and fucking awesome.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES! Packaged in super thick black on grey heavy cardstock sleeves, with cool cryptic artwork.
