With all the limited 3" cd-r releases and full lengths, it's amazing Machinefabriek, aka�Rutger Zuydervelt could find time to collaborate, but boy are we glad he did. Two pieces, each a collaboration with American multi instrumentalist Aaron Martin, who recorded a series of cello pieces, which�Zuydervelt proceeded to chop up, process, reassemble and twist into gorgeous haunting new shapes.�
The first track, "Cello Recycling", finds�Zuydervelt taking the various cello pieces and stretching them out, layering them, smearing them, blurring them, creating a warm, thick, humid slow burning landscape of droning sound. It begins as a minimal crawl, but as the track progresses, the sound takes on an epic quality, with submerged melodies coming to the surface, strange bits of rhythms and melodic fragments, creating a glacial wall of cinematic ambience, dark minor key swells, that undulate and pulse, always building and building, into a thick wash of metallic overtones, and crumbling distorted low end eventually becoming so buzzy and intense, it begins to sound like a much more mellow minimal SUNNO))), before quickly slipping back into more tranquil Stars Of The Lid like territory.
The second track, "Cello Drowning", takes the already manipulated piece, the epic Godspeed-filtered-through-doomdrone-low-end of�"Cello Recycling", and literally drowns it in more sound, layers of noise and texture, thick swaths of FX, the sound of (appropriately) running water or rain, the rumbling low end reverberating and shimmering, but instead of making it louder and heavier, more noisy and brutal, it actually gets even more subdued, more washed out and indistinct, A very Tim Hecker-ish blurry smear of sound. Soft focus, gentle, tranquil and dreamy, until at the very end, the original sounds of the cello can just be barely glimpsed through the druggy sonic haze, unfurling into a slowly fading, sweetly melancholy coda.
As always, absolutely lovely.�
Oh how we love Mirah and her dreamy acoustic indie pop! Her recordings are always such a joy -- imbued with a comforting warmth, the feeling of a close knit yet welcoming indie pop community. On Share This Place, Mirah's unmistakable ageless voice has never sounded sweeter as she harmonizes angelically with herself. She clearly works well on her own as well as in collaboration with others. You might recall the recordings that she's done with other likeminded indie folksies such as Ginger and The Black Cat Orchestra. This time she is joined by Spectratone International who are actually a new incarnation of The Black Cat Orchestra. These lovely insect-themed recordings were originally intended to be accompaniment for a collection of filmmaker Britta Johnson's animated works. We can't comment on the films 'cause we haven't had a chance to see them yet, but we can definitely recommend the music! Hushed and gently winding.
Originally recorded back in 2001, and intended to be a musical 'fuck off' and 'farewell' to the black metal scene, which as far as Nargaroth mainman Kanwulf was concerned had turned into something sad, sorry and distasteful, finally sees the light of day after 6 years of laying dormant. Not sure what changed after the recording of Semper Fidelis ("always faithful"), but Kanwulf continued to record, letting this vitriolic slab of scene directed hate sit hidden and covered in dust, to fester and remain nothing but a musical myth.�
The original version of this disc was limited to 99 copies, and to receive one, you had to write a letter to Kanwulf, explaining to him some personal secrets or weaknesses, sharing some dark part of your soul. In exchange, not only did you receive the record, but also various personal and intimate belongings from Kanwulf's home and private collection. Needless to say, no one here or anyone we know, managed to�be one of the lucky 99, thankfully, Kanwulf decided to release the record anyway, allowing the rest of the scene enjoy his blackened scorn and brutal contempt.�
Good thing too, cuz this stuff is amazing. Ultra raw, super fierce. The sound is pretty lo-fi, the guitars a corrosive buzz so thick that the riffs are sometimes smeared into near drones, the drums are buried underneath it all, more of a throb than a beat, and the vocals are probably as harsh as they've ever been, a raspy howl, acidic and bitter, a hellish hoarse caterwaul. The songs too are raw and simple, pounding monochromatic blasts of blackness, laced with sorrowful melodies, but for the most part straight ahead and generally midtempo, no furious blasts, no plodding doom, just a relentless black crush, primitive, raw and very very kvlt indeed. But as with much music like this, the key is close listening, the various riffs and melodies, changing shape and revealing hidden darknesses not necessarily obvious at first glance, the relentless mesmeric riffing, only a few steps removed from the ultimate soundform, the drone. These tracks are epic and majestic in their stripped down simplicity, hypnotic and repetitive and so gloriously trance inducing.�
The liner notes give some hints as to the background of this record, and the strange mindset of Kanwulf, a missive directed at fans and enemies, a description of the recording, and the amp used (set afire when left on the stove, hurled from the window, beaten with the guitar), and most strangely, the dedications, to Klaus Kinski, the German Federal Armed Forces and the US Marine Corps in Iraq. Semper Fi indeed.�
What a perfect pairing! Together the Dirty Three's Jim White and Ms Nina Nastasia strip things down to their bare essentials -- drums, guitar and voice -- to lay their musical hearts bare. With the additional positive of producer Steve Albini, You Follow Me is at once vulnerable and powerful. On songs such as "In The Evening", Nastasia sings with a much more steadfast, resolute strength than usual, and it fits well with the album's overall starkness. Meanwhile White accompanies and punctuates her vocals with dynamic restraint. For fans of dusky, raw melancholia.
Charged guitar driven rock from this SF outfit who can be found rocking around town at places like El Rio and The Eagle. We've been smitten with their take on unpretentious post-punk inspired by prime-time Talking Heads that has reminded us a bit of the first Interpol record or a more in the garage and gutsy version of Bloc Party. A really nice debut and we'll be paying close attention to what the future holds for The New Centuries.
These aQ fave Canadian pop champions continue their reign of pop awesomeness. Despite the title (if we assume it is self referential), this new New Pornographers' album doesn't really push any envelopes, it doesn't wear a chip on its shoulder, nor puff its chest out. With nothing to prove -- their audience already deliriously won over -- the band's fourth full length is simply solid (not simple, mind you!), but if it is status quo, then it's the best sounding status quo around! It doesn't challenge the listeners, it gives them a big hug!
Really the only place where there have been any major changes is in the packaging department, and it's not for them better. While we've always felt that the band's visual aspects have fallen short of their kick-ass music, we weren't prepared for the latest cover art atrocity. Accented with splashes of purple and neon orange, it's a disturbing line drawing of NP keyboardist Blaine Thurier shirtless and flexing. Yikes.
With band members settlin' down, starting families and such, it's understandable that it would be reflected in their music too. The initial breathless pop exuberance of their debut indie hit "Letter To An Occupant" has certainly been tempered into a swooning finely crafted and composed pop splendor with some of their most introspective and eloquent songs to date. These immensely talented folks have taken all the goodness from Mass Romantic, Electric Version and Twin Cinema and lovingly rolled it all together into something far grander and more lush than ever before.
With the individual band members' songs and sounds skillfully integrated, but still retaining their unmistakable charms, Challengers is much less of a rollercoaster ride than any of their past recordings. It's quite possibly their most consistent album from start to finish. Check out the late-in-the-album vibrancy of "Mutiny, I Promise You" and the hushed sweetness of "Adventures In Solitude".
All the key familiar faces -- Carl Newman, Dan Bejar and Neko Case -- make their entrances with their respective distinct flair. Y'know, the kind that'll surely receive wild welcoming applause in concert. This album keeps the lovin' good feelings flowing. To boot, they give their Vancouver buddies The Choir Practice a nod by covering their best tune "Failsafe" (the original can be found on that group's own self-titled debut album which came out a couple months ago).
Yes, we can say once again, very recommended!
Also, we've got this SPECIAL "EXECUTIVE EDITION" BOX SET for just an extra $5 more than the cd itself. You get the regular Challengers cd, plus a cardboard slipcase containing 3 blank cd-rs in digipacks, and space for the Challengers cd too. Blank cd-rs? Yes, BLANK cd-rs, but you also get a code to login to the Matador website which will (eventually) allow you to download mp3s of live tracks and b-sides and stuff, that you then can burn onto the cd-rs and have yerself a special little deluxe Challengers box set. Some assembly required, in other words. And we said "eventually" 'cause the catch is, they haven't yet recorded any of this bonus material! Yes it's a bit of a weird idea but we figure if you're a HUGE NP fan this might just be worth your while.
These aQ fave Canadian pop champions continue their reign of pop awesomeness. Despite the title (if we assume it is self referential), this new New Pornographers' album doesn't really push any envelopes, it doesn't wear a chip on its shoulder, nor puff its chest out. With nothing to prove -- their audience already deliriously won over -- the band's fourth full length is simply solid (not simple, mind you!), but if it is status quo, then it's the best sounding status quo around! It doesn't challenge the listeners, it gives them a big hug!
Really the only place where there have been any major changes is in the packaging department, and it's not for them better. While we've always felt that the band's visual aspects have fallen short of their kick-ass music, we weren't prepared for the latest cover art atrocity. Accented with splashes of purple and neon orange, it's a disturbing line drawing of NP keyboardist Blaine Thurier shirtless and flexing. Yikes.
With band members settlin' down, starting families and such, it's understandable that it would be reflected in their music too. The initial breathless pop exuberance of their debut indie hit "Letter To An Occupant" has certainly been tempered into a swooning finely crafted and composed pop splendor with some of their most introspective and eloquent songs to date. These immensely talented folks have taken all the goodness from Mass Romantic, Electric Version and Twin Cinema and lovingly rolled it all together into something far grander and more lush than ever before.
With the individual band members' songs and sounds skillfully integrated, but still retaining their unmistakable charms, Challengers is much less of a rollercoaster ride than any of their past recordings. It's quite possibly their most consistent album from start to finish. Check out the late-in-the-album vibrancy of "Mutiny, I Promise You" and the hushed sweetness of "Adventures In Solitude".
All the key familiar faces -- Carl Newman, Dan Bejar and Neko Case -- make their entrances with their respective distinct flair. Y'know, the kind that'll surely receive wild welcoming applause in concert. This album keeps the lovin' good feelings flowing. To boot, they give their Vancouver buddies The Choir Practice a nod by covering their best tune "Failsafe" (the original can be found on that group's own self-titled debut album which came out a couple months ago).
Yes, we can say once again, very recommended!
It's hard to not love a band that sounds like some unholy spawn of Deathspell Omega and SUNNO))), a blackened ritualistic blend of furious black metal and epic doomdrone, and while that combination in and of itself is not outrageously novel, since lots of BM record incorporate ambience and drones, it's all in the execution, and Nihill have managed to spin a sinister black web of sound that while familiar in some ways, is truly unlike anything we've heard before.
The first in a supposedly already completed trilogy of albums, Krach is a droning black beast, that begins with a short intro, a barely there bit of dark ambience, before exploding into�blasting chaotic, almost industrial black metal, so intense and blown out it basically ceases being black metal and becomes some droning buzzing black noisescape, the relentless blast beats the only thing holding everything together, huge swaths of ugly buzz and furious tangled black riffing. About part�way through the brutality abates, leaving a fuzzy free floating tangle of�strange voices, and circusy guitar melodies, whirring drones and abstract ambience, before a black blast shatters the tranquility and we're sucked right back down into Nihill's fuzzed out hellish sonic abyss.
The rest of the record is primarily the epic, three part, 42 minute�Gnosis song suite. Each movement a cinematic slab of black doomdronedrift,�huge ultra distorted swells of chordal crunch, over�haunting plodding percussion that sounds like it was recorded in some massive underground cathedral, these�glacial sonic shifts lumber beastlike through sprawling black hole soundscapes, the various layers and drones shifting from hateful industrial pummel to gorgeous ambient shimmer and back again. Imagine a more druggy SUNNO))) but with actual percussion, some demonic propulsion driving this epic's 16 rpm engine. The trilogy is broken up by another burst of DSO style blackened chaos, a completely deranged off kilter sonic assault, but the last two movements follow, one right after the other, finishing off the record with a nearly half hour of glacial, suffocating, brutal black drift.�
Any one remotely into any of the following bands absolutely NEEDS this: SUNNO))), Deathspell Omega, Moss, Khanate, Bunkur, S.V.E.S.T., Trollmann, Tenhornedbeast, Monument Of Urns, Marzuraan, Black Boned Angel... we could go on and on and on. A new deathdoomdronedrift favorite, with the added bonus of some seriously buzzing blackness.�
And we're already dying for the rest of the trilogy....
Long gone are the days of the bratty and sassy Numbers, when the band first hit the scene a few years back. These days Numbers have refined their love of electronic tinged rock, taking cues from sonic pioneers like '70s Brian Eno and early Gary Numan as well as some hints of Krautrock.
As always they have their Moogs and other rad instruments on full throttle (check out their awesome Octave Cat and the always handy shruti box, both of which help create lots of the drones that run through many of the songs on Now You Are This). With vocalist Indra singing lead on a majority of the tracks and irresistible momentum of that most of these songs, we could definitely see Numbers teaming up with kindred spirits Electrelane sometime in the future for a meeting of the musical minds that would make a lot of sense, and most likely sound fantastic.
The same people who have been going on and on about the death of the record store, have also been heralding the end of print media. But you know what, screw them. Who wants to spend their whole life sitting in front of a computer? Listen to music at your desk, shop for mp3's, read that article on the laptop... whatever. Sure that stuff is convenient, and we all partake a bit, but nothing will ever replace your local record store, thumbing through bins of lps or digging through stacks of cds, just like a gorgeously designed and laid out magazine will never be�replaced by a website. Especially a magazine as gorgeous and jam packed with black metal weirdness as Oaken Throne.�
Beginning life as a super strange, WAY oversized zine, impossible to ship, and difficult to display, but brilliant in its obstinacy, Oaken Throne has just gotten better and better, easily the best magazine devoted to underground black metal and strange heavy musicks. With amazing writing, great art, and some of the most stylish, but subtle layout and design of any magazine we can think of. The cover is always metallic silver on black, inside, the ads are often as striking as the illustrations accompanying the articles (which makes sense considering one of the two OT head honchos designs many of the ads as well). But Oaken Throne is not just another pretty corpse painted face. Nope, it's packed with articles and interviews on and with some of the most infamous artists in the black metal (and generally heavy) underground.�
This time around, a bunch of AQ faves: Asunder (featuring John from Weakling), Harvey Milk, Wold, Portal, Moss, Coffins, Caina, as well as some other amazing groups who have yet to get reviewed on the AQ site:�Acrimonious, Adorior, Archgoat, Blacklodge, Cult Of Daath, Dapnom and Necromorbus...
Tons of killer photos and yet another amazing illustration from AQ pal Justin Bartlett (whose art has also adorned a bunch of SUNNO))) and SUNNO))) related records). In addition to all that, there are a bunch of record reviews too... easily one of the best mags, metal or otherwise going today...
This is the first issue that includes comes with a cd, containing tracks from each of the bands featured in the magazine, none of them exclusive or rare really (except maybe the Asunder track, recorded live on KFJC) but a pretty killer metal mixtape (er... cd) for sure... As always, totally recommended and essential.�
Whoa, the mixed bag of words that make up not only the groups' band names but also the album's title sure reflect the mixed bag that is the music! Each track is radically different from the next. It's almost as though you're listening to a compilation. A little bit of everything. if you dug Black Moth Super Rainbow all on their own with their album Dandelion Gum, then you're gonna keep the love alive with The House of Apples and Eyeballs, their collaboration with The Octopus Project.
Squiggly synth tentacles wrap their suckers around the lite funky grooviness. Clitter clatter percussive sounds both from a drum kit and a drum machine, softly strummed guitar chords, and spacey vocoded vocals are chopped up, tumbled together and baked in the summer sun. Tweaked, fluffy wooziness. If your town still has a rollerskating rink, they should have this playing non-stop!
Now that Mr. Bright Eyes is all grown up, can we still describe another band's music as sounding like "an older Conor Oberst"? Well, we are and they do. The swagger of Okkervil River's latest album is also very reminiscent of Pulp and U2. That said, we stress that although it is a little odd that this Austin, TX band really does sound quite a bit like a few of their contemporaries, their music is pretty darn great in its own right. Will Sheff and Co. make fine rock'n'twang, and on this their follow-up to their monumental Black Sheep Boy album they've fortunately stepped back from the precipice of the mainstream modern rock slickness. There are a few departures from their tried and true too. On songs such as "You Can't Hold The Hand Of A Rock And Roll Man" they churn up the late night glam rock ghost of T. Rex.
The welcome return of these Bulgarian black lords, after their Back In The Grave debut from last year. And of course, after Back In The Grave comes The Funeral, an equally bleak and buzzy masterpiece channeling the sound and spirit of classic Norwegian and Polish BM into a swirling, droning black mass, a�funereal hymn�as furious and fuzzy as it is relentless and harsh.�
Four long tracks, two black blasts, bookended by two midtempo buzzscapes, and as with Back In The Grave, the sounds on The Funeral are�super dense and thick, the guitars a weird lush, lustrous shade of black, churning out a cursed lament, while above�the fray, vocals gnash and howl, a cracked hellish croak, way up in the mix, like some monstrous beast soaring above the roiling blackness below. But this is not just raw kvlt black metal, the riffs here are strangely fluid and warm, emotional and intense, with an�almost sort of gothy vibe, like a way more buzzy and blackened Khold. And within Orenda's�black forest of buzz, cool melancholy melodies lurk everywhere, haunting arpeggiated guitars, and strangest of all, super dramatic, almost cinematic sonic swells, sounding a lot like some black metal Morricone. Even when the band is blasting at a furious clip, the chords are ultra complex and the various strands of melody tangle and intertwine in strange and unlikely ways, with the band often slipping back into a completely mesmerizing, seasick lurching black lope, but always lacing their blurry blackness with stretches of haunting ambience draped gauzelike over the black blasts and complex post rockisms buried within.�
If you crank Rammer's oh-so-positively named 2nd full-length album (and the cd booklet specifically recommends that listeners "fucking crank it"), you'll hear some maniac shouting himself raw on such subjects as butchers, Russia, and radiation, above a metallic din of amps to 11 and drumming to 12. If you know what's what, you'll quickly suss out that these Canadian hessians are young guns with old school obsessions. The collection of '80s thrash metal cassettes used as a background graphic in the cd booklet is another tip off. Throw in influences from death metal and metalcore, and a steady liquid diet of Molsons, and you've got a headbanging force to be reckoned with, Toronto's Rammer definitely having graduated with honors from the votech program for raging retro metalology at that aforementioned old school. Likely classmates of theirs would include Skeletonwitch, Goathorn, Boulder, Defleshed, and Early Man, all of these bands having taken classes from teachers like Slayer, Destruction, and Nuclear Assault. Thus these 11 songs are fully strapped with vicious chugging riffage, sore-throat vox, intense drum battery and (their forte) ripping guitar solos from Rammer's two axe-meisters. Simple pleasures perhaps, but nothing to scoff at if you're metallically inclined! Weirdly, this band has got some sort of indie-cred (Blue Fog ain't a metal label) but don't worry, this isn't ironic hipster metal (unlike, perhaps, at least one of the bands mentioned above, no not Slayer). Or if it is, the "real metallers" might as well pack it in, they've been outclassed by supposed poseurs!!
But no band of poseurs could be so metal as to follow in the glorious tradition of writing a song with the same name as the band ("Rammer") AND making it be about some sort of totally rad, ravening murderous monster, another glorious tradition...
Here's another reincarnation of Maurizio Bianchi's Sacher Pelz project. Back in the late 70s, the Italian industrialist self-published a handful of cassettes for super primitive musique concrete recordings culled from turntable / needle abuse upon LPs by Kraftwerk, Neu!, and Conrad Schnitzler. In 1979, he picked up some new gear and changed his nom de plume to M.B. through which he fabricated some of the best power electronic / post-industrial noisescapes of that era. Recently, the man has been excessively prolific, getting somewhere near the Aidan Baker and Merzbow quantities for output; and In Hoc Urbia Miazi is the second album that he's released using this name again. While many of the recent Maurizio Bianchi albums have been all over the map with some decent ambient constructs, some brilliantly droning grim 'n' gloom, and some curious forays into cybernetic rhythms, it appears that Bianchi has reserved the Sacher Pelz project for noisy projects based around tape hiss and rough hewn musique concrete. In Hoc Urbia Miazi is just that: a boiling mess of looping tape hiss, varispeed accelerations, and razor cut edits between between the white noise chorus of tape hiss piled densely on top of itself. The label made references to the classic Come Organisation sound made famous by Whitehouse; but Bianchi's Sacher Pelz shares more in common with the blank tape experiments by Reynols heard on their self-evidently titled album Blank Tapes or by the obscure Australian turntablist project Gum.
Ok. Go to YouTube and watch this: http://youtube.com/watch?v=8nTGTCSGj30&mode=related&search=
Now, buy this album.
What, you need more???
Ok, but don't think we won't try that ploy again.
So, if'n you don't know, 1972's Lonesome Crow was the first ever album from Germany's Scorpions, a band later to become worldwide heavy metal hitmakers. Here, though, their not-so-humble beginnings are in the realm of heavy, hippie, progressive KRAUTROCK. Of course. In fact, this Conny Plank produced debut was the first ever release in the legendary Brain label 1000-series, catalog number Brain 1001 (and thus it's now getting a nice digipack cd reissue via the Revisited label, along with classic krautrock albums by Klaus Schulze, Eroc, Novalis, and others). It's fully psychedelic heaviness, seriously Sabbathy in spots, featuring the glorious fly-you-to-the-rainbow vocal stylings of a then-bearded and not-yet-balding Klaus Meine and, on virtuoso lead guitar, Michael Schenker, the 16 year old brother of rhythm guitarist Rudy! Young Schenker would soon split the Scorps for what at the time were greener pastures in England's UFO, but since his replacement was the godly Uli Jon Roth, the Scorpions saw no slacking in the dep't. of axe mastery. Still, this first album is definitely sits on its own lonely throne amongst all the amazing early Scorpions records (up thru the last one with Uli, 1977's Taken By Force, you can't really go wrong!).
So fans of the psychedelic proto-metal and krautrock too should check this out...no, it's not like they sound like Can or Faust... but it's not too far off from some Amon Duul II, Lucifer's Friend, Nektar, or even Necronomicon. The title track clocks in at over 13 murky, majestic minutes (that's prog!). And the riffs, well the riffs definitely are Hendrix-Cream-Sabbath influenced, on the road to true metal, sorta an earlier parallel to the evolution of another great '70s metal act, Judas Priest, whose first album was also on the druggy, psychedelic side.
Band names are tough. Coming up with the right one, one that captures the sound, the idea, the meaning of the music you're making. Some start out stupid, Flaming Lips? But soon becomes so inseparable from the music, that the name virtually becomes the music. Some are so weird, they can't help but be brilliant, Fuck I'm Dead, Bathtub Shitter, and a whole host of others come to mind.
When we first hear Pelican way back when, and were listening to the record, the name just didn't comput, it wasn't heavy or intense, it was just, a bird, but now we're sort of used to it, so Pelican does actually sound sort of intense, like the music. SO maybe the same thing will happen to Seagull, this one man band who's responsible for this here super limited one sided single. Weren't sure what to expect with a name like Seagull, the cover is appropriately black and white and cryptic, the name huge in a killer, almost unreadable olde English font....
Well, no matter what we were expecting from Seagull, it wasn't this, although we were pleasantly surprised. If one can use the word 'pleasant' to describe a disc of grinding growling low end and crumbling hissy noise. But for some of us, yeah, we can use the word pleasant. Although dirge-y and droney and gristly might all work a bit better. A single track, monochromatic and subtly shifting, strangely hypnotic but harsh in a not entirely harsh way. The sound is tough to describe, it sounds a bit like the run off of a record, when the needle slips onto the label and skids to the center of the turntable, a little like that, but mixed with the sounds of a roaring fire, industrial machinery, shifting tectonic plates, grinding glaciers, distant avalanches, or those weirdly fuzzed out spaces between stations on the radio, all sort of woven into one throbbing thick crumble, a garbled muted black noise, but the more you listen, the more melodies and strange textures reveal themselves, hidden rhythms, layers of sound overlapping and shifting slightly. this is definitely 'noise', but some strange almost 'soft' sort of noise...
Vinyl reissue of this classic from the Bay area's own sludge/doomer/stoner kings, S L E E P! No longer will you have to pay $100 for this puppy on EBAY. This is thick, colored vinyl, in the original lyric sleeve and an exact reproduction of the original cover. And this shit is HEAVY! Dirge-y, cannabis fueled excursions into the dark realm, Sabbathy riffs, pounding devil drum percussion, and a wailing howl over it all. If you don't already have this, what the hell is wrong with you?! Fans of Corrupted, Boris, stoner rock, sludge, doom, and all that sort of stuff, catch the hell up!! "Sleep's Holy Mountain" was this so-Sabbathy bands MOST Sabbath-like release, almost too close for comfort -- we're not convinced that Tony and Geezer didn't actually write this stuff!! Wow.
From Faithways, the label what brought us that extreme example of American religious fuckery The Church Universal And Triumphant, comes two songs from the leader of the Japanese Cult Aum Shinri Kyo. The cult made history in 1995 when they set off sarin nerve-gas in a crowded Tokyo subway, killing 11 people and injuring 5000 (they were later charged for the murder of another 14 people -- some quite gruesomely, as described within the accompanying booklet.) The nearly blind leader Shoko Ashara fancied himself a bit of a singer / songwriter, much like fellow cult leaders Charles Manson, David Koresh (whose rock band is featured on the label's first release) and even the lovable Anton LaVey. Musically, Shoko's songs most resemble the latter cultist's works, but with an even greater whimsy that he could be jokingly referred to as Casiotone For The Pathologically Deranged. Better yet, take Nagisa Ni Te, drop the vocals a couple-three octaves, change the instrumental accompaniment to casio keyboards, throw in melodic hints to "It's A Small World After All" and you can almost hear the weird world of Shoko Ashara. Unfortunately it's just not quite as interesting a listen as Elizabeth Clare Prophet and her cronies at the Church Universal & Triumphant, but maybe that's what happens when you put all your psychotic religious beliefs into plotting mass murder instead of wacky and innovative sermons. Comes with a 6 page booklet detailing the cult's history.
This is the fine debut album from this Chicago based trio. Some may find the slightly druggy drone'n'twang of Summer Above reminiscent of the velvety languidness of Mazzy Star or Cat Power, but with the distinction that lead singer Marie-Claire Balabanian's drowsily emotive voice flits and floats in a higher register than Hope Sandoval or Chan Marshall. Makes it less of a downer, and more of a sweet, 'drift off on a lazy day' kind of listen.
Ohh yeahhh. All the Krypt Axeripper fans here have been waiting for this. Circle fans too. Same thing, sorta. Krypt Axeripper, you know, that was the very entertaining, brilliantly stupid, supposed "heavy metal" side project of our Finnish friends Circle, enshrined on a four song ep earlier this year. After Krypt Axeripper could the NWOFHM get any more ridiculous?? You be the judge, they certainly tried: ta dah, STEEL MAMMOTH!! Seemingly a similar high concept (that being, Circle's metal obsession goes too far?) but actually more confusional than you'd think. Sure the cd booklet is filled with awesome D&Dish artwork and pisstake photos of the truly chuffed band members posing in full leather and studs regalia. But then, check out the music. As with Krypt Axeripper, there's a quota of crotch-rock riffs but it's also so oddly poppy, more like some sort of twisted rock n' roll alternative to the alternative than anything really made of molten metal. English-language lyrics (about Satan and radiation, "metal blade warriors" and "scorpion wizards", and suchlike metallic subjects, 'tis true) are weirdly crooned over shuffling beats and guitars that whilst fully fuzzed aren't exactly wielded by Hanneman/King. It's absurd, and absurdly catchy. When they sing something about how "battletoads explode in stereo" you'll be humming along (if not quite headbanging) and won't even bat an eye.
Looks like the Steel Mammoth trio of Garfield Steel, Rema 7000, and Juicyifer (hmm) and their pal Krypt (all pseudonyms for Circle folks) have invented a new cartoony subgenre all their own, jokingly initiated perhaps but inadvertently (?) awesome. Extra dimensional, post apocalyptic, astral travelling silliness that's part pop, part metal, and yes, part Circle ('specially on "Slow Death" with its unmistakable motorik drumming). This first attack from Steel Mammoth clocks in at 5 tracks, 18 minutes. But get this, future members of the Steel Mammoth Army: there's a Steel Mammoth full-length album in the works now, too! Look out, the battletoads have only begun to explode in stereo...
Making music that is fun is actually a lot harder to pull off then one might think. There is a fine line between playful and charming and kitchy and annoying, and thankfully Stereo Total are one of the few groups who have consistently proven they know how to walk that tricky tightrope. The title of their latest outing pretty much sums up the locales that have shaped so much of their sound. Being from Berlin of course they've been influenced by the rich electronic roots from that country's rich electronic music history and there's no mistaking how fond they are of the irresistible and sassy sounds of French Pop, as this isn't the first time they've covered a Serge Gainsbourg song. Stereo Total are a DJ's dream as there aren't many other bands you could throw on seamlessly between Jane Birkin and Nina Hagen without losing a beat. As always they switch off singing in German, French and English, but no matter what the language, it always sounds fun and more importantly, so damn good!
Want some brutal "war crust" to, um, brighten your day? Look no further. Stormcrow (from Oakland, and not to be confused with the Italian black metal band of the same name) team up with likeminded metallers Sanctum (from Seattle) for this split cd on the ever-reliable, heavy as heck 20 Buck Spin label. Dark and wretched, violent and crushing, it's a raw mix of speedy death and moody doom from two bands both of whom love their Bolt Thrower and Amebix, Winter and Doom. The grey-shaded artwork depicting armored foes in medieval combat is quite appropriate, as across this sprawling split, they're either charging forward with berserk fury, or trudging battleweary from the killing fields... (generally Sanctum do the former, Stormcrow the latter). Imagine Asunder with D-beats.
More divine modern shoegaze, we just can't get enough. Fergit Belle And Sebastian. Camera Obscura, who's that? There's a new yummy band in town who're giving those bands a run for the money and adding a healthy dose of shoegaze-y shimmer -- umm, but the town they're in is not actually Glasgow. Nope, these kids are a trio from Philadelphia, but Ben Daniels and his twin sisters Robin and Lauren sound remarkably authentically wooly tartan'd. From now on when you think of Scotland, you just might find yourself thinking of A Sunny Day In Glasgow. Scribble Mural Comic Journal is a swirlin' shoegazin' blissed out treat all awash with fuzzy guitars and dreamgirl vocals in the lovely tradition of Sarah and Slumberland Records. With heaping helpings of gauzy Cocteau Twins swirl and abstract deconstructed My Bloody Valentine buzz. Press 'play', curl up in a windowseat, and enjoy!
Latest in the ongoing exploration of the ur-drone, from�Matthew Bower's (Skullflower, Total, Hototogisu, etc.) softer side. But it's all relative, and while much of Sunroof!'s output is delicate and pretty, or gossamer and transcendental, this might be the hardest, heaviest, most intense release to date. The parts are the same, lengthy streaks of soaring feedback, effulgent bursts of glimmering heart of the sun guitar glow, huge billowing sheets of cymbal sizzle,� all woven into super lush expanse of blossoming sound, the parts all just feel more intense, like they're burning up, constantly on the edge of bursting into flames and crumbling into ash, the opening track even has drums, a pounding caveman plod, that gives the track a sort of doom metal / free jazz / bliss out vibe if you can imagine such a thing. The opener and the third track, are part of a larger nearly 40 minute piece, with the second half swinging wildly from explosive skree, to warm muted drift, everything wreathed in thick swaths of grinding feedback and thick prickly fuzz.�
The�brief second track is the most caustic of the bunch, there are melodies in there, but you have to slither through a dense wall of sonic brambles to get to them, a roiling white hot Merzbowian blow out, draped over a hidden layer of soft shimmering beauty, crumbling beneath the weight of the massive pummel above.�
The final track, the awesomely titled "Stairways And Terraces Descending One Beyond Another In A Stupefying State Of Exhaustion" is another corrosive landscape of amp shredding sound, an orchestra of guitar torture wrangled into subtly beautiful shapes, so subtle in fact that most folks won't stick around long enough to discover them, but as with most 'noise' music, and we're beginning to think this is more of a noise record than a drone record, one is rewarded for diving in head first, none of this dipping a toe in, or listening to a few minutes, you have to be fully submerged to appreciate the dense world of sound that while strangely beautiful, is constantly holding you under, as you struggle and gasp for breath.�
This is Sunroof!'s Metal Machine Music, sure to be misunderstood, and maligned, but for most of us, this is simply a gloriously terrifying blast of beautiful noise...
One of the dronescapers behind the seminal Ora project, which also prominently featured Andrew Chalk and Colin Potter, Darren Tate has been quietly churning out tiny edition CD-Rs. Most of his self-released discs have completely evaded us, but we managed to snag the last batch of copies of Organ Of Sight from Mr. Tate himself, who has warned us that these are indeed the last copies to be found. The limited availability of this album is not reason alone to investigate, as Darren Tate has long been an exemplary proponent of otherworldly, long-form abstraction and Organ Of Sight is no exception. A spectral vibrato of an analogue synth set to UFO hover is the foundation for Tate's untitled opening piece, which flashes with eerie electronics on par with much of the '60s esoterica genius mined found in the Creel Pone series. These paranoiac ambient gestures also resemble the general tone of Tate's contributions to the Monos album Generators, from 2005. While the second track rumbles with a deep space frequency and echoes with unsettled sonar pings, Tate counters his isolationist sentiment with a languid series of synthetic harpsichord melodies which make for a dreamy, blissful atmosphere. The final number rattles with a deadened vacuum cleaner hum spotted with smallish events and spooky sound effects cracking the event horizon, which altogether resembles something like Nurse With Wound's A Missing Sense. Limited to a mere 100 copies.
Sunbeam brings us a lost classic of '60s modern British jazz, the 1965 debut as leader from ill-fated pianist Mike Taylor, who, at the tragic end of a drug-induded downward slide, died (drowned in the River Thames) just four years later in 1969 at age 30, after making only one other album. As a result, not too many folks have heard of him, although he was a major young talent on the scene while he was alive. Reissued on cd for probably the first time, remastered and with new liner notes as well as vintage photos in the cd booklet, Pendulum is a both an historically important release to pique the interest of jazz buffs with its promise and originality, and also a thoroughly enjoyable, melodic and moody listen for more casual jazz fans as well. Taylor eases us into his personal sound-world by stocking all the first side with well-known standards, including pieces by Gershwin and Gillespie, adding to 'em a level of avant-garde abstraction that mirrors the way his sometimes saturnine original compositions, which occupy the entirely of side two, possess a certain foot-tapping familiarity.
At the risk of alienating some of the other amazing records we've been loving and listening to non-stop, we might just have to proclaim this disc our new favorite. Cuz, man, do we miss the good ol' math rock days. Or post rock days, whatever you want to call them. That brief period, when there were instrumental (or mostly instrumental) bands everywhere, each offering up super complex tangled chunks of calculus-rhythmed indie jangle. Guitars intertwined into gorgeous harmonies and splintering into jagged melodic shards. Drums battering out impossibly intricate beats, the bass slithering around and within, supporting and propelling, but always laced with killer pop hooks and amazing minor key melodies. Bands like�Polvo, Pitchblende, Table, Breadwinner, Dazzling Killmen, Bitch Magnet, Rodan, Crain, June Of 44, they just don't make bands like that anymore... or do they?
Tic Code, from Portland Oregon sound like they just got sucked up from 1995 and transplanted in 2007, with all their mathy chops intact. Every song here is dense and catchy and weird and rocking. The opener is all Don Caballero ultra complex spazz out. The guitars super dizzying and slippery, over a relentlessly chugging groove, that at one point slips into an almost jig, and then it's back into a hyper rhythmic math jam. The second track is more moody and propulsive, more post than math, the guitars lilting and ringing out, the drums loping lazily, super summer afternoon...
The rest of the record is all over the math map, leaning heavily on the heavy, more chaotic side of things, the drummer destroying, the guitars tangled up wildly around the drums, every song a gorgeous avalanche of sound...
Some�of our other favorites are�the weird melancholy almost Goblin-esque�"The Second Stanza Of The Tony Danza Tap Dance Extravaganza" with it's epic sweeping chords and haunting melodies, and the Yes-on-steroids of "Swedish Fish", with more killer dual guitar dueling culminating in an explosive freaked out free for all sonic squall... fuck it, they're all amazing.�This band is just so great, and sound so modern and old school at the same time.
Screw this whole post rock metal hybrid movement everyone is so hot for, we say: bring back the MATH!!!
Tiny Vipers is a lone lady, Ms Jesy Fortino, a drowsy dark folk songstress whose voice bears a striking resemblance to both Diane Gluck and Kim Deal. Very shadowy and very affecting. The fourth track "Forest On Fire" might be our favorite on this 7-song cd as the relatively conventional structure of the song is allowed to sprawl and dissipate out into a droning noisescape. Very cool.
Wow, does this one push all our shoegaze buttons, a sound we've been craving like crazy lately. There was a time when shoegaze was everywhere, but as of late there's been a serious paucity of classic sounding music in that inimitable style. Luckily there's a brand new one from AQ faves Trembling Blue Stars, who while not always necessarily shoegaze-y, manage to fill that void so perfectly with The Last Holy Writer. Less jangly then their last outing, The Last Holy Writer has everything we've loved about this band on display and in full affect. With a guitar sound that echoes the sound of Curve, introspective lyrics and wry delivery of vocalist Bob Wratten and the bittersweet voice of other vocalist Beth Arzy. It's the perfect combination of breezy and moody, reflective and heartbreaking. So nice to see a group so far into a long career make such a challenging and envelope pushing record. In fact this might even be our favorite Trembling Blue Stars outing yet. The perfect laying around on your bed, holed up in your room, window open, cool breeze soundtrack for heartfelt longing and bittersweet ache. So lovely!
For many years now, Troum has been mining one particular sound with few deviations from a signature of darkly smeared drone-instrumentals for guitar, bass, and other sound making machines. Their sound developed out of the post-industrial ambient arena populated by Zoviet France, Lustmord, and Hazard; yet, at the same time, Troum's billowing shadows of mournful melody and subharmonic rumble acted as something of a prototype for the ephemeral metal dirges conjured by the likes of Nadja and SUNNO))). As much as Troum's work has been at the center of a Venn Diagram that overlaps not only those aforementioned projects but also the post-rock dronscapisms of Machinefabriek, Stars Of The Lid, and Jasper TX, Troum (as well as Maeror Tri, the project which preceded Troum) has always sounded like Troum. Their signature is quite unique; and this uniqueness is only trumped by the remarkable consistency in the quality of their recordings. Because of this consistency and because of their ability to bridge the numerous signposts within the increasingly splintered network of drone music, Troum have earned themselves a loyal fanbase.
So for those of you who have been smitten with Troum (like many of us here), save yourself the trouble of reading this missive and just get this album. Their signature sound is firmly entrenched upon Aiws, making the album as good as the best parts of the Tjurkurrpa series and their remarkable collaboration with All Sides. Much has been said about Troum's spiralling grey kaleidoscopes of melancholia and crepuscular fogginess; and all of the hypnotically simple melodies dripping with dronecast effects that have made Troum's previous work so good are all present here on Aiws. Slow building, majestic crescendos steadily evolve out of an expansive dronescaping that Troum have long mastered. Don't expect anything new from Aiws, but who the hell cares when it sounds this great!
A three track EP of adventurous breakcore electro with plenty of acid squiggliness thrown in the mix for good measure has a lot in common with Richard D. James' Analord series he did under the AFX moniker. Lo and behold, the author of The Tuss seems to have been identified as Richard D. James (despite plenty of internet driven counterintelligence by the publicists at Rephlex, serving only to hype these recordings all the more.) But regardless of who is behind this, it's quite solid complement to the Rushup Edge album from The Tuss.
New on Rune Grammofon, the latest relaxed blast of atmospheric instrumental improv from Ultralyd, the Norwegian extreme "jazz" outfit that features folks from Load label noiserockers Noxagt (old AQ pal, bassist Kjetil Brandsdal) and Rune G electronic spazzcore duo Moha! (guitarist Anders Hana and drummer Morten J. Olsen). The quartet is rounded out by another Kjetil, last name Moster, on saxophones. Together they stir up some trouble in the vein of countrymen Supersilent, Shining, and Jagga Jazzist, filtered through several spins of John Zorn's Morricone tribute The Big Gundown, perhaps. Ultralyd swing haunting cinematic soundscapes packed with percolating grooves and eerie drones, tense guitar skree and jaunty horn tootin'. We like.
The first release on Grindfreaks Records, the record label affiliated with the Grave record store in Osaka Japan, run by Takaho from Unholy Grave (but often manned by Chew, the drummer from Corrupted!) Grave only sells grind, grind and more grind (oh, and ok, a little hardcore and black metal), so what better way to launch the label than with the latest release from one of the longest running and most infamous Japanese grind bands of all time (and most prolific with nearly 70 releases, nearly all of them splits!!).
Unholy Grave are going on nearly 15 years of grinding destruction, and they still sound as fierce, and fucked up as ever. And even though it's 2007, in the world of Unholy Grave, it still sounds like it's 1987. Falling somewhere between Napalm Death's Scum and Carcass's Reek Of Putrefaction, but filtered through their own Japanese grind filter, the sound of Unholy Grave is gloriously guttural, furiously fast, and ultra distorted, with some of the most bad ass riffs EVER, and everything sooooooooo completely in the red, occasionally the band blasts into full on Japanoise territory. At their fiercest, it's like sticking your head in a dryer full of rusty nails, a relentless barrage of crusty sludge and blown out brutal blasts. But the band does slow down here and there, into weird moshy grooves, super intense doomy stomps and tangled mathy breakdowns, but never for long, always returning to a super fierce, face melting white hot rrrrroooooaaaar. The vocals are all over the shop too, from hysterical shriek, to growling gurgle, nimbly balancing on a musical bed of jagged glass, everything battered and bloodied and so gloriously kick ass and heavy. Some of us have been listening to this NONSTOP since we got it...
The booklet is awesome too, a full on old school punk rock collage of lyrics and slogans and clip art (including an obi of course!) and some seriously awesome art inside the tray card, a Russian leaflet, of which supposedly a million copies were distributed in 1941, with the legend: "GRINDCORE Against Terrorism" along side a Hitler moustachioed monkey behind bars, wearing an iron cross and a swastika armband... and in the corner the words "Gorilla Adolf", and in German: "Caution! Rabid!"�
Earlier in 2007, the San Francisco based sound-art organization 23five held their annual Activating The Medium festival at The Exploratorium, a science / art museum housed within a converted aircraft hanger. In the past 23five had always hosted some pretty impressive events, collaborating with such esteemed institutions as SFMOMA, the San Francisco Art Institute, SF Cinematheque, and Recombinant Media Labs; but the two nights held at The Exploratorium probably showcased their best programming to date. Field recordings were the general theme, and the international cast of characters brought an exemplary variety of strategies in how to utilize the field recording in modern composition.
The first night featured Aaron Ximm, Camilla Hannan, Tarab, and BJ Nilsen. San Francisco's Aaron Ximm (aka Quiet American) has long been a proponent of the field recording, having hosted the seminal Field Effects series at his 964 Natoma loft several years back. Ximm grounded his field recordings of street vendors and competing popsicle carts with an evolving chorus of low frequency sine waves for a captivatingly quiet piece. Australia's Camilla Hannan offered an explosive set of de-contextualized factory sounds and construction site noise, which perfectly counterpointed Ximm's comtemplative piece. Fellow Australian Tarab presented an earthen kaleidoscope of crunching soil, wind-swept aridity, and sympathetic dronescaping. BJ Nilsen concluded the night with a slow building crescendo of his post-Niblock church organ drones that erupted with oceanic field recordings from the same sessions for his collaboration with Chris Watson.
Immaculately recorded, smartly packaged, and extremely limited.
Earlier in 2007, the San Francisco based sound-art organization 23five held their annual Activating The Medium festival at The Exploratorium, a science / art museum housed within a converted aircraft hanger. In the past 23five had always hosted some pretty impressive events, collaborating with such esteemed institutions as SFMOMA, the San Francisco Art Institute, SF Cinematheque, and Recombinant Media Labs; but the two nights held at The Exploratorium probably showcased their best programming to date. Field recordings were the general theme, and the international cast of characters brought an exemplary variety of strategies in how to utilize the field recording in modern composition.
The second night featured Keith Evans, Matt Shoemaker, Olivia Block, and Steve Roden. Oakland's Keith Evans presented an exquisite expressive combination of 8mm film and abstracted field recordings as a portrait of Mount Tamalpais. Matt Shoemaker's deliriously cinemascopic sound design situated itself as a blurred mass of grey, John Duncan-esque drones pocked with whip-snap cuts of highly detailed eruptions. Olivia Block broke her set into two electro-acoustic vignettes, offering her own take on the seminal work of Luc Ferrari and Pierre Henry. Steve Roden quietly turned in an emotionally resonant performance for a table top guitar and voice, spinning a delicate web of loops and echoes through his twin delay pedal set up.
Immaculately recorded, smartly packaged, and extremely limited.
Chances are lots of us here at AQ are like you in that we can get a bit overly obsessed when we fall in love with something. Case in point: this mind melting electro-disco compilation from the new Troubleman Unlimited offshoot label Italians Do It Better. There are thousands of amazing records here in the store to listen to everyday yet we can't stop putting this on. Day after day and often multiple times during the day this always seems to find its way back to the cd player, making us feel like we're dancing on clouds, floating high in the sky, never to come down. Influenced by the best moments of early disco, Giorgio Moroder and the whole Italo-disco scene (of which the label name is a tip o' the hat to) this comp is a collection of tracks from 12"s, LP's and demos that have been pretty impossible to come by in these parts. Folks like Glass Candy, Chromatics, Mirage, Professor Genius, and more have channeled their inner Moroder and captured that perfect late night dancing on air sensation after a long night of consumption and exertion, dancing your ass off, dressed to the nines and never wanting the party to end. Whether they're covering Kraftwerk or R.L. Crutchfield's Dark Day (a legendary and sadly obscure project by DNA co-founder!) or creating their own songs that fit perfectly into this after dark wonderland, all these artists have totally dialed into a sound and style that we find so irresistible. Where electro-clash was cold and calculated, these sounds channeling a heartfelt love of vintage disco have a seductive and sensual quality that's been making lots of us swoon. So highly recommended!
Germany's Trikont label is responsible for some of our favoritest, weirdest comps, like Ho! Roady Music Of Vietnam, Beyond Istanbul, and that whole Flashbacks series of early 20th century Americana oddities. Here's another one, sort of a primer on what was cookin' in the psychedelic era of the hippies and the yippies in the United States of Amerikka, stuff that maybe (maybe) won't ever get used for a baby boomer beguiling car commercial... including tracks by Captain Beefheart, Blue Cheer, The Fugs, West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, Pearls Before Swine, The Stooges, Nina Simone, Jimi Hendrix, Lothar & The Hand People, Tiny Tim, The Godz, Exuma, Kaleidoscope, Canned Heat, Chambers Brothers, Shel Silverstein, Tim Rose, Country Joe & The Fish, Grace Slick & The Great Society, The Holy Modal Rounders, Moondog, and the MC5. Yeah, chances are you have, or certainly have heard, a lot of these tracks already -- some are obvious, classic picks ("Summertime Blues", "1969", "Tiptoe Through The Tulips", "Kick Out The Jams", "Time Has Come Today" etc.) -- but it's still a righteous comp of significant tuneage that in fact, at the time, -was- in opposition to the "mainstream". And it's interesting to hear those better-known hits in context with some of their more obscure contemporaries, the "underground" documented here embracing protest folk, psychedelic soul, Woodstock hard rock, and even some (hopefully) satirical coffee house beat poetry, the latter from Shel Silverstein of "Where The Sidewalk Ends" fame! Lots of humor here, actually, whether due to the track in question being a novelty song (Tiny Tim!), or just 'cause of the hippie era datedness. So, while NOT the most bizarre Trikont comp ever, not a bad spin... and a good gift for your younger family and friends who have yet to be exposed to some of this. And when was the last time you heard Hendrix tearing apart the "Star Spangled Banner"? Still pretty powerful stuff.
From the same folks who brought us that amazing Invisible Pyramid six-cd compilation of the free/drone/folk/cdr/etc. underground, comes another dose of the same, this time "just" a double cd (but apparently the first in a series?). The international array of artists include: The Free Players, The North Sea, Western Automatic, Ilya Monosov and Preston Swirnoff, Andrea Belfi, Paper Wings (Antony Milton and Anthony Guerra), Northern Cross (Geoff Mullens and Kris Lapke), Brasil & The Gallowbrothers Band, Sunken (Antony Milton again, and Stephen "Pumice" Neville), Kawaguchi Masami's New Rock Syndicate and Oaxacan. Everything from ritualistic rumbling drone ceremony from New Zealand to lumbering distorto Tokyo psych rock! It's all sorta dark and dreamy, there's plenty of instrumental mellow droning bliss and pensive folk guitar picking, mysterious field recordings and electronic shimmer.
You can pretty much trust that this would be gritty and gorgeous and evocative and everything you'd want a comp from these farflung, dusty corners of the "New Weird" to be. Immersion in the contents of these two discs ought to both relieve stress, and make you want to hear more from any and all of these folks...
Killer three way split from three local modern hip hop / electronica outfits, one of which, the awesomely titled Lazer Sword, just so happens to include our very own Antaeus. So let's start with the Lazer Sword, who of the three are probably our favorites, and we're not just saying that cuz of Antaeus, nope, we're saying that, cuz of the three, LS are the hardest and the grittiest, with fierce beats, and crazy hidden hooks, each of the three tracks are full on�looped, stuttering, skipping dancefloor fillers, with big beats that shuffle and pound, vocals chopped up into strange hiccuping rhythms, buzzing synths and throbbing bin rattling bass, angular alien melodies, everything sharp and grinding, but warm and thick at the same time. We�definitely hear some Justice in there, and boy would Lazer Sword be right at home on one of those Ed Rec comps. But just because Lazer Sword are our favorites, doesn't mean the other two bands don't 'rock' just as hard, cuz they do, only differently.�
Ghosts on Tape is a bit groovier, a little more laid back, "Mogadishu Night Life" has a definite dancehall vibe, with Eastern melodies, and rhythms chopped and looped into some strange circusy hip hop jam, "Port Moresby" is rife with more block rocking beats, weird swooping FX, robotic and machinelike, some cyborg freaked out future funk for sure, and their last track, "Scraped Up", is muted murky slither, complete with a super recognizable sitar sample, but smeared into a blur of fuzzy synths, thumping beats and blown out buzz.
Finally, Hours Of Worship deliver three tracks of swooshy fuzzy pop ambient techno, the beats simple pulses beneath dense clouds of looped vocal samples and swirls of dense FX, strangely propulsive chill out music, minor key melodies, and a bit of cinematic epic-ness, that over the course of their three tracks, drifts from four on the floor pound (but a soft and shimmering pound), two mumbly almost heroin house, to the closer, a dreamy, eighties style slab of New Order-y new wave, complete with rainy day melody and a blurry washed out M83 sheen over the whole thing. So good.�
All we have to say to dance music dorks is fuck Europe, people better start looking to the US (and maybe to SF in particular) for the new breed of dancefloor destroyers, cuz they're right here...
I know we went on about the Butthole Surfers when we reviewed the first volume in Sublime Frequencies' Thai Country Groove From Isan series. Hard not to, considering that most of us were first exposed to Thai music via the Buttholes, and their only slightly altered version of a classic Thai track. Minus some audio fuckery, the track was presented in its almost unaltered original form. And everyone we know loved that track, as much or more than the rest of the disc. At the time, none of the folks we knew really had any idea where to find more music like that.�
Years later, the Sun City Girls' Sublime Frequency label, launched a totally kick ass series of compilations, gathering amazing and mysterious music from all over Asia, one of which focused on Molam Thai music, and while it didn't include THAT track, most of the tracks did sound quite similar, some even weirder and wilder... It ended up being one of our favorite discs in the ever expanding Sublime Frequencies sonic universe... until now!
Volume two is simply more of the same, but more is what we wanted, every track a gem, some weird and wacked, some achingly beautiful, all awesome.�
Quick background, Molam is the music that came from rural areas of Thailand and Laos, dueling female and male vocals, mouth organ, but as folks moved to the city, the music was modernized, incorporating the Western style rock band lineup, adding psychedelic fuzz guitar, electronic organ, and all manner of effects. The results are of course strange and wondrous, quirky, funky and super rocking, the guitars twang and buzz, strange little curlicues of melody, over relentless, propulsive grooves, the drums, simple and motorik, over the top, keyboards drift, and guitars occasionally explode into wild overdriven leads, before settling back into their strange convoluted melodic framework, horns moan and bleat, disco wah guitars drift over reggae like rhythms, but the vocals, wow! Much like in the first volume, it's the vocals that make it, they all seem to be singing variations of the vocal line in the Butthole Surfers' "Kuntz", that particularly sing songy lilt, sometimes spoken, other times wailed, always introducing their own melodies to the already melodically complex musical backdrop... so so so so good! Can't wait for volume three! (and while you're at it, check out the amazing�Ghost Of Isan: Thailand's Psychedelic Ghost Festival dvd, rife with breathtaking imagery, and more remarkable Molam sounds...)
Everyone around here is a huge fan of weirdo music label Rock Is Hell, as are most of you judging from how fast we sell out of their stuff and how quickly it all goes out of print. Pretty much everything on Rock Is Hell has blown us away, the Dig That Body Up It's Alive lp, the crazy Nate Denver's Neck wetched one sided lp box set thing, the super limited Octis lathe cuts, the XbXrX / Total Shutdown double 5", all gorgeously packaged and jam packed with mind melting sounds. With that in mind we worked out a special deal with Rock Is Hell, which will give AQ customers first (and maybe only) crack at the forthcoming ULTRA limited 7" box set!!!
The set is limited to only 400 copies, it will be totally sold out on preorders, so preordering it will be your only chance to get your hands on one. All the records will be pressed on white vinyl with white labels, and the records will be�housed in a silkscreened cardboard box with an inlay and 2 buttons designed by BONGOUT (http://frre.fr.freee.frfr.e.free.fr/). And as a bonus,�the first 50 AQ preorders will also get a secret bonus 7"!!! The singles included are:
Foot Village (USA)
Z's (USA)
Sasqrotch (USA)
Child Abuse (USA)
Death Sentence: Panda! (USA) / Fugu & The Cosmic Mumu (AUT)
Bulbul (AUT)
Bug (AUT) / Reflector (AUT)
Rokko Anal (AUT)
The set will be done and ready to ship in February of next year, but it will be sold out well before then.
So if you want to be one of the lucky few to own this crazy chunk of sonic and visual weirdness, click the buy button and we'll charge you up for one, reserve your copy, and send it out the second they show up (it will be charged and shipped separately from any pending orders)! So there you go, don't blow it!!!
And remember, ROCK IS HELL!!!!!
For a while, back in the nineties, AQ was THE place to get your underground New Zealand rock fix. Maybe one of the only stores in the US consistently singing the praises and slinging discs by the Tall Dwarves, the Cakekitchen, the Terminals, Wreck Small Speakers On Expensive Stereos, The Dead C, Bailter Space, Nigel Bunn, David Kilgour, The Clean, King Loser, The Great Unwashed, The Bats, Roy Montgomery, The Chills... and actually come to think of it, AQ is still that place, it's just that the landscape of the NZ underground has changed a bit, folks like Birchville Cat Motel, Omit, Pumice, The Dead C (still!), Peter Wright, Antony Milton, Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood, Armpit, Black Boned Angel, Dean Roberts, The Futurians and loads more are now the ones making waves all over the world. The names may be different, and the sounds too, but the current crop owe a huge debt to those that came before, and the sound and energy of those legendary NZ bands most definitely live on through this new blood.
Every time we'd get a new disc from one of those modern NZ outfits, some part of us would begin hankering to hear some of the old shit, but it's been practically impossible to track any of it down, Flying Nun, THE New Zealand label, was still around and releasing records, but seemed to only exist within the confines of NZ itself. But finally after months and months of emailing we managed to find someone who would and could sell us Flying Nun stuff. Our box of NZ goodies finally showed up and we were transported right back to that NZ indie rock heyday, we've been blasting the Chills and Bailter Space, Chris Knox and Toy Love, The Gordons and David Kilgour... but most exciting of all, we were able to get two compilations we'd been hearing about but had been unable to get until now. One is the 25th anniversary Flying Nun 4cd box set, super expensive, but well worth it, we'll try to list it some day, although we do have a few (at the time of writing this review) if you're interested, the other is Where In The World Is Wendy Broccoli, a completely kick ass and mind blowing collection of long out of print 7" singles, released between 1981 and 1996, when Flying Nun were releasing all sorts of crazy cool weirdness on vinyl...
Not sure who Wendy Broccoli is, judging from the liner notes, it seems like maybe she was a Flying Nun A+R person, but it hardly matters, the important thing is, this collection is a knockout. A great overview of the label and the scene, from indie pop jangle to murky grungy free rock and pretty much every stop in between. Like most scenes, there were a handful of key players, NZ was no different, lots of names you would probably recognize: Roy Montgomery, Peter Stapleton, Robert Scott, David Mitchell, Peter Jefferies, David Kilgour, Denise Roughan, Chris Knox, Shayne Carter, Chris Heazlewood and a handful of others, who beyond recording in their own bands and under their own names, would often pair up or group together for one off recordings, single albums or even just a 7" single, that sort of freedom, and the ability to record a track or two and see it actually released, resulted in one of the most vibrant and varied scenes EVER. And the proof is right here...
The mopey, slowcore jangle of Rik Starrr, the cinematic countrified twang of the Renderers, the bass heavy new wave-y gloom of Pin Group, the murky Spacemen 3 like jams of Sssf, the glimmering indie K Records style soft indie pop of The Magick Heads, the minor key melodic pop dirge of Queen Meanie Puss, the gothy dreamy downer murk of The Children's Hour (sounding quite a bit like Joy Division or Interpol), the tripped out space rock of Celia Mancini,� the fuzzed out female surf rock of 25 Cents (covering a Sonics classic), that unmistakable Chris Knox lo-fi perfect pop, and that's just a handful of the twenty tracks here.�
Definitely one of our favorite 'new' comps of the last little while (it actually came out in 2005), and it's done exactly what great compilations are meant to, acting not only as the perfect mix, but also getting us all riled up to hear some of our old NZ faves (most of which sound just as good today as they did back in the day!!). SO RECOMMENDED!
We've been pretty enamored of this whole new ambient processed vocal dreamdrone movement, our favorites probably being Grouper and Valet, both capable of turning simple vocal melody and some old FX into gorgeous drifty epics. We were warned / promised that this new Valet single was nothing like the rest of her recorded out put, supposedly it was the prettiest and most straight ahead thing she's recorded, and damn if that ain't the truth, not to say this isn't still trippy and druggy and space-y, it most definitely is, it just happens to be more folky and, well, song-like.
It's almost straight ahead, simple guitars drift and wave, shimmer and sparkle, amidst a soft background of distant drones and soft whirs, but the vocals are way up in the mix, smokey and sultry, very torch song, still bathed in reverb, but more for mood than obfuscation. A languid late night ballad, a throaty croon singing melancholic tales over that spidery minor key slowcore backdrop, definitely reminds us of Mazzy Star or Galaxie 500.
The flipside is more of the Valet we're used to, which balances the folkier flip quite nicely, a bit of spaced out shimmer, looped melodies, and blurred vocals set adrift in soft gently flowing streams of abstract ambience, and murky moodiness. So lovely.
SUPER LIMITED! Pressed on clear gold vinyl.
As much as we do try to avoid judging a book by its cover, it does seem to be getting easier and easier to get an idea of what to expect from a Venetian Snares record by the cover art. Take the last disc.�Cavalcade Of Glee And Dadaist Happy Hardcore Pom Poms, the cover was a strange cybernetic blend of gears and pipes and cow parts, all in a big confusional tangle. And inside, the music reflected that (well, maybe not the cow parts), a wild snarl of buzzing drill and bass, circusy sound samples, confusional loops... Then of course there's�Rossz Csillag Allat Szuletett, with it's spare grey sky filled with silhouettes of birds in flight, very classic and mysterious and romantic, and� thus inside, the darkest VS record yet, all stately strings, and dramatic swells, held together by a framework of melodic squalls of drum and bass.�
Which brings us to Pink + Green, and to be honest, we're not sure what to expect. A wild My Little Pony world of pink skies and rainbows, pinballs raining from the sky, dayglo colored foliage, balloons and strange spaceship like buildings, but most striking of all, the ponies themselves, here blessed with extra eyeballs, skull and crossbones tattoos, leg warmers, mohawks, cigarettes, hypodermic needles, and at least one pair seems to be engaged in some sort of lewd and lascivious frolicking. And you know what? Even though it's nearly impossible (and not a little bit scary) to imagine what the aforementioned scene might actually sound like, it's not that long a stretch to imagine it sounds like this.�
Falling somewhere between old Venetian Snares, Shitmat, and a handful of other chop-it-up-and-wrap-it-all-around-insane-spastic-drum-programming audio practitioners, but VS, aka Aaron Funk, has always had a special way with the slice and dice, and the drum machine set on stun, and not much has changed, this stuff is wild and dizzyingly complex, huge fuzzed out bass lines, skittering drums EVERYWHERE, the most notable difference here, are the vocals, or more specifically the original remnants of the songs before they were all chopped up, the twee girly 'pink and green' vocals on the title track, the 'get fucked up' toasting of "Husikam Rave Dojo" complete with some almost buried rave diva wailing.�
As the record progresses it gets faster and faster, more and more chaotic, like some robotic dance party gone awry, the machinery suddenly malfunctioned, sending the poor human dancers into a frenzied dance to the death. "Husikam Rave Dojo" is a dancehall rave all fucked up and twisted and tangled. The VIP mix of the title track sounds like the programmed drums were replaced by REAL drums (and they were according to the liner notes, although that seems impossible) and the record finishes with the awesomely titled "Sporto Fucking Sellout Cocksuckerface" a slow building gabber flecked spastic drill and bass freakout with bizarre (and goofy) vocal samples, fuzzy speaker melting synths, and of course a futuristic dumpster full of garbled beats poured out all over everything. Phew...
The whole field of neo folkies and folk foresters and modern Appalachians is getting more and more crowded every day. For every Rose and Blackshaw there are about a hundred other wandering troubadours with acoustic guitars, whipping up their own take on modern psychedelic Appalachian folk. And as much as we love that sound, and we do, it takes something super special to prick up our ears and get us all excited again.�
A few months back, a customer passed on a cd-r by some band called Voice Of The Seven Woods, aka guitarist�Rick Tomlinson, and we were floored. Echoes of the usual suspects sure, Rose, Blackshaw, Bishop, but there we something distinctly unique about Tomlinson's approach. The songs long and raga like, with as much space as there are notes, the melodies, dark and twisted, but warm and effulgent, usually nested on a warm bed of hum and whir. And this latest cassette only release is no different. A backdrop of muted whirs and slow swirling ambient rumble, layered and rich, almost pretty and trancelike enough to listen to on its own, but over the top are draped long loops of guitar, electric, steel string, melodies and melodic fragments, gorgeous melodies,�dark and drone-y, lyrical and druggy, super emotional and intense, not really even melancholy so much as mysterious and thoughtful, the various strands of notes and chords suspended in a landscape of low end shimmer. The guitars eventually drift off, replaced by simple hand drums, beating out a primitive tattoo, a mesmerizing primal rhythm, as hypnotic and simple as the drones beneath, until the guitars come back in again, and it becomes some gorgeous Comus-y summer folk jam, melodic strum and that strange off kilter beat beneath. So great. We've been trying like crazy to get more releases from VOTSW but they're all so limited that this is the first one we've gotten enough to list, and these will be gone crazy quick too so you know what that means...
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Already SOLD OUT and OUT OF PRINT at the label. The tapes are all psychedelic and hand painted, with tripped out full color covers.�
Jared Blum and Dominic Cramp are two very prolific fellows, releasing a very eclectic array of music both collaboratively and individually under a variety of monikers -- Borful Tang and Blanketship are just two -- on their own Gigante Sound label. Here's their latest collaboration! The Vulcanus 68 self titled release features no song titles, just green, red, yellow and blue dots beside each of the seventeen track numbers. We haven't deciphered the code yet, but it appears the green dots are winning! Ominous dirt and dirge, scrapings and grindings open the album evoking a sci-fi claustrophobia, but the chilling bleakness quickly gives way to curious squeaky squidgey gizmo mischief. However, that doesn't last for long either as the dank drones flood back in. Such is the Vulcanus 68 mission on this cd-r, roaming through explorations of electronics, musique concrete and intriguing collaged samples. If you dig the awesome pioneering craft of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop as well as the dingier, gritty sounds of the JYRK Collective (Skaters and Axolotl), Vulcanus 68 envelops elements of both into their own perplexing amorphous creation. Cool!
A relative new name in the neofolk / modern free rock scene, VxPxC have definitely been making up for lost time with a whole mess of releases, cd-r's cd's, cassettes, and of course, all crazy limited so it's been tough to get our mitts on enough to review and list. We grabbed as many as we could of this one, but as it's limited to only 50 copies, that still doesn't amount to much. So those of you looking for some more gorgeous blissy druggy psychedelic drone drift might want to jump on these quick.�
Only 20 minutes long, but these guys make it count, a brooding, mysterious trawl through some dark desolate landscape of deep mesmerizing melody and thick lustrous swells of sound. Imagine a soft focus Wolf Eyes with a way more psychedelic bent and you might have a rough idea. Some of the track sound like actual songs, with vocals, and riffs, but they're so obscured by dense clouds of reverb, they seem to be pulling apart, stretching and crumbling into smears of indistinct sound that only -resemble- songs. A gorgeously laid back and languid drift through some tripped out inner space, like a Burnt Hills jam, recorded at 5:00 am after the band was dosed with thorazine and horse tranquilizers. The perfect collection of bad trip, bleary eyed, unable to move, still sort of wasted, comedown jams...
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES!!! We only got a handful. The cassettes are hand painted and are housed in printed full color covers each one hand numbered.�
Well Dang! Why it seems we're in the midst of a full-on Porter Wagoner revival. Not only has the man just released one of the best country albums of the year (Wagonmaster, which we reviewed last list), but at the ripe old age of 80, just played to a sell-out audience at Madison Square Garden opening for The White Stripes. While for a time, he seemed to epitomize everything that was old-fashioned about Nashville, from his vintage glittering suits to his often overtly pained and sentimental delivery on many a song about love and The Lord. No truer did that image seem to be when Dolly Parton, who first debuted on Wagoner's TV show before becoming his most popular singing and song-writing partner for nearly ten years, decided to part ways for a solo career in the mid-seventies. Surely a low point in his career, but the man never went away, quietly releasing records and remaining an ambassadorial presence on the Grand Ole Opry circuit ever since.
Yet, it also looks like all that flash and kitsch so present in Wagoner's performances and recordings have inspired a hip cult following through the years after all. But not because of his more popular hits. We mentioned in the Wagonmaster review about an early seventies song that was a bit of a novelty hit, called "The Rubber Room", a dark, wrenching, reverb-soaked ode to mental illness. Well, most of his records from the mid-sixties onward had a track or two that delved similarly into the darkest of themes: revenge, murder, murder-suicide, insanity, prison, parental abuse, neglect, drinking, punishment, and redemption. The album covers similarly shared his fondness for theatricality, sometimes dressing up as a hobo, wino, prisoner, or shown walking in on his unfaithful wife. These songs weren't always his biggest hits but they had the highest Nashville production values with strings, choirs and dramatic special effects, and put together they create a bizarrely surreal patchwork of the Southern Gothic. So what better way to celebrate Porter Wagoner's big career revival with this mighty anthology put out by the awesome folks at Omni (who also brought us the Bruce Haack Electric Lucifer reissue we made record of the week, a couple lists back). Instead of focusing on charted singles and successes, this anthology compiles together 29 left-field tracks recorded between 1966 and 1977 (with the exception of only one charted single, "The Carroll County Accident") that cover all the dark themes mentioned above, many in poetical song-story form and loosely sequenced in themes.
So let's give a brief summary here of the main themes, after "The Rubber Room", there are some country-crossover songs, reminiscent in style to Lee Hazlewood and Jimmy Webb, that deal with the savage life of Native Americans outlaws ("George Leroy Chickashea", "Indian Creek"). Then, there are the achingly lonely tear-in-your-beer songs ("Lonely Comin' Down", "Lonelyville"), which then segue into the cheating songs, ("My Many Hurried Southern Trips", "Woman Hungry") then the wife-killing and wife/other man-killing songs ("First Mrs. Jones", "The Cold Hard Facts of Life" "Julie"). After that there are some tear-in-your-BOTTLE songs ("Wino", "Bottom of The Bottle") then the hobo songs ("Life Rides The Train", "My Last Two Tens"), then a prison song sung from the point of view of the prisoner's only son ("Let Me In"). Then the devastating Dolly Parton duet, "The Party" about a couple's children who die tragically while the parents were out partying. And finally a couple of songs about prayer and redemption ("Little Boy's Prayer" and "Moments of Meditation") just to give a slight semblence of hope to things. Phew! and there's so much more!
Surely not the happiest of records, but one that will still undoubtedly put a smile on your face. It's definitely one of the most well curated, intriguing and exciting country collections to be put to disc from a man who is finally getting his due. Absolutely Essential!!!!!!!!!!!
Please note: The first pressing is currently out of print. We've got a bunch of these, but it may take a while to get the next batch, so please be patient if and when we run out.
Even if you think you've heard enough of the new weird acid folk underground to last you for a spell, you should check out this full-length debut from Brooklyn's Mike Wexler, a singer-songwriter who (with a little help from his friends, members of Psychic Ills and The Occasion) has recorded a remarkable song-cycle in the form of Sun Wheel. It's set apart from others in this burgeoning genre by the immediately noticeable, uniquely affected nature of Wexler's voice. Ok, maybe that makes him a male Joanna Newsom... and of course Devendra Banhardt too has a distinctive manner of singing. But Wexler sounds like neither, and once you get used to his nasal exhalations, his intentionally elongated enunciations, you may find his singing to be curiously compelling, complementing the crystalline guitar picking and gentle piano motifs of his melodic, majestic prog-folk music quite well. And Wexler's vocal style is also indicative of a very personal, seemingly spiritual lyrical vision, fixated on sun, shadow, paradise, lots of lines like "Sun shadow dilating in the eye" and "Falling through the sunshine's ray in a dream of water". It's gorgeous, moody yet strangely uplifting stuff, glowing with lightbeams amidst its shadows. Something that fans of P.G. Six, Neutral Milk Hotel, and Robert Wyatt could find of eerie interest for sure.
