Not to be confused with the Christine 23 Onna record of the same name (although both are fronted by Japanoise legend Masonna), this Acid Eater is a blown out blast of ultradistorto organ drenched spaced out primitive garage rock stomp. We got a little taste of Acid Eater on the Demonic Freak Scene compilation we reviewed last year, and have been hankering for more ever since.�
Imagine the heaviest, most fuzzed out garage rock you've ever heard, now take that and run it through a handful of distortion pedals, a bank of Acid Mothers worthy FX, blast it through a wall of busted old Vox amps, wrap the whole thing in feedback and reverb, and suddenly you're in some alien alternate future where the world is populated exclusively by Japanese noiserock beatniks, who are constantly blasting�fuzzed out walls of overblown sixties sounds from their low flying spacecraft...
Imagine if Merzbow remixed your favorite Fuzztones record, or the Stooges released records on PSF and were augmented by some insane drug addled organist with WAY too many amps. Serpentine blues rock riffs, all tangled up with thick warbling organs, the vocals a snarling distorted howl, buried in the mix, and all dubbed out, the drums a crumbling, percussive pound, somehow as in the red as the rest of the instruments, every cymbal crash swallowing up all the other sounds, but it's the riffs, and the organ, and Masonna's wild eyed vocalizing that keep this blacklight space garage party going. Not to mention the killer hooks... Virulent Fuzz Punk A.C.I.D. perfectly captures how intense and freaked out it must be to experience this sound live, super distorted, feedback everywhere, the instruments in your face, the speakers threatening to blow, sweat, blood, spit, a swirling chaotic musical melee, heavy, distorted, fuzzy and funky, wild and woolly, spaced out and gloriously gloriously noisy.�
Recently we listed a cd by Diza Star & The Pink Ladies Blues, the French/Japanese psych band formerly known as Acid Mothers Temple & The Pink Ladies Blues, entitled Featuring Mani Neumeier. That particular personage being the drummer from '70s krautrock legends Guru Guru. Well, the REAL Acid Mothers Temple couldn't let their Pink Ladies pals & doppelgangers get away with scooping 'em on jamming with Mr. Guru Guru himself. So here's AMT's Makoto Kawabata (guitar) and Atsushi Tsuyama (bass) teamed up in a cream-dream power trio with ol' Mani. Together they unleash a whole hour of long, lumbering, loud, out-there psychedelic rock, five tracks total, mostly improvised live but winding up with a wild version of the Guru Guru classic "Bo Diddley". We bet Kawabata and Tsuyama were grinning stupidly for weeks afterwards.
We've long been fans of the druggy stoner grooves of the UK's Acrimony, ever since 1996's�Tumuli Shroomaroom, a record that has been out of print for a while now, otherwise we would have most certainly given it some long overdue love on the AQ list. Just recently, Japanese label Leaf Hound reissued�Tumuli Shroomaroom (which we now have in stock, and will list next time) but also this killer odds and sods collection called appropriately enough Bong On - Live Long! So we figured we oughta tackle the newest release first, plus for long time fans like us, there's tons of amazing out of print stuff on it we'd been dying to hear.
Acrimony exist in a similar sonic universe as their metallic countrymen Electric Wizard (as well as folks like Boris, Church Of Misery, Kyuss, Bongzilla, etc.) and while not quite as filthy and blown out and Sabbath obsessed, they are definitely just as heavy, but probably way more groovy and spaced out, adding some Hawkwind to the mix, and some organ (fuck yeah!) turning crushing druggy jams into crushing freaked out groovy druggy SPACE jams which is never a bad thing.�
Collecting tracks from old eps, compilations, and a split with Church Of Misery (even a badass Status Quo cover!), every song here is a sludgy groovy stoner space jam of the highest order, the riffs are massive and downtuned, the drums a barrage of pounding pummel, the vocals a raspy howl, wah guitar everywhere, hooks galore, lots of swing and groove, throbbing distorted bass, churning riffage that often slowly morphs into a spaced out sprawl a la Monster Magnet or Hawkwind, even the folks who don't get high here (Andee, and...?), can imagine that this is exactly what that must (or at least -should-) sound like, heavy and freaky and groovy and mind blowing.�
Fans of bands like Electric Wizard and Nebula and Ufomammut and Orange Goblin and Spiritual Beggars and the like who have somehow missed out on these guys might just have found a new favorite band...
Another gorgeously subdued missive from one of our favorite cd-r labels, Mystery Sea. Each release somehow fits into the label's focus on "night-ocean drones" whether literally, sonically, conceptually or spiritually. And every disc impeccably designed and packaged, the artwork as much a part of the art as the music inside.�
This installment (one of two on this week's list) comes from the East Coast, Massachusetts to be exact, from a one man band�known only as Asher. One of the better-known artists to release a record on Mystery Sea, Asher, focuses on field recordings, processed and manipulated into fantastic minimal microlandscapes of sound, creating textures and melodies, spreading found sounds and bits of generated music into long-form, slow-moving near static drones. But closer examination reveals all sorts of subtle rhythms, and constantly changing tonal colors, deep swells and distant shimmers, keening slivers of amp skree, but smeared into glistens rather than glares, the sounds of people and things, barely visible through the glorious blurry fuzz. Really quite lovely. Very close listening is definitely required, but the listener will be suitably rewarded by a beautiful and haunting otherworld of sound.�
Oh, the misery! Vying with the likes of Moss and Marzuraan for the title of Sludge Lords of England, Atavist offer up their second full-length (hence the title), following a split with Nadja not long ago. But Atavist are a complex beast with a tortured soul that in some ways is really less about sludge than it is about sheer sadness, opting for beauty over brutality much of the time.
Drums echo. Acoustic guitars weep. And then the walls of doom-drone (droom?) riffage come closing in, crashing down. But although there's heaviness galore, with gruff vokills raging, the gentle side to Atavist is nakedly displayed here too. Tranquil, haunting, Atavist possess almost a campfire drone post rockishness that curdles Khanate-like when the heaviness is let loose. All seven tracks, together something of a continuous emotional breakdown, demonstrate definite extreme mood swings, all of 'em melancholy and majestic, some of 'em massively metal. Actually it's a six-part dirge, plus a bonus track at the end, appropriately enough a cover of "I Hate The Human Race" originally by Boston sludge merchants Grief.
For fans of both Mogwai and Asunder for sure. So good.
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Well, the folk may be less present, but the freak is still going strong as ever. And why shouldn't he be when he's the charmed breather of life into this strange Topanga Canyon cocktail party. No, Neil Young couldn't make it, neither could Emmylou Harris, Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, or any of the usual suspects you might expect from ground zero of the west coast singer-songwriter renaissance in the seventies. Instead Devendra and cohorts with their ever-changing band names (Hairy Fairy, Navajo Gospel, White Rainbow Moccassin Woman, and lately The Spiritual Boner) have imported some remarkably far-flung musical touch-stones. From Vegas Elvis to Caetano Veloso to J.J. Cale. Throw in a little Byrds with a pinch of Led Zeppelin, add some Lover's Rock, some Post-Tropicalia, a bit of gender-bending, a taste of gospel and even a hint of Al Jolson mixed with Allan Sherman. It's a pretty daring concoction that, with a couple of notable exceptions (The treacly gospel choir of "Saved" and the cringe-inducing doo-wop of "Shabop Shalom"), works rather brilliantly. It's definitely a stretching-out record with Devendra bravely exploring more theatrical musical niches that would terrify most artists, and while at moments it can border on cheese, for the most part it's got some of the best songwriting, band performances and production that he's committed to wax (or plastic) so far. Deluxe edition features full color booklet of Devendra's lyrics, drawings and paintings. Recommended!
This is the first we've heard from German ambient doomlords Bann, and the first release on the fledgling Grief Foundation label (already a well respected UK metal distro) and we're pretty smitten. This is epic and heavy stuff, with a slightly medieval flair. Three looooooong songs, the first, beginning with what sounds like some creepy Carpenter / Goblin horror movie score, until the drums gradually fade in and we're in Skepticism style doom land, and then finally the guitars kick in and we're in the midst of some seriously crushing medieval doom, a plodding swinging lurching dirge, that quickly segues into an almost Renn Faire sounding bridge, complete with fluttering flutes and sweeping keyboard swells and an awesomely ridiculous spurt of classical strings before resuming its glacial plod. Halfway through the guitars fade out leaving a swirl of whispery synths, delicately plucked acoustic guitars, hushed vocals, strange sound effects, all drifting ominously, before that folky medieval crush crashes back in. Simultaneously lilting and lovely, buzzing and brutal.�
The second track begins with a roaring fire, looped snippets of conversation that become more and more frenzied, grandiose King's court keyboards, finally enveloped by a gorgeous melancholy riff, that trudges along, beneath a sprinkling of pointilist piano, another break partway through reveals rain and thunder, whipping winds and strange reverbed German voices, a creepy cinematic interlude, that quicklygives way to that same loping melancholy dirge, the piano just making� it that much more emotional and dark. Very classic sounding, My Dying Bride, Paradise Lost, but with a demented medieval twist.�
The final track begins with melancholy folk guitar, warm swells of synthesized strings, soon joined by buzz drenched riffage, slow and droning, the whole track sounding quite a bit like classic Burzum, slowed down, and with weird witchy vocals and an epic Viking-style recurring melody, Gorgeously mournful and completely trance inducing.
Total epic�medieval ambient doom!!!
Wow! We haven't been this smitten with a debut release in quite a while. Didn't know much about this Baltimore duo but we do know, the second this record we laid ears on this the first time, we were immediately seduced by the glorious sounds within. Hazy, daydreaming pop with equal parts magic, mystery and dreamy darkness, all drenched in beautiful melodies and sincere sensuality. Kind of made us think of Broadcast taking a warm bubble bath with Coco Rosie. Lights out, candles burning, bubbles floating, reverb dripping. There is a timelessness in these songs that is so evocative, Warhol's factory, a summer twilight in Southern California in the '70s, an abandoned art studio in the UK. You can never quite put your finger on exactly where these songs are drawn from but in the end it's music truly unique and wonderful. A mysterious voice, a haunting presence and songs carry you off, eyes closed, to somewhere much more enchanting then wherever you really are. So nice!
On Beirut's third album main man Zach Condon has shaken up their Balkan gypsy music-centric status quo with a baker's dozen less specifically Eastern European folk inspired numbers. Even with this unexpected, freshly broadened scope, Beirut still charms with a lushly beautiful, captivatingly otherworldliness. In fact Condon's transformed himself into something of a balladeer with a dramatic lilting croon that draws easy comparisons to Adrian Belew. Now living in France, you can hear the influence his new home is having on him. Check out the melancholic carousel waltz of "A Sunday Smile" and the deceptively titled sprightly paced "In The Mausoleum". It's like being privy to a stranger's vivid sepia toned memories of distant lands, lives and loves. As always, very recommended!
One of the more understated figures in Tropicalia gets one of his best but equally understated albums reissued. Forca Bruta, from 1970, didn't yield any of the hits he was known for such as "Chove Chuva", "Mas Que Nada" or "Umbabarauma", but it's still one of his best collections of songs. Backed by Trio Mocoto, who accompanied Ben through many of his biggest hits, Forca Bruta is a more mellow groover of samba soul that despite its simpler acoustic arrangements packs a powerful punch with some seriously amazing musicianship. Ben wasn't as radical a political figure as his compatriots Gilberto Gil or Caetano Veloso, but was instrumental in importing West African rhythm influences into his music which was influential in both Veloso's and Gil's musical development. Awesome reissue, highly recommended!
It's a mystery how we managed to miss the previous recordings from the British ultra-minimalist Keith Berry, because if there's any justice in the world, he should be mentioned alongside such blue-chip drone artists as William Basinski, Thomas Koner, Bernhard Gunter, and Akira Rabelais. Yeah, his work is that good! He's got the sublimely romantic melodicism of Basinski, the glacial pacing of Koner, the hushed restraint of Gunter, and, um well, he's got a copy of Rabelais' legendary Argeiphontes Lyre software in his repertoire. But Berry is no mere aggregate of previously mined aesthetics, there's plenty to his work that speaks of his own beliefs and agendas which all draw heavily from Zen philosophies. While Berry's previous work The Golden Boat (Trente Oiseaux, 2003) and The Ear That Was Sold To The Fish (Crouton, 2005) were both exceptional releases (with the Crouton album easily being the best smelling record of 2005!), each of Berry's albums makes small adjustments that add up to an improvement and refinement of his sound; thus A Strange Feather stands out a remarkable achievement. Like all of the previously cited composers, Berry's fundamental structure is the drone supreme into which he bends field recordings, subtle instrumental arrangements, and small tactile events. Like falling snow, his dreamy work drifts with a poetic chill and tranquil hypnosis through which peripheral elements tease the listener with subtle details. It's so damn beautiful; and oh yes, the double cd version is very limited to 100 copies of which we only have a handful!
Sir Richard Bishop has been on a roll of late, making killer alchemical guitar compositions on a variety of labels such as Locust and Southern's Latitude series. Now perched for awhile on Drag City, Bishop has anointed us with probably his best and most diverse work yet. Featuring 11 concise compositions, Bishop's frame of reference varies wildly from flamenco to the early jazz stylings of Django Reinhardt. Most of the tracks have a much lighter tone compared to his last release "While My Guitar Violently Bleeds". But most notably on Polytheistic Fragments is the inclusion of a couple of amazingly beautiful piano compositions, such as the 8 minute centerpiece "Saraswati" that features languid piano cycles accompanied by droning tamboura that in a perfect world would be the only music we would ever need.
Oh, that unmistakable voice and guitar sound! They haven't truly been heard since the early days of the Pixies, have they? Yessiree folks. the more mild tempered Frank Black has stepped aside for the time being.
Perhaps more than a little bit amped and rejuvenated with the return of his mighty band, Black Francis is back. Conjuring the fiery spirit of The Pixies' heyday, Blue Finger's opening track "Captain Pasty" clears the cobwebs from all eardrums within throwing distance. He's even enlisted a female vocalist to accompany him, Ms Violet Clark. She's sure no Kim Deal, but Clark holds her own next to the formidable gent. From there he runs the gamut of his distinctly vigorous twang tinged rock goodness. It all sounds like someone or something has sparked a fire in his music makin' bones. Even when he slows things down on number such as "Discotheque 36", it's a bit less on the mark and a bit long-winded, but still a stimulating listen. The next tune, his cover of Herman Brood's "You Can't Break A Heart And Have It" kicks it all back into gear. Definitely an album highlight!
A side note: an odd moment comes at the album's halfway point. Towards the end of "Angels Come To Comfort You" a sound materializes that we originally thought was a truck backing up, but then it became apparent that it was supposed to be an ambulance siren. Weird.
More swaggering trash rock from these rowdy Georgian peaches. Good Bad Not Evil is a heckuva wild party spewing sinewy electric guitars and sneering gang vocals. Bet they worship at their homemade altar to garage rawk gods The Sonics, The Gruesomes and The Monks each and every night. Super fun, especially after a few stiff shots.
This panda is bloody, dead, and gone...welcome to the funeral. Bloody Panda's debut full length, Pheremone, is a treat of funerary DOOM to be sure, but we get a lot of super rad doom don't we? It seems like every list there's another sky-melting, sun exploding super heavy band to flood your earholes (thankfully!). Among the heap of doomy metal Bloody Panda certainly stand out. First of all, the most obvious unique quality is the wailing, crooning vocals of front woman Yoshiko Ohara. Her beautifully chromatic singing adds a sort of otherworldly haunted vibe to BP's punishing sound. So weird and sick and ghostly. Also the band is just ruling! The musicianship on this is outrageous. Check out the drumming on the opening "Untitled" track, the pattern at the end (you'll know). That's some bugged out shit right there. There's organ, and guitars and basses tuned to the sublevels of hell, and really interesting rhythmic structures scattered throughout the entire record. There's also a ton of subliminal noise elements beneath much of the music. Basically if you're a fan of less-traditional, fucked up weird ass doom metal, this record is for you. Enough twists and turns to make it stand out among the hordes of heavy. Recommended.
Another transmission from on high, channelled through the earthly vessel known as Bonecloud, a mysterious drone duo from Ireland, who share at least one member with equally beloved outfit Quetzolcoatl. Two twenty minute slow burning epics, wide open expanses of scrape and shimmer, looped and cyclical soundscapes of metallic shimmer and blurred melody, Taj Mahal Travellers playing a piece by Phill Niblock, reinterpreted by the Jewelled Antler collective and recorded by William Basinksi. Long stretches of shapeless vocals, wheezing chords stretched out forever, woven into some glistening sonic fabric, twisting and changing shape, and color, and texture, fuzzy and warbly, blurry and buzzy, washed out and smeared, gauzy and smoky, a super abstract, ephemeral raga. The sound of an old tape dubbed over and over and over, broadcast through rusted loudspeakers mounted on trees, listened to with eyes closed, wet grass against your back and warm wind and soft rain on your face...
As with all Twonicorn, gorgeously packaged, pro printed tapes, textured paper sleeves, and of course super limited, ONLY 100 COPIES!! Each tape hand numbered.
Over the years we've fallen crazy in love with lots of compilations highlighting the power and energy and passion of Bollywood music. Collections like Indiavision, Sitar Beat, Bombay Connection, etc all share one common thread: R.D. Burman. Look closely at the credits on the songs on all the great Bollywood compilations and Burman's name is there almost every time. It should come as no surprise really, because if you've watched many Bollywood films made anytime from the early '60s to the mid '90s chances are it was Burman's music you were being swept away by, as his soundtrack work appeared in more then 300 films! His equally prolific wife Asha Bhosle adding her dazzling voice to many of his songs as well as her sister Lata Mangeshkar on some tracks as well. We're so happy there is finally a domestic collection of Burman's amazing music. Instead of being teased with single songs here and there on various compilations, now we have two whole discs worth of his forward thinking yet totally romantic and enchanting sounds. While Burman passed away over a decade ago he finally seems to be getting the respect in this country that he so rightfully deserves. One of the most gifted and prolific musicians and producers of the last half century for sure!
Killer one sided slab of crushing, heavy post hardcore stoner grunge screamo heaviness from these Richmond Virginia noisemakers. Grinding, pummeling, super distorted and angular post punk, but with some serious groove, and vocals that go from howled to screeched to crooned (well almost), killer riffs, filthy and heavy, pounding drums, mathy and chaotic, think Jesus Lizard, Scratch Acid, Mudhoney, Halo Of Flies, the Melvins, lots of Amrep, some Sub Pop, and here and there, Nirvana at their noisiest and heaviest.�
Definitely old school, and can't help but remind us of the good old grunge days, but it's hyped up, and filtered through a more modern take on post screamo hardcore, some seriously heavy, hooky ass kicking stuff.�
Limited to 700 copies, these are on clear vinyl with the flipside sporting an awesome tripped out, psychedelic blue ink silkscreen. All housed in an amazing full color sleeve. Way recommended.�
Warning! The singer's nasally singing style will be a dealbreaker for most folks so check the sound samples first! Comprised of a trio of folks from other bands such as Pretty Girls Make Graves, the Cave Singer's debut album Invitation Songs, actually does sound pretty inviting musically at first. However, we couldn't get past the singing which sounds like back porch caterwauling sung over music by Pinback or Modest Mouse. Almost cool, but not quite. Sorry.
Changeling are another band we've been wanting to hear more from, having so far only gotten our ears on half a tape from these guys, a tape they shared with AQ faves Quetzolcoatl, which should give you some idea of where they're coming from sonically. Where as Quetzolcoatl (and Q-offshoot Bonecloud) tend to explore vast dronescapes a la Taj Mahal Travellers, Changeling seem to exist in some alternate universe where time functions differently, where everything is slowed down, lazy lugubrious low end sonic sprawls, where melodies take minutes to unfurl not seconds, and vocals are more indistinct blurs, or haunting moaning drones, it's almost like Changeling are the avant garde underground cd-r DJ Screw, taking gorgeous tranquil freefolk and shimmery soft soundscapes, and slowing them waaaaaaay dooooooooown, sometimes adding effects, reversing some sounds, a warped sonic funhouse mirror, everything warbly and subtly twisted, a dark, sprawling musical crawl, everything oozing and drifting glacially, tones turned inside out, overtones allowed to ring out forever, a dreamy and divine world of soft slow motion ambience.
As with all Twonicorn, gorgeously packaged, pro printed tapes, textured paper sleeves, and of course super limited, ONLY 100 COPIES!! Each tape hand numbered.
Ok, you could be forgiven one of these days for saying, "Hey Aquarius, if you love Circle so much, why don't you marry them?" (We'd consider it, would be get Finnish citizenship?) It's true, we love love love this astonishing prog/space/psych/metal/wtf? band from Finland, and aren't afraid to say it. Our love affair got even more heated if possible these past few weeks when not only did we have a great new album (their collaboration with Sunburned Hand Of The Man) to list last time, and another great new album (Katapult) to list the time before that, but also as you probably know, they were just in town on tour, blowing minds at the Bottom Of The Hill this past week. And we also hosted a Circle in-store performance and helped arrange a secret show for them inside our friend John's bus!! Andee even flew up to Portland to see them (and help drive their van down to SF so they would get here in time for all these events). Totally worth it, they certainly put on a show to see...
They're back in Finland now, but they left us with a whole bunch of copies of this at-long-last reissue of their debut album, originally released on the Bad Vugum label in 1994. It's been out of print for years but now Circle has just regained the rights and put it out again on their own Ektro label. Yay! (FYI, if you already have Meronia, don't worry, there's no extra tracks or anything, the artwork somewhat revised but otherwise no significant changes from the original so you don't have to buy it again.) We probably don't need to say too much about it, basically if you love Circle and never had a chance to get this before, get it now, it's essential. This IS the stuff that made us fans of Circle in the first place.
Actually, we could be all snobby and be like, so, you think you like Circle, eh? ha you haven't even HEARD Circle. But of course we're not like that. However it's true, if you're a Circle fan unfamiliar with Meronia, you're gonna both be instantly satisfied -and- in for a surprise (isn't that always the case with these guys?). Back in '94, they had a rather different lineup to the one that just played here (or on many of their other albums... bassist/bandleader Jussi has been the sole constant in Circle over the years). But their trademark "circular" repetitive pulse was of course fully formed, and some other things haven't changed either (it would seem that their favorite keyboard patch has remained the same for a loooong time, that synth strings sound is just like what they used on the tour that brought them here last week). What is different is the emphasis on angular heavy guitar rock riffs, washes of symphnonic magnificence, and the choral vocals -- which sound like monks chanting! Like Magma, Circle created their own "language" in which to sing, called Meronian. Pretty incredible.
This album links Circle to so such late '80s/early '90s alt-metal influences as Gore and Helmet, even Voivod. Turns out, Circle's metal leanings go way back, though of course this weirdness isn't really metal itself. It's some kind of monk-prog that oddly creates a mood that reminds us a bit of Swedish goth/doom metallers Katatonia, if they were a no wave Magmoid motorik space rock ensemble, perhaps.
Meronia is one of those albums that while we were listening to it, revisiting it while writing the review, ALL other thoughts and worries and everything was washed away. The head starts uncontrollably nodding, feet tapping in time, and ... huh, what, where were we? Yep, hypnotic Circle to the core.
Obviously, recommended. And we're also happy to report that several other long-gone Circle titles are also soon to be reissued by Ektro, including this album's similar but krautrockier successor, and arguably our favorite Circle album ever, Zopalki. So keep it tuned.
Maybe it's a good thing that the Climax Golden Twins don't put out a lot of records. That way, when one of their damaged recordings of post-everything psychedelia marred with hallucinatory sound collages does come our way, we can savor it all the more. Along comes 5 Cents A Piece, and we couldn't be happier. Yup, this is a fucking great record. Is it their best? Maybe. But it most certainly ranks as one of the musical triumphs of 2007.
In many ways, the Twins have operated on parallel tracks to their geographical / spiritual brothers from the Sun City Girls, with the Twins mining more from the underbelly of Americana than the esoterica of South-East Asian pop. But Messrs Taylor and Millis are not without an appetite for such eccentricities, as Robert Millis continues to be an occasional contributor to the always exceptional Sublime Frequencies series. That said, the Twins are no longer a duo as they had been for so many years; here, on 5 Cents A Piece they've added the talents of percussionist Dave Abramson to their lineup. His quick turns from cosmo-rock hammerfist to free-jazz tumble down the stairs to plinkering vaudevillian backbeats make for the perfect foil to the twin guitar splatter of Taylor and Millis. As much as Abramson's presence is noticed on 5 Cents A Piece, the auditory dementia of Taylor and Millis steers the album (if it can be called 'steering,' that is). At times, they throw themselves into cacophonic skronk in a battle between finger tendon and guitar string as to which will snap first; then, they will slide easily into the ghostly folk melodies that paralleled their Highly Bred and Sweetly Tempered album from 2004. Elsewhere, a blast of West Coast hesher rock erupts amidst a headspinning, subterranean echo, with the Twins giving Comets on Fire a run for their money.
Limited to 500 copies and bound to be out of print in a matter of minutes, what more do you want to know? You need this!
Maybe the most aptly named band ever? Weird that when we first stumbled on Clockcleaner, it was in our search for more music from damaged drug addled caveman noisemakers the Violent Students, but it seems Clockcleaner is now the more viable band, with the VS sort of fading away, with only one proper record we know of. And where the sound of the Violent Students was more of a massive frontal lobe melting cacophony, Clockcleaner seemed to take that same aesthetic, and apply it to actual songs, the poppier Dr. Jeckyl to the Violent Students' Mr. Hyde...
And right off the bat, Clockcleaner up the ante with maybe their best song ever. A dense propulsive, grungy, filthy, swampy stomp, a malevolent, lascivious and lurching Swans slither, an ominous stumble and plod over Morricone Western twang, reverbed surf guitar, growled baritone vocals, sounding straight out of late eighties NY noise underground Copshootcop, the Swans, everything bathed in reverb, and swirling alien FX, bizarre little bits of melody... And the record sort of goes from there, adding damaged Jerry Lee Lewis piano pound, crumbling chest rattling bass, slippery drunken slide guitar, more super dramatic crooned vocals, still more reverb and effects, the whole thing a sort of hellish end of the world swing, plenty of groove, but gnarled and convoluted, dangerous and drunken, reminding us quite a bit of Lubricated Goat, King Snake Roost even Nick Cave, a blackened noise flecked confusional cabaret. Awesome.
Killer tape-faced cover art too...
Now on Vinyl! Here's our review of the cd reish from a little while back:
Nobody did spaced out krauty ambiance better than Berlin's Cluster. Maybe best known for their collaboration with Brian Eno, it was their work leading up to those monumental records that helped usher in a new wave of sound that's been latched onto and updated by many over the years. It's hard not to hear their influence on folks like Mouse On Mars, Aphex Twin and the atmospheric moments of Kid-A era Radiohead. It's always so great to remember and be reminded that they did it all without synthesizers (really, they say so in the liner notes!). Instead Dieter Moebius, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Conrad Plank were each armed with an organ, effect pedals, analog echo machines, alarm clocks, violin, etc. 3 songs and 40+ minutes long '71 is such a nice record to put the headphones on and begin to wander and fade away into their hypnotizing sounds.
Finally! We can't even begin to tell you how long we have been waiting to list this. Forever going in and out of print and when available it was always super expensive, Cluster's 1974 album Zuckerzeit has finally been given the proper and readily available reissue (Thanks Revisited!) it absolutely deserves. Probably our favorite Cluster album, it is most notably famous for helming their transition from concrete synth dronescapers to their more well known persona as crafters of pastorally cosmic electronica. Adding crisp and propulsive drum programming to their haunting synth melodies, Moebius and Roedelius split the composing duties with Moebius leaning to the more experimental while Roedelius provides the melodic sheen. Zuckerzeit hailed a new direction and focus in German music of the early seventies, with groups like Kraftwerk, and Neu moving through similar reshapes in sound. Obviously, Boards of Canada and Aphex Twin have spent some time absorbing this album. Timeless and classic, we cannot recommend this album enough!
Best song title ever?: "The AMM Of Punk Rock". And what's funny is, if there was ever a band that could rightfully claim that title as their own, it NZ's Dead C. Much like how Nirvana spawned a million shitty wannabe's, the Dead C basically did the same for the noise rock underground. Anyone with a piece of shit guitar and a beat up four-track got to thinking they could be a band, not realizing that the match up of Bruce Russell, Michael Morley and Robbie Yeats was a magical once in a lifetime sort of lucky draw.�
It's been four years since the last Dead C record, The Damned, a killer slab of classic Dead C -ROCK- that we dug like crazy. From full on rock to moody ambience, it was a serious return to form. So what did this noise rock power decide to do as a follow up (besides wait four long years)? Well, as being contrary seems second nature to them, they decided to be difficult. To make a hard to listen to, abstract record filled with amazing sounds assembled in amazing and perplexing shapes and letting us figure out how to enjoy them. And enjoying them is exactly what we're doing. If drastic stylistic shifts and difficult listening are things that send you packing then odds are you gave up on these guys long ago.�
Starting off with the above mentioned�"The AMM Of Punk Rock", the Dead C reclaim the noise rock throne from Wolf Eyes�or whoever happens to be parked there this week. These guys are legends for a reason, they can take seemingly unmusical sounds, caustic, abrasive, minimal and harsh, and weave them into something beautiful. This is no exception. Wheezing chords, tape hiss, amp buzz, strange disjointed melodies, huge billowing rubbery low end ooze, plenty of electronic glitch and squiggle, bits of buzz and beep, until about halfway through when a riff enters the fray,�a gorgeously SUNNO)))-y wash of distorted guitar rumble over simple spare percussion, like classic Dead C slowed waaaaaaay down. Not sure if it's the sound of punk rock AMM, but it sure as hell could be.
Elsewhere, the band dip into dissonant mumbly noise rock, complete with crooned vocals, clattery junk yard percussion, VU style riffing, a shuffling beat and a hidden hook that once unearthed will stick in your head like crazy, long drawn out buzzscapes of sputtering distortion, weird processed drums, digital skitter, and thick rumbling whir, super spaced out reverbed kraut jams, not all that unlike some lost German Oak jam, simple plodding percussion, metallic crunch, squalls of angular guitar, sheets of feedback, some downright groovy riffing and some seriously propulsive drumming, and for the final 20 minute track, a creepy lo-fi junkyard noise rock Appalachia, with raga like steel string guitar and wavery chordal warble, some blown out synth weirdness, and strange alien melodies, all wrapped in tons of reverb and delay, like it was recorded in a huge underground cavern, giving the whole track an awesomely subterranean vibe, casting the 'C as some clan of bearded beasties, with blind eyes, pale skin, and hair down to the ground, who have spent the last thousand years holed up in their cave, with nothing but some old amps and janky synths, busted up drums and a single crappy microphone...
And that's kind of what the whole record sounds like really, that Dead C classic deconstructed primitivism, begrudgingly dragged into the future (hence the record title? Ironic? Not?), the murky stumbling sonic chaos we know and love augmented with strange modern flourishes and unexpected modern production fuckery, which actually quite becomes them...
The return of the Destructo Swarmbots, who from the name, one can only assume is in fact a species of alien android, who appear in clouds of millions and millions of microscopic musical machines, that swarm into your ears and work their micromusicalmagic on your inner ear, and we love it. The last ep from these things (actually, this guy, named Mike) was a huge AQ favorite, a gorgeous soundscape of whirring droning ambience, and it wasn't difficult to imagine it could have been the work of millions of tiny sentient machines.�
This new one is a lot more organic, and more musical, conjuring up spaced out seventies krautrock as much as ambient experimental drone music. Trolling similar dark musical paths as Expo 70 or Horseflesh, to name a few recent AQ list luminaries, and thus the curtain is pulled back revealing the heart beating softly within each and every one of these Swarmbots.�
The opener is a nearly 40 minute ambient space jam, some musical outer space exploration, ribbons of buzzing guitar, and swirls of shimmery synth unfurl in huge weightless loops, drifting amidst glimmering stars and clouds of sonic space dust, rumbling and reverberating as the hull of the mother ship passes overhead. Eventually a keening wash of resonating high end builds into a swirling ocean of sound, melodies breaking apart and joining together again in different formations, almost like some primordial musical DNA, the guitar continuing to resurface like some massive black SUNNO))).
The three shorter tracks are like satellites orbiting the first: brief cinematic snippets of sound, strange ambience, mysterious murk, the warm warble of what sounds like horns, the groan and drone of low end tones, fluttering flickers of feedback, buzzing space synth psychedelic freakouts, cavernous low end loops, whirring minimal softdoom, haunting reverbed guitar muted and sent spinning into the ether, foghorn like swells, dreamy bleary eyed melancholy drifts, each track a strange little musical microcosm.
Yeah, the novelty factor with this band wore off long ago, hence they wisely ditched their Donna aliases, but the good times keep on rollin'! While their major label stint on Atlantic might've alienated a few of their devotees with its abundant mainstream slickness, The Donnas just might win 'em all back with the shiny-assed Bitchin'. These gals have proven that they're no slouches in the rock anthem riff department, and they definitely show their stuff here. The only place where they're still a bit lacking is in their tendency to always sing-right-along-with-the-riff. Nevertheless a super fun album that comes pretty close to the breathless exuberance of their early Lookout! albums.
Sure to please fans of Broken Social Scene!! How are we so certain of this? Well, this is the solo album from one of the band's co-founders Mr. Kevin Drew, and it also features a lot of his BSS bandmates (Feist, Emily Haines of Metric and Stars' Amy Millan) as well as Pavement's Scott Kannberg (on "Lucky Ones") and J. Mascis of all people (on the very Dinosaur Jr. college rocking "Back Out On The..."). It doesn't sound a whole lot different from the less electronic side of BSS! The album opens with a Flaming Lips-y grand scale orchestral pop swell, then the first few tunes settle down and get all ultra mellow and breezy -- a gentle guitar strum, a soft steady tap on a snare drum and hushed male vocals. Drew keeps things calmingly pleasant, but does kick it up a notch for the abovementioned song featuring Mascis.
Here's a split release we couldn't have anticipated, but certainly are enjoying: a pairing of NY math-metallers Dysrhythmia and sleepy British soundscapers Rothko (longtime faves of ours). Really it's not so strange, both bands are instrumental and fall into the "post rock" category thereby. Quite a contrast though, how they go about things. On Dysrhythmia's half, they offer up "Earthquake", a quarter-hour EPIC of soft-loud dynamic math rock, that percolates through wound-up metallic frenzies and moody stretches of heavy-duty ambience both. Pretty amazing. Imagine a mix of Isis and Crom-tech, or Don Cab playing Mogwai. Then Rothko lets you catch your breath and relax with their two rather more ambient-sounding tracks, adding much more low-end hum and drone to the proceedings... beautiful stuff. An unexpected split this, but satisfying start to finish, showcasing both the technical and the textural (Dysrhythmia more the former, Rothko very much the latter). FYI, Dysrhythmia's song is a reworking of one from an early, self-released album of theirs (before they signed to Relapse).
This San Fran retro-rockin' power trio, a deliberate throwback to the proto-metal stylings of the Frisco ballroom daze's bad boys Blue Cheer, at last presents their debut album, a split release from Japanese label Leaf Hound and Dutch label Motorwolf, (both) home to likeminded heavies Orange Sunshine. We've been waiting for an album from this band for a while, having gone to see 'em play every chance we got, going on a few years now. We forget how we first discovered 'em, they were opening for somebody else at a sparsely attended show at the Hemlock, and we were like, Pentagram T-shirt, shaggy hair, vintage gear? Hmm, wonder if these guys will be good... oh yeah!
What other current SF band sounds so Blue Cheer? That'd be Parchman Farm... whose bass player extraordinaire, "Binksebus Eruptum", happens to hold down (and shimmy 'round and 'round) the bottom end in this band too. Live, his showmanship is part of the attraction, but the band's true charisma belongs to singing drummer Tommy Tomson, whose aw shucks, "God Damn", stoner authenticity talks the talk and walks the walk. Just like the rest of the band, who very definitely look the part. None of these kids were probably even born in 1971, but they sure seem like that's when they come from. It's not just Blue Cheer that inspires 'em, they're fully versed in vintage vinyl proto-metal from Highway Robbery to Road, Juan De La Cruz to Toad. Putting all that love of early '70s hard psych into this album, they've come up with a worthy ten tracks of fuzzed-out, blooze-based, badass guitar/bass/drums swagger, with raspy whisky vox, simple bashing beats, wah wah guitar rippage, and bellbottomed bass lines. It's a fairly raw recording, giving it a bit of a punk feel, reflective of their youthful energy and enthusiasm, not unlike seeing 'em live. The rather lo-fi, garagey production also makes it sound extra olden and all, as does the folky acoustic coda "Sister Dorien". Sure, you're not gonna feel like nobody's ever made this sort of music before, in fact the opposite is quite the point, but if you like proto-metal like we (and they) do, you gotta appreciate the purity of this band's approach, their knowing naivety. It's not just pot, these stoners are totally high on the Speed, the Glue, -and- the Shinki! Right on we say.
By the way, they wuz formerly known as Genghis Khan, the "Dzj" now tacked on at the beginning presumably both to try to differentiate 'em from what's probably about 10,000 other bands also named after the Mongol warlord, and also to reflect the lineup changes that have occurred since their inception (the drummer being the sole surviving member from the first time we ever saw 'em, which is fine 'cause he was clearly the star, though their original guitarist was responsible for writing some cool riffs it must be said).
These Greek guys just aren't happy about being a part of the human race. The grim, blasting, uber-distorto black metal musick they make is evidence of that, without one even needing to read the lyrics to such songs as "Pitiless Paranormal Reek" and "Humanitarianism". Pure nihilistic poetry. And even if you, like me, like being human, we all sometimes feel a little bit of what these guys feel, right? Anyway, we're happy they feel the way they do if only 'cause of the great music that they make as a result. If you like the droning distortion of such great acts as Burzum, Weakling, and Eikenskaden you'll want to experience End for sure. But, their metal has moments of quiet, too, with good use of synth and acoustic guitar and even what must be field recordings or at least pseudo field recordings (from the forest, of the sky?). RecommENDed. Oh, and we also must applaud End's record label for the following statement: "NOTICE ISO666 Releases support CD-R copying. We encourage anyone that cant afford to buy our releases to burn a copy from a friend. Let the music be spread. We are against to all labels that lock their releases to prevent copying."
All right, admittedly the "_______ meets _______" is an easy/lazy reviewer's tactic, but sometimes we've gotta use it. In Enon's case, it is Deerhoof meets Blonde Redhead, and no, it's not just because all three have Japanese chanteuses whose voices flitter up high into the rafters. We must stress that this is not a bad thing by any means. We love the tweaked lush stylings of all three bands! Where Enon stands apart from those two though is in their penchant for veering into more rugged, raucous terrain. John Schmersal hollers and snarls vocals along with the buzzing angular guitars (except for the song "Mr. Ratatatat" when he sounds a lot like Steve Bays of Hot Hot Heat!), but this grit and aggression is nicely tempered by the cooing high female voice of Ms Toko Yasuda who sounds more confident and downright sultry on Grass geysers... Carbon Clouds than on previous recordings. This is Enon at their most straightforwardly poppy, their punchiest and catchiest, but it's not without a trademark stormy, strange twist or two. Listening to this is like speeding along a winding road at midnight in the pitch black. As your headlights catch fleeting glimpses of mysterious structures and figures in the darkness, your mind juggles between the benevolent and malevolent. Enon's new album is a wild pop ride are just as likely to menace broodingly in the dark as burst out in a flurry of sparkling fireworks. Recommended!
This here's the first we've heard from the strangely monickered Envenomist, but already it sounds like something we could do with a whole lot more of. And certainly the sounds here fit perfectly amidst the rest of the Twonicorn roster: Changeling, Brendan Murray, Glass Organ, Bonecloud, Tombi, Taiga Remains, etc...
Three tracks of shimmering steel string buzz, distant moaning train horn drone, thick clouds of buzzing swirl and fragmented melodies, looped krautrock like grit and grim doomy low end swells, thick and viscous, all layered into a harrowing and haunting sonic journey. Veering from FX drenched alien psychscape, to creepy modulated drones, to dense slow moving landscapes of buzz drenched melodies and slithering low end whir, to crackling fields of metallic buzz and warm whorls of thick soft focus ambience....
As with all Twonicorn, gorgeously packaged, pro printed tapes, textured paper sleeves, and of course super limited, ONLY 100 COPIES!! Each tape hand numbered.
The second full length from Feu Therese, the Montreal group captained by Jonathan Parent (former guitarist for Fly Pan Am), continues along the dark mysterious path they explored on their 2006 self-titled debut, but it's not without stretches of levity. In fact, the album opens with an unexpected jaunty guitar and synth line and a charming gent singing in French. Far more melodically inclined than its predecessor and far less bleakly brooding, Ca Va Cogner draws much inspiration from classic kraut, prog and space rock with some tracks being quite reminiscent of vintage works by Richard Pinhas, Kraftwerk and Cluster. Layers of synthesizers and electric guitars sweep across the steady, pulse-like drum beats and occasional male utterances and croonings. Nice.
Fiery Furnaces music is peculiar to say the least. Their sources of inspiration always run the gamut in style, era, mood and tempo. And yet, they're truly one of a kind, their sound immediately recognizable, their albums always wild'n'woolly surprise filled aural adventures. When listening to Widow City it's easy to imagine that Edward Gorey's Gashly Crumb Tinies, The Brothers Grimm, Mary Tourtel's Rupert Bear and Enid Blyton's Noddy commandeered a rickety time-travellin' spaceship and crashed it into a thatch of poison ivy in modern day New York City. With all of their music's mischievous, wheezing organ quirks and theatrical harp-glossed flair, the Friedbergers aren't afraid to exert a little muscle now and again, thrusting in a funked-up groove, a disjointed drumbeat or distorted guitar when the need arises. This trip is nothing short of gregarious, a little bit itchy, and delightfully enchanting. Recommended!
Yet another installment in the Mystery Sea label's ongoing series of "night-ocean drones", and none maybe more appropriate then this disc from Russian drone outfit Five Elements Music. Based on the Vedic concept of five elements air, fire, water earth and of course ether. Yup. However, here we're mostly concerned with water, as it seems that most, if not all the sounds on VarunaGhat are sourced from recordings of water.
It's hard to tell at first, as the sounds is just a whispered glimmer, a shimmering high end glint way off in the distance, hovering like fireflies over a vast expanse of hushed ambience, long drawn out barely audible tones, ultra minimal but quite lovely. Eventually, the tones grow louder and more pronounced, melodies surface, and the sound of water solidifies, and suddenly the drones are drifting along side a burbling stream, or the lapping of water on the shore of a lake, slightly percussive, hissing and gently frothing, adding a whole other layer of sound to the already carefully arranged soundscape. Each track here follows a similar pattern, from barely there, to a tangible exploration of some water based soundworld. The second track begins with a microscopic rumble, but soon, we're wandering through a rain forest, the sound of rustling branches, rain on leaves, streams and gently running water, all suspended in a strange glacial swirl of near static shimmer and soft blurred drones.
The final track is much more active, much more percussive, with the sounds processed into almost rhythms, dark and ominous, eventually building to what sounds like it could be the sound from some movie, leaves crunching underfoot, rain falling, foot steps, leaves and branches in the wind, all manner of water, splashing and dripping, again, all wrapped within a haunting smear of muted harmonics and deep rumbling whirs...
Definitely one of the nicest in the series, and certainly the most evocative, perfect late night drifting off music, the sound of rain combined with deep dark shimmering drones, pretty impossible to resist.
Like all Mystery Sea releases, strictly LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc numbered on the tray card, and gorgeously packaged with striking full color artwork.
First thing you gotta do to truly enjoy Flight Of The Conchords, is to pretend you've never heard or seen Tenacious D, and if for some crazy reason you -haven't- seen Tenacious D, and we're talking about the HBO show not the movie, then for chrissakes go get it now. You will not see a funnier, more totally wacked show, or hear more amazing metal tinged acoustic rock songs EVER. So once you've seen, and enjoyed Tenacious D, and then immediately begun to pretend that you haven't, then it's okay to dig into Flight Of The Conchords, a similarly damaged acoustic comedy duo.
But FOTC are a lot more feel good than Tenacious D. The D had a serious sinister edge, with songs rooted in HEAVY METAL, swearing and screaming,� blood and chaos and mayhem, where as the Conchords are more friendly, more deadpan, like the TV show, a more sort of Napoleon Dynamite vibe, long pauses, non sequiturs, a sort of rumpled discomfort instead of the D's in your face full frontal comedic pummel. And while we love the D, there is definitely a place for the Conchords. And while they don't seem as inspired as the D, the show is pretty dang funny, and some of their songs are awesome, "Robots" being the most obvious, a tale of the distant future, the year 2000, complete with a kick ass 'binary solo', the band rapidly reciting ones and zeros over madly strummed guitars. "Business Time" is pretty funny too, sexy and silly, and more of that deadpan style.
The live tracks are the best, mostly cuz the duo have killer chemistry, and are able to riff endlessly on the stupidest and most minute things, but the upshot is it leaves you wanting to see a whole set of their stand up, or at least the show (which is peppered with homemade videos for all of their songs), but for now, until you get a chance to see them live, or finally get HBO, this little chunk of goofy toonage should hold you over nicely.
We somehow managed to miss out on Voluspa Part I, but fear not, you can join right in for part two, you haven't missed too much, and if you did it's easy enough to get caught up.�
Fortid are from Iceland and offer up a dense, and epic sprawling prog black metal. With some Viking overtones, and lots of gorgeous ambience mixed in. There's plenty of buzzing guitar and harsh hellish howls for the truly black hearted, but these bursts of blackness are often accompanied by long drawn out piano flecked intros, or loping melancholy midtempo bridges, and more often than not super dramatic, near operatic crooning.�
Opening with a drawn out tranquil soundscape, all glistening synths and warm washes of ambience, the band soon lurch into action, the guitars a fierce buzz, the vocals warm and almost chant like, the drums a blasting chaotic freakout, definitely programmed, but they sound real, sort of distorted, until they stumble through some inhuman fill, which they do a lot, and piano everywhere, even during the heaviest blasting buzz bits, the piano is there, offering up some haunting minor key melodic counterpoint.
The sound is definitely Viking, with plenty of moody melancholy Katatonia sort of musical drama, sweeping and epic and sorrowful, but don't get the wrong idea, sure a lot of this is moody and gloomy and dramatic, but there are also stretches of furious black blasting, old school grim buzz, it's just that those moments are often butted up against something much more melodic or progressive. It makes for a pretty great mix, a very dynamic blackened musical journey for sure.�
Recommended for all fans of progressive and avant black buzz, and this will probably hit the spot for anyone who typically digs stuff on No Colours...
No, not that Genesis. In fact several bands around the world in the '70s were named Genesis. This is the Colombian group who may just be running away with the title of Our Favorite Genesis! Founded by Humberto Monroy who was in another AQ favorite South American psych outfit, The Speakers, this is some breezy and beautiful psych-folk-rock with tasteful use of flutes, acoustic, electric and 12-string guitar and warm melt-in-your-ears vocals. With a pep and playfulness that hints at Tropicalia but with a much more laid back and sensual disposition, falling somewhere between the colorful psych-pop of Madrid's Agamenon and the dreamy acid-folk of Chile's Congregacion. For those that speak Spanish, the lyrics are very smart and impassioned, praising the farmers, the environment, natives and the lower classes. This was their 2nd album, originally released in 1974 and so very well standing the test of time. Highly recommended!
Blimey, this is our favorite pure heavy rock n' roll album in a month of Sundays, pretty much, well since the Birds Of Avalon debut a few lists back anyway. '70s stylings to the max, fully indebted to the likes of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, and the MC5. And paying those debts with freshly minted $100 bills. (If only, in a perfect world these guys would be raking it in like Wolfmother.) Signed to the Rise Above label over in England, home to Electric Wizard and Witchcraft and sundry other sterling stoner/doom outfits, this British band is indeed kinda Witchcrafty, if Witchcraft were more single-mindedly concerned about kicking out the jams... like a more cock-rock Witchcraft perhaps. Certainly Gentlemans Pistols are as much convincingly "out of time" as those Swedes, a bellbottomed retro-rockin' good time that ought to get your head to banging with such should-be car stereo staples as "Just A Fraction", "Widow Maker", and the MC5-ish high energy "Out Of The Eye" amongst the ten equally rad tracks on offer here. Gentlemans Pistols win us over with confident melodic vox, an abundance of catchy riffs, and a bit of clever... what's up with the song title "Parking Banshee"? They're sly ones, these guys, even when displaying some slightly cheesy, lemon-squeezin' rawk and roll lyrics that we suspect are halfway tongue in cheek, on the track "Heavy Pettin'" in particular, which is a slower, bluesy number a la Zep's "Dazed And Confused"... Definitely an album for Pentagram and Leaf Hound and even Raging Slab fans... Recommended, rockers!!
It's weird to think about the world before the Internet. Little pockets of bands in out of the way places, producing wild and wonderful music, that outside of a few tape traders and cool record stores just didn't get heard. In some ways the advent of immediate world wide communication has been a wellspring of amazing music, since now, some kid who records in his bedroom in Finland, can now be heard by anyone in the world. Anywhere. Any time. The downside is of course the proliferation of bands whose material maybe didn't need worldwide exposure, music that was just fine where it was, in the bedroom or the basement. Thankfully this particular release is a definite example of the former. Australia has produced some killer rock over the years, from AC/DC to Radio Birdman to Lubricated Goat (one of Allan and Andee's favorites) to the Dirty Three to more obscure noiserock bands like Budd or the Dumb And The Ugly or Primitive Calculators. A few lists back we reviewed an awesome disc by the band Whitehorse, whose epic sludge-y, drone-y dirge definitely hit the Sunn 0))) / Earth / Corrupted / Khanate spot. The guys in Whitehorse suggested we check out another Aussie outift (also from Melbourne) a two guys and a gal trio called the Grey Daturas, who only a few weeks later just showed up in our store with a box full of cds, about to embark on their first US tour (some of the dates with Sunn 0))), see elsewhere on this list for tour dates). And while the Daturas are indeed heavy and droney, their sound is less slow motion sludge and more blown out fuzzy psych rock. A blurry druggy mix of Hawkwind, the Dead C, Comets On Fire, Residual Echoes, Dead Meadow and Bardo Pond. The Daturas' sound is all over the map, from churning, throbbing fuzzdrug churn, with squealing feedback and choppy uneven riffing, to drifting dreamy stripped down post rock, all careening wildly between thick swaths of super overdriven psych fuzz, and drenched in crumbly distortion and all manner of wah. When they kick out the jams, it's fierce and mesmerizing, pounding and relentless, with simple propulsive percussion and spaced out swirl. Often stretching out into head nodding Krautrock jams, spacious and hypnotic. When the storms calm and the band drifts off and just sort of meanders, we're reminded of Codeine and other like minded practitioners of drowsy, druggy slow core. Still noisy, but mellow and intense, brooding and subtly aggressive.
The Grey Daturas are all instrumental which as you probably know we tend to dig, since there's nothing like a bad singer to ruin a perfectly good band, but there's always the risk of bands with no vocalists to be really really boring. But because a lot of the Daturas' tunes are improvised, and the band is willing to take all kinds of musical chances (they often switch instruments, sometimes perform as a duo with no drummer, etc...) it never gets boring, instead it becomes the perfect mix of droning free rock, kick ass instrumental post rock, buzzing druggy psych and even occasional blasts of full on metal. Mix in some cool song titles: "The Hanging Man Is No Peacock", "Force Is A Weapon Of The Weak", as well as some oddly political song titles (but more sort of Sixties politics): "For Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale", "Night Of The Barricade: Paris 1968", a gorgeous washed out black, brown and grey cardboard sleeve, and a totally kick ass live show (they performed admirably with a handful of fill-in drummers here, even teaming up with art noise outfit the Yellow Swans for one show), and you've got one of our favorite new bands / releases. AND they're recording a new record right here in SF when they get back from tour...yay!
A while ago we were informed that French ultradoom combo Monarch had called it a day. We were crushed. One of our favorite purveyors of filthy slow motion doooooooooom, fronted by a woman, a rarity in doom for sure, and with a penchant for smiley skulls and Hello Kitty. A band that seemed tailor made for the very bizarre tastes of the AQ faithful, seemed to be no more.�
But before we could begin our campaign of mourning, black clothes spray painted with cute skulls, black Hello Kitty armbands, we discovered that in fact we were misinformed, or maybe the band had taken a break, or something, but we cared not, for whatever reason, Monarch was still alive, and would live to doom another day. And doom they did. Gracing us with more and more glorious downtuned heaviness, including their bad ass cover of Turbonegro's "I Got Erection"!
So now that we're pretty comfortable with the continued existence of our favorite cute doomsters, we can wait patiently for each new, massive slab of harsh slow motion glacial dooooooooooooooooooooom. And for folks new to Monarch, don't go expecting this to actually -sound- cute. They may be fronted by an adorable French girl, who spins playfully on the beach in their videos, but when she opens her mouth to sing, it's the sound of blackness and misery, a demonic caterwaul, unrivaled by most male metal vocalists. And sure the art on their records may be cute cartoon burning churches and big eyed ghosts, but the sounds inside are slow and black as tar, guitars tuned so low they rumble instead of roar, drum beats so far apart, the drummer can probably smoke a cigarette between beats.�And we're happy to report that this 16+ minute chunk of doom is all that and more. The more being the haunting ethereal female vocals partway through... Crushingly heavy, weirdly beautiful. A plodding symphony in slow motion. Essential Monarch beautiful brutality.
The surprise here is the Grey Daturas track, also a 16 minute epic, that on first listen sounds surprisingly doomy, and a lot like the Monarch track. The Daturas are often heavy, but rarely doomy like this, but it suits them. And they pepper their doom with all sorts of sonic weirdness, bits of electronic fuckery, strange modulated feedback, subtle FX, until about 13 minutes in, when the song suddenly morphs into a muted wall of smeared and crumbling white noise, a blast of blurred sound that eventually fades into nothingness.�
Pretty amazing stuff, from both bands. Doom hounds will be well pleased. Super fancy gold inked black cardstock gatefold sleeve too...
This is a MEAL! This punk ass band (and pals of ours) from the town of Watsonville, California are a bunch of snotty creeps with twisted visions of landlords on fire and yuppies being run through the wheat thresher! Their sound is part Public Image Limited (with dubbed out guitars, pounding percussion and general bad attitude) and part Big Black (angular, dark and more bad bad attitude). They hate rich people, they hate meansters, and they are annoying as fuck to see live. Happy Meal is fronted by twin brothers, known only as American Cream (guitar and vocals) and Harinjneesh Al Chone (bass and vocals). If you see them live, they will make fun of you!!! They also write amazing songs! The first track, after the rap station skit intro, is "Kathy". Has a catchier more riffradical song ever been written? You will have to buy this record to find out! The rest of the album is equally killer. Jagged but melodious guitar lines, throbbingly fucked up bass patterns and two little twerps screaming about making pipe bombs and selling weed to the cops. Watsonville's Most Wanted! Also, every cd is garnished with a hilarious comic street by bass-man Al Chone. Why? Happy Meal.
We all got a little taste of the damaged schizoid brilliance of the band Health, on their recently reviewed split with Crystal Castles. For those of you who missed out on that review, Health were a lucky discovery on a recent record shopping trip when we were in New York, bought on a whim, cuz the cover looked cool and the description sounded promising, this disc rapidly became one of our new favorites and most played, but when we actually sat down to describe why, we were sort of at a loss for words.�
Health definitely have a distinct sound, it's just that they're able to twist it into so many different shapes, some aggressive and angular, some heavy and harsh, some dreamy and drifty, some electronicky and new wave-y, but all of them fucking awesome, and always retaining some specifically Health-y sound.�
The track that sealed the deal for us was "Perfect Skin", a gorgeous heavy slowcore jam, super dynamic, awash in tons of reverb and distortion, with a hook to die for, just listen to the sound sample, it kind of sounds like a�heavy metal Low with a glimmering Galaxie 500 production�or a blissed out shoegaze-y Torche�or even a way poppier Swans, or like all of those, but none of those. It's just so good, heavy, weird poppy... Which pretty much describes the whole record, no matter how Health have managed to twist their sound.�
The opener is all�tribal drums, glistening new wave guitars,�spidery melodies, and super distorted bass rumble, while the track right after is a 30 second blast of�chaotic Locust-y hardcore, super convoluted and mathy, but which quickly gives way to an almost funky new wave-y Liars-ish guitar/drum jam, sort of spazzy, but with some seriously This Heat moments, filtered through some cracked dancefloor sensibility. The record goes on like that, and sort of veers back and forth between new wave-y tribalism, thick with buzzing synths and dense drumming, and super chaotic spazz rock, furious bursts of synth flecked grind. At some points, Health remind us of�a spazzier, New York DIY version of Icicle Works, which is most definitely a good thing. Impossible now to not imagine them whipping out a bad ass grinding blissed out version of "Whisper To A Scream" or "Cauldron Of Love".
Health are at their best we think, drifting along lazily, wrapped in washed out synths, and draped over subtly funky rhythms, reverbed and blissed out, peppered with crunchy guitars and those dreamy vocals, but the bursts of manic energy definitely add a whole other dimension, and after a few listens it's hard to imagine the record any other way.�
So recommended.
Ever had a bad trip? And no, not just an "oh I'm freaking out man" sort of trip, we're talking the sort of trip that sticks with you forever. The first time, the worst time, the best worst time, sex, death, injury, mayhem and misery, well our very own Scott Hewicker and his partner Cliff Hengst have been collecting tales of these bad trips from a who's who of artists and musicians, friends and family, even AQ employees and have finally compiled them all into one volume, this here gorgeous hardcover book entitled Good Times: Bad Trips, and not only packed with stories, but with all sorts of original and found artwork to accompany these far our freaked out tales of drugs and debauchery.�
The contributors include�Devendra Banhart, local luminary John Dwyer, our very own Irwin Swirnoff and our very own Lauren Robertson,�Martin Schmidt and Drew Daniel from Matmos, John Koch from Troll, Ezra Feinberg�from Citay,�Alexis Georgopoulos from Arp,�Wayne Smith from Aero-Mic'd,�Nathan Burazer from Tussle, Jack Hanley (of Jack Hanley Galleries) as well as�loads of artists and writers like Chris Johanson, Shaun O'Dell, Keegan McHargue, Leslie Shows, Kevin Killian, Dodie Bellamy... the list goes on and on and on.�
The thing is, it almost doesn't matter who wrote which story, so much so that the credits are tucked away, way in the back of the book, so the stories are just that, stories, removed from their authors, not overly writerly, instead conversational, like hanging out drinking and telling tales, where most bad trip stories actually get told. And these are some seriously demented stories. Some are super funny, some are really intense and brutal, some are so ridiculous they sound made up, others are more mundane, but resonate as experiences most of us have shared. It's an amazing read. A killer collection of short stories, all of them fascinating, tales of�stolen jet skis,�yellow food banquets,�secret upper crust sex societies,�deflowered virgins,�brain loops, dead body mannequins, emergency room freakouts, smoking out with Lee Scratch Perry, football player rapists, midnight calls to Mom, industrial strength lasers, heart murmurs, talking crows, living nude books, grey music, naked hippies, sex with surrealists, skin rashes, mouths full of dough, Cher costumes, stolen Harry Potters, boom box kicking, fake pistols, guitar masturbating, mother meltdowns, Tesla coils and so so so much more.�
Gorgeously designed and laid out, plus the book is jam packed with eye popping art,�paintings, drawings, collages, photographs and ephemera, all suitably warped and trippy, beautiful and bizarre, collected, found or created by Hewicker and Hengst. And all housed in a super swank, full color 136 page hard cover book. Each one signed by the artists!! Absolutely recommended. And a limited run of only 1000 copies, so buy now or be prepared to sell a kidney or take out a second mortgage on your house to pick one up on eBay later...
Over the course of three solid albums, the Bay Area's Unagi has blended traditional hip hop with the smooothest love-you-down r&b and soul. On his latest release, he's joined by Memphis based MC Infinito 2017. Combined, their sound is super loose and laidback (especially on the mildly chaotic track "On Air Takeover"), but exceedingly 'up' vibe-y. Seven tracks addin' up to 17 minutes of good times!
Ahhhh. Finally. A new Iron And Wine. Another delicate intimate breathy song cycle from Mr. Sam Beam. Every record is an absolute gem, and�this one is no different. But wait, this one is actually quite different... Still a gem, but a whole new sonic world, much more varied and lush, expansive and haunting, with what sounds like a serious backup band, other voices, strings and percussion, it would be enough to get our heads spinning if the songs weren't so goddamn perfect.�
In the past, on other Iron And Wine records, you know those slow motion shots of fields and plains, the horizon going on forever in every direction, the sun making rainbow flares, and little bits of dust and pollen drifting in the hot afternoon sun, billowy white clouds drifting in a deep blue sky... that's what those records sounded like. Exactly. Slow and lazy and languorous, soft focus, hushed an intimate. Eyes closed, you were immediately transported to some lost field filled with flowers, laying in the breeze, staring at the sky, the blades of grass tickling your skin... But with each successive record, the sound of I+W got a little bit darker, a little bit less fluttery and folky, more rocking, but never veering too far from that immediately recognizable safe and warm sound... until now.�
This is a dark record, especially for Iron And Wine, minor key, intense, propulsive, with a strange steely edge, a little ominous, and yeah, just a little bit dark. Not all the way through, glimmers and hints here and there. But on some songs, like "White Tooth Man", the sound is definitely edgy and slightly sinister, electric slide guitar offering�up menacing little filigree, the strumming more insistent than usual, even the vocals are frenzied, slipping into a gorgeous falsetto. All very tense. The rest of the record is more classic I+W sounding, that mysterious dark edge, more a shadow in the background, but the sound is like a whole 'nother band, lots of percussion, drumming, warm organ, harmonica, electric guitar, it almost pushes the sound into Eagles / America territory, bands Iron And Wine definitely had some affinity with in the past, but now made more solid, sonically. It's definitely a nice change, and lets the songs spread their wings. And while these changes were hinted at on the Woman King ep, Beam and Co. have definitely made those changes more sweeping, creating a whole new Iron And Wine sound in the process. And those aren't the only changes, check out "Boy With A Coin", with its strange almost electronic rhythms, weeping slide guitars and stuttery handclap backdrop, strange and alien sounding but really really cool.��
Maybe this new sound is not quite as intimate, it no longer sounds like Beam is sitting at the foot of your bed, singing for you, whispering in your ear, every song a special personal lullaby, but these new songs have other riches to offer, layers of sound to unwrap, melodies to unfurl, now it's more like sitting in some strange clearing, late at night, around a fire, all the players cloaked in shadow, the branches casting strange black shapes on the ground, the songs coming to life and filling the night air with music both lovely and haunting, mysterious and familiar...
For a band that didn't exist for very long, only had one record and who have been broken up for years now, SF's mighty Weakling still cast a pretty long shadow. We still sell Dead As Dreams like crazy, more and more people are professing their undying love for Weakling's black grandeur every day, and band after band, some more subtly than others are displaying in their music, some serious Weakling worship. Wolves In The Throne Room are a recent example, they obviously expanded on the sound but there are moments where WITTR are a dead ringer for Weakling. Then there is Jabladav, who almost come off as a sort of Weakling homage, what with the very Dead As Dreams-ish title, the album artwork, and of course Weakling topping the thanks list, which also includes Burzum, Darkthrone, Black Flag, Ildjarn and Wolves In The Throne Room. But Jabladav, seem to approach metal from a distinctly non-metal background. It's subtle, but noticeable. Black Flag in the thanks list should give you some indication. Not that this isn't black and buzzy, heavy and thrashing and brutal, it is, one man, just guitar bass, mellotron and drums, but there is a distinctly post rock, punk rock vibe that permeates much of Dead As Duck. Take out some of the thick swaths of dramatic keyboards and insane bursts of double kick drumming, and sometimes you're left with some very Greg Ginn-ish angular metallic post punk. But when all is said and done, Jabladav whip up some serious black skree, with buzzy crunchy guitars dominating the mix, some murky drumming, bits of bass here and there, a little keyboards, mostly instrumental, but when there are vocals, they are a haunting croon, much like the madman in Urfaust. There are even some dreamy folky interludes. Fucking awesome stuff for sure. We've been playing this like mad since we got it. So if you dig any of the aforementioned bands (we might even include in the list Earl Shilton, Carcass, even the Champs maybe) you'll definitely love this! LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc hand numbered.
Now on vinyl. Here's the cd review from a few lists back:
We've been hearing quite a lot of buzz and hype surrounding this New York outfit led by Joan Wasser, who has been playing music in one form or another since she was 8 years old. Along the way she's paid her dues playing in the Damnbuilders, and some lesser known bands in the '90s who featured some soon to be big name indie rockers like Mary Timony and Al Larson (Shudder To Think) and she has played violin for everyone from Antony & The Johnsons to Rufus Wainwright, Lou Reed to the Scissor Sister and even Sheryl Crow. The combination of those folks' music gives a sort-of-snapshot as to what to expect from Joan As Policewoman. Sounding a little bit like a more sweeping and orchestral version of Feist, this is a record sure to have a wide appeal and with good reason. With a very likable voice and strong instrumentation this will for sure hit the spot for folks waiting god knows how long until Fiona Apple comes out with another record. Oh and keeping up his very busy guest appearance schedule, Antony (of Antony & The Johnsons) adds his always stunning voice to one track on Real Life as well. And the first batch of these we got comes with a bonus disc of b-sides which includes a Bowie cover and a song dedicated to Condoleezza Rice. Weird.
