A simple check-list should help you to get an idea of what Maserati is all about: instrumental post-rock, released on the Temporary Residence Ltd. label, with a sports car name sorta like Trans Am... This album focuses a lot of psychedelic guitar distortion and krauty, rhythmic energy into eight sleek, speedy, and sometimes shoegazey tracks that sound like Frippertronics at the disco, or a coke-fuelled Circle/Tortoise/Zombi jam. It's a loud yet gentle ear-massage lit up by flashing, stroboscopic drumming. The drummer also plays in !!! and the Turing Machine, you could sorta see Maserati as a mix of those two bands, mathy propulsive post-rock with a bit of a groove-y, dance-y vibe. Portions of this could make a good Miami Vice soundtrack, like for a scene (filmed from a helicopter) of an exciting power-boat chase across a deep blue, beautiful, sunshiney sea. Also several of these tracks, Cup is convinced, could easily segue into a rendition of "Danger Zone" by Golden Earring... which is cool by us.
It's a comic book! It's a Melvins cd! It's pretty darn cool is what it is. Cartoonist Brian Walsby spoofs and skewers various icons of old school punk/alt rock culture, and puts his own personal family history on the page too ("My Old Man!"). It's mostly subversively funny, sarcastic stuff. Lots of chuckles for those with a bit of nostalgia for the good ol' days of '80s punk rock for sure!! One of our favorite comix in here is "Whatever Happened To You Favorite Eighties Hardcore Mascots" which imagines the DRI "thrash guy" finding a new career as a school crossing guard, and the Black Flag bars being sold to Hank Williams III who "dropped one bar and used the rest for his new logo." Some of the other pieces in this fairly thick book include an illustrated article celebrating TV's SCTV, a Walsby/Melvins 2006 tour diary, a memoir entitled "How I Survived Grunge", "The Rules Of Young Rock Bands" (which include holding the microphone like a glass of wine, and combining two kinds of bad singing: whiny, nasal and hysterical screaming), several comic strips about The Dios (a la The Osbournes), a tribute to Cheap Trick, and much much more. If you like stuff like Peter Bagge's Hate or Chunklet magazine this is for you.
This book makes a perfect team up with Walsby's old pals, wise ass scene vets the Melvins, who contribute a 20+ minute cd to the package, entitled "The Making Love Demos". These eight songs are DIY four-track recordings from back in '87, from the Buzz/Dale/Matt lineup, several of which later wound up in re-recorded form on their classic Ozma album, and some you've never ever heard before. Wow. Melvins fans are gonna be stoked. Heavy grinding nastiness, perfectly filthily home-recorded, that's way more punk than grunge.
Is it just us or did you think the same thing?! Hmmm, the title of Moving Units' new album made us immediately think of the Kids In The Hall movie Brain Candy ("It's a PILL!... that gives WORMS!... to EX-GIRLFRIENDS!!"). Heh heh, anyhoo, these LA fellas continue to strut their stuff, and keep their sleek dance rock comin' with this their second full length. They're now on Metropolis Records (formerly on Palm Pictures), but they haven't jarred us with any other surprise changes, they're still very very indebted to the '80s. In fact, few bands have ever sounded quite so 'Duran Duran' circa Seven And The Ragged Tiger. Made us daydream of Simon LeBon singing atop the phat synth tracks of Daft Punk. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. Sure to be packing the hip kids' dancefloors across the nation.
Tijuana-based techno musician Fernando Corono (a.k.a. Murcof) has released an album that serves as a worthy successor to those that have so obviously influenced him -- without asking Corono, we'd point to the abstract dub-masters of the Basic Channel/Chain Reaction crew and Richie Hawtin's experimental work under his Plastikman moniker. Previous Murcof work has garnered attention for its intricacy, and led to him being considered a sort of electronic classical composer. The newest offering, Cosmos, bears witness to an increasingly pastoral sensibility that is at once both choatic and hymnal. Maybe the easiest way to describe the music is to make reference to labelmates M83. But where the aforementioned pop-electronic-shoegazers sometimes fall flat with incessant drumroll crescendos and a flood of pre-programmed "choir voice" pads, Murcof manages to shine with an intensely cerebral effort that presents itself for both active and passive listening.
The unexpected return of one of the most infamous black metal bands of the nineties, French horde Mutiilation (yep, two 'i's), one of the best known of the Black Legions bands (along with Vlad Tepes and Bleketre) even though technically Mutiilation was kicked out of the group early on for abusing drugs (who knew a black metal 'collective' would have such a tough stance on drugs?) although another report replaces drugs with an argument about Meyhna'ch from Mutiilation's childhood molestation by his father, which seems even stranger...
Lots of folks were bummed out on the last two Mutiilation discs, Majestas Leprosus and Rattenkonig, although if you ask us, it might have been more a case, of that cooler than though "oh I only like the old stuff" sort of thing, cuz both those records were pretty fierce and furious, grim and black. But Sorrow Galaxies is definitely an improvement on both of those, being that there's now live drums, and the songs are much more fleshed out, more melodic, longer and more varied, lots of doomy slow parts and half time breakdowns scattered amidst the blasting buzz. It definitely doesn't compare to the first two, since for one, it doesn't sound shitty, er, we mean cvlt, it actually sounds lush and heavy, a seriously great production, and because it's been 12 years since Vampires of Black Imperial Blood, the world has changed and one would assume that so has Mutiilation mainman Meyhna'ch (who also fronts Malicious Secrets, Hell Militia and Gestapo 666).
It seems like most of us were sort of assuming Mutiilation were dead and gone, it had only been 2 years since the last record, but there has been barely a peep about Sorrow Galaxies until it was suddenly out. But the fact that there was a new record was the first surprise, the second was how cool and weird the new record is. Four long tracks, the shortest 9+ minutes, the longest 12+, each one epic and expansive, and as mentioned above, super lush and complex, with the addition of haunting samples, gorgeous melancholy melodies over slow buzz, garbled super effected vocals, creepy ambience, all woven into and around some thick relentless riffing, the guitars buzzy, but not brittle, instead thick and warm, a swirled washed out vibe, that makes the whole record sound even darker and more melancholy, a bit like Xasthur in that respect, but these songs are dense and serpentine, with blurred blasts separated by strange, almost proggy breakdowns, the guitars angular and obtuse, a sort of stumbling mournful doom, but the tracks never veer far from another burst of dense black blur and anguished buzz.
The best track is definitely "The Coffin Of Lost Innocence" with its killer super melodic main riff, and it's almost Black Flag sounding verse, the guitar doing some sort of muffled chug, before slipping back into the haunting fluid minor key melodic refrain, so so pretty and sad sounding, even the fastest and heaviest bits are rife with melancholy, the drums a strange convoluted rhythm beneath, not a blast, a weird shuffle, with some truly intense and moving ambient interludes. Who would have thought a Mutiilation song could be so pretty, and emotional, and still be black and grim. But it really suits them. All four tracks definitely have that vibe, although maybe not to that extent.
"Cesium Syndrome 86" has some strange breakdowns in the middle, and a strangely groovy bridge, peppered with all sorts of strange effects, atonal chords and lots of random bits of dialogue, while the epic closer, "Acceptance Of My Decay" begins with some awesome and unlikely high end guitar lick, that continues on beneath the warm buzzing blast that takes us into the rest of the song. There's also an almost cabaret sounding middle portion, and the end just loops the same minor key riff over and over, before dissolving into a confusional, partially ambient coda, with that strange lick resurfacing, more voices and dialogue, soft synth swells, and what sounds like a distant heartbeat.
Pretty fucking awesome. Not at all what we were expecting, but way better than just a Vampires Of Black Blood part two, although we're sure the grim black hordes might think otherwise...
If you've ever asked yourself just -exactly- when Matt Valentine will abandon any pretense that would suggest he isn't Neil Young's little brother, wonder no more. MV & EE's inebriated folk drones of yore have given way to a much more straight-forward style of writing, which means more riffs and less hippie freak-outs. As usual, Erika Elder's vocals have that feeling of hearing someone singing in the shower from the next room over; novice but strikingly pleasant. Valentine's voice is an acquired taste at best. In spite of his singing, catchy melodies abound as they churn out a good pop-folk-rock record that both complements their other work and serves as a good starting point for anyone who's curious. This is anthemic folk Americana for the uninitiated. Recommended!
Brand new disc from Imperial, who for the last 12 or so years has been spewing a gorgeously grim and noxious black buzz under the banner of Krieg. As well as contributing his own black brand to BM super group Twilight (along with Wrest from Leviathan, Hildolf from Draugar and Blake from Nachtmystium) We were sort of just expecting more kvlt�Kriegish blackness, which would have been fine, we dug the last Krieg big time, and in some ways, much of this does sound like a continuation of Krieg, but in other ways it's definitely a whole 'nother sort of blackened beast.
N.I.L is much more minimal and drone-y, augmenting the usual bass, guitar and drums with some seriously non-black metal instruments like mandolin and Tibetan Singing Bowl, creating slow moving black sonic blurs, reminding us much more of Xasthur than Krieg, each song basically a single riff, repeated mantra-like, smeared into hypnotic and mesmerizing, drawn out and murky doomic black dirges.
There are a few fast tracks, and those definitely sound more like Krieg, blasting and furious, swirling and chaotic, raw, primitive black metal brutality, but it's the slower tracks that make this record so weird and cool, from the haunting opening, wrapped in record crackle, a simple acoustic guitar weaving a mournful and melancholy dark folk melody, to the gorgeously fuzz drenched Burzumic plod of "Here I Found No Shelter" to the depressive miserablist strum of "Serpent Circle" to the gorgeous washed out Xasthur meets Katatonia style black epic that is "Negative Frequency Entity", and let's not forget a killer, and fairly straight, cover of Big Black's "Bad Houses", the only real difference being buzzier guitars, and the growled demonic vocals, but what a classic riff, malevolent and dramatic and so goddamn catchy, and yet somehow it meshes perfectly with the bleak black buzz of the rest of the record...
It's been ages since we've heard from Bellingham Washington's Narrows, whose last two (and only two) records, Alligator and The Skull At Life Size, were huge AQ favorites. Our Narrows obsession was solidified by a mindblowing show at the Hemlock where the band laid waste to all post rock past and present in a matter of 30 or 40 minutes, managing to rock so hard, even with the frontman / guitar player seated the whole time. A mix of lurching loping metallic bombast and lilting whispery post rock moodiness, not like the current crop of metallic post rockers though, no the Narrows were something much more unique... all the best parts of nineties mathrock, June Of 44, Slint, Rodan, but filtered through that weird Bellingham outsider vibe (also responsible for Reeks And The Wrecks) and lovingly wrapped in some serious skull crushing riffage. And of course songs. Killer songs. Moody and mournful, personal and emotional, and catchy as all get out.
We had sort of given up on the Narrows, we knew there was a record in the works, but they sort of seemed to drop off the musical map completely, until all of our fears were assuaged by the sudden appearance of this here brand new full length, that is somehow even better than their first two discs, heavier, prettier, weirder....
Beginning with the nine minute near perfect post rock epic "The Sasquatch", a sequence of big groaning downtuned riffage, huge pounding drums all wrapped around a strange insistent loping groove, with wailed super emo vocals, like a prettier Melvins almost, or a resurrected Engine Kid, some Unwound, a little bit of Sub Pop, a little Amrep. These super dynamic nine minutes might as well go on for 90 minutes as far as we're concerned.
The second track, the even longer "Last Of The Norsemen", is all slithery slowcore, with crooned sadboy vocals, spidery guitar melodies, shuffled drums, until the crashing chorus, a gorgeous minor key stop start lurch, along the same lines as Codeine's "Cave In", with burbling underwater bass added to the mix, and a convoluted mathy arrangement, before drifting back into the moody lope of the first few minutes, peppered with strange slippery guitar chords and unexpected dynamics, somehow totally off kilter and alien sounding, but super catchy and melodic and surprisingly pretty!
"Quellish" is up next with its serpentine distorted crunch and crashing blown out drumming, letting up here and there for some muted shuffle and croon, before the bombast is brought in again, a super emotional musical seesaw, that manages to subvert the tired loud-soft-loud-soft thing and turn it into something new and exciting sounding.
As if the deal wasn't already sealed for best post-math-whatever-rock / slowcore record ever already, they finish it off with the heartwrenching "Over and Out", a sort of damaged Pinback on horse tranquilizers mathy groove, with big booming Albini-ish drums, over blooping underwater bass, and slithery minor key distorted guitar melodies, and a super subtle hook to die for. The song has a wicked, super dramatic coda with crumbling distorted riffing, and super emotional leads, yeah LEADS, what self respecting post rock band can whip out the leads and bring you to your knees without sounding the least bit cheesy? Can't think of very many (or any really)... but The Narrows pull it off effortlessly. There's an "Over and Out" part two, but it's more sort of a coda, that now burned into your ears/heart/soul melody is pulled apart, wrapped in some twangy Morricone-ish guitar, some tinkling music box like keyboards, and allowed to unfurl lazily into the distance, becoming more and more abstract and indistinct, culminating in seven minutes of silence... Needless to say one of our favorite new records, pushing all our buttons, old math rock, new post rock, metal, pop, heavy, pretty, strange... Absolutely and utterly recommended (as is seeing these guys live if you get the chance)!
FINALLY REISSUED!!! Of all of the Nurse With Wound records (and we like a bunch of them!), this is our favorite. Perhaps because this makes the least 'sense,' with a textbook definition of how Surrealism can be accurately applied in an aural context. Within Homotopy To Marie, Steven Stapleton (the proprietor of Nurse With Wound) addresses most of Andre Breton's qualifications of Surrealism as "pure psychic automatism, by which an attempt is made to express, either verbally, in writing or in any other manner, the true functioning of thought. The dictation of thought, in the absence of all control by the reason, excluding any aesthetic or moral preoccupation." In many respects, John Cage took Breton's theories to one possible logical end; but Stapleton wanted to bridge contemporary musical production techniques (musique concrete informed by Industrial culture) with the original Surrealist fascination with Victorian imagery applied to Freudian definitions of fetishism, thus offering a version of Surrealism that fits better with how Breton may have thought Surrealism would sound. References to culture and the world as we know it abound in this record, but in such a convoluted way as to appear perfectly normal next to something that would normally be aurally incongruous. The title itself certainly refers to this. Often utilized within the highly specialized vocabularies of genetics and chemical engineering (you think that *we* get verbose!), a homotopy (as best as I could determine) is the relationship between a specific object and the fundamental characteristics that define the family in which that object belongs. Who Marie could be is perhaps best left between Stapleton and Marie.
Homotopy To Marie is Stapleton's finest audio collage, culled from various studio sessions, found sounds, and unknown media samples. Proceeding along at a stately pace, this album is certainly not a quiet affair, yet each sound within the album is given plenty to hold its unique place with the collage at large. It opens with "I Cannot Feel You as the Dogs are Laughing and I am Blind" -- a close investigation of shards of glass with a gated volume filter on it to accentuate the brittleness and fragmentation of the sound, followed by a period of snoring (presumably from Stapleton) which shifts to various screams, maniacal laughs, and hysterical utterances as if from an asylum. The title track is an amazing collage of a multiple gongs with the tonal rings augmented by occasional backwards masking and manipulated attack. Stapleton's use of the vocal sample is at it's best here with two characters (a shy little girl and a confident woman) intermittently reciting ambiguous phrases "When I woke up I didn't know where I was" answered by "Don't be naive, darling!". The rest of the album is a clutter of non-descript distortion, feedback from guitar buzz, microphones overloaded by megaphones screaming into them, broken by backwards dialogues in Spanish, rag time pianos, and clattering horns finally explode into a whimsical polka but have a weird aura surrounding them like when Hermann Nitsch uses polkas as punctuations to his orchestral drones.
Homotopy To Marie is a confounding album that matches its psychological instability with its dexterity in its composition, that leaves you not with a recognition of sound within an organized context, but the feeling of unidentifiable unease. An absolute masterpiece.
If your cover art looks like a lost Unleashed album, sign me up. Portland's Oakhelm arrived at our fortress walls with axes in hand -- both electric guitars and battle weapons, yes. Their debut album, Betwixt & Between, shows these rookie Vikings doing some serious shredding that would easily make it onto Dan Swano's iPod, possibly even Peter Tagtgren's just because of the vocals. That being said, these North-Westerners probably don't think you should be laughing because this ain't no joke, it's a call to arms. What are we fighting? Our best guess is dragons and Christian invaders. But seriously, all of the necessary ephemera is here, while a sense of irony is thankfully conspicuously absent. A very good thing. Now that that debate is over, you're free to embrace everything fantastic and mystical that died out alongside the popularity of many of the classic Century Media bands of the past. This is a die-hard attempt to re-create the glory of mid-'90s Northern-European death/black/Viking metal. We're especially reminded of ol' Viking horde Mithotyn at their most dark and doomful. Go ahead and headbang, but make sure not to fall off your horse. Did we mention that they have members of Fall of Bastards, Wormwood, L'Acephale, Black Queen and Assuck among their ranks?! Well, they do. Recommended!
Wow, What a nice and welcome surprise for early electronic music fans! This 2cd anthology is the first re-issued work from one of the most important and unsung heroes of electronic music, Daphne Oram, co-founder of the BBC Radiophonic workshop. Beginning her career in the forties with the BBC as a "music balancer" (an arduous task of syncing recorded taped music with a live performance feed so that broadcasts would remain uninterrupted in case of war-time blackouts), Oram spent most of her nights fascinated with synthetic sounds and experimenting with oscillators and tape machines, as well as composing unperformed orchestral works and sound pieces for film and play commissions. Promoted to music studio manager, she campaigned for the BBC to provide electronic music facilities for composing music and sound effects using electronic music and musique concrete techniques for use in its programming which led to the founding of the Radiophonic workshop in early 1958. However, her desires to compose music and further her studies and development of synthetic music theory, caused her to leave the BBC a year later. Working off two grants from the Gulbenkian foundation in the 1960's, and supplementing her income through advertising work, she developed her most unique contribution, the Oramics composition machine and the drawn sound technique, an elaborate mechanism that allowed her to create pure sound through the transcription of drawn lines. For being the first woman to direct an electronic music studio as well as the first woman to design and construct an electronic music instrument, her legacy remains largely unnoticed in this male-dominated field. She lectured extensively and wrote one of the most philosophical books on electronic music, called An Individual Note of Music, continuing her developments with early Apple computers until a series of two strokes forced her to retire. She died in 2003. Culled from an extensive archive of compositional pieces, film and play commissions, early sound experiments with the Oramics machine, and advertising jingles, this anthology covers material from the late fifties to the early seventies. Fans of Delia Derbyshire, Raymond Scott and early electronic music enthusiasts of all sorts will find lots to love here. Highly Recommended!!!!
We're probably not the first to say it, but doom metal band Orthodox are *anything but* orthodox on their second offering for the Southern Lord label. Spanish sludge lords with a psychedelic bent, Orthodox's 2006 debut album Gran Poder was a major sensation among connoisseurs of the heavy, being selected as an Album Of The Month on Julian Cope's Head Heritage website, in part for its pagan-Catholic imagery, in part for its monolithic heaviness. What about eagerly anticipated album number two? Though we think it's great, and most likely Mr. Cope does too, this new one will no doubt cause some consternation among the less open minded of doom fanatics, as it's got a lot more going on that sheer sludge-ry. Not that Gran Poder wasn't an eccentric effort either, but this one's extremely so. Extremely eccentric, and eclectic, indeed.
The first track, "Con Sangre De Quien Te Ofenda" could easily be mistaken for a moody piece of instrumental avant-jazz, with that wide-open-desert-spaces feel of Hex-era Earth, baroquely adorned with a shuffling, dramatic drum solo and an almost-joyous improv-blowing session for trumpet and other horns. It actually brings back fond memories of the late great metallic math-rockers Engine Kid, the band that SUNNO))) member and Southern Lord label boss Greg Anderson used to play in back in the day, like when they would get jazzy like Iceburn and cover Coltrane... Minus the horns, that disjointed, free-jazz vibe continues on the second track, the nine-minute "Mesto, Rigido E Ceremoniale", though they heavy it up quite a bit. Imagine a slowed-down, fractured Black Flag instrumental, like something from The Process Of Weeding Out made more abstract, slower and heavier. Entering into the territory of defunct Dutch instro-metallers Gore here! With the third song, though, vocals finally enter the mix, weirdly distressed and wailing chant-like, and the riffing gets more intensely metallic, rigidly clawing through a miasma of chaotic, psychedelic, paranoid jamming. That one, "Solemne Triduo", makes us think of Om mixed with Los Natas at their strangest. And then, just when things are getting loudest and most insane, the album takes an abrupt shift into the quietly windswept, acoustically strummed "Amancer En Puerta Oscura" which flows immediately into the ominous "Puerta Osario", with stark repeated chords, and cruelly plinking piano keys. Though just two minutes minutes long, this is no brief detour like the piano interlude heard in the middle of Gran Poder, as it seamlessly segues into the sedated, suspenseful "Templos" that pulsates for 15 minutes in an darkened dreamworld of eerie clarinet, shimmering cymbals, slow-paced percussion, sparsely echoing bass, sheer moody atmosphere... It's a kind of creeping chamber music, that could be the score from some Italian horror soundtrack, or the sinister cousin to the epic tracks on Circle's mellow and mesmeric Miljard, mixed maybe with the 20th Century style stuff Ghost was experimenting with on their last album, In Stormy Nights.
The seventh and final track, "Parte II. Apogeum", then hits like a ton of bricks, massive doom-riff guitars smashing all before it, as if to say, you want ye olde DOOOOOOM? You got it! This song should shut up any complainers who didn't entirely get what was going on before, it's a doozy of a doom number all right, complete with even frenzied, metallic, acid-fried guitar soloing, and insanely effected alien Ozzy vocals. Closest comparisons would be to Thrones, and Yob and/or Middian, at their most claustrophobically crushing. It's like Orthodox wanted to wrap the album up with one song that in 7 minutes, 54 seconds would utterly satisfy anyone wanting Gran Poder Part II, for whom some of the more mystifying, weirdly proggy stuff elsewhere on this album could just be a bonus. Of course for us it's all good.
Recommended to all unorthodox doom lovers! Art and design by Seldon Hunt, by the way, and as long as we're dropping his name, here's some other names that we should have worked into the review somehow, as we think fans of the following might quite like this: Boris, Comets On Fire, Bohren & Der Club Of Gore, Ennio Morricone, Dragonauta...
Not sure what we were expecting... With a name like Panda Porn, and the fact that we got these from Heart & Crossbone, who usually supply us with super intense heavy noisy Israeli weirdness... But whatever we were expecting it sure wasn't this.
Five tracks, all very minimal and abstract, mostly glitch and buzz, and hiss and crackle. Much of it sounding like a needle in the run out groove of an lp, and you know how much we love that sound. A fuzzy chunk of muted glitchy static, beneath which strange streaks of low end throb and pulse, barely audible, deep resonant rumbles hum and whir peppered with rhythms crafted from cracks and pops, distant bell-like chimes, glistening high end tones and what sounds like strings glitched and chopped and skipping into stuttery rhythms, a collage of super damaged outsider turntablism. Lots of this sounds like a lo-fi Ryoji Ikeda, while the prettier bits remind us of Phillip Jeck. Really cool, but be warned, it's quite brief, less than 14 minutes, but we do find ourselves listening to it over and over, especially the last track, a jumbled stuttery minor key soundscape made from chopped up voices and hiccuping smears of strings.
The Rarities referred to in the title number 1 to 30. Rarities 1-5 are the five tracks of minimal glitch and buzz, while Rarities 6-30 are images, housed in a gorgeous, mini perfect-bound book. Stark textures, grayscale images, high contrast, simple yet super striking.
The cd is housed in a heavy book-sized cardstock sleeve, also included is a thick card with liner notes and images, the cd sleeve, the book and the card all housed in a printed slip cover, hand numbered on the back.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!
Who would have thought a band with name like Pig Destroyer, and heck, a band that -sounded- like Pig Destroyer, would be super popular, but just check out the sticker on the front of the new Pig Destroyer record Phantom Limb: "For fans of Slayer, Mastodon, Lamb Of God, Melvins, Black Dahlia Murder, Cephallic Carnage." Huh? Cephallic Carnage makes sense but the rest? It seems like maybe they're just saying, "If you like heavy music, this is heavy too, so you'll probably like it." Which is certainly true, but Pig Destroyer are way heavier and weirder and more extreme than most of those bands, but then again who are we to complain if the Alternative Press youth of today are digging shit like Pig Destroyer along with their Slipknot, way better than A.F.I. of Aiden.
But as much as we dig PD, we're still surprised at how popular they've become. They're definitely great, but not -that- great. Maybe if you have a limited exposure to grind, we can see how they might blow your mind. But personally we tend toward Pig Destroyer's drum machine drive alter ego Agoraphobic Nosebleed, who take the metallic grind of PD, and speed it up, twist it all around, and chop it into short sharp blasts of furious impossibly technical fury.
But fuck it, we're nitpicking, sure we like AnB more, but this is some seriously heavy and brutal metalgrind insanity. These guys totally destroy, and totally shred, super convoluted arrangements, confusional mathiness and superhuman tempos, all wrapped in super downtuned chug and blown out distortion, howled vocals and buzzing bass, lots of the tracks slip into a more straight ahead thrashing punk which we're not so into, but the blasting parts are face meltingly intense and so awesome, and PD do kick out some damaged sea sick doomy jams here and there that are pretty kick ass. And hell there are plenty of super catchy killer riffs dotting Pig Destroyers hyperspeed grindscapes.
So yeah, maybe we love Agoraphobic Nosebleed a bit more than PD, and this is definitely not our favorite Pig Destroyer disc (that would probably be the Painter Of Dead Girls comp, or maybe their debut full length Explosions In Ward 6), but fuck it, this is still severed heads and hacked-off shoulders above most grind, and definitely heavy enough to please most metalheads and grindfreaks alike�
Hey, here's a new pop album from Uncle Bob!
He may have laid his Fading Captain label series to rest, but Robert Pollard ain't shutting down any time soon! He can't be stopped, and Merge Records is helping to ensure that with not one but two new albums at once! The label has suggested the age-old Beatles vs Stones debate as a fitting differentiation point between the two faces of Pollard's current double whammy -- that is, a poppy one and a harder edged rock one. Coast To Coast Carpet Of Love is the former, and the one we favor of the two (psst, the other is Standard Gargoyle Decisions). Lots of jangly guitars, lots of peppy energy. Pollard's releases are seldom so clearly sorted and defined. We can usually count on some element of bee-in-his-bonnet randomness, but not so this time. And you know what? As much as we've always loved and appreciated his devil may care approach, it's really a pleasure to hear a relatively even keeled sixteen songs in a row. That's the case with this here album.
Hey, here's a new rock album from Uncle Bob!
He may have laid his Fading Captain label series to rest, but Robert Pollard ain't shutting down any time soon! He can't be stopped, and Merge Records is helping to ensure that with not one but two new albums at once! The label has suggested the age-old Beatles vs Stones debate as a fitting differentiation point between the two faces of Pollard's current double whammy -- that is, a poppy one and a harder edged rock one. Standard Gargoyle Decisions is the latter. It's grittier and more distorted with more electric guitar dissonance. We personally favor the brighter, sweeter sunbeam that is the former (Coast To Coast Carpet Of Love), but perhaps you'll see things differently.
Pollard's releases are seldom so clearly sorted and defined. We can usually count on some element of bee-in-his-bonnet randomness, but not so this time. And you know what? As much as we've always loved and appreciated his devil may care approach, it's really a pleasure to hear a relatively even keeled seventeen songs in a row. That's the case with this here album.
Record number two from these mysterious Australian technical death metal weirdoes, whose sound, as we mentioned in our review of their debut, Seepia, is anything but traditional death metal, instead, the grunted vocals and crushing downtuned riffs and all the traditional death metal tropes are completely subverted, tangled and mangled into damaged and demented squalls of chaotic blackened noize, having plenty in common with a band like labelmates Wold, as well as old school DM legends like Gorguts, Suffocation or Immolation�
The sound on Outre is a murky buzz drenched sonic swamp, riffs buzz and blast, but are so doused in effects, so dripping with muddy distortion, they appear to be nothing but droning streaks of downtuned sound, until once in a while when they surface to chug briefly, offering up some brief dynamics before being swallowed up again by the band's relentless blur. The vocals are a subsonic demonic gurgle, barking, howling, growling and mewling, but again, so buried in fuzz and hiss, it just sounds like another layer of black buzz. The melodies are dark and twisted, like some vile black weed, the production is dense and thick, the sound druggy and seasick, warped and warbly, the whole thing sounding a little like some cross breeding experiment gone wrong. Gorguts, Wold, Black Flag, Faxed Head, all melted down and heated up and then poured into your cd player, a similarly noxious downtuned buzz oozes from your speakers, a distillation of Portal's convoluted and cracked take on death metal, a sound black enough to be black metal, noisy enough to be noise, and fucked up enough to be, well to be anything this fucked up sounding.
Strange swaths of synth, atonal detuned guitars, simple industrial plods, monstrous slow motion doom, blasts of speaker shredding ultranoise, billowing black ambience all pepper the proceedings, but at its heart, the sound of Outre is most definitely blasting brutal death metal, but the sort of death metal we always wanna hear, warped and twisted and damaged and filthy and crusty and noisy and buzzing and blackened and doomy and completely fucked.
Packaged in a super deluxe mini gatefold jacket with printed inner sleeve, and including super intense band photos, each band member (Aphotic Mote, The Curator and Horror Illogium) wearing a black hood (or what appears to be a mangled witches hat pulled all the way over the face), all standing in front of an old piano, each photo faded and sepia tone, one wielding a violin, the other clutching what appears to be the horn from a Victrola, the third empty handed, but with a noose hanging from his neck. Weird.
Originally self released as an ultra-limited cd-r, The Ghost Of Orion, a dreamy slab of haunting spaced out isolationist sound from Dutch dark ambient explorer Procyon-X, gets a proper expanded releases by the fine folks at UK label Paradigms (one of two new Paradigms releases this time around, the other by AQ faves Gnaw Their Tongues, see elsewhere on this list).
Four tracks, clocking in at just under a half hour, each of these mini epics is super evocative, and could very well have drifted on forever. Long spiraling loops of abstract melody uncoiling in weightless slow motion, glimmering and glistening in the glow of distant stars, haunting transmissions from some far away alien civilization, intercepted and spread out like a mysterious sonic map. The sound is expansive and immense, deep resonant smears, wooshing synthesizers, glittering clouds of effects, in the distance, dark sonic swells, ominous and mesmerizing.
Minimal and skeletal dronemusic, with brief sections bordering on the lush, abstract and delicate, very much like drifting alone, surrounded by blackness, millions of miles from home. Total seventies ambient kraut worship for sure, with a bit of Goblin creepiness mixed in. Tangerine Dream, Ash Ra Tempel, Klaus Schulze, Neptune Towers, Heldon, Eno, you get the drift, but Procyon-X took that krauty ambience and launched it into the deepest regions of the cosmos, into another galaxy, these are the transmissions sent back hundreds of years later. Mysterious and beautiful.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! Housed in a white dvd case, with full color artwork and printed heavy paper insert.
As most of you well know by now, we're not that into straight up NOISE music. Thus we never really got into Prurient, until the Black Vase record. There was just something about that disc that spun our heads around, and had us yearning for more noise. Other than a few splits we haven't heard too much from Prurient (aka Dominick Fernow, who runs Hospital Productions as well as playing in Ash Pool and the Vegas Martyrs) since then, but this here brand new 7" ep just showed up and it's seriously damaged and brilliant, but maybe not in the way you might think.
The A side begins just how you'd expect, a caustic vitriolic wall of sound, mostly vocals, which immediately sounds like just another dense slab of speaker shredding ultranoise, that is until the vocals drop out, and reveal what is lurking underneath. The vocals are so in the red and blown out that they swallow everything within earshot, so when they pull back, they reveal a crumbling soundscape of smeared melodies and blurred ambience, still noisy for sure, but also haunting and abstract, with fucked samples a bits of dialogue, and the occasional brief blast of white noise fury.
The flipside is even weirder. Some sort of distorted synthpop, like Depeche Mode through a set of blown speakers, then some super creepy processed vocals come in, and the track devolves into another hazy and distorted stretch of obscured beauty, with a fucked up lopped low end outro. Maybe the 'nicest' thing we've heard from Prurient. Probably not noisy enough for the noise crowd, but definitely weird enough that it might just appeal to the Hecker / Fennesz blurred sound crowd, if they can handle a bit of brutality with their beauty...
Yay! Ptolemaic Terrascope is back! The newest incarnation of this venerable fanzine (or "illustrated occasional") devoted to the underground folk, psych, and otherwise acid-laced, pagan, pastoral musics of the past and present is published right here in the Bay Area, and thus there's a bit more of a San Fran bent to this issue, with a cover pic featuring quite a few faces we recognize both as musicians and as customers here at Aquarius.
Taking over the reigns from the UK crew (Phil McMullen et. al.) who originated the Ptolemaic Terrascope institution back in the '80s (more than a 'zine, PT has spawned a series of "Terrastock" festivals and helped nurture a whole scene of Terrastockian bands and fans, y'know), is new editor/publisher Pat Thomas, a longtime PT writer, reissue record label guy, and musician himself.
Yes, we'd say Pat's off to a good start with this issue, just look at it: it's got a glossy, full-color cover and perfect binding, a first for the PT. More importantly, what's inside lives up to the PT tradition: interviews with the likes of Shirley Collins, Davey Graham, Vashti Bunyan, Colleen, Ben Chasny (Six Organs of Admittance), and Ron Ashton (The Stooges), amongst much else. Also Devendra Banhart is subjected to a blindfold test on British Folk Rock, a la The Wire's "Invisible Jukebox" feature. And there's lots of reviews of course too. Former editor Phil McMullen also makes an appearance, with a column offering his blessings to Pat and talking about what he's up to now himself (including preparing for the upcoming Terrastock 7, to be held in Louisville, KY in 2008).
Oh, and that's not all, you also get a free 20 song cd compilation with rare and/or unreleased material from the likes of Six Organs, Barbara Manning, Shirley Collins, Davey Graham, Kendra Smith, Doug Yule, Fern Knight, Steve Wynn, Ruthann Friedmann, Sean Smith, Colossal Yes, Pat Thomas, and more!
A mysterious duo from Idaho, here expanded to a trio, offer up 4 sidelong tracks of damaged and mysterious outsider doomdrone on the always reliable Olde English Spelling Bee label. We weren't too sure what to expect, and we missed their performance here a few months back unfortunately, but just have a gander at the list of instruments: bass, violin, crystal goblet, tractor, forest samples, clay pots, tubular bells, organ, synth, gong, drums, bowed cymbals, guitar, sound manipulations, electronics, LEAD guitar, amplifiers and feedback. Those last few are your first clue that this isn't just any old drone record. Although the first few minutes had us fooled. A gorgeous expanse of shimmering low end, glistening harmonics, and a soft distant doomic plod, little bits of static and hiss, a slow slithering blackness, which eventually builds to a stumbling groovy doom jam, with big boomy practice space drums, some seriously downtuned riffage and thick swirls of Hawkwind-ed FX, that lopes and lurches until it fades out into a long slowly unwinding smear of softly buzzing bass.
The second side is a sprawling heavy industrial soundscape of collaged sounds, wind, that tractor mentioned above, all looped and layered, clanging percussion, everything constantly shifting and changing shape, a dark meandering journey through a black forest of sound, a bit like Nurse With Wound meets Wolf Eyes, a chunk of surreal dark ambience, haunting and ominous and while not heavy per se, still distinctly doomy...
The second lp begins with creepy gypsy violins (one of the band members is a classically trained violinist) over a back drop of creaks and moans, a sort of haunted house mood music, beneath abstract riff fragments and random bits of effects building into a slowcore crawl, a mellow doom, each note ringing out and drifting off before the next one hits. Doomy, funereal, soft focus, with those strings a constant presence, super dark and emotional, adding a weirdly cinematic element to Pussygutt's sound.
The final side is another doomy crawl, distant drums, massive slow motion slabs of downtuned guitar, very simple and hypnotic, dark and creepy, not so much heavy as moody and intense, finishing off with a harrowing Hitchcockian string outro which gives way to the sounds of the forest, birds and wildlife, all coming to life beneath the full moon...
LIMITED TO 550 COPIES. Each one hand-assembled copies. Packaged in heavy-duty gatefold sleeves with four spraymounted panels that were custom offset-printed on silver stock with two coats of black ink for extra darkness, so much black ink in fact that, it almost makes your eyes water. Maybe a few huffs inside the sleeve will better prepare you for the mind altering weirdness inside...
DFA delves into the past to resurrect a lesser known American post-punk classic, the debut of Athens, Georgia scene-makers Pylon. Less famous than their fellow Athens compatriots, The B-52's or R.E.M., these four University of Georgia art students nevertheless mined a powerful influence. With their jangly angular art pop with dub influences and yelping female vocals, Pylon felt more in line with British bands Gang of Four and Delta 5, than the sixties/eighties retro of the B-52's or R.E.M.'s mumbling verbosity. Gyrate Plus collects their first album and singles from 1980 and listening to it now, it's surprising how timeless it feels, coming across as a precursor to bands like The Yeah Yeah Yeah's and The Gossip. So Good!!
Quickly becoming our go to guy for late night dreamy drones, Tim Hurley, aka Quetzolcoatl, offers up another gorgeous collection of slow burning drifters. Based in Ireland, and also doing time in modern day Taj Mahal Travellers Bonecloud, Hurley's Quetzolcoatl is one of the most consistently satisfying crafters of ethereal dronemusic going these days. Which is definitely saying a whole lot. This latest suite of untitled songs are all drawn from bits of piano, both short and long recorded over the span of several years, although except for a few places here and there you'd be hard pressed to pick out actual piano, instead the sounds have been blurred and smeared, twisted and layered, mixed with other sounds, vocals, field recordings, everything a gorgeously whirling collage of sonic ideas, that Hurley is somehow able to alchemically mold into utterly moving soundscapes, looped and hypnotic, long drawn out stretches of melodic whir, tinkling harmonics, slow smoldering chords pulled apart into long looping notes, stretched out over wide expanses of dark shimmer. Not sure what else to say other than this is absolutely lovely. And thus obviously totally recommended. And you probably couldn't get a better endorsement than the fact that the writer of this review has fallen asleep to this disc the last three nights in a row...
SUPER LIMITED as always. Packaged in an oversized sleeve with a printed insert, and the disc face is hand painted in swirly water colors.
Like some dusty old 78, left in the basement for 20 or 30 years, wet and warped, gritty and scratched up, thrown onto the ol' Victrola as is, and allowed to unfurl a warped and warbly, rickety detuned slow motion blues crawl. That's exactly what this latest disc from the Reveries sounds like. Recorded live in Italy in 2004, the Reveries, fronted by Eric Chenaux (who for those of you up on your nineties indie math rock, fronted Toronto's godlike Phleg Camp), magically create this sound from another time. But there's more to it than that, the sound is strangely damaged, alien even, and for good reason. The band employ a technique as bizarre as it is brilliant. Each player, in addition to wielding guitar, harmonica, bass, saw, nose-flute and thumb-reeds (!?), holds a tiny cell phone speaker IN THEIR MOUTHS!!! WHILE THEY PLAY!! OR EVEN SING!! So each of the instruments is sent first to the speaker in the mouth of another player, who much like a Jew's harp, is able to shape and warp the sound with the shape of his mouth. So you're hearing guitar come out of the bass players mouth, the bass coming out of the guitar player's mouth, the flute through another player's mouth, and on and on...
Then there's the singing, which all three members do, and as you might imagine, it's pretty difficult to sing with a speaker in your mouth, and a speaker cable trailing out of your mouth to an amp or a bandmate's mouth. The result is a mumbled and warbly, mush mouthed drawl, fuzzy falsettos, a garbled croon, often sounding like a toothless old Nina Simone, but just as often, like some strange buzzing growl, perfectly complimenting the band's detuned twang flecked scrawl.
It's almost like the Starfuckers playing Django Reinhardt at 16 rpm, with a countrified Derek Bailey on guitar. Cracking, wheezing and skeletal, a demented yet lovely underwater slow motion Western Swing, plenty of downtuned buzz, scraping and shuffling, whispering and whistling, seasick and gorgeously woozy. There are stretches of garbled instrumental chaos here and there, but the majority of the set is spent slithering and shimmering, meandering drunkenly through some strange sonic haze, an old timey radio broadcast, from some strange musical alternate reality, bits of classic blues and jazz muted and smeared pulled apart and tangled up into haunting and perplexing shapes. So gorgeous.
Known to veer wildly from style to style, tempo to tempo, mood to mood, those lanky Canadian troubadours The Sadies keep things at a relatively dour faced, slow creep this time around.
Less sprawling too, notably absent on New Season are their trademark excursions into Hawaiian guitar, garage rawk and Morricone spaghetti western territories. Still they're as great as ever because these boys know just how to hit that perfect so-lonesome-you-could-cry pace'n'vibe time and time again. Awesome effortless musicianship, slightly tweaked and twisted takes on age old musical traditions injected with an ever affecting spookiness.
The Savage Republic song "Birds of Pork" has been the preamble to each and every Neurosis show for many, many years now; so if anybody should be subsidizing a Savage Republic reunion recording, it should definitely be Neurot Recordings! And yes, the influence that Savage Republic had on Neurosis can still be heard in these recordings, as the heavy tribal percussion is still the underbelly to these expansive post-punk crescendos. The current incarnation of Savage Republic revolves around Thom Fuhrmann, Ethan Port, and Greg Grunke (all of whom were members back in the day) alongside Val Haller (who had played with Fuhrmann in the grossly underappreciated Autumn Fair in the late '80s) and Alan Waddington. 1938 is pretty true to the sounds that Savage Republic had produced on Ceremonial or Customs, with that tribal percussion grounding slashes of drone guitar which slide into post-Morricone / proto-Godspeed crescendos for guitar and violin. Vocals have always been the problematic area for Savage Republic; and fortunately, they keep this album almost entirely instrumental.
Even if David Shire had only ever done the scores for The Taking Of Pelham 123 and The Conversation, those two alone would seal the deal, ensuring Shire a top spot as one of our favorite film composers EVER. Those two soundtracks are so amazing, so intense and emotional, incredibly dramatic and really really strange. The recurring melodic motif of the Conversation is one of those rare musical moments, a tiny chunk of music that once it enters your head, it sticks there forever. It helps that it's repeated over and over and over in the movie and on the cd...
But Shire did so much more, amazing films, ridiculous movies, tons of TV, silly and fantastic, dark and depressing, some were fairly surprising, cuz who would have ever assumed that the guy who did Pelham 123 and The Conversation was the same man responsible for some of the music for Saturday Night Fever and Norma Rae...
From the same folks who brought us the long overdue cd release of the Conversation comes the soundtrack to The Hindenburg from 1975. One of the final entries in the spate of disaster movies, Airport, The Poseidon Adventure, The Hindenburg is the story of the legendary 1937 crash of The Hindenburg, a German Zeppelin, which remains still one of the worst disasters of the 20th century and one of the first to become a media event due to live radio broadcasts and newsreel footage. The movie transformed the disaster into a mystery, a secret plot to destroy the Hindenburg. A pretty killer cast, George C. Scott, Anne Bancroft, Charles Durning, Burgess Meredith...
The music, while not as idiosyncratic as either Pelham or The Conversation, is still moving and dramatic, much more classic sounding old school soundtrack music, with haunting strings, playful little melodies, sweeping expanses of orchestral swoon, occasional bursts of atonal Bernard Hermann style high end tension, fluttering woodwinds, deep ominous low end, some more classical sounding string sections, it's all pretty great, even removed from the visuals, our favorite moments of course are the darker, dronier more tense and ominous bits, which thankfully make up much of the score.
Also included is a strange vocal track, called "There's A Lot To Be Said For The Fuehrer", a croony tin pan alley style ballad, and the whole record is bookended by newsreel broadcasts, the opening is a brief history of ballooning and the development of the zeppelin, all jaunty and playful, the closing is really intense, a rough scratchy live recording set to music of an eyewitness to the disaster, describing the crash as it unfolds, visibly shaken, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep from weeping. Heavy.
Certainly not the weirdest score, but soundtrack fans will definitely dig, and Shire fans should check this out for sure (as well as the recent Zodiac score that we also have in stock). And as with all the Intrada reissues, tons of photos and super extensive liner notes.
The latest chunk of clinical otherworldly, stark white dancefloor anti-funk from the always amazing Raster-Noton label comes from Signal, who we haven't heard from in ages, a sort of modern minimalist supergroup, featuring Frank Bretschneider (Komet), Olaf Bender (Byetone) and label head Carsten Nicolai (aka Noto), and you might think with that many cooks in the sonic kitchen, the result would be dense and messy and chaotic, but anyone even slightly familiar with these guys and this label know that nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, this is just as minimal and stripped down as anything we've heard from any of these guys�
But like much of the later Raster-Noton releases, the label's Ikeda-ish trademark super spare high end low end sine wave click and buzz has been tempered with bits of melody, subtle hints of groove, the result a strange alien robot dancemusic.
Beginning with a thick swirl of buzzing synth, almost like an electronic SUNNO))), the buzz quickly gives way to a glorious minimal skeletal funkiness. Where Chain Reaction took minimalism into a fuzzy, grungy underworld and wrapped it in murk and whir, these guys lay the whole thing out in a bright white space, all metallic edges and sanitized surfaces, a gloriously machinelike and propulsive future funk abstraction of techno created in some alien vacuum. The best part about this Signal disc is that in addition to all the stark minimalism and clipped robotic beats, they've also introduced some, well, maybe 'dirty sounds' might be the best way to describe them in this context, some air conditioner hum, some spurts of Geiger counter glitch, bits of blurry fuzz, smears of distortion and crumbling effects, some low end buzz that is chopped up into what almost sounds like metallic riffing. Rather than sounding out of place, they simply add more texture, more grit, make the music sound slightly more human and less alien, they also serve to highlight just how clinical and awesomely austere the beats and sounds are when those bits of buzz and hum drop out, a dramatic sonic shift that almost makes your ears pop. Awesome.
It's pretty impossible to argue with a dubstep version of Black Sabbath, especially when it sounds this good. Who would have thought that Sabbath would sound so right all dubbed out and slowed down? Venetian Snares, that's who. And on this super limited 10", there's no skitter or drill and bass, nope, just pure, simple bass heavy dubstep, wrapped around two classic Sabbath tracks. It sounds so goddamn good it's another one of those records that just makes us wonder why there aren't any bands who actually sound like this?!?
The A side is all slithery echoey beats, dubbed out and laid back, huge low end throbs, buzzing bass lines, Ozzy's reverbed wail draped over the top, a strangely stoned and FX doused version of "Black Sabbath", the guitars looped and stretched out, that tolling church bell all chopped up and sent spinning into the darkness, like a dubby snare, the whole thing just so dark and moody and groovy and amazing sounding.
The flip side starts off sounding like some straight up dubstep, blissed out and druggy, fuzzy and distorted, skeletal and bass heavy until the vocals kick in, and suddenly it's some fucked up and dubbed out take on "Electric Funeral". An absolute and total dancefloor destroyer for sure. Even the metal head wallflowers are tapping their feet and subtly banging their heads...
Pressed on marbled green vinyl, housed in a plain black sleeve, and pretty ridiculously limited.
Finally back in print and available again, the debut release from one of our favorite far out and fucked black metal bands EVER!! We made their more recent release, The Near Death Experience, our record of the week a while back, and their debut is just as good. Hewre's what we had to say about it when we first laid ears on this demented black gem:
Not a list goes by without a review declaring some record THE WEIRDEST EVER. So, okay, we can be a little hyperbolic at times, but it's just cuz we get so damned excited. But since we're always on the lookout for the weirdest records ever, it's not really all that strange that we might actually keep discovering some new weirdest record ever! They just get weirder and weirder. AND, as you probably could tell, it just so happens that we have a definite thing for bizarre black metal, the more fucked up and strange the better! And again, always being on the lookout for weirder and weirder metal records, we manage to stumble across quite a few. Recently we got a copy of a record by a band called Spektr, without a sleeve and a paucity of any useful information. But we were totally struck by its bizarre take on grim black metal, spending most of the record not blazing and thrashing, but instead, creeping through funhouse mirror ambiance, plodding mathrock doom, dreamy acoustic breakdowns, bizarre sound collages and lots of Jeck / Basinski style fuzzy smeary loops. Woah. Eventually we tracked it down, and learned that No Longer Human Senses had been released on the Appease Me label run by French black metal squad Blut Aus Nord! Not too long ago we reviewed the most recent release by Blut Aus Nord a bizarre and brutal, sprawlingly complex black metal record equal parts classic Norwegian style black metal, pummeling Industrial crunch a la Godflesh, creepy droning dark ambience and strange squiggly plain old weirdness. So when we discovered BaN had a label it made perfect sense that this Spektr record would end up there. No Longer Human Senses is definitely a black metal record, as is evidenced by the buzzing droning riffage and thrashing blast beats, some serious Darkthrone worship for sure, but that's really only a tiny piece of the whole picture. The bursts of black metal, marked by a particularly virulent strain of brutally brittle and harsh guitar sound, float through a twisting serpentine maze of random sound events, almost like a massive Christian Marclay installation. Haunting church organs, weirdly affected spoken word, all manner of creepy lilting melodies over lots of hiss and static and record crackle. Loops repeated over and over, but gradually decaying into stretches of fuzzed out shimmer, often erupting into bursts of super harsh black metal mayhem, only to fall apart moments later into a chaotic mess of buzzing, malfunctioning machinery, super distorted industrial sludge with more warbly minor key loops, all beneath thick waves of dense buzz and crumbling melodies, thick swaths of ambient blur and strange ghostly tinkles, peppered with brief snippets of classical music, found sounds, field recordings and random bits of sonic skree, the whole mess dropped into a swirly abyss of blackdrone and super creepy psychedelic ambience. This is one of those rare records that is so fractured and demented and wonderfully bizarre that is has you constantly checking to see what the hell it was you were listening to! Definitely one of our favorite new weird black metal records!
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The sun is warm, the sun lights the way, the sun brings life... what's in a name? Well, it's certainly no misnomer for this group. It'll Be The Same is the second album from Sun, not to be confused with SUNNO))), although these guys are also a duo (Oren Ambarchi and Chris Townsend) and half of 'em (Mr. Ambarchi) have collaborated with SUNNO))) in the past. This Sun isn't from Southern Lord, but from the southern hemisphere (Australia), and play purely pop music, slow and soft and hushed but nothing doomy or blackened at all... some gentle droniness certainly does creep in, experimental glitch techniques n' textures that are of course what we might expect from Oren Ambarchi, who after all is known for solo albums along those lines (in fact, there's a great new one by him, actually on Southern Lord, reviewed on this list too). There are layers of static and field recordings (Townsend's children's voices, perhaps?) that along with Oren and Chris's own voices and guitar strums are formed into six moodily relaxed, truly sun-dappled, electro-acoustic folky-pop songs... a calm, cryptically detailed setting for lovely, wistful vocals that remind us of the Skygreen Leopards' Glenn Donaldson and Richard Youngs.
We loved Sun's first self-titled album (and extra disc of experimental remixes) back in 2003, and are happy to finally hear this excellent follow-up!
Alan Bishop of the Sun City Girls has been the curator of many of the finest Ennio Morricone collections, including the brilliant compilation on Ipecac Crime & Dissonance, despite the John Zorn written liner notes that seemed to suggest that Mike Patton had done the compiling. Needless to say, it makes a lot of sense for the Sun City Girls to find their way into the realm of the soundtrack, given Alan Bishop's love of Morricone; and Juggernaut is one of those Sun City Girls soundtracks. While this soundtrack was originally released on vinyl through Abduction back in 1994, the corresponding film by Mark Roman Bodnar and Kyrill Kazemirovitch Protsenko had never been officially released. That said, it did make an appearance at an Italian film festival in 1997; so, it probably is an actual film, and not some fiction propagated as a strange in-joke by the Sun City Girls. But then again...
Anyway, Juggernaut is a pretty good Sun City Girls album. The band had always been a difficult proposition, as they had thrown every idea (from the great notions of smashing Southeast Asian pop melodies with SoCal skate punk energy to the better-in-theory modes of junkyard gamelan via free jazz) at the audience and let them sort out the mess. Juggernaut follows suit, as an entirely instrumental album with the highlights giving nods to the classic SCG album Torch of the Mystics through lysergic guitar solos splattered across acid-punk jams that could easily ground the work of early Flaming Lips or Thinking Fellers, if those bands were way more fucked up. The semi-focused, stoned ritualism that makes up the rest of the album could have had some atmospheric purpose in the original film although they're not out of character for any given Sun City Girls album.
So the story goes that a young Italian director named Antonio Pomola got in touch with the Sun City Girls in 1993 to score a film about a giant pre-historic flying reptile terrorizing a 19th Century Native American tribe somewhere in the Midwest. According to the Girls, the film was never completed; and the soundtrack is the only document from the film's creative genesis. There doesn't appear to be any further information about the career or even existence to this Pomola character, beyond the fact that the Sun City Girls composed this soundtrack of fragmented interludes, raga instrumentals, and weirdo atmospherics. Needless to say, the Girls self-released this soundtrack in 1994 on vinyl; only to have it disappear from circulation in quick fashion.
Jump a dozen years into the future, and the soundtrack is available again at last with a cd pressing. Composed immediately after their Juggernaut soundtrack (reviewed elsewhere on this list), the Sun City Girls offered a series of edited fragments, which mostly touch on a psychedelic ritualism which foreshadows the Finnish free-folk splatter of Avarus, Kemialliset Ystavat, and Kuupuu. Faux-indian raga blues drifts into lumbering plods for plenty of chicken scratch guitar noodles, free-jazz drum stumblings, and glossalaic vocals. At times, the Bishop brothers and Charlie Gocher tease us with a glimpse of their mutant songwriting talents; but more often than not, it's sinister atmospheres for gongs, Tibetan horns, and amorphous guitar pluckery.
If you've kept up with the prolific and often very limited and hard to track down back catalog of Sunburned Hand Of The Man you'll know that they're always eager to explore new territory and widen their musical horizons. But even so, we still think you'll be thrown for a loop, in the best possible way. In fact this disc has even won over a few of us here who had always been on the fence with these Sunburned fellas in the past.
What's important to know about Fire Escape is that it's just as much of a Four Tet record as it is a Sunburned Hand Of The Man record. Four Tet and Sunburned!? Huh! What?! Sometimes the seemingly oddest pairings produce the most creative and unexpected results. And wow, we've totally been swept away by the magic these two forces have created, each contributing the best of of their respected, yet disparate qualities.
Sunburned got to do what they do, improvising and travelling in all their drugged out and mystifying glory, while Four Tet then collected hours upon hours of their recordings and worked his own magic on them to create a final product that might be the most realized, colorful and immediate Sunburned record yet.
From the opening track, which had us all thinking of 23 Skiddo in all the best ways, and throughout the entire album, you get to hear a band who pride themselves on their improv abilities but with the much more careful and deliberate and musically astute filter of Four Tet's Kieran Hebden, who has proven over the years that he not only makes really great music, but that he understands and appreciates great music in so many shapes and varieties. It's almost as if his recent collaborations with free jazz legend Steve Reid opened him up to the possibility and power of improvisation while still allowing him to retain the great sensitivity to sound that his made him one of the most compelling musicians to emerge out of the electronic scene in the last decade.
It's so exciting and exhilarating to see this kind of creative energy exchanged and brought together by folks from two seemingly different scenes, sharing the common thread of aiming to make transcendental music that transports you to different dimensions and offers up all kinds of unexpected twists and turns. After their recent collaboration with Circle and this totally successful meeting of musical minds with Four Tet we have to say we are loving the collaborative spirit of Sunburned Hand Of The Man more than ever, and while there was all kinds of hype surrounding SHOTM a few years ago, we are happy to report that they just might be only just reaching their most realized moment right now!
For a Kompakt release, Supermayer seem to be throwing some quark and even some pop sensibilities in the face of the usual blurred ambiance and we like it! Save The World, the debut collaboration from Kompakt's own Michael Mayer and Superpitcher is diverse in range, but never comes across as indecisive. At their most poppy, the duo could be easily compared to early Minty Fresh superstars Tahiti 80 and Papas Fritas. Even Looper and Moby come to mind when the pop conventions are coupled with a tinge of electro. Short, experimental, ambient tracks help the album flow nicely between pop and their other focus, housey electro that toes the line between your classic Kompakt bliss and a more Daft Punk style electro-groove. Highly recommended!
Besides having one of the best band names ever (exclamation point mandatory!) this trio of noisemaking jazz dissidents and post rock outcasts create what in most cases is practically impossible, a noisy record, heck, a NOISE record, that manages to be totally listenable. And we're not talking listenable like 'on the radio' or 'your Mom might like it', no, your Mom would NOT like this, and the only time you'd hear this on the radio is after a nuclear holocaust, when some survivors hole up in an abandoned radio station, only to realize the transmitter still works, and what better way to fight back against the invaders, than by BLOWING THEIR FUCKING EARDRUMS OUT!
No, this is some unholy spawn of the freest jazz and the most tangled and aggressive of math rocks. Due in no small part to the man behind the drums, Kevin Shea, formerly of Coptic Light and Storm And Stress, although his cohorts aren't so shabby either, Matt Mottel on synth and Ed Bear on sax. Add in some electronics, some banjo, even a little 'singing'. Then toss in a handful of beehives, a bunch of smashed and scratched free jazz records, a couple tapes of aborted Don Cab practice sessions, a few Marshall stacks, wrap the whole thing in raw meat and throw it into the middle of a pack of wild dogs and record the result.
There are a bunch of guests this time around too, contributing stuff like bass, trumpet, piano, upright bass, bass trombone as well as some less recognizable instruments: diddley-bo, mouth-bow, twanger and of course wonder metal. Which makes the sound even more thick and intense and seriously HEAVY. The synth is everywhere, and sounds like one of the Wolf Eyes guys was responsible for its upkeep, a snarling, crackling, grinding spewer of fuzz and buzz and smears of new wave blur, adding tons of texture and melody to proceedings, the sax is of course skronky, but isn't everywhere, but what is everywhere is drums. It's exhausting just listening to Shea spew beats everywhere, it's like a 47 minute drum solo, deftly arranged into convoluted rhythms, and dizzying flurries of fills, but its the drums that propel the songs, all the melodies and notes, textures and tones, are hung on, wrapped around, or just plain tangled up in the confusional and relentless rhythmic onslaught.
There are moments where the chaos and intensity abate just a bit, the twisted, FUCKED UP klezmer of "Lunch Break at Naan", with a horrifying break in the middle with what sounds like scraped strings or a squealing pig, the long slow burn of "A Petroglyphic Massacre", and brief little breathers within the songs, but for the most part, Ordination of the Globetrotting Conscripts is a bit like sitting in a cement mixer full of ball bearings, set to music.
But then there's the epic 13 minute finale, "The Spectre of Water Wars", maybe the most 'musical' of the bunch, where the synth takes center stage, even nudging the omnipresent drums out of the spotlight, spewing thick swaths of creepy Goblin-esque whir, haunting and weirdly new wave, but super rocking at the same time, crumbling and distorted, twisted and freaked out, a propulsive alien krautrock. Imagine a horror movie in which Six Finger Satellite were dosed and lobotomized and then let loose in guitar center, to fight off a twisted psycho killer with only the instruments on hand. Might sound something like this. Seriously scary, way fucked up, but wild and amazing and weirdly sort of fun too.
"Too wrong and too dreamy." So says the press release for this 2cd set of electronic curiosities from Natalie Beridze; and it's a strangely apt description of these sounds, of course, meant in the best possible way. Beridze hails from the former Soviet republic of Georgia; and some time ago, she caught the attention of Thomas Brinkmann, who has since helped produce her albums and released them on his Max Ernst imprint. There's a strange intimacy to her collages of whispered spoken word and MIDI-sequenced piano solos that stream around the concrete slabs of post-techno breakbeats and electroid glitches. Given the leftfield abstractions of her work, references to Autechre and Aphex Twin have been popping up in the media; but her work (like that of Ukraine's Zavoloka) speak with a whimsical playfulness through electronics and semantics that is almost completely detached from a dancefloor context. A difficult set of recordings to take in, given its atypical agenda; but this is well worth spending some time with.
Nice title! And, oooh. It's a very nice recording too. This debut album by electro-acoustic glitchtronica artist Mark Templeton should appeal to fans of Paul Wirkus, Mitchell Akiyama, Guiseppi Ielasi and others working in the experimental-but-beautiful, lowercase field of painterly abstraction, processed instruments, delicate drone, and (last but not least) ambient melodies. Mark Templeton's use of guitar, accordion, vibraphone, cymbals and especially banjo have us most closely comparing this to Geoff Mullen's wonderful thrtysxtrllnmnfstns, as Templeton is similarly submersing the notes played acoustically into a warm, electric bath of creaking staticky stuff, accompanied by murmuring field recordings and chirping digital glitch, like the pleasant but disintegrated soundtrack to some grainy super 8 footage, barely heard beneath the whirr of the film projector itself. Sweet swells of sound throb and drift, fracture and coalesce. It's all very lovely and mysterious, gentle caresses for curious ears.
No one will ever accuse Giancarlo Toniutti of releasing too much music into the world. It has literally been ten years since Toniutti has released any recordings outside of a very rare compilation track here or there. That said, Toniutti is an undeniably intriguing sound artist, who has deeply immersed himself into obscure forms of ethnomusicology and linguistic study, all the while keeping a finely tuned ear to the habits of vangarde composition. His earliest recordings emerged out of the Italian power electronics community of the early '80s whose most well known practitioner was Maurizio Bianchi. Like Bianchi, Toniutti put out a handful of recordings on the seminal British noise label Broken Flag. While bracing, complex, and adventurous in its crunched tape manipulations and sinister synthesis, Toniutti's work stood apart from the signature Broken Flag arc of transgressive noise, due to Toniutti's intellectual rigor. It was this rigor that brought Toniutti to pursue his collaborations with Andrew Chalk and Conrad Schnitzler, and it was probably this rigor that caused the prolonged length between recordings over the past decade.
So, the 20 minute composition that Toniutti produced for Ferns impressive series of 3" discs has been granted a Hopi Indian title based on an ancient song dealing with cunnilingus and bedbugs. I'm sure that Giancarlo has a very particular reason for placing such a text alongside this warbling set of mutated field recordings; but as of yet, it remains something of a mystery. This composition does enjoy a hermetic quality, in spite of Toniutti's explanation that he derived all of the sounds from a field recording he made in Italy involving a mountain, a 10ft tall cross, a metal pylon, and a temple bell. Out of that environment and those objects, Toniutti arrives at a record that might appear somewhat meditative at first, with its constant wash of low frequencies; but upon deeper investigations into the piece, he reveals queasy, off-kilter tonalities which gently vibrate against each other, bristling with quiet textures. His is a pretty unique sound, somewhat like the early electronic work of Xenakis with the diminutive sensibilities of early Bernhard Gunter. Highly recommended!
It's getting harder and harder to keep up with the many sides of Henrik Nordvargr Bjorkk. He may be perhaps best known for his blackened ambient combo MZ412, but that's just the beginning. He's released tons of stuff under his own name, sometimes collaborating with his former MZ412 partner-in-noise Drakh for a few records (including the recent Betrayal Of Light album on tUMULt). Then there's his militaristic folk combo Folkstorm, his damaged blackened noise outfit Goatvargr, his blacknoize black metal band Vargr (see elsewhere on this list) his full on noise group Hydra Head 13, and of course, quite possibly our favorite side of this sonic Renaissance man, the epic historical ambience of Toroidh. A sonic trip through the history of the world, told through its wars and atrocities. Some heavy stuff for sure, but the music is suitably powerful, so much so that much of Toroidh plays out like some PBS documentary set to music, heart wrenching at moments, dark and ominous at others, but always completely enthralling.
Testament was originally released on Nordvargr's own 205 Recordings label back in 2003, but has been resurrected here with two bonus tracks as The Final Testament. Split into two lengthy movements, Testament is sweeping and epic, haunting and mysterious, dense and multilayered. Militaristic marches, fanfares and anthems, woven into long stretches of rumbling drone, strident neo folk, strummed acoustic guitars, and swooning synths, Teutonic industrial pummel, ominous martial drumming, thick swaths of black ambience, snippets of operas, soaring super dramatic strings, tolling bells, murky expanses of low end whir, soaring strings and soundtrack like mood music, chanting monk-like vocals, all woven around bits of speeches, radio broadcasts and other wartime soundbites, the whole thing buried beneath a black sonic pall, like thick smoke over a burning city.
The bonus tracks are brief, and are more like a sort of sonic addendum, the first track "The Final Testament", is a propulsive industrial dirge, all tribal drums and thick serpentine synths, deep rumbling low end and tinkling percussion, very neo-folk martial industrial, while the final track, "Hail Wermland II", is a recording of an old scratchy dusty '78, a mournful lament, proud, deep, crooned vocals, and simple minor key melodies, all wrapped in staticky crackle and pop, bookended by brief smears of smoldering drone. So good.
Remastered, and with all new artwork, an eight page booklet with liner notes and lots of appropriately teutonic images.
Throughout the '90s, Cedric Peyronnet would boldy announce that none of his Toy Bizarre recordings were made with synthesizers or samplers, instead with field recordings and collage techniques as his twin media. It has been speculated that this notion comes from a punk attitude against France's institutional avant-garde which evolved out of the work of Pierre Schaefer and Pierre Henri; but at the same time, Peyronnet's recordings focus on the specificity of sound locations, and the technology of samplers and synthesizers didn't have the ability to reflect the unpredictability that Peyronnet witnessed in environmental sound. While Peyronnet doesn't mentioned his aversion to technology on this 3" from Ferns, he's retained the same adventurous sensibility for dynamic edits coupled with nocturnal, slippery ambience. From the jump-start opening of crackling twigs and grasses with an airplane's Doppler-effected engine roaring in the distance, Peyronnet's 20 minute composition dissolves into elegantly fluid timbres weaving out of tactile sounds from sand, grit, gravel, and other bits of detritus. Once all of the sounds have all settled into a drift of stasis, a quick jump to another set of textures and abrasions begins with a corresponding set of sympathetic drones. Fans of Loren Chasse's field recording work, Tarab, and Steve Roden should all take note of this exceptional release.
A savage proggytrippypunkasfuck megablast in the form of Triclops!' Cafeteria Brutalia ep. This four song rager is the perfect blend of post-Jesus Lizardy mathy fucked up punk and spacey effects-riddled shreddyness. Hailing from right here in the bay area, Triclops! featuring John Geek From local punk heros The Fleshies on vocals, piece together a super interesting combination of weird rock elements. One moment angular and furious, while another blissy and tripped the hell out, and still at another just plain super rocking! The vocals are processed and effected, the guitar is furious and fierce, and the rythym section is just about as tight as can be, churrning out an ever-changing, multi-metric pummelfest of pure rock brutality. All the songs on this way too short document are great, to be sure, but the ONE for us is definetly the 10 plus minute epic, "Bug Bomb". Within this track, all the disparate elements that makes this band awesome perfectly coalesce. Super proggy acid-punk to begin with, breaking down into some suprisingly melodic pop, before getting heavy and crazy to round it out. Excellent! Triclops! are also one of the best local live acts we have here in SF, and they seem to play all the rad shows around these parts. In fact, most of us discovered them earlier this month at the killer Circle show at Bottom Of The Hill, which they opened. All in all, a really great ep! For anyone thats been missing that old 90's Touch and Go / Amrep sound, or people that just love proggy flipped out PUNK RAWK, this is definetly recommended!
Latest from this one man Portland based psychedelic drone outfit, we blew through the last two cd-r releases (we've got three others in stock we've yet to review, check the in stock not yet reviewed section of this list if you want to buy any of those) and this is the latest, a super micro pressing of only 50 copies, so we won't bother to say too much, as from past experience we know there are WAY more psychdrone obsessives than we got copies of this disc.
Way more active than the first Tunnels cd we listed, and much more varied than the second, Cluster of Rainbows starts at a similar sonic starting point, a slow burning, near static wash of rumbling whirs and distant low end moan, a washed out expanse of shimmering drone, but now there are vocals, disembodied and drifting, chant-like, adding a sort of space rock vibe. The first half of this nearly hour long track is a series of variations on that initial spaced out cosmic drone, various timbres of buzz, layers of whirring sound, chiming harmonics and glistening bell-like tones, all woven into a constantly fluctuating sea of black ambience, the real surprise comes about 30 minutes in, when all of a sudden an acoustic guitar surfaces, gently strummed, delicately picked, a haunting little chunk of Appalachia draped over the smoldering low end, both building in intensity, before fading into a pulsing stream of crackling blackened low end, warm melodic swells, and finishing off with several minutes of near silence, and barely audible conversation.
Packaged in cool dvd style square plastic digipaks, with photocopied covers, and an insert, hand numbered.
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES!!! We got half the pressing, after that, these are gone for good.
This SF band craft sturdy country rock with dusty roads 'n' harmonica friendly withered male vocals, and they've packed their third full length with it! Clearly Two Gallants' music is deeply influenced by the blues, the sort whose roots run deeeep in the southern swamps. Here's nine well scuffed, weathered and leathered songs that fit well alongside the strainin' with emotion Americana stylings of labelmates Bright Eyes and Eric Bachmann as well as My Morning Jacket or Waco Brothers. Real good!
The record-collecting excess of Nick Saloman (Mr. Bevis Frond) pays off for all of us once again, as he presents yet another collection of groovy old '60s/'70s tracks from rare vinyl that he's compiled for the Psychic Circle label. Blow Your Cool is a sequel of sorts to Psychic Circle's winning A Visit To The Spaceship Factory comp but instead of featuring only obscure UK prog/psych gems, this ventures further afield to showcase tracks by weird/cool bands from Continental Europe as well. Thus it's definitely got something of the Prog Is Not A Four Letter Word/"B-music" vibe.
Of the 20 artists included, a few names jump out as familiar to us, and speak well to the quality of the comp. There's Cosmic Dealer (a psychedelic Dutch band who more than live up to their name, which is much better than what we're told their original moniker was: Floating Fudge), Triangle (the title track "Blow Your Cool" is by this French group, it's also on the collection from them we listed last year), Zior, Egg, Freedom, Mogul Thrash (featuring John Wetton), Les Variations (more Francias Metal de Proto we've reviewed before), Blue Beard (with "Sly Willy", also found on the Some Songs Stuck In My Mind comp we listed last week), and The Rattles (feat. Achim Reichel). Then, among the rest, quite a few new-to-us surprises, from the bombastic, poppy opening track "To Live" by Paradise Hammer from England, to the progged-out, wound-up Hendrixy heaviness of Italy's Tritons on their "Drifter". Also on here: Primitive Man, Barry Freeman & Strange Power, The Foundations, Dream Police, Ferris Wheel, Paul Ryder & Time Machine, Jess & James, Bedlam, and Swegas.
As usual, informative liner notes and graphics pertaining to each track are provided in the full-colour cd booklet. What can we say, but keep 'em coming, Nick!
For those who remember when there were genuine underground music scenes (or for younger whippersnappers who wanna know what the fuss was all about)... this compilation is a great document of Boston based bands from a brief four year stretch that bridged the seventies with the eighties. Remarkably polished and burstin' out with youthful energy, Boston Underground is nicely varied from earnest jangle pop to sneering garagey rawk to angular no wave. Many of these songs which may seem tame and downright quaint by today's standards were fresh and downright adventurous back then. it's super cool that we're getting a chance to hear these pockets of amazing music that sadly seldom reached the ears of anyone outside of the city limits let alone within them. Check it out!
If the usual, corporate "world music" recording is intended for the pleasure and edification of "armchair travellers" who appreciate the comforts of said armchair and, if actually travelling, would prefer the expensive luxuries of Westernized hotels and guided tours in air conditioned buses, then "world music" as documented by the Sun City Girls affiliated Sublime Frequencies field recordings label is for armchair travellers who want to know what it would sound like if they and their armchair were to be picked up, packed into a crate, shipped on the slow boat TO China or wherever, and dumped into the back alleys of a far off land to fend for themselves. No guided tour, more like bumming around amid the teeming human cultures of the third world, ears open to new experiences, to both musical and environmental sounds.
For release number thirty-something in their series, Sublime Frequencies visits North Vietnam, bringing back 15 tracks of wailing horns, keening vocals, twanging Jews harps, wheezing bamboo mouth-organs, and and more, including the sounds of a reed instrument, the piem zat, a sort of oboe played with a circular breathing technique. Singing styles are unique too, as with the layered female chorus on track 10 for instance, where the singers achieve a kind a delay effect, in a style called bao zoo.
The liner notes by recordist/compiler Lauren Jenneau help to explain the musical traditions of the various ethnic minority groups he's encountered here, and how they figure into both their everyday and spiritual lives. As usual with Sublime Frequencies stuff, pretty much a must-have if you want to make your armchair a much more "exotic" place in which to recline... or to inspire you to get off your ass, quit your job and take off on that backpacking trip to South East Asia you've always wanted to take...
Yet another fantastic document from Sublime Frequencies, the avant world music label run by the Sun City Girls, and home to now dozens of releases, all of them fascinating and fantastic. Proving once again that we ain't got nothing on the rest of the world in terms of unique sounds and amazing musics. Ethnic Minority Music Of Southern Laos, is one of two new discs in Sublime Frequencies' series of documents exploring the rich musical histories of displaced minorities in various regions of Southeast Asia. This volume follows the Northeast Cambodia installment in exploring the music of Cambodia, this disc focusing on two distinct musical styles, one incorporating various gongs, the other involving different sorts of mouth harps. As always, the liner notes are dense and informative, but here they are a little bit more difficult to summarize than on past discs, so we'll focus more on the sounds than the story.
All of these tracks were culled from a super limited 4cd set released a few years back, and offer a varied and completely mindblowing sampling of the sounds of musicians in and around Laos, groups of people forced to move from their mountainous villages into temporary and makeshift villages, where all of the things that nature supplied in the mountains (food, water, protection) have now become scarce. And obviously, as with all cultures, the music and art represents the huge shifts and dramatic changes of a people, political, personal, love, worry, sadness, sorrow, death, passion, birth... The music here is just so intense and emotional and definitely reflects the transition and the day to day struggle to just live life.
As mentioned above, there are two distinct musics, the first is based mostly on gongs, with various bits of percussion, and the sound is amazing. Rich and resonant, totally hypnotic and rhythmic, often times just a single gong, but the magic of the music is in the patterns and the subtle overtones, so simple yet so subtly complex, the various subtleties unfold as the tracks progress, not hard to imagine (or hope) that these tracks could go on for hours...
Other tracks are more complex, with deep gongs creating a shimmering backdrop, for clattery cymbals and simple propulsive drumming, a sound that isn't all that different in places than some of the freaky forest folk from Finland we dig so much, or the stoned rhythmic jams of groups like the No Neck Blues Band or Sunburned Hand Of The Man. The sounds of the various gongs are so different, some are low and rumbling, others are high pitched and sharp, and lots of shades in between, muted and muffled or allowed to ring out, struck with something soft or with wood or other metal, the various shades are deftly woven into gorgeous stretches of rhythm and melody.
The other music is based on various mouth harps, and the sound of those harps is remarkable, strange complex chords, complicated alien timbres, wheezing and whirring, lots of overlapping melodies, and various tones all tangled up, a rich bed beneath deep rich crooning, while in the background can be heard chirping birds, crowing roosters, babies crying, many of the tracks pick up random conversations, from the players, or passersby. One of the most amazing organ track is "Jeu Phawn Peng Gawng Ploung Ken" featuring an organ made from 10 bamboo tubes and a single gong. The melody is haunting and minor key, looped and so hypnotic, while two vocalists take turns singing, their voices alternatingly raw and raspy, soaring and clear, one ragged and forlorn, the other wailing and sorrowful, and like the other tracks, you can hear coughing, breathing, feet shuffling in the background, but the music is so dark, and so intense, it's easy to get completely lost.
And while the record is mostly evenly split between the mouth harp tracks and the gong tracks, there are a handful of tracks that don't fit in either camp, some strummy and folky, others abstract and percussive. One of those tracks we love, one that should have been 10 minutes long instead of 24 seconds is "Reum Bang" a killer riff, played on a single string bowed instrument, the sound so primal and raw, the string all muted and stiff, like a distorted rubber band guitar or something, hard not to imagine the drums kicking in and it turning into some strange psychedelic jam.
The whole disc is fantastic, every time a new Sublime Frequencies disc arrives, we find ourselves wanting to proclaim it the best one yet, but all it takes is for us to go back and listen to any of the old ones, for us to realize that, no, THAT one is the best one yet. Can't think of a better recommendation for this disc, and for every disc in the series...
A quick look at the listing of groups on this super limited triple cd-r collection of songs from France, or about France, or with some sort of French angle, should have most weird music fans freaking out bigtime. All exclusive tracks from tons of AQ faves, including: The Shitty Listener, Quetzolcoatl, Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood, Silvester Anfang, Heavy Winged, Tom Carter, The North Sea, Taiga Remains, Ashtray Navigations, Uton, The Futurians, Mike Tamburo, Tanakh, Black Forest Black Sea, Ben Reynolds, Volcano The Bear, 6majik9, CJA, The Stumps, Gregg Kowalsky, Fursaxa, Seht, Valerio Cosi, Fabi Orsi, Birds Of Delay, Bjerga / Iverson, Robert Horton and more more more. 3+ hours of strange and magical sounds from all over the world, but all centered around France. From the ultra lo-fi barely audible pop genius of The Shitty Listener, the gorgeous mournful steel string Appalachian folk of The North Sea, the washed out murky drift of Quetzolcoatl, some super spare solo electric guitar drift from Tom Carter, a bit of haunting high end tribal buzz from Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood, some gorgeous shuffle and twang, slither and creep from Silvester Anfang, an epic druggy slowburning NZ-style krautrockish jam from The Stumps, some whispered crystalline shimmer from Fursaxa and we could go on and on. Varied and expansive, from folk to drone to noise to pound to swirl to buzz to twang...
As with all RuralFaune stuff, meticulously packaged, each one hand assembled, three spray painted discs, rouge, blanc and bleu (the colors of the French flag), housed in a cool textured red and orange wallpaper cover, in a thick vinyl sleeve, with a sticker on the front. Inside is a huge fold out, 2 sided poster insert, with liner notes on one side and a painting on the other, as well as a bunch of other inserts, stickers, a tiny square of paper hand numbered and a "piece of blotting paper impregnated with red wine"!
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. We will NOT be able to get more...
Originally released as a series of SUPER limited split vinyl eps, a 7", a 10" and a 12", each teaming up bizarre mysterious French black metallers Malicious Secrets with some of their more well known countrymen: Antaeus, Mutiilation and Deathspell Omega. Holy shit! You might as well stop reading right now and order one of these as fast as you can. You shouldn't even need us to tell you how totally fucking mindblowing this comp is. Antaeus offer up a short buzzing blast of ultra grim blackness, a fuzzed out blur of droning black metal, downtuned guitars, blown out lightning fast blast beats, guttural growls, the whole thing a white hot lo-fi blast of utter brutality. Then of course there's Mutiilation, who not only offer up a reverb drenched burst of atmospheric blackened buzz, also super lo-fi, blasting and buzzing, and hauntingly creepy crawly like it was recorded in a cave or at the bottom of a well, but they also do a cover of Sinatra's "My Way"! But you wouldn't necessarily know it, the croonsome orginal becoms a harsh ptichfork to the head, dripping with thick droney guitars and shrieking black howls, although it does have a super cool, riffy sort of un-metal breakdown in the middle. Most of you will need this for the final track, a brand new, exclusive to this comp 20 minute epic from Deathspell Omega, rife with impossibly obtuse riffs, weird atonal guitar skree, super complex rhythms, haunting ambeint dronescapes, weird math-metal breakdowns, and of course some of the fiercest fucked up black metal ever. Woah.
As if that weren't enough, let's not forget the three tracks from Malicious Secrets, each of their three tracks from the splits are totally dizzying swirls of ultra fucked up, BIZARRE black metal, riffs are bent and twisted into impossible shapes, blasting drums are sprayed wildly all over the place, each song is a serpentine, non-linear sonic mindfuck, a huge spastic black churning whirlpool, with little bits of riff or little streaks of blast beat surfacing now and again, while over the whole thing the vocalist moans and groans, low and haunting, each syllable stretched into long drawn out bellows, sometimes breaking into hacking coughs or throat clearing before once again returning to an utterly agonizing wail. So totally fucked up and so totally amazing!
