Ready to get all blissed out? A Lily (aka James Vella) craftily strings together pearly chiming droplet sounds that form lullaby-perfect melodies. Fittingly murmured indistinct vocals provide more of an atmospheric presence than a lyrical one. Along with some stuttery glitch and picked guitar, they drift in and out of the soothing gauzy washes. Wake: Sleep will surely also appeal to fans of Germany's Morr Music label (LaliPuna, Styrofoam, Piano Magic, etc.) as well as the dreamy pop-tronics of Dntel and Album Leaf. Very nice!
This is another of the uncommonly sumptuous array of releases from the young music label Dynamophone. As we mentioned earlier in the review of labelmates Balustrade Ensemble, they've only been around since mid-2006, but already have a bountiful catalog with many more on the way. Particularly if you've been enjoying the recent aquatic drone releases on the Mystery Sea label, you might wish to check out the seemingly likeminded, but more melodically inclined Dynamophone artists. An absolute treasure trove of shimmering and dewy listening delights. Delve in immediately (also see: Balustrade Ensemble, Halou, Po, Pornopop, Disinterested, Curium, and R/R Coseboom)!
Can't get enough of Ryan Adams? Well, he definitely makes sure that you never have to wait too long for something new! It's like clockwork. Sometimes this can be a bit problematic when a release seems rushed out and uninspired... and some have indeed seemed so. Still, his last few releases have been surprisingly consistent, and consistently good. The only gripe we've had recently is with his major label style generic artwork. Anyhoo, four months after his Easy Tiger album, here is his new seven song ep which include two new songs (the title track and "My Love For You Is Real"), the song "Blue Hotel" which was written by Adams and originally recorded by Willie Nelson for his own most recent album, a cover of Alice In Chains' "Down In A Hole", new versions of "Dear John and "This Is It" as well as one other song "If I Am A Stranger". The latter five were recorded live in the studio. A solid country rock fan pleaser.
An amazing compendium of facts (and some fantasy?) pertaining to the surprisingly under-documented '70s self proclaimed Aquarian tribe The Source Family and their freeflowing psychedelic jam branch Ya Ho Wha 13!
For years our awareness of this group was limited to the obscure recordings of the band (including the extraordinary giant box set God And Hair), and a smattering of vague and sensationalist 'cult' rumors. The members' secret oath and a marked absence of controversy, calamity and crime no doubt kept this group underwraps and off the pages of tabloids. Our fascination grew tenfold a couple of years ago thanks to the compelling dvd documentary "Yahowha 13: Re-visiting Father And The Source Family". It recounts the history of the movement founded by Father Yod (aka Ya Ho Wha, born Jim Baker) through interviews with original members and archive footage. Definitely recommended viewing. Fortunately for those whose interest has been piqued, we now also have this book. Isis Aquarian was one of Father Yod's fourteen 'women' or 'spiritual wives' and the group's appointed record keeper. Hence she was integral to the inner workings of the Source Family and has compiled an enormous archive of photographs, writings, and memorabilia. Her wealth of and deep connection to this knowledge makes for an immensely intimate and informative document. Lively and entertaining too, among other things, the book details living a utopic life in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills and a subsequent move to Hawaii, observing Father's integrated teachings of ancient philosophies and religions (strongly influenced by Yogi Bhajan and the writings of Manly P. Hall), practicing daily pre-dawn meditations and rituals, and eating a strictly vegetarian diet. In fact, the Source Family ran one of the very first and most wildly successful vegetarian / raw health food restaurants which was located on the Sunset Strip (recipes and photos from the restaurant are included!). Nowadays yoga has been mainstreamed into another physical fitness trend -- a glorified stretching if you will, the ancient spiritual teachings lost to the masses -- and terms like 'guru' and 'visionary' are bandied about with abandon, but back in the late '60s and early '70s there was a West Coast consciousness explosion goin' on, and these people lived it!
The bonus cd is a daunting experience unto itself featuring not only a mindblowing Ya Ho Wha 13 live performance at Beverly Hills High in 1974 (obviously not the most pristine recording quality nor anything resembling trained musicianship -- this is a sensory overloaded moment captured in time of opened channels and the cathartic power of music), but also fascinating radio interview segments, enlightening Father Yod lecture snippets, and Source Family chants! Anyone curious about Ya Ho Wha is gonna want the book, we'd think, and this bonus disc pretty much makes it essential, with its several tracks of unreleased Ya Ho Wha jams, freaky stuff to be found nowhere on the infamous God & Hair 13 cd box set...
In Light is the sublime debut solo effort from local musician/writer Alexis Georgopoulos who has been a stalwart presence in many amazing bands around these parts including A Tension, The Alps and, until recently, Tussle. The tumultuous break from the latter band has worked in Georgopoulos' favor as we're not sure he would have delved as deeply into this project, as it is so far removed from Tussle's infectious party grooves. Instead on In Light, he channels the warmer elements of seventies German electronica (Cluster, Eroc, Popol Vuh), and the more organic qualities of twentieth century composition (Terry Riley, Jon Gibson) to make an album that has the strange effect of moving while standing still. Even Roedelius from Cluster has given his blessing by remixing an Arp track for an upcoming single release. Like the picture of the sunset on the cover, let Arp's warm and effervescent rays of sound wash over and envelop your psyche. Recommended!
Latest in the ongoing series of self released cd-r's from Mr. Neil Campbell, aka Astral Social Club, formerly of divine dronesters Vibracathedral Orchestra. This is number 14, and sonically begins with a track (after a brief noisy intro) that had us thinking this might end up sounding like the recent releases on Important, taking the blessed out incandescent white hot ragas, and transforming them into some strange propulsive alien dance music. And yeah, on the Important discs, dance music might have been stretching it a bit, but here, at least on the opening track, the beat is definitely the focal point, insistent and pulsing, laying down a simple groove amidst flittering clouds of spacy FX and little bleeps and bloops.
But after that it's right back to business, the business of thick corrosive washes of overblown distortion and buzzing droning ragas, thick slabs of feedback, grinding chunks of guitarbuzz, processed vocals, all wound up into a snarled dronepsych blowouts.
A few of the track eschew the noisy psych side completely, choosing instead to tinkle and drift through tranquil smears of soft sound, but even those tracks eventually build to intense climaxes, high end streaks and tangled slivers of feedback all wound up into gorgeously shimmering upper register skreescapes.
Another gorgeous collection of dense freeform psychedelia, definitely for fans of all things Vibracathedral, Skullflower, Yellow Swans, Skaters and the like, and those afraid of beats, or dancefloor phobic, no matter how noisy and strange that particular dancefloor is, can just skip over that second track�
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Is it us, or is UK noise rock outfit Aufgehoben continually getting noisier and noisier? Is that even possible? We're beginning to think it is, even after the recent Messidor full length seemed to have reached a noise ceiling.
But here we are, two splattery, speaker frying blasts of no wave, free jazz noise rock. Or something. Not sure what to call it, but we like it. A lot. It does require a strong stomach and some iron clad earholes, but if you think you've got the stuff, that hop right in.
Two drummers, electronics, and very little else, are all these guys need to DESTROY. Side A begins with some rhythmic free jazz splatter before being swallowed alive by white hot bursts of crumbling distortion and swells of Merzbowian fury. The sheets of noise stuttering and almost 'skipping' into strange speaker shredding almost-rhythms, some otherworldly white noise pulse that bathes the rest of the song in a blinding and painfully loud glow.
Side B is cut from the same cloth, beginning with some Derek Bailey-ish guitar scrabble before the band launch into a full-on free jazz noise rock assault, loads of buzzing feedback, charged sheets of skree, all blown out and super distorted and in the red, interrupted by brief bits of tranquility, peppered with moments of grinding guitar scrape and spastic drum sputter, always quickly obliterated by a massive super nova of pure noise. Fucking brutal and massively intense!
Packaged in a plain black sleeve with some simple paste on art. Pressed on super thick vinyl, a gorgeous picture disc adorned with strange branch like patterns, like a fossil or some blurred winterscape. Nice!!
LIMITED TO 524 COPIES!!!
An uncommonly sumptuous array of releases was just presented to us courtesy of the young music label Dynamophone. They've only been around since mid-2006, but already have a bountiful catalog of releases, and many more on the way. We think your ears will welcome them with a warm embrace. Particularly if you've been recently enjoying the aquatic drone releases on the Mystery Sea label, you might wish to check out the seemingly likeminded, but more melodically inclined Dynamophone artists. Really, the label is a treasure trove of shimmering and dewy listening delights. Delve in immediately (also see: Disinterested, Halou, Po, Pornopop, A Lily, Curium, and R/R Coseboom)!
This is the label's new release from Balustrade Ensemble, a group which features Grant Miller (also of the very different Mandible Chatter), singer/songwriter/pianist Liam Singer, and Scott Solter (whose worked with the likes of Singer, Mountain Goats, Spoon and Tarentel). Their intricate (mostly) acoustic (mostly) instrumentals are artfully woven from familiar instruments piano, guitar, cello, and pedal steel, and the less common mellotron, orchestron, claviola, and celeste. Each one seems to glimmer out through Victorian lace curtains yellowed and slightly threadbare from age, through shatters of antique crystal goblets dappled with droplets of deep red, through a flaking, clouded gilt mirror, through deep sea greens and azures. Very cinematic, in fact, the Dynamophone folks beat us to the punch at raising the darkly whimsical filmmakers the Brothers Quay as a point of reference. Very recommended.
Basalt Fingers may not be a name immediately recognizable to most folks, but the various members most definitely will be. Ben Chasny of Six Organs Of Admittance, Elisa from the Magik Markers and Brian from Mouthus and White Rock. A pretty serious psychedelic / noise pedigree, so hopes were pretty high, and damn if this isn't some seriously dense, smoldering, abstract psychdrone.
Two sidelong chunks, the first starts out all murky and lo-fi, guitars sounding more like bubbling lava, strange subterranean shapes, all tangled and smeared. Some of the guitars sound like synths warm and whirring, hard to tell what exactly is going on as everything is so muddy and washed out, but that just makes it all the more swoonsome and dreamy. It's like listening to some wild psych jam, but through thick concrete walls, with cotton in your ears. A gorgeous abstract underwater psych blowout.
The flip side is similar, except one of the guitars wails wildly over the murk, keening in huge glimmering streaks, while the other two guitars churn beneath it. It's almost like some classic Santana jam broadcast through a stereo dropped into a tar pit. Or Keiji Haino dubbed onto shittier and shittier tapes, and then played back on a boombox with dying batteries. Pretty fucking cool.
Limited to 845 copies. Pressed on super thick 180 gram vinyl. And the lp comes with a cd (not a cd-r, an actual cd) with the same music for listening and Ipod-ing ease!!! Packaged in gorgeous heavy silkscreened covers, designed by Alan Sherry of Siwa.
On Beirut's third album main man Zach Condon has shaken up their Balkan gypsy music-centric status quo with a baker's dozen less specifically Eastern European folk inspired numbers. Even with this unexpected, freshly broadened scope, Beirut still charms with a lushly beautiful, captivatingly otherworldliness. In fact Condon's transformed himself into something of a balladeer with a dramatic lilting croon that draws easy comparisons to Adrian Belew. Now living in France, you can hear the influence his new home is having on him. Check out the melancholic carousel waltz of "A Sunday Smile" and the deceptively titled sprightly paced "In The Mausoleum". It's like being privy to a stranger's vivid sepia toned memories of distant lands, lives and loves. As always, very recommended!
Doom! Not just doom...but maybe the best doomy release of the year, sez Allan...and it's a reissue. Of a demo tape, no less. NewYork's Blood Farmers (now defunct) recorded one self-titled album in 1995 for the (also now defunct) German label Hellhound, who are not to be confused with the Japanese label Leafhound responsible for this release. The Hellhound album was an obscure, now-out-of-print, but seriously heavy and deranged slice of doom-adelica in the vein of the masters Black Sabbath and especially Saint Vitus. But it turns out that the Blood Farmer's 1992 demo was easily as good if not better than their actual album (and has only one cut in common, "Bullet In My Head", which is a very different version here). Heads up, heads -- this starts with the 14 minute long psychedelic doom opus "Behind The Brown Door" ends with another 14+ minute epic "Deathmaster", a suite in five parts. Extended fuzz-wah terror ensues throughout those epics and all over the album as a whole, with guitarist Dave Depraved's soloing brilliantly channelling the heavy trippiness of Vitus' Dave Chandler. There's also more more concise rockers here like the aforementioned "Bullet In My Head" and "St. Chibes". Basically, imagine The Heads jamming with Vitus or Church Of Misery. Regarding the latter, the Blood Farmers share the same serial-killer obsession as do those Japanese doom freaks, but theirs is really more about the fiction films about the serial killers than the killers themselves. In addition to the original demo tracks, which are remixed and remastered, there's also a live bonus track from '96, itself followed by a hidden bonus track of ambient music/sound fx, accompanying a monologue, all doubtless lifted from one of the Blood Farmer's fave horror flicks. So if you'd like a severe dose of acid-sludge rock, look no further!
Another underrated early seventies British horror soundtrack is brought back to life by Trunk Records, and this one is a doozy. Pastoral and creepily menacing, Marc Wilkinson's score for this 1971 Piers Haggard film is like a lost companion to The Wicker Man soundtrack or Valerie and Her Week of Wonders. Features the unusual instrumentation of the Ondes Martenot, one of the first electronic instruments, which provides the fiendish swoops and off-kilter tonal colors and the Cimbalom, an eastern European piano type instrument that's played with mallets providing the spine-tingling creep. The liner notes mention that the descending chromatic scale which features throughout the score omits the perfect fifth and therefore highlights the diminished fifth also known as the Devil's Interval! Truly spooky, and the gothic pics of ritual blood and female nudity make us all dying to see this film re-released. Obscure horror is what Trunk Records does best!!
Yes, half of this album's title is accurate. This is Conor Oberst and company in concert. They sound great. Although these tracks were recorded during the 2005 I'm Wide Awake It's Morning tour in front of massive hordes of rabid B.E. fans, the crowd noise is surprisingly unobtrusive. Fifteen tracks including a couple covers of Feist and Elliott Smith songs ("Mushaboom" and "The Biggest Lie" respectively)! Rest assured, you won't be experiencing an ounce of nausea or dizziness... unless you're just not a Bright Eyes fan!
Buried At Sea's Migration cd from 2004 was one of Aquarius' steadiest, dooooooooooomiest best-sellers up until it went totally, sadly out of print. Seriously, we sold a ton of those. And deservedly so, as this Chicago band's debut really did compare favorably with the likes of both Khanate and Pelican, a sludge/postrock marriage made in the lowest reaches of Hell. Migration was followed by a one-sided collectable 12" vinyl ep... and that was that. We thought this band was dead and buried themselves. And maybe they are, but -hallelujah!- have visited upon us this new cd release on Neurot. Perhaps this is a posthumous release of lost recordings, it's called "Ghost" after all. We don't know. What we do know is that it's one megalithic track, just under 30 minutes of music, about as slow and heavy and dreary as anything we'd heard from them... or anyone else! A trance-inducing funereal trudge through realms of spaced-out swooshing psychedelic effects. Early on, "Ghost" establishes a grinding repetitive throb, not so much head banging as head nodding, and wrist slitting. This depressive doomdrone heaviness gives way eventually (at around the 12 minute mark) to a quiet passage of tolling chimes, and then cathartic vocals groan forth over more metallic, energized riffage as "Ghost" relentlessly steamrollers onwards... further into a phantom void of disturbing electronics and shuddering low-end despair. Obviously, recommended to all into Buried At Sea, as well as the likes of Corrupted, Khanate, Orthodox, Ufomammut, SUNNO))), etc.
Castanets' new album warms our cockles with its brothy aural stew. Soft bristling hazes of electrified dissonance and icy slide guitar drift across their woozily weaving acoustic melodies with the kind of mumble-murmurred woebegone emotive singing that lets flow once your defenses are down after a shot or two of hard liquor and weed. As In The Vines progresses it settled into a more traditional indie country twangy comfiness. A bit withered, a bit ghostly, a lot lovely!
The sequel to the River That Flows Into The Sand had originally been released through Andrew Chalk's Faraway Press imprint as a super-limited edition cassette in early 2006. We never managed to get a hold of those cassettes; and it goes without saying that they disappeared before we could even blink. Thankfully, Chalk has re-released all of that material on cd, remastered by the inimitable Colin Potter. As on the first part of The River, Chalk picks up the guitar for his minimalist explorations tightroping between the ghostly impressionism of Keiji Haino's Nijiumu project from many moons ago, the narcoleptic atmospheres of Maeror Tri / Troum, the oceanic ambience of Boris' Flood, and the time-reversal qualities of Eliane Radigue, all the while putting to shame every upstart drone artist with a cd burner and an Echoplex.
Just as the first River cd meanders through five variations of the cascade sound, Chalk produces another five tracks of rippling drones on this disc. Similarly, he has packaged the disc in the dotted decalcomania which graced the first cd. The major differences can be found in the gritty, growling distortion which exists just beneath the surface of these glassine drones. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!
Ooooh Ahhhhh! This one has been sizzling in our ears pretty much on endless repeat since it showed up at the store. Chromatics have undergone a pretty radical change from their early herky-jerky no-wave inspired beginnings, as showcased on the amazing and scene defining After Dark comp that we recently listed, and are still so in love with. Chromatics now have a sound that is much more sensual, subdued and spaced out. And we have to say we are loving this new direction. I definitely suits them so much more naturally than their noisier punky past.
With a sound much more rooted in early drugged out disco and '80s Euro-pop, Night Drive is sparse and melancholic enough to reel in folks whose taste usually falls on the darker end of the spectrum yet with songs so damn sexy and enticing that those of us with dance and pop leanings are seduced by their sound as well. With Ruth Radalet's vocals sounding like they are being delivered in a dark room filled with fog and smoke, there is such an intoxicating late night vibe that Chromatics tap into which feels so vacant and so sexy in the best possible way. They take on the daunting task of covering Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill" and manage to make it their own, no small feat as that is a song with such deep meaning for so many of us. It's only a matter of time before this record will be blasting in all the hip fashion stores and cafe's so get on board early so you don't have to ask someone at Urban Outfitters what's playing. So damn good!
It's quite remarkable that only two records into their existence Citay have managed to carve out a sound that is so instantaneously recognizable and distinctive. With their soaring guitars, glorious melodies and harmonies that sound as if they're raining down from the sky, this ensemble led by Ezra Feinberg has quickly become one of the shining lights of the San Francisco music scene, but we think that folks from all over the globe should be hearing them, so they too can be swept away by Citay's carefully crafted songs.
Little Kingdom is the follow up to their debut which was a unanimous AQ favorite when it came out around two years back. With a similar sound and feel as that first outing they have widened their reach as the songs descend with a much more expansive quality. Brimming with a crisp sensation Little Kingdom is matching our autumnal mood so perfectly.
We love how Citay always sound so monumental without resorting to the typical quiet...quiet...loud...eruption formula that so many post-rock groups use when they want to sound grand. What makes Citay so great is that they don't TRY to sound grand or monumental, it's just that the songs they make require a presentation that the band understand so well and do so effortlessly. Little Kingdom makes us want to run into leaves and feel the wind rushing against our skin, whisking us away, the sounds of the strings on guitars summoning us to a greater place!
This is a record that shouldn't be around; yet, against the odds, we have a handful of these discs in stock for the moment. The Climax Golden Twins refer to this eponymous CD as Locations although we can't find any reference to that title on the all white, embossed folding cardstock. In recent years, Robert Millis of the Twins has produced some of the finer contributions to the Sublime Frequencies series of obscure ethnomusicology, including the Phi Ta Khon DVD and the Harmika Yab Yum compilation from Tibet. And, had this 1998 collage of field recordings and shortwave radio transmissions been released in this day and age, it surely would have warranted a Sublime Frequencies release, as it fits so closely within their agenda. Yet, it remains a Climax Golden Twins production, and given CGT's radically eclectic aesthetic sensibility (Victrola 78 collages, cannibalized psychedelia, horror soundtracks, long-form dronemusik, etc.), why not call this a Climax Golden Twins record? So what we have here is an interwoven collage from unspecified locations, with some of the locales being more obvious than others. The temple gongs and bells getting banged about with jubilant indeterminance are from South-East Asia (probably being Javanese Gamelan), the deeply reverential incantations set against clouds of crickets could be from any Muslim temple in Asia, and only an etymologist could pinpoint where in the world those cicadas could be residing. Altogether, a mighty fine collage of phonography before such a term was coined.
Maybe the most aptly named band ever? Weird that when we first stumbled on Clockcleaner, it was in our search for more music from damaged drug addled caveman noisemakers the Violent Students, but it seems Clockcleaner is now the more viable band, with the VS sort of fading away, with only one proper record we know of. And where the sound of the Violent Students was more of a massive frontal lobe melting cacophony, Clockcleaner seemed to take that same aesthetic, and apply it to actual songs, the poppier Dr. Jeckyl to the Violent Students' Mr. Hyde...
And right off the bat, Clockcleaner up the ante with maybe their best song ever. A dense propulsive, grungy, filthy, swampy stomp, a malevolent, lascivious and lurching Swans slither, an ominous stumble and plod over Morricone Western twang, reverbed surf guitar, growled baritone vocals, sounding straight out of late eighties NY noise underground Copshootcop, the Swans, everything bathed in reverb, and swirling alien FX, bizarre little bits of melody... And the record sort of goes from there, adding damaged Jerry Lee Lewis piano pound, crumbling chest rattling bass, slippery drunken slide guitar, more super dramatic crooned vocals, still more reverb and effects, the whole thing a sort of hellish end of the world swing, plenty of groove, but gnarled and convoluted, dangerous and drunken, reminding us quite a bit of Lubricated Goat, King Snake Roost even Nick Cave, a blackened noise flecked confusional cabaret. Awesome.
Killer tape-faced cover art too...
One of our most unexpected surprises last year came from Cloudland Canyon who totally blew us away with Requiems Der Natur 2002-2004, a shimmering sonic concoction, that sounded a bit like Ash Ra Tempel being channeled through the more melodic side of The Dead C.
They've followed that remarkable outing with a record that contains only two songs, but what it lacks in length it more then makes up for in cosmic-kraut brilliance. Listening to the two long tracks on this record is like being transported away on some otherworldly helicopter co-piloted by LaMonte Young and a very spaced out Hawkwind. We keep listening to these two epic tracks over and over and every time we do a customer is inevitably convinced that we're playing some obscure vintage kraut gem that they somehow have never heard before. Folks are always stunned to find out that this is brand new, but what makes Cloudland Canyon so great is that they manage to tap into that magical moment of cosmic kraut bliss, but do so without merely sounding like a tribute band, as there is something very immediate and timeless to the sounds they create. With a brand new full length coming soon on the oh so hot Holy Mountain label we predict that everyone blasting their Wooden Shjips records right now will be blissing out and taking off with Cloudland Canyon very soon. We sure are! You can start now.
Latest bit of abstract beauty from Mr. Rob Fisk, formerly of Deerhoof, now of Badgerlore, a gorgeous slow burning expanse of soft and shimmery minor key Appalachian guitar, buzzing bowed viola, and reverb drenched vocals. Each track is a slow build, a musical new dawn, the guitar sprawled out like dew on grass, the vocals like a gauzy fog hugging the ground, a tranquil blissful drift, the viola offering bits of blurred grit and melody, so so gorgeous. Imagine some impossible blend of Grouper, Henry Flynt and Jack Rose. The surprise here, is the occasional blast of jagged super distorted guitar. Not sure how many folks remember the amazing Slap Happy Humphrey record, a long out of print Japanese disc featuring Jojo from Hiokaidan, one of the Angels In Heavy Syrup and one of the Subvert Blaze guys, long soft swirls of lilting dreamy folk occasionally interrupted by huge crashing psychnoise guitar. Bits of this disc definitely remind us of a sort of modern freakfolk version of that disc, although the psychnoise intrusions here are much less frequent, and even at their noisiest offer up some gorgeous keening melodies.
Barring the bits of coruscating heart-of-the-sun guitar freakouts, most of this disc is delicate and gentle, the vocals indistinct and plaintive, wrapped in soft billows of reverb, the guitar spare and lovely, the viola adding just the right bit of raga like drone... Fans of any of the above mentioned bands will love this for sure. And anyone into the current crop of dreamfolk would do well to check this out as well.
GORGEOUS packaging. A thick white textured paper booklet printed with silver metallic ink, sewn together, the cd in a clear plastic sleeve, the artwork featuring images of ducks and instructions on how to build a cabin (of course), all held together by an extra wide Japanese style obi. Wow.
What is it about California that spawns such fury and hatred and musical malevolence? Must be the weather! Or its proximity to HELL! There's been a remarkable number of cold and frosty, cult black metal bands coming from the Golden state in the last few years, all of them worthy of inclusion in black metal's elite: SF's legendary Weakling, Ludicra, Leviathan, Xasthur, Draugar (coming soon on tUMULt) and now CREBAIN. Another one man project, Crebain is Ancalagon The Black, who handles "Majestic Hellcommand Of Kataklysmik Deathstrings, Nightmarish Throatshredding and Percussive Programming." This is classic black metal, hateful and misanthropic, buzzy and hypnotic, ala Burzum, Darkthrone, Judas Iscariot, and the like. Named for Sauron's huge black birds in Lord Of The Rings (what would black metal bands do for names without Tolkien??), Crebain exudes a similar malevolence on Night Of Stormcrow, replete with howling, guttural, hyper-distorted wails of anguish, hellish riffs, buzzing insect-swarm guitars and some masterful programming that thankfully turns the drum machine into a hellish instrument of evil. Less atmospheric than Xasthur, and less fucked up than Leviathan, but equally true and black, Crebain follows his own dark path straight to the pits of hell. And as Ancalagon states in the liner notes: "To all those who have dared to cross me, your time is coming. Eventually, I will kill you all." This cd-r is strictly limited to 66 copies and numbered in BLOOD!
MPEG Download: "Night Of The Stormcrow" [/audio/crebainnight.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Night Of The Stormcrow" [/audio/crebainnight.m3u]
Another of the uncommonly sumptuous array of releases from the young music label Dynamophone. As we mentioned earlier in the review of labelmates Balustrade Ensemble, they've only been around since mid-2006, but already have a bountiful catalog with many more on the way. Particularly if you've been enjoying the recent aquatic drone releases on the Mystery Sea label, you might wish to check out the seemingly likeminded, but more melodically inclined Dynamophone artists. An absolute treasure trove of shimmering and dewy listening delights. Delve in immediately (also see: Balustrade Ensemble, Halou, Po, Pornopop, A Lily, Curium, and R/R Coseboom)!
Disinterested is primarily the work of one man, guitarist Matt Brown. Don't let his moniker dissuade you though. Behind Us is his second full length (and his first for this label), and an engagingly soothing listen it is. It's an album of grey skies, the anticipation of a thunderstorm. Very weighted with solemnest of moods, but not heavyhanded, these eleven post-rock instrumentals accumulate atmospheric layers of shuffling drumbeats and droning blankets of effected guitars and loops (some by Bill Frisell, by the way!). Breathy female vocals appear briefly in one track Felt (Leaves). Austere and beautiful.
We must have mentioned before that we're suckers for electric pink on an album cover. Dunno why, it's just a thing with us. Especially when it's a METAL album. How did Boris know? And now Diskord. The shocking pink hues on the cover of this album are part of a garish, trippy painting that's deliberately indicative of the unusual, lysergic-sounding technical death metal these Norwegian guys play. Spaced out, definitely Voivod influenced, grinding weirdness... they're an alien metal machine with lots of cold, sharp edges and many moving parts. And though they're crazy technical and blasting a lot of the time, let's not forget the album is aptly titled Doomscapes, which means they can break it down from the hyperactive heaviness to sheer crushing slabs of sludge, and ooze ambient atmospheric interludes too. Definitely for fans of fellow demented deathsters like Cephalic Carnage and Canvas Solaris, and older bands running the extreme death metal spectrum from Autopsy to Pestilence to Disharmonic Orchestra...
A few years back, we were enraptured by a strange alien sound, one that opened our ears to a whole genre we had ignored for the most part up until then, an offshoot of techno that eventually became affectionately (and surprisingly accurately) referred to as 'heroin house'. A strangely propulsive sound mired in dense fields of hiss and murk, of fuzz and blur, the beats relegated to a distant pulse. The label was Chain Reaction, and its tiny stable of bands, Fluxion, Matrix, Hallucinator, Substance, Vainqueur, Porter Ricks, Monolake and a few others, completely changed the landscape of techno, and had us all in a frenzy. Albeit a nocturnal druggy soporific one.
Chain Reaction folded, but the sound lived on, in the abstract dub of Rhythm And Sound (the same producers behind the Chain Reaction sound), in the sound of German Chain Reaction acolyte Pole, and the Pop Ambient of Kompakt, but as much as we love all that stuff, it wasn't quite the same. The sounds were similar, each twisted into some new shape, but there was just something so special about those Chain Reaction releases. So mysterious, the sound so haunting and otherworldly, like a rave on the ocean floor, barely audible through the walls of your submarine, further obscured by the hiss and low level buzz of all the onboard machinery. Or some DJ playing microhouse into the wee hours, 5 or 6 floors below you, or better yet, in the old concrete bunker across the street, the only hint of anything going on the muted throb felt more than heard.
It's one of THOSE SOUNDS we always go on about. Like old school ragga jungle or black metal buzz, a sound that is so pleasing to our ears, we could almost listen to a simple loop of those sounds forever. The Chain Reaction sound is another, gorgeous and creepy, moonlit and languorous, the perfect music to drift off to, or to troll the dark rainswept streets of some mysterious European city.
Thus we come to this debut full length from Echospace, the duo of Rod Modell and Soultek's Steve Hitchell, both legendary techno producers, who released a handful of 12"s at the tail end of the nineties, and who were taking the Chain Reaction sound in their own new direction. Years later, the duo returned to THAT SOUND and goddamn if it doesn't sound like being transported right back to mid-nineties Berlin. Using only old school analog equipment: Roland Space Echo, Echoplex, Korg tape delay, vintage signal processors, noise generators, Sequential Circuits 8-bit samplers and analog synthesizers, the sound these two have conjured up hews crazily close to Chain Reaction, but manages to make it sound modern and new at the same time.
All the tracks here are super creepy, slow motion, underwater muted blurs of abstract techno, where the beats seem like more a byproduct of the soundmaking than the reason for it. Some tracks do thump and bump but others merely drift in a thick haze of hiss and crackle. Basslines are deep and rubbery, drenched in reverb and pulled apart into super spare space dubs, bits of percussion are sent careening into a black void, but it's the textures and the ambience that make this record so special. The opener spends the first half of its 6+ minutes offering up huge slow motion crashing waves of surf like static, of buried melodies and off fuzzy shimmer, before any beats even surface, and when they finally do they pulse and throb for a couple minutes before they're swallowed up by the wash of soft white noise. In fact, in addition to sounding underwater, it sounds like the whole disc is being broadcast over a radio between stations, all the sounds wreathed in sonic gristle and buzzy static, but all smeared into huge billowing clouds of sound.
Most of the tracks definitely have a groove, a super slithery abstract alien funk, but more often than not, it's buried beneath gorgeous layers of constantly shifting sound, offering up some barely audible thump, a four on the floor framework for the glacially shifting tectonic sonic plates above. But there are some that don't, like the 11+ minute "Ocean Of Emptiness", a muted smeared ambient drift, that sounds like standing on some vast windswept snow covered plain, under a black sky, watching the snow fall, each snowflake a tiny bit of hiss or crackle, coming in epic waves, glistening and glimmering but strangely warm and inviting. Our favorite track might have to be "Winter In Seney", which sounds like a more dubbed-out Gas. A warm swirling hissy gristly minimal smear, sprinkled with bits of record crackle, and haunting echo drenched bits of glitch and melody, the whole thing wrapped in a gorgeously hypnotic, super spare rubbery bassline, the notes blurring into each other, spreading out like a thick black cloud of dub, totally and utterly mesmerizing.
There's been so much amazing techno lately, lots of Kompakt action, The Field, Gui Boratto, the last Pop Ambient comp, then there was the long overdue Vladislav Delay Chain Reaction reissue (C'mon! Someone reissue ALL those out of print CR discs!!), but this disc has been OWNING the cd player. At work, at home, and has quickly become the new drifting off, late at night, chill out, space out, record of choice. WAY recommended!
The opening track of Efterklang's latest album sounds like the loveliness of a choir and orchestra being carried to your ears on the wings of an autumn breeze. Light, airy, and shimmeringly blissful. It's the sound of a glorious dream that gradually builds and darkens to heart-swelling proportions. Although this Danish band has two dreamy main vocalists Linda Drejer Bonde and Thomas Sjoberg, it is the giant choruses where they shine brightest. The unpredictable proggy rhythmic interplay between the brass, strings and vocals is captivating, quite possibly drawing inspiration from the likes of Yes and King Crimson. Parades' sweepingly regal grandeur spurs cinematic imaginings of gowned maidens rushing down castle staircases and armored knights charging into battle. Really beautiful.
Hard for us to describe, but easy for us to enjoy... Elegi's Sistereis is an extremely moody, haunting soundscape, dismal and a-frighted, constructed around sparse, sad piano musings set amidst eerie ambient hiss and hum. What sound like close-mic'd "field recordings" of random background creakings, crackle and clatter, which are perhaps the nervous rustlings of the pianist himself, are layered with melancholic drones. Meanwhile, the aforementioned piano carries on, so slowly, and so lovely. The whole effect is like listening in to the near-silent, wordless "internal monologue" of the piano player, suffering quietly some mental/emotional distress. This Norwegian project reminds us in a way of the British band Reigns, in that you get a sense of hearing an audio document of events that are otherwise hidden from view, and perhaps should remain hidden. Elegi also brings to mind the similar "acoustic doom" sounds on the Type label, like Svarte Greiner and Xela, of which of course we're fans. This is actually released on the Svarte Greiner guy's own label, Miasmah.
The cd booklet is mysteriously evocative, with grey-toned Victorian photo collages depicting something of a dreary nautical theme, and text telling of a burial at sea... which all begins to make sense when you lean that the man behind Elegi, Tommy Jansen, supposedly has as a hobby (vocation?) diving down to explore wrecked ships in the watery depths! Depths which he evokes effectively on this disc...
It's frustrating sometimes that lots of our all time favorite records came out well before the aQuarius list was established. We occasionally pick old favorites, like Rein Sanction, Archers Of Loaf, Hardship Post, Green River, stuff that's still available, and review them on the list. Cuz as far as we're concerned, released dates and the concept of 'new music' are pretty much useless. All records are new and exciting to someone who has never heard them. But often times those old favorites are long gone and out of print. So when one of those records does finally get reissued, we jump at the chance to be able celebrate and share that amazing music via the list. Which brings us to this double disc reissue from weirdo eco-radical doom drug grinders Exit-13.
A band we have loved for EVER (so much so, Allan even interviewed them for the first issue of his old fanzine, years and years ago), Exit-13 were only loosely a grind band, sure they were fast and furious, guitars buzzed, songs were short and complex, the vocals a monstrous gurgle, the lyrics way political, all about the environment, vegetarianism, etc.� But for a grind band, they sure spent a lot of time spewing huge gory gouts of buzzing doomic plod, as well as incorporating convoluted jazz weirdness, freaked out psychedelic leads, thrashing punk rock, bizarre interludes with croony vocals, skittery rhythms, and noodly guitar jams, bits of angular retard-funk, Black Flag-ish gnarled riffing as well as confusional cut ups, dizzying collages of chopped and recontextualized vocals, Jello Biafra, bits of Jeopardy music, the theme from Underdog, Led Zep pastiche and whatever else they felt like tossing in there.
The best way we can describe it is John Zorn meets diSEMBOWELMENT meets Brutal Truth.
The original discs came with stickers that summed up the Exit-13 sound pretty succinctly:
"Mind warping philosophically contemplative environmental brain food from Pennsylvania's unique smoking grind rock extremists" (from Don't Spare The Green Love) and "An 80 minute head explosion of absolutely unique sonic intelligence from Pennsylvania's environmental grind rock hedonists. This band smokes, bud!" (from Ethos Musick)
Hard to argue with that�
So, High Life collects almost everything the band has ever recorded (minus the ep of '20s and '30s cover songs, all about reefer, sung by the Pain Teens' Bliss Blood): their one proper full length, as well as all of their various singles, eps and splits (previously released as Don't Spare The Green Love). And by now, you've probably realized these guys were all about the pot. The songs buzz by in dense clouds of bong smoke, lots of samples about marijuana, lyrics about legalizing hemp and pot. The back of the booklet even features a huge pot leaf and the "Stop the madness - Legalize Marijuana" legend. But that's only one of their causes, a quick look through the lyrics, reveals a seriously 'green' agenda, environmentalism, vegetarianism, there's even a whole track that's just a snippet of the Phil Donahue show, on which he interviews members of Earth First!
But none of that would mean anything if this band didn't completely slay. And thankfully they do. Heavy and fucked, weird, but weirdly catchy, buzzing and blasting, then pounding and chugging. Furious blasts of blown out lightning fast grind are butted up against lurching doom sludge, peppered with super fucked up free jazz breakdowns. Guitars are serpentine, jagged and angular, the drums go from pound to blast beat and back
the vocals harsh and gurgly, there are bits of weirdly classic rock sounding jams, over sound samples, electronics and Goblin-like keyboards...
"Anthropocentric Ecocidal Conundrum" begins with an insistent folky strum over chirping birds and burbling brook, until the guttural death metal vocals kick in and the drums, then it's some sort of metallic death metal folk freakout, finally morphing into some gnarled convoluted math grind jam. Elsewhere, cool creepy acoustic guitars drift over moaning synths, and splattery drums, super cinematic and haunting on "Only Protest Gives A Hope Of Life". There is plenty of weirdness. Damaged is a descriptor that constantly springs to mind, as does demented, and most certainly fucked. Silly too. But at it's core, this is heavy, heady stuff. Brutal but musical, fierce and fractured, forward thinking and seriously far out.
The second disc is the older stuff, and is at once more furious and thrashing, much more grind, but also has lots more sound samples, songs dotted with all sorts of film snippets, voices, bits of dialogue all tangled up with the growling harsh vocals. "Spare The Wrench Surrender The Earth" is half funeral doom, before launching into a more grinding blast of punk rock. The stuff from the first 7" is almost like old school goregrind, with impossible gurgling loooooow vocals, the guitars a furious blur, the drums a furious splatter. Then there's "Fingernails" hinting at the weirdness to come, with its fake horns, and frog-like croaking super effected vocals, and that classic funeral march melody mixed into the chaotic rrroooaaar.
Any fan of heavy music, be it black, thrash, grind, doom, or sludge should be able to get into these guys. And they're just weird enough to maybe also appeal to the less metal inclined looking for something freaked out and heavy.
An interesting note: like any self-respecting grind band, Exit-13 made a regular practice of releasing records with different versions of the same songs, so the song "Disemboweling Party" appears three different times, while seven other tracks appear twice. But in most cases, the various versions, while not totally different, are varied enough to keep it interesting, even if it's just that one is super hot and in the red, and one is super muddy and lo-fi, or even just that different samples were used.
Our only complaint, is that this is only sort of the complete Exit-13, 'cause they left off the extended, potentially-speaker-damaging noisedrone jams that closed out both their records, the 28 minute "An Electronic Fugue For The Imminent Demise of Planet Earth" from Ethos Musick and the 21 minute "Snakes And Alligators" from the Just A Few More Hits ep. Most of us wouldn't have minded paying a few extra bucks for a third disc, and ruined speakers, but what can you do?
Killer packaging, all the original photos, images, lyrics, quotes and propaganda reproduced in a huge booklet.
The quintessential Krautrock projects -- Faust, Can, Guru Guru, Amon Duul, and all things vaguely associated with Conny Plank -- had been huge influences on Nurse With Wound's catalogue. So it goes without saying that when Steven Stapleton got the call that Faust wanted him to produce a record of theirs, he enthusiastically leapt at the chance. What he didn't expect was that Faust only passed on a series of sloppy studio improvisations to Stapleton with the instructions to make a Faust album out of them. We can imagine that Jim O'Rourke had been given a similarly loose framework when he was granted the opportunity to produce Rein back in 1995. Just as O'Rourke took those sounds and sculpted an album which was remarkable in its similarity to classic '70s era Faust (e.g. Faust Tapes, Faust IV, So Far, etc.), Stapleton with his trustworthy cohort Colin Potter at his side has crafted an excellent pastiche of that obtuse Faust sound of mutant psychedelia which guided the more experimental proponents of prog rock, industrial, post-punk, and post-rock. Disconnected is filled with dynamic tumbling percussive riffs, rolling acoustic guitar nestled into clouds of vibrating distortion, unsettled sweeping driftwork, and stoned basslines. In other words, Disconnected sounds like a fucking great Faust album.
Unfortunately, this has been very difficult for us to get a hold of; so don't expect it to stick around for very long. We should also let you know that this is the regular edition of Disconnected. The special edition (which we didn't get) does feature two 'bonus' tracks, the first of which is called "Silence" and features just silence (some bonus!); and the second is a live track without the presence of Nurse With Wound. Nope, those ain't here; but honestly we really don't think purchasers of this regular version are missing too much.
Here's another matchup that had to happen eventually. And it's the rare one of those that actually sounds as good as one might hope. Like all great collaborations, it's not just so much jamming together, as it is getting each contributor to not only give their all but to push the other collaborator to do the same. It's not a competition, but the spirit is similar, with both parties trying to get into the head of their counterpart, a push and pull, that can sometimes result in the players going places they don't normally on their own.
The long drawn out guitarscapes of Fear Falls Burning are the perfect foil to the more incendiary ambience of Campbell Kneale and his Birchville Cat Motel. Both are capable of face melting heaviness, but both are also quite comfortable crafting intimate worlds of soft sound and distant shimmer. This 49 minute single piece tends to fall more toward the latter at least in the beginning, with the incipient heaviness relegated to smoldering in the distance, while the foreground is a deliriously drifting set of abstract strums, folky fragments allowed to ring out and float freely amidst an almost Wolf Eyesian backdrop of keening feedback, grinding black whirs, and huge resonant swells. The sound is intense, humid, and very cinematic. Eventually the sounds build, layers upon layers, erupting into a blinding heart-of-the-sun nearly static raga, what sounds like a million guitars all left to drone endlessly amidst a cloud of tinkling glimmering sparkles.
The last twenty minutes or so, finds all the high end swallowed by the low, the guitars begin to grind and rumble, pulse and throb, until the sound becomes a dark viscous river of crumbling distortion, growing less and less distorted, until finally, all that's left is a warm, minimal whir, that gently shifts and drifts until it fades out completely.
Most folks (like us) see FFB and BCM and already know this is a must buy, but this is indeed pretty fantastic, even amidst the seemingly neverending (let's hope!) avalanche of amazing releases by both of these prolific noisemakers.
This is one of those albums that's neither new, nor even a recent reissue, but that we here at Aquarius decided, heck, let's list, it deserves it! (While this disc already appears on our website, it was never actually *listed* in any of our newsletters.) So while many might already know this album backwards and forwards, it has most certainly slipped through the cracks for too many others out there. Being a Japan-only import can't help. Allan wisely reordered some copies recently (when a customer special ordered it for themselves on-line) and Byram, unwittingly playing it in the store, found himself getting progressively more obsessed with the album (and the band)! It wasn't long before Jim and Marcy were also finding themselves hooked. Now almost any day you come into the store, you'll hear the Flower Travellin' Band blaring.
This is an album (and a band) that are not celebrated nearly enough -- possibly out of misguided notions of their being another bad psych knock-off among the many crowding the record racks in the early seventies. But Japan's Flower Travellin' Band were no mere cheesy imitators of occidental rock 'n roll, they were in actual fact a full-fledged, pioneering tour de force of psychedelic progressive hard rock, equalling the krautrock heavies of the era. FTB can be compared favorably to Amon Duul's better efforts with their experimental meandering (think Yeti), and the best trancey spaceouts from Can. Yet there's never a sense that FTB lose track of their compositions no matter how far out they take a track. Perhaps because even more than these experimental Krautrockers, FTB's heavy (fucking ominously heavy) sound points to a major Sabbath, Purple, and Crimson influence. Released in 1971, Satori is the band's second and arguably best album (all but the first album Anywhere have now been reissued by Warner Japan). From the first screech/howl at the beginning of track one -- "Satori Part I" (the tracks on the album are all "Satori", parts I-V) -- from vocalist Joe, who inhabits a zone somewhere between Can's Damo Suzuki and Deep Purple's Ian Gillan, the album gets straight down to business. Joe's scream is followed by a foreboding bass, guitar and drum dirge that's straight up collision between Cream and Black Sabbath in which no one survives. It's got so much more teeth than either, it's not even funny, predating punk by a good many years. "Satori Part II" however is quintessential FTB Over a pounding tribal drumbeat, alternating between a buzzing sitar-esque guitar drone and a melody line that curls ripples and lilts like a plume of burning incense smoke, guitarist Hideki Ishima lays out one of the creepiest, coolest guitar leads ever. If that ain't enough, vocalist Joe's singing is like that of Axl Rose being channelled by the Sun City Girls! Even if the rest of the album were total shit -- which it ain't -- the cost of this cd would still be well worth it for this song alone! "Part III" -- an instrumental -- picks up where II leaves off but slows the tempo down to a deathly pace, which makes it even heavier. This is the Sabbath influence on FTB writ large. Replete with an improv freakout before returning to the original riff and building into a frenzied crescendo. Needless to say, if you weren't bobbing your head at the beginning of the song, you will be by its end. "Part IV" could be considered FTB's "blues" number, with Joe picking up the harmonica instead of singing. But instead of churning out the expected twelve bar formula, FTB truncate the form and construct a minimalist jam around a short riff instead. "Part V" shows yet another facet of FTB's seemingly infinite potential with Hideki (?) playing some kick ass, spooky koto-like guitar overdubbed on top of some heavy psych. Damn! They could have done ten fucking albums around this schtick alone and probably never lost our interest... sigh... but this (and the other two that are also available, look for reviews in future) will have to suffice for now. Absolutely, fucking recommended!!!!
MPEG Download: "Satori Part II" [/audio/flowersatori2.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Satori Part II" [/audio/flowersatori2.m3u]
Stereolab and High Llamas fans know well the atmosphere sculpting talents of Tim Gane and Sean O'Hagen. So it is no surprise that together they make wonderfully enveloping mood music for film. Gane and O'Hagen have composed a swoonsome beauty of a soundtrack to the film La Vie D'Artiste. Lots of fleeting glimpses and glimmers of their main bands' best features -- smooth jazzy horns, retro electronic escapades, cascading vibes and woodwinds, lite kraut-y loopiness, et al -- performed with a lovely panache. Sure to please followers of both bands.
Over the years Gang Gang Dance have proven to be one of the more adventurous and interesting bands to emerge from the NYC/Brooklyn scene. Since their last full length they've been busy cultivating their sound, DJing and being active members of the late-night-night-club scene. Rawwar is a three song ep which finds them continuing to grow and explore. The first song is a pretty perfect blast of fused sonics that somehow manages to sound like Siouxsie meeting M.I.A. at a super warped late night rave. The second track is a swirling instrumental that offers up a slightly more beautiful sound than what we got on God's Money and the 11+ minute closer is just how you wished trip hop sounded now, had it continued to evolve. Their journey continues to excite us and this will keep us pretty satisfied until they unleash their next full length offering.
The return of our favorite Polish black metal Viking (huh?). Yep, it's Graveland, the master of epic and majestic Viking flecked black buzz. Graveland IS Rob Darken, perpetually clad in his helmet and tunic, armed with sword and shield, unfurling mighty tales of bloody battles and mighty journeys, of life and death, of blood oaths and sworn vengeance. All told through incredibly expansive blackened soundscapes, rife with killer drumming, awesome riffs, sweeping keyboard swells, Arvo Part like background vocals and tons of moody black ambience.
As�with lots of records like this, and and as we've mentioned before, the whole Viking angle, and the Nordic pride thing is basically only one step removed (if that) from some very abhorrent racial politics, which unfortunately seem to often be a part of black metal. So as with lots of those bands, Burzum, Nokturnal Mortum, and others, you just have to figure out if you can enjoy the sounds and ignore the politics. It's a bit of a bummer, that a record this amazing has to be marred by that sort of thinking (no matter how subtle) but if you can make it past that, and enjoy Will Stronger Than Death for what it is, an emotionally and personally charged piece of musical art, you're in for what might possibly be the best Graveland record yet.�
Gone are the days of inept drumming and stumbling rhythms, Darken has perfected his sound. Epic and expansive, open and majestic, and so so tight. Usually the one man band suffers in some department, maybe the one man is not such a hot drummer, or not the best singer, but this is prime Graveland, heavy and hooky, with tons of varied parts, an incredibly rich sonic palette, at it's core still a blast of grim buzzing blackness, but Graveland has turned into something so much more.�
On first listen, very little has changed since the last disc, in fact, in lots of ways it sounds like�The Fire Of Awakening Part 2, which as far as we're concerned is just fine. The drums sound better than ever, instead of loping midtempos or furious blasts, there are plenty of cool, un-black metal beats, weird double snare hit, some of it surprisingly mathy, they perfectly compliment Darken's knack for the droning repetitive riffing, adding a whole 'nother layer of sound.�
The guitars are massive, downtuned and buzzing, but weaving elaborate tapestries of black sound, some of it bordering on rock and roll, but not in a cheesy way, just an out of the ordinary way, which is maybe why some of these riffs are so damn catchy. But it's the strange vocals that take Graveland's sound to a whole other level, the aforementioned Arvo Part reference should tell you all you need to know. Gorgeous harmonies, choral backdrops to what would otherwise be simple buzzing black metal. It's like a black metal Godspeed sometimes, super dramatic and cinematic. So good.�
At first we were a bit bummed by how similar this disc was to The Fire Of Awakening, but the more we listen to it, the more we realize ho different it really is and how much more is going on and how much has changed musically. Even if you think you've got all the Graveland you need, think again.�
While they last we have the super deluxe oversized hardcover A5 book version (limited to 2000 copies), once we run out of those you'll get the regular jewel case version which will also be cheaper!
BTW: We used to mock Darken's constant battle gear, posing in every photo in his armor and chainmail, always with some sort of weapon, but a close look at the thanks list reveals it may be a little bit more than just playing dress up, since he thanks the Great Warriors from Slavic and Viking Reenactment Groups!
Australia's Grey Daturas are like our very own noise rock Santa Claus. They come about once a year, and every time they show up, they have a huge bag of sonic goodies. And while Santa probably doesn't come to punish our ear drums and pummel us to within an inch of our lives, crammed into some smokey sweaty little club, we'd probably have to take the Daturas over Santa any day!!! Unless this year is the year we finally get that pony...
This time, the band brought with them a brand new record, technically an EP, but at nearly 40 minutes it's plenty long enough to be a record proper. And as always it's a corker. Somehow, it seems to be their most structured and least chaotic, which in no way is a bad thing, nor does it mean that it still isn't packed freaked out noise rock or vast expanses of abstract psych guitar because it is. And then some.
The opener is definitely the Daturas at their most rock. Simple driving drums beneath an impossible dense swirl of HEAVY guitars, drenched in FX and churning wildly. It's like the blown out psych rock endless jam outro of every Hawkwind song jacked up and compressed into seven minutes. The rest of the record is a bit less rock, returning to their abstract noise rock ambience, like a heaver, more psychedelic Dead C, from abstract guitar jangle drift wrapped around random bits of drum flutter to an explosive noisrockmindfuck halfway through the disc, thick peals of distorted guitar that crash and crush but are almost immediately turned inside out and become a strange backwards guitar squall, all warped and warbly My Bloody Valentine / Teenage Filmstars blowout, with strange rhythms created from the ssssshhhhhht sound of the guitars being sucked through time in reverse. After that it gets a bit more minimal for a stretch, with some dark rumbling dronescapes, more snippets of backward guitar, distant swirling FX, some angular Sonic Youth style guitar rock until the final track, a massive and ultra dense guitarscape, rife with acidic riffs and distorted melodies, thick clouds of clang and rrrooooaaar, each guitar piled atop one another, layer after layer of rumbling, reverberating, shrieking, shimmering, coruscating steel string skree, a bit like Skullflower at their riffiest mashed up with Acid Mothers Temple at their least. Amazing.
Situated at the crossroads of downtempo and dream pop you'll find Halou. This veteran SF band's latest release, their first in six years, is alternately velvety plush, crystalline and ethereal. Washes of processed strings and stuttery rhythms form the dominant backdrop to Rebecca Coseboom's vocals. Very reminiscent of Portishead, but Coseboom's vocal delivery is higher and more cooingly girlish than that of Beth Gibbons. It keeps Wholeness & Separation's overall mood in lighter, more vaporous territory. That said, at the sixth track ("Stonefruit") they unexpectedly flex their modern rock muscles. It's to good effect, and very much along the lines of Elastica, Lush, Metric, Garbage. Then the trio gets back to their more familiar elegance.
Psst, this is another of the uncommonly sumptuous array of releases from the young music label Dynamophone. As we mentioned earlier in the review of labelmates Balustrade Ensemble, they've only been around since mid-2006, but already have a bountiful catalog with many more on the way. Particularly if you've been recently enjoying the aquatic drone releases on the Mystery Sea label, you might wish to check out the seemingly likeminded, but more melodically inclined Dynamophone artists. An absolute treasure trove of shimmering and dewy listening delights. Delve in immediately (also see: Balustrade Ensemble, Disinterested, Po, Pornopop, A Lily, Curium, and R/R Coseboom)!
Another month, and another new Machinefabriek release. This time though it's not a cd-r, instead it's a lovely lp, split with fellow dronescaper Gareth Hardwick. Each takes a side, and both come up with something sublime and gorgeous, each perfectly complimenting the other.
We were pretty sure we were gonna dig the Machinefabriek track anyway, he's yet to steer us wrong, so the real surprise here was the Hardwick track, a super slow, drawn out languorous soundscape of deep warm melodic swells. Soft and rounded, muted and dreamlike, endless and repetitive. Simple melodies, pulled apart into abstract notes, allowed to surface one at a time, like sonic detritus in an expansive sea of sound. Reminds us quite a bit of Stars Of The Lid, or maybe a Philip Glass piece slowed waaaaay down.
The Machinefabriek track is indeed also fantastic, another sidelong epic, it mirrors Hardwick's track sonically, a spare soundscape of soft swells, but of course, MF's treatment is not so tranquil and serene, instead, it sounds decayed, bits of glitch and hiss, crackle and tape drop out, add all sorts of unlikely texture and fuzzy distortion, still beautiful, but in that distinctly crumbling Machinefabriek way.
Pressed on super super thick clear vinyl, the sound is crisp and vibrant and amazing, housed in a super simple striking duotone sleeve. LIMITED TO ONLY 450 COPIES!!!
You know it's been a cold and lonely world since Lee Hazlewood left it, not that he wasn't constantly reminding us what a cold and lonely world we live in while he was still alive. But somehow listening to his preternaturally world-weary songs -- sung in his trademark wooly baritone; sheathed in their unique, and at times kitschy, baroque country-pop splendor; resigned to epic restlessness, heartbreak, loss, and death; and yet resolutely and often humorously self-defiant -- feels even sadder, now that he's gone. His back catalog is huge and for the uninitiated can be difficult to navigate but thankfully Water has reissued his first three MGM recordings from the mid-sixties for the first time separately (the 2002 double cd Big Beat reissue, These Boots Are Made for Walkin': The Complete MGM Recordings compiled all three albums together). Beautifully arranged by Billy Strange and newly remastered, they are the perfect entry point into Lee's left-field western cinematic sound. We reviewed the other two on last week's list, this is the third, not our favorite necessarily but still pretty dang good, and fans will of course want all three...
The Something Special album from 1968 is unique in that after it was recorded and given a catalog number and cover (nice tan, Lee!), MGM decided to cancel it. So it has been given "lost album" status, making this the first time it has been issued on its own. The opening track "Shades" was actually recorded during the Lee Hazlewoodism sessions but the rest of the set, which covers more jazzy and Tin Pan Alley territory than the previous two records, doesn't quite reach the same majestic pop realms. In fact it features some bizarre Louis Armstrong style scatting (provided by Billy Strange himself) that will have less brave folks running. Not Hazelwood's finest moment as a whole record but for completists who have missed this, there are more than a couple of worthy moments. R.I.P Lee!
Holy shit. Or maybe we should say, Unholy shit! This record scare us to death. Not just sonically, but visually as well. Hell Militia is some sort of black metal super group, can't remember the constituent parts, but the sum of those parts has somehow conjured up the fabulously foul Canonisation Of The Foul Spirit, a sick, hateful, evil and abominable blackened alchemy, equal parts grim buzz, convulsive thrash, furious blast and some of the sickest, brimstone gargling, angel crushing, fire breathing vocals EVER. A relentless musical pummeling, like laying in a shallow pool of black pitch atop a rocky crag in the middle of an endless expanse of dark water, cowering and shivering and praying for death as fallen angels beat you to within an inch of your life with spiked clubs, the whole while horned heads held aloft, burnt wings hanging useless behind them, wailing and squealing like some demonic choir, as all around you squalls of buzzing guitars and fuzzed out bass and shards of blasting beats rain down, burning jagged chunks of flesh searing black metal. So amazing and frighteningly furiously heavy, and then those inhuman vocals just push it totally and completely into the nightmarish black. The artwork is stunningly creepy as well, perfectly capturing the hateful, Christ crushing fury within, gorgeous black and white photos of clergymen, nuns, bishops, all blended with skulls, and corpses, wolves and goats, and all manner of unidentifiable beats and creatures. Like an even more damaged Joel Peter Witkin. So totally freaky but quite striking and creepily alluring at the same time. All printed on gorgeous thick paper stock, the whole thing housed in a similarly garish and striking slipcover.
From Unrest to The Rondelles to Plus/Minus, Mark Robinson's TeenBeat label has long been a reliable source for indie pop treats, and here's another one! Holland is just one fella Mr. Trevor Kampmann, but this veteran TeenBeat producer and engineer sure does work up a delightful racket all by himself! His short'n'sweet driving pop tunes run the gamut from propulsive rock numbers to blanket-y organ dreamies. Fans of Quasi and Pinback, lend Holland your ear. We're quite certain you won't be disappointed!
How 'bout some blown out loops of space kraut-iness pushed into overdrive? Yes please, and could you make it with some wonderfully thick stewed synthesizer flatulence pouring across the driving drums? Okay, why not? Better hope nothing gets in their way 'cause when their full throttle music juices up your speakers it'll vaporize anything in its path. Imagine Stereolab meets Man Or Astro-man? but produced by David Fridmann. Hell, yeah! It might even make us exclaim the band's name! The fifth track "They're Going To Take My Thumbs" unexpectedly slams on the breaks, but for good reason. It reveals a different facet of HF in its super brooding dubby tones that brings to mind Massive Attack and Twilight Circus. Oh and did we mention that there's a sloth on the cd artwork? That always wins bonus marks. Very cool! And very very recommended.
What more do you need to know? Finland's Horna. France's Peste Noire. Hard to imagine a more kick ass black metal match up. And sonically, a surprisingly suitable one.
The Horna track is epic and majestic, beginning with a cool backwards buzz guitar part, that segues into furious blackened riffing and a surprising amount of melody, sounding at moments like old At The Gates only blacker. The songs is laced with weird melancholy pounding, and haunting arpeggiated melodies, but all tangled up within dense blasts of hyper speed grimnity.
The Peste Noire track, some folks might already have, as it was a bonus track on the recent Peste Noire record Folkfuck Folie. Tangled and convoluted, the song structure constantly shifting, the guitars fuzzed out and insectoid, the vocals howling, it's definitely buzzing black metal, but in the hands of Peste Noire it becomes something else entirely, infusing the sound with bits of pop, melody, angular weirdness, turning it into an impossible catchy slab of black weirdness.
Obviously essential. And probably equally obvious is the fact that this is seriously limited, we got a bunch, but imagine they will be gone in no time. And yeah, they're a bit pricey, but you can blame the currently very sad US dollar�
Super thick vinyl, thick cardstock inner sleeves, and a super striking woodcut style outer jacket.
Here's the double disc soundtrack to the new movie about Bob Dylan which stars no less than six actors, including Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Heath Ledger, and Richard Gere, ALL as Bob Dylan. Whoa. It's like Casino Royale. As a matter of fact, both the movie and the soundtrack are star studded to ridiculous proportions! Thirty four covers of Dylan songs performed by a mix of hip young things and venerable veterans such as Sonic Youth, Eddie Vedder, Calexico, Willie Nelson, Cat Power, Yo La Tengo, Tom Verlaine, Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O, Antony & The Johnsons, John Doe, Stephen Malkmus, Iron & Wine, Richie Havens, Roger McGuinn, Los Lobos, Jeff Tweedy, The Black Keys, Mark Lanegan, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Sufjan Stevens, The Hold Steady, Charlotte Gainsbourg and The Band! A perturbing thing we noticed about these renditions though is that it seems like many artists were trying to sound like Dylan... and strangely enough many ended up sounding like Neil Young instead! Weird.
We knew we were in for something special when we discovered the amazing Frequency Thirteen cd-r label (thanks to loyal AQ customer Andrew S. for turning us on to these guys). Bands with names like Ice Bound Majesty, Skultroll, Raperack, Black Vomit, Karaoke Vocal Eliminator. Each disc emblazoned with the label's mantra: TRUE SHEFFIELD BLACK PSYCHEDELIA. Which is pretty much the perfect description of this stuff. We might have also offered: grinding corrosive blackened hypnorock, or perhaps blacknoizemetal, or something similar, perhaps blackkrautnoizerock. Whatever you call it, this stuff is dark, and distorted, blown out and heavy as fuck, hypnotic, rhythmic, and seriously genius.
In the case of the geniusly named Ice Bound Majesty we might have to come up with an even more abstract descriptor, something like surreal free folk black metal ambient experimentalism, or epic melodic blackened folk flecked post rock. Actually, like all the best bands, these guys are pretty impossible to describe in a single sentence. The sound is heavy and distorted, blown out and of course black and psychedelic indeed, but IBM are seriously deranged, their songs are like sonic worlds unto themselves, weaving elaborate soundscapes, rhythmic and melodic, with keyboards, and flutes, fluttering flutes, harsh demonic rasps, simple riffing, warm thick black ambience, all woven into an incredibly intense and mind blowing space psych black noise fucked folk kraut rock jam.
The first track is the perfect example. Beginning with some Lustmordian dark ambience, that gives way to folky flute and distant shimmer, which is immediately crushed by a funeral doom plod, the tape speed fucked with so the riffs slow down mid-riff, adding to the tripped out vibe. The flute returns, drifting above the roiling blackness, distant chimes and muted harmonics surface too, then a killer clean guitar riff, and suddenly harsh shrieked vocals, the band sounding like it's about to launch into a frenzied grind, but instead, the sound sprawls out into a looped psych rock jam, with relentless double kick, and those harsh vocals, weird Western whistling, throbbing bass, it could go on forever and we'd be perfectly happy, but suddenly the doooooom returns, even more distorted and in-the-red and crumbling than before. The melancholy melody continues to drift in the background, until the band launches right back into that black kraut jam, this time, everything murky and bass heavy, finally leaving just that clean guitar riff to fade out�
How the fuck do you write a song like that, let alone play it? Just writing about it wore us out. The whole record is like that, chaotic, heavy, brutal, black, but strangely beautiful, mysterious and abstract, drifting in a shimmery haze one second, exploding into a black blast the next. Elsewhere the band do some sort of monklike chant over shuffling post rock grandeur, but even then, it quickly gets swallowed up by mechanical monster riffing, and processed evil vocals.
The title track, the 12 minute long "A Tomb To Erect" begins as a bleak, rumbling Wolf Eyes style abject expanse of glittering alien FX and slow slithery rumble, before the drums kick in, WAY distorted and blown out, pounding out a slow motion mathrock rhythm, while in the background, the drones get more and more intense, the track weaves from super hot, high end, to mumbly muddied low end, the drums remaining constant, pounding away relentlessly, until near the end, when a super catchy clean guitar riff joins the fray, and transforms what was sort of an abstract noise rock rhythm jam, into something super intense, emotional and cinematic. The bombastic booming distorted crashes exploding like land mines, spread out along the moody meandering melodic expanse of the songs newly found heart and soul.
Like we said, it's a bit hard to explain what these guys are doing, or even how, but all that means is it's something special, and something we can't stop listening to. Rare is the record as beautiful and mysterious as it is heavy and fucked up.
It's a whole new world now, discovering music. MySpace, Youtube, people emailing MP3's and JPEG's. Easier maybe, but not nearly as romantic or as exciting as receiving some mysterious package in the mail, or stumbling upon some strange looking record in a dusty old bin and some tiny record store. And to be totally honest, almost all of the amazing discoveries that have ended up being big AQ faves, began life as a weird little package that just showed up in the mail one day.
None maybe weirder than the package we got from a band called, wait for it, Inh Halentropy. Yep. They had us at Inh Halentropy. It's a weird enough name, but it's two words?!? So inside the package was a cd with that classic image of Bigfoot, walking through the clearing, staring at the camera, and over the top, the band logo, very eighties metal looking, in the middle of a hand drawn spiderweb. Still we had no idea what to expect inside. But we did discover a note. Which read in part: "Dark Greetings. For your grimnatious becryptlement�" signed appropriately enough: "In ancient solemnity, none so grimm�"
OK. We were sold, now all that was left was to actually listen to the cd-r. And as with most things, certainly the most exciting and satisfying things, the music was nothing at all like what we expected�
Inh Halentropy seem to be a metal band, black metal more specifically, yet most of the disc is distinctly not metal. Or at least not typically metal. Beginning with the sound of surf on the shore, the calls of sea birds, the band crawls into action, a huge rumbling bass tone, clouds of electronic FX, a simple drawn out melody, clean guitars unwinding in an expanse of dark shimmer, when suddenly, a massive speaker destroying low end growl surfaces, and as far as we can tell, maybe those are the vocals. Church bells toll, the ambience gets thicker and more grim, the closest comparison might be funereal doom, but it's sort of ethereal. And sort of pretty. But definitely ominous and creepy. Like Low crossed with Goblin crossed with Esoteric. Elsewhere, the black clouded skies are filled with the clatter of chimes, strange harmonics ringing out, all over thick lustrous black ambience, the sound of rain, at times it almost sounds like a blackened new age, which sounds weird but is most definitely a very good thing.
"Golden Beast Altered Axe" might be the most trippy, a simple drum plod, spread out over a slowly squirming synthscape, everything wreathed in ephemeral clouds of twinkling electronic effects, a mournful melody drifts over the top, while running through the entire a track, a creepy ominous low end melody of buzz and whir, all beneath a constant sheet of rain. Very cinematic and evocative.
Our favorite track might be "A Door Is A Tomb", thee most propulsive of the bunch, but we're still talking a glacial crawl, more ambient forest sounds, water and wind, insects in the background, but here, flutes flutter over a backdrop of downtuned riffage, but smeared into a warm moaning blur, over the top, bells chime, mysterious vocals croak and growl, the drums a simple machinelike rhythm, everything eventually breaking down into a plodding bass-ic doom, wrapped in a midnight storm, and suffused with thick ropy drones and grinding minimal low end whir.
Really pretty fantastic, and totally baffling. New age doom? Black ambient nature music? Not sure what to call it, but it's completely killing us. Add to that, the fact that the date on the back of the disc says 1980, and other than the song titles and an email address (oh and a few more pictures of giant hairy beasts) there's really not much else to go on. But the music is plenty. A perfectly freaky, haunting cinematic slowcore new age black doom sprawl that should for sure hit the spot for those of you who could barely make it through that descriptor without thinking that this might already be your new favorite record. We are suitably grimnatiously becryptled. As shall you be, wethinks�
Most aQ customers will merely need to see the two bands sharing this split to know they need this. Then consider the fact that it's already out of print and we got the last 25 copies. We won't go into too much detail as these will most likely be gone in a heartbeat.
One side is Jack Rose, the modern master of neo-Appalachia, a demon with a slide guitar, which he demonstrates on the first track, and awesome Fahey cover. Elegant and effortless, the slide slippery and swooping, so smooth it almost makes it sound like the speed of the record is being altered. The second track is another cover, just as striking, this one a wicked bluegrass breakdown, all rapid fire fingerpicking and melancholy twang.
The flipside is one long track from Belgian funeral folk avant ambient doom collective Silvester Anfang, and it's a beauty, sounding like it could have come right off their recent Kosmies Slachtafval full length. Creepy and abstract, scattered percussion, haunting vocals, buzzing steel strings, little flurries of drumming, ominous chordal swells, building and building to a fever pitch. Some pagan musical ritual performed in a black forest in the middle of nowhere.
Cool creepy woodcut style cover, thick vinyl, and again, SUPER LIMITED, ONLY 250 COPIES and ALREADY OUT OF PRINT AT THE LABEL!
As pretty and pastoral as ever! Japancakes' fifth album is the perfect listen for lazy autumn eves snuggling under grandma's patchwork quilt. Giving Machines is comprised of eight ever so docile instrumentals led by the lulling bliss of pedal steel, keyboards and cello. One of them is a respectful cover of Cocteau Twins' "Heaven Or Las Vegas" (psst, we just heard that they are doing a complete cover of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless... isn't that a little strange?!).
Founding member of the Kitchen Motors arts organization in Reykjavik, Johann Johannsson has been at the forefront of adventurous music in Iceland, performing with the Apparat Organ Ensemble and working with some of the more acclaimed Icelandic exports (i.e. members of Sigur Ros, Mum, Stilluppsteypa, Halfer Trio, etc.). "Englaborn" is the first album for Johannsson, who reconstructed this album from the score he wrote for the stage play by Havar Sigurjonsson. Johannsson stated that "The play is extremely violent and disturbing; and basically, when faced with the script, I decided to work against it as much as possible and just try to write the most beautiful music I could." While we do not have the benefit of witnessing the play itself or any images for that matter (beautiful Jon Wozencroft photographs of the sea grace the cover of this album), Johannsson invokes a profound sadness through his descending chord progressions for the Epos Spring Quartet which he augments with spartan use of percussion, electronics, piano, computerized voices, and harmonium. Where Sigur Ros has crafted grandiose operas of Icelandic melancholia, Johann Johannsson simplifies his scores into poignant short stories that nevertheless resonate with those emotions.
Ok, we'll admit that while Jon Spencer's old band Pussy Galore has their fans at Aquarius, nobody here has ever been able to really get into his subsequent Blues Explosion. (Perhaps almost entirely 'cause of the way the man calls out his band's name in almost every song -- annoying!) But this new record, a collection of long-ago, out-of-print, rare and/or unreleased JSBX singles ("rockin' mid-90s punkers!"), might just be the thing to make us admit that Jon Spencer's post-Pussy band had some good stuff going on, early on. Starting back in '92 with the frantic "Shirt Jac" recorded for In The Red's jukebox singles series, the 18 cuts here definitely include quite a few wigged-out gems. Their cover of Chaingang's "Son Of Sam" is almost as cool as the awesome original, with guest sax-appeal. We're amused to hear "Caroline", a song that their record label at the time, of the same name, wouldn't release. The intense "Naked" (about David Yow) could be something by Lubricated Goat. The Moog blurt on the chaotic "Push Some Air" is satisfying. And even though it starts off with a "BLOOOOOOOZE EXPLOSION" we still like "Train #1". Maybe something about the in-the-moment mindset a band has when writing and recording a track for a single just adds to their authenticity, 'cuz the low-down, scabrous blues-ravaged swaggering scuzz here sounds like the real deal, despite Jon Spencer's self-sabotage when he switches from screams to his Elvis-impersonator yowl (and James Brown grunts).
The thick cd booklet annotates each track with suitably arrogant liner notes, and includes plenty of graphics and photos. Also dig the cool "Back From The Grave" parody cover art/design! So, maybe the the only JSBX disc you need to own. Or, maybe the disc to make us go back and reevaluate some of the JSBX's albums...
Kosmos is the new group from Michel Langevin (aka Voivod's drummer Away!) deeply inspired by '70s instrumental space prog and vintage sci-fi movies. For the most part it's a cleanly executed journey, but occasionally treads along -- but never into -- the aggressive, thrashy outer limits of Voivod. Even then, Kosmos' wild guitar and keyboard acrobatics maintain a defined trajectory. Kosmos are at their best when exploring cosmic (natch), cermonial-sounding, krautrock-inspired instrumental vistas... they even do a track called "Krautrock" (no, not a cover of the Faust song). That stuff should appeal to fans of Zombi, ferinstance. Unfortunately there's a few less successful tracks marred by vocals, the band rockin' out for fans of some less hip prog styles of the past... groovy, grungey prog Quebecois isn't totally our thing. So you might hit 'skip' on a track or two, but this definitely has its moments.
