*Acid Mothers Temple alert* *Acid Mothers Temple alert* *Acid Mothers Temple alert*
What do you get for the Acid Mothers Temple fan who already has dozens, if not hundreds, of AMT cds? Well AMT dvds of course! This is, like, their third in a year. You pretty much already know if you want it, if you're a fan of this Japanese band of spaced out hippie freaks -- particularly if you don't get many chances to see them live. This one, filmed live in Nagoya on the 9th of December 2006, is extra special 'cause it's got krautrock drumming legend Mani Neumeier of Guru Guru as a special guest. Also vocalist Jun Kuriyama from a band we don't know is another guest. The usual AMT suspects are also present: Kawabata Makoto of course, Tsuyama Atsushi, Higashi Hiroshi, and Tabata Mitsuru. Tracks include "Pink Lady Lemonade", "La Novia", and Guru Guru's "Bo Diddley" amongst other cosmic hits. There's also a drum solo from Mani, and a "plate solo" too, where he plays small metal plates scattered on the front of the stage. He must feel like it's 1971 all over again. Especially with the wild psychedelic liquid light show that bathes the band in swirling colors.
All regions, NTSC, a professional production shot with five cameras. And limited to 1000 copies only, ever.
(For total overkill, also new in stock, haven't watched it yet: AMT's Never Ending Space Ritual double dvd!) ----* ----* In Stock, Not Yet Reviewed : ----* If you want to order one of these, just search for the item, then click on the buy button and it will be added to your cart! 5IVE "Hesperus" (Hydra Head) cd 14.98 AJATTARA "Kalmanto" (Spikefarm Records) cd 17.98 ANAAL NATHRAKH "Hell Is Empty, And All The Devils Are Here" (Feto) cd 14.98 AUTISTIC DAUGHTERS "Uneasy Flowers" (Kranky) cd 14.98 AVERSE SEFIRA "Advent Parallax" (Candlelight) cd 13.98 AXELROD, DAVID "Live: Royal Festival Hall" (Mochilla Films) dvd 28.00 AXELROD, DAVID "Seriously Deep" (Dusty Groove) cd 14.98 BAR KOKHBA "Lucifer" (Tzadik) cd 16.98 BAUHAUS "Go Away White" (BMI) cd 14.98 BEHOLD THE ARCTOPUS "Skullgrid" (Metal Blade) cd 12.98 BENGA "Diary Of An Afro" (Tempa) 3lp 27.00 BIRCHVILLE CAT MOTEL "Seventh Ruined Hex" (Important) cd 14.98 BIRCHVILLE CAT MOTEL / TARENTEL / CHARALAMBIDES "Nothing Out There #5" (Nothingoutthere) 3x3"dvd-r 15.98 BIRDS OF AVALON "Outer Upper Inner E.P." (Volcom) cd ep 7.98 BIRIGWA "s/t" (Porter Records) cd 16.98 BLACK CROWES "Warpaint" (Silver Arrow) cd 15.98 BLACK MOUNTAIN "In The Future" (Jagjaguwar) cd/lp 14.98/14.98 BLACK OAK ARKANSAS "The Knowbody Else '69" (Purple Pyramid) cd 16.98 BLACK TWIG PICKERS "Hobo Handshake" (VHF) cd 13.98 BLEY, PAUL TRIO "Closer" (ESP) cd 13.98 BOND, BILLY Y LA PESADA DEL ROCK AND ROLL "Volume 3 & 4" (Cloud Forest) cd 17.98 BORN RUFFIANS "Red Yellow & Blue" (Warp) cd/lp 14.98/17.98 BRAXTON, ANTHONY "12 + 1tet (Victoriaville)" (Victo) cd 15.98 BRAXTON, ANTHONY "Trio (Victoriaville) 2007" (Victo) cd 15.98 BRINKMANN, THOMAS "When Horses Die..." (Max Ernst) cd 17.98 BROTZMANN, PETER "Born Broke" (Atavistic) 2cd 21.00 CAPSULE "Blue" (Robotic Empire) lp 16.98 CELESTIA "Frigidiis Apotheosia : Abstinencia Genesiis" (paragon records) cd 14.98 CHAKACHAS "Jungle Fever" (Dusty Groove) cd 14.98 CHILDREN "Death Tribe" (Kemado) 12" 12.98 CHIODOS "Bone Palace Ballet" (Equal Vision) cd 14.98 CHION, MICHEL "Requiem" (Sub Rosa) lp 15.98 DISKJOKKE "Staying In" (Smalltown Supersound) cd 16.98 DJ SCOTCH EGG / SHITMAT (SCOTCHY AND SHITTY) "Rave like a Headless Chicken" (Wrong Music) 12" 11.98 DODOS, THE "Visiter" (French Kiss) cd 13.98 DONNA SUMMER, DJ "Panther Tracks" (Cock Rock Disco) cd 15.98 DYSTOPIA "s/t" (Life Is Abuse) lp 9.98 EAST OF EDEN "Mercator" (Esoteric Recordings) cd 23.00 EAST OF EDEN "Snafu" (Esoteric Recordings) cd 23.00 ERSEN "s/t" (Finders Keepers) cd 23.00 EVANGELISTA "Hello, Voyager" (Constellation) cd 16.98 FAUST "Od Serca Do Duszy" (Lumberton Trading Company) cd 24.00 FOLK SPECTRE, THE "The Blackest Medicine" (Wodsist) lp 14.98 FUZZ AGAINST JUNK "Netti Netti" (Invada) cd 15.98 GENGHIS TRON "Board Up The House" (Relapse) cd 14.98 GHOST "Overture; Live In Nippon Yusen Soko 2006" (Drag City) cd + dvd 17.98 GOLDFRAPP "Seventh Tree" (Mute) cd 15.98 GRUPPO D'IMPROVVISAZIONE "Nuova Consonanza" (Cherry Red) cd 17.98 GUTTER TWINS, THE "Saturnalia" (Sub Pop) cd/lp 14.98/13.98 HABITAT SOUND SYSTEM "Zebras In The Dancehall" (Gematria) 7" 4.98 HALF MAKESHIFT "Omen" (Profound Lore Records) cd 13.98 HEAVY, THE "Great Vengeance and Furious Fire" (Counter) cd/lp 14.98/22.00 HEE, LEE JANG "Meet Me In A Room" (World Psychedelia) cd 17.98 HELLHAMMER "The Demon Entrails" (Century Media) 2cd 12.98 HERCULES & LOVE AFFAIR "Classique #2" (DFA) 12" HEXLOVE "Knew Abloom (Life's Hood)" (Holy Mountain) cd 13.98 HIGUCHI, HISATO "Butterfly Horse Street" (Family Vineyard) cd 14.98 HOWLIN' RAIN "Magnificent Fiend" (American/Birdman) cd 12.98 HUKKELBERG, HANNE "Rykestrasse 68" (Propeller) cd 15.98 IRON MAIDEN "Live After Death" (Sony) 2dvd 22.00 ISLAND "Orakel" (Vendlus) cd 13.98 JANDEK "The Myth Of Blue Icicles" (Corwood) cd 8.98 JARVINEN, ANNA "Jag Fick Feel" (Hapna) cd 16.98 JUCIFER "L'Autrichienne" (Relapse) cd 14.98 KAPITAL BAND 1 "Playing By Numbers" (Thrill Jockey) 2cd 15.98 KAWAGUCHI MASAMI'S NEW ROCK SYNDICATE "Cat Vs. Frog" (Palindrone) lp 17.98 LACY, STEVE "The Forest And The Zoo" (ESP) cd 13.98 MACHINEFABRIEK "Bijeen" (Kning Disk) cd 14.98 MACHINEFABRIEK "Music For Intermittent Movements (Soundtracks For Films By John Price)" (self released) cd-r 16.98 MANITATSU "Reason For Travel" (Rhythm Tracks) cd 15.98 MANTLES, THE "Burden Walk With Me" (Dulc-i-tone) 7" 4.98 MASHAYEKHI, ALIREZA & ATA EBTEKAR (SOTE) "Persian Electronic Music: Yesterday And Today (1966-2006)" (Sub Rosa) cd 16.98 MASONNA "Ultimate Collection Vol.1" (Alchemy) cd 21.00 MCGONIGAL, MIKE "33 1/3 Series: Loveless" (Continuum) book 9.95 MEGAFAUN "Bury the Square" (Radium) cd 16.98 METABOLISMUS "Snowy Meadows / Somnia" (The Social Registry) 7" 6.98 MISS KITTIN "BatBox" (Nobody's Bizzness) cd 16.98 MISSION OF BURMA "Signals, Calls, and Marches" (Matador) cd/lp 15.98/25.00 MISSION OF BURMA "The Horrible Truth About Burma" (Matador) cd/lp 15.98/25.00 MISSION OF BURMA "Vs." (Matador) cd/2lp 15.98/25.00 MOORE, GRAHAM / THURSTON MOORE "split" (Nihilist) 12" 19.98 MOULD, BOB "District Line" (Anti) cd 16.98 NADJA "Long Dark Twenties" (Anthem) 7" 5.98 NAKED ON THE VAGUE "Blood Pressure Sessions" (Dual Plover) cd/lp 16.98/13.98 NASUM "Doombringer" (Relapse) cd 13.98 NATURAL FOOD "s/t" (Porter Records) cd 16.98 NEPTUNE "Gong Lake" (Radium) cd 16.98 NERVE NET NOISE "Dark Garden" (Intransitive) cd 14.98 NO KIDS "Come Into My House" (Tomlab) cd 15.98 OAKEATER "Molech" (Nihilist) lp 21.00 PACIFIC U.V. "Longplay 2" (Warm) cd 13.98 POWERS COURT "Red Mist Of Endenmore" (Dragonheart) cd 21.00 RACONTEURS "Consolers Of The Lonely" (Warner Bros.) cd 16.98 RAMESES III "Basilica" (Important Records) cd 14.98 RANDALL OF NAZARETH "s/t" (Drag City) cd/lp 14.98/15.98 REITZEL, BRIAN "30 Days Of Night OST" (Ipecac) cd 16.98 RELIGIOUS KNIVES "It's After Dark" (Troubleman) cd 13.98 RETRIBUTION GOSPEL CHOIR "s/t" (Caldo Verde) cd 13.98 RIGOR SARDONICOUS "Vallis Ex Umbra De Mortuus" (Paragon Records) cd/lp 14.98/21.00 RIMPOCHE, BOKAR "Sacred Chants & Tibetan Rituals From The Monestary Of Mirik" (Sub Rosa) cd 15.98 ROOT "Daemon Viam Invenient" (Shindy) cd 15.98 ROSETTA "Cleansing Undertones Of Wake/Lift" (Translation Loss) cd 9.98 ROSETTA "Wake / Lift" (Translation Loss) cd 13.98 ROTH, ALAN "Inside Out In The Open" (ESP) dvd 14.98 SAHG "II" (Regain) cd 15.98 SANCTUM "Of the Horizon" (20 Buck Spin) cd 13.98 SCULPTURED "Embodiment" (The End Records) cd 12.98 SHE & HIM "Volume One" (Merge) cd 15.98 SIAN ALICE GROUP "59.59" (The Social Registry) cd 14.98 SILVER MT ZION MEMORIAL ORCHESTRA & TRA-LA-LA-BAND "13 Blues For Thirteen Moons" (Constellation) cd/lp 15.98/22.00 SIMONE, NINA "High Priestess Of Soul" (Verve) cd 12.98 SINCLAIR, JOHN "Guitar Army: Rock & Revolution With MC5 And The White Panther Party" (Process) book+cd 22.95 SINGER "Unhistories" (Drag City) cd/lp 14.98/17.98 SLIM CESSNA'S AUTO CLUB "Cipher" (Alternative Tentacles) cd 14.98 SMITH, ELILOTT "Figure 8" (Plain Recordings) 2lp 21.00 SMITH, ELILOTT "XO" (Plain Recordings) lp 16.98 SNOOP DOGG "Ego Trippin" (Geffen) cd 15.98 STONE, CARL "Woo Lae Oak" (Unseen Worlds) cd 14.98 STRIBORG "Trepidation" (Displeased) cd 14.98 STUMPS, THE "The Black Wood" (Last Visible Dog) cd 13.98 SUISHO NO FUNE "Prayer for Chibi" (Holy Mountain) cd 15.98 SUN RA "Some Blues... But Not That Kind Of Blues" (Atavistic) cd 15.98 SWORD, THE "Fire Lances" (Kemado) 10" picture disc 14.98 TAARMA "Remnants Of A Tormenting Black Shadow" (Suffering Jesus Productions) cd 14.98 TALL FIRS "Too Old To Die Young" (Ecstatic Peace) cd 10.98 TAU EMERALD "Travellers Two" (Important Records) cd 14.98 TERMINALS, THE "Last Days Of The Sun" (Last Visible Dog) cd 13.98 TERMINALS, THE "Touch" (Last Visible Dog) cd 13.98 THING WITH KEN VANDERMARK "Immediate Sound" (Smalltown Superjazz) cd 16.98 TIDES / GIANT "Split" (Teenage Disco Bloodbath) cd 9.98 TODD, MIA DOI "Gea" (City Zen Records) cd 13.98 TRICLOPS! "Out of Africa" (Alternative Tentacles) lp 14.98 TULUS "Biography Obscene" (Candlelight) cd 14.98 UNEARTHLY TRANCE "Electrocution" (Relapse) cd 15.98 UTON & VALERIO COSI "Kaarmeenkaantopiiri" (Fire Museum) cd 13.98 V/A "Asian Flashback: Underground Music From Asia" (PSF) cd 22.00 V/A "Delirium Of The Senses: Psychedelia In Italian Cinema" (Cherry Red) cd 17.98 V/A "Encyclopedia Asthmatica Vol. 1" (Asthmatic Kitty) dvd 15.98 V/A "England Story, An: Volume 1" (Soul Jazz) 2lp 23.00 V/A "England Story, An: Volume 2" (Soul Jazz) 2lp 23.00 V/A "England Story, An" (Soul Jazz) 2cd 23.00 V/A "Realistic Patterns" (Psychic Circle) cd 17.98 V/A "Secret Garden Vol. 1:" (Invada) 15.98 V/A "Trogotronic Compilation, The" (Thumbprint Press) cd 8.98 VVEREVVOLF GREHV "Zombie Aesthetics" (Relapse) cd 14.98 WHAT MADE MILWAUKEE FAMOUS "What Doesn't Kill Us" (Barsuk) cd 11.98 WHISKEYTOWN "Strangers Almanac (Deluxe Edition)" (Geffen) cd 27.00 WHITE, JIM "Transnormal Skiperoo" (LuakaBop) cd 14.98 WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE SON GOD "Out of Body Diva" (Holy Mountain) cd 13.98 WILLITS, CHRISTOPHER + RYUICHI SAKAMOTO "Ocean Fire" (12K) cd 14.98 WINTERS "Black Clouds In Twin Galaxies" (Candlelight) cd 13.98 WRATH OF THE WEAK "Alogon" (Profound Lore) cd 14.98 WRATHCHILD AMERICA "Climbin' The Walls" (Wounded Bird) cd 14.98 YOSHIDA, TATSUYA & SOTOYAMA AKIRA "Drum Duo" (Enban) dvd-r 13.98 YOSHIMIO "Yunnan Colorfree" (Shock City) cd+dvd 50.00 ZORN, JOHN "Dreamers" (Tzadik) cd 16.98 _______________________________________________________________________ ABOUT MAILORDER
FINALLY! FINALLY!! FINALLY!!! Lots of you probably remember when we listed these discs a few years back, both were cd-r's back then, and both were limited to about 50 copies. We got so many orders, and rightfully so, Ahmed's sound as and is gorgeous and spare, simple and spacious, darkly emotional and sweetly mournful. Ilyas promised to make more cd-r's for all the people who ordered them, but somehow, he never managed to make it happen. We waited and waited and waited� But you know what? That's okay now, as Digitalis has thankfully stepped in and taken Ahmed's first two cd-r's and reissued them as real cds, and in some super deluxe packaging to boot.
For those who missed out on the cd-r frenzy way back when, Ahmed is a guitarist, pianist, and crafter of drones, but guitar is his main instrument. He explores a sonic steel string world similar to folks like James Blackshaw, Jack Rose and of course John Fahey, dense little tangles of minor key finger picking and lush metallic strum. Darkly melodic, and strangely timeless sounding. Moody and so so gorgeous. Fans of the above mentioned guitarists will absolutely want this, even just for the Towards The Night disc, which finds Ahmed doing his best modern Appalachia, and he does it so well, completely mesmerizing and intense and emotional and impossibly lush.
On the other disc, Between Two Skies, Ahmed takes his guitar, that ghostly Appalachia, all subtle and subdued, washed out and weary sounding, and sets it amidst mysterious and lush sounding soundscapes, tinkling piano, long drawn out vocal parts, slightly reminiscent of Sigur Ros, wordless, warm and fuzzy, unfurling like another layer of sound, the atmosphere gauzy and dreamlike. All the while the guitar weaves delicate little melodies, little blurs of soft focus sound wrapped in shimmering drones and warm whirring ambience.
Both discs are distinctly different, but manage to sound perfect together, each subtly complimenting the other. Folks who were lucky enough to get those cd-r's the first time around, have probably played them to death and can no get some much sturdier replacements, and for everybody else, a long overdue to get lost in Ahmed's mysterious and lovely soundworld.
Beautifully packaged in a thick two color offset printed cardstock gatefold sleeve, with a printed cardstock insert. Remastered by Pete Swanson of The Yellow Swans with extensive liner notes from David Keenan.
Third release in almost as many weeks from this relatively new drone-doom duo, half of which just so happens to be Brad Rose, Digitalis head honcho, as well as member of the North Sea, Corsican Paintbrush, Jade Emperor, the Golden Oaks and probably a few more that we're forgetting.
But don't let that fee folk pedigree fool you. This new outfit, Ajilsvga is certainly free but not folk at all. Exploring a world of near static heaviness similar to like minded folks in SUNNO))), Sunroof!, Vulture Club, Half Makeshift, but leaning toward the lugubrious sludgey ambient doom side of the slow and low spectrum.
On Winter Hunt, it's a thick squall of buzz and rumble, guitars, or organs, or synths, but mostly guitars we think, all set on stun and allowed to unfurl thick waves of thick viscous low end. A swirling morass of grinding glacial low end, sheets of crumbling distorted chordal whir, off in the distance, keening tones floating above the roiling rumbling below, a heaving heaviness, strangely soothing and meditative as much as dense and intense.
Fans of the above mentioned bands will dig this big time, as well as anyone into the low, slow and heavy, the dark, dense and drone-y.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Package in full color two sided sleeves.
Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and some with a little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
Live is a collection of live recordings (duh) from all over the globe, two from London, one from Glasgow, one from Amsterdam, one from right here in San Francisco, and two live on KALX. The London shows are much noisier than normal, dense clouds of crumbling distortion, static and hiss, but as always, melodies swirl beneath the skree, the various textures changing shape constantly, dizzying, and on the very dreamy pleasant side of noisy. The Glasgow show is a rich thick fluid drone assembled from glowing layers of burnished guitar shimmer and distant choir like vocals. The first KALX show is a deep tripped out druggy swirl, voices and fragments of melodies, all spinning drowsily, the second a super percussive steel string workout that sounds like solo dulcimer or something. San Francisco is a tripped out tribal drug jam, murky percussion, a haze of high end jangle, fluttering feedback, and tiny little squalls of buzz and skree. And finally, the Amsterdam show, a long stretch of high end hiss, manipulated tape, and fuzzy warbly static, all woven into a surprisingly dreamy drone. Once again, fantastic stuff.
Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and each with little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
Trade Ye No Mere Moneyed Art is the first release on Loci, and is everything we've come to love about Axolotl. Slow drifting mursckapes, swirls of muted percussion and disembodied guitar blur, soft edged effects, thick layers of whirring synth, crumbling bits of distortion, long static rumbles, subtly shimmering overtones, insectoid buzz, electronic glitch, and thick blown out sun dappled dreamlike drones. So nice.
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Even though Axolotl was San Francisco based, for some reason it was always difficult for us to get many of his releases. Most were extremely limited, a few times we managed to get merely a handful before they disappeared, but for the most part they came and went before we even discovered they were out.
Axolotl may have moved away, but he also started up his own little label, concentrating on releasing various bits of sonic Axolotica. Live shows, impromptu jams, and various other recorded sonic happenings. And thankfully this time we have a direct line to the source, and we've got copies of all three titles in the first batch. All packaged in miniature dvd-style cases, with photocopied covers and some with a little xeroxed insert. And while we're not sure just how limited these are, we're fairly sure it's VERY.
The third release in the inaugural batch of Loci releases finds Axolotl teaming up with someone called Weyes Bluhd. On the first track of two, the duo create some sort of super distorted ghostly folk, where the vocals are crumbling effects drenched moans, surrounded by streaks of feedback and bursts of glitch and crunch, melodies assembled from jagged fragments of sound, all in a murky muddy soundscape of fuzzed out ambience, eventually building to a serious chunk of chaotic free psych blowout, overblown and WAY in the red.
The second track is like a shadow of the first, a whispery shimmer to the openers crunchy buzz, the vocals lonely moans, the instrumentation nothing but barely there slivers of high end shimmer, a lonely guitar drifting through the ether, the surrounding ambience fuzzy and gauzy, some serious abstract ghost town blues.
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Barn Owl have become quite the talk of the psych/drone/folk scene in the last year and for very good reason. The duo have released some great limited edition cd-r's on Digitalis and on their own, and their intense and trance inducing live shows have reeled in many believers, including us! Tapping into ritual drone and spiritual psychedelia this two song cassette recorded at a festival in Echo Park a few months ago is further proof that this is one of the most promising bands roaming the underground at the moment. While there are no shortage of psych drone acts these days, there is something so concrete and real about the sounds Barn Owl conjure up. Kind of like if newer Earth was less spaghetti western and more engaged in exploring LaMonte Young's dreamhouse. There is a patience and subtlety in Barn Owl's music that is way beyond their young years. They use guitars, drums, banjo, harmonium and voice to travel upwards to some magical place filled with dust, dirt and delight. This one is super limited too, so it'll be gone in the blink of an eye.
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This is another in the recent spate of releases chronicling William Basinski's experiments with short wave radio. This 2 disc set, 90 minutes in length to reflect two sides of a cassette tape, is a 2 part piece recorded in 1983 using shortwave radio and primitive tape loops. Fans of Phillip Jeck should pick this up immediately. It's got that sepia toned, gorgeous, hazy old victrola sound, with lots of rough edges, staticky fuzz and warm hum. The tape loops are mostly Muzak, slowed down and stretched out into creepy and hypnotic melodies, under and over shifiting shortwave. Supposedly this was Basinski's attempt to emulate the warm dreamy sounds of the Mellotron, a vintage synthesiser that utilises short loops of tape. And in some ways he has succeeded, creating a weirdly lush, gauze-y, droney soundscape all culled from random shortwave transmissions. So nice!
Originally, this collaborative album from William Basinski and Richard Chartier came out on the Japanese label Spekk in 2004. It quickly disappeared, but now it's back in print with two extra tracks (more on those down below) thanks to 12K imprint Line. Here's what we had to say about the album back then:
Things are not always as they seem. If you were to put on this album, a collaboration between experimental musicians William Basinksi and Richard Chartier, you might have the same reaction that we did. It appears that the album begins, drones quite beautifully for a brief period of time, and then ends, leaving us with the thought, "Hey, that was really short! What the hell?" Ah, but not so fast, for the album's running time is actually a full 73 minutes, and the perceived shortness of duration is a result of these two composers' mesmeric abilities!
William Basinski, of course, has explored temporal phenomenology before, most notably through his breathtaking documentation of tape decay on the Disintegration Loops series. While Chartier's ultra-minimalism tend towards stasis, his under appreciated Archival 1991 album imparts a similar slow-motion effect upon the listener. Working together, Basinksi and Chartier add a considerable amount to each other's work; and hopefully, they will be working together again as Basinksi provides an emotional center to Chartier's rationalism, and Chartier offers a reductivist edginess to Basinski's ghostly romanticism. For this album, Basinksi and Chartier present glacially slow shifts between extended passages of synthetic drones, occasionally haunted by shadowy whisps and windswept details. There's very little drama and very little activity, just an incredible piece of minimalism that has the ability to stop time.
The repress also features two bonus tracks that enjoy a similar time-stopping quality, centered upon the sounds that Chartier employed for his installation at the 2006 Bleeding Edge festival, and Basinski's work with the antique Voyetra 8 synthesizer. Each produced a different mix of this source material. Still just as recommended as before.
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In pretty much every respect, this sprawling new album from Black Moth Super Rainbow is overflowing with whimsy and trippy fun -- from the lengthy head-scratchin' song titles to the color-drenched cover art to the Bruce Haack-y vocoded vocals to the breezy ten-speed rollerskate synthesizer'd funkiness. Imagine if Black Dice or the Flaming Lips took a swing at electro and new wave, and your brain might go into a delirious tizzy with the delightful chew of Dandelion Gum.
Latest slab of aural sickness from these Northwestern miscreants, whose love-it-or-hate-it monicker is actually not a bad barometer of what is to be found within the grooves. Sure, if you took Black Sabbath and Blue Cheer, and melted it down into some thick ooze, you'd be close to the murky dirgey buzz of BSBC, but you'd probably have to add a heap of Wolf Eyes, Whitehouse, a pinch of SUNNO))), and a dumptruck or two full of downtuned guitars and melted down Marshalls.
This is easily the harshest and heaviest thing we've heard from these guys, bordering on some sort of full on doom sludge, with huge roiling waves of crumbling blown out distortion, shrieking feedback, all over a massive industrial pummel, wrapped in dense swirling clouds of white noise and being pelted by jagged bolts of buzzing crunch. There's even some super abstract, but almost-metal riffing drifting around in the murk, the whole thing eventually collapsing into total needle destroying chaos. And that's just the first side.
The B side is less dense, and less overtly heavy, but just as intense and brutal. A black sonic something shot through with super distorted howled vocals, grinding metallic buzz, sheets of blown out guitar blurred into burnt out blackened drones. Wolf Eyes better up their game, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer are definitely angling for the underground black drone doom throne.
We almost didn't list this, as we only managed to get 5 copies of it, and all of our distributors told us it was out of print. But just for the heck of it, we contacted the label directly, and they still had a stash that they were willing to sell us, which is a good thing, cuz it's amazing! And it's CRAZY expensive, but when you see it (and hear it) you'll realize it's pretty much well worth it.
Never heard the name Karl Bosmann before, but he seems to be sonically aligned with the doomdreamdeathdrone crowd. And that's precisely what this is, although a bit more varied than usual, this one's definitely for the SUNNO)))-set (umm� sorry), a huge old chunk of low end drone. Multiple variations on the glacial near static crawl, some glimmering and effervescent, others grinding and thick, crumbling and abrasive, at least one seems to be all processed vocals, looped and smeared into some weird Steve Reich-ian drone and coupled with a wash of minimal low end shimmer, and one is all detuned guitar strum and disembodied buzz. Easy to hear some Wolf Eyes and definitely some Vulture Club. All of side 2 is a single slow burning sidelong epic, very Fear Falls Burning sounding, beginning as a whispery shimmer, building to a massive clamorous Sunroof! style din.
And let's not forget the packaging. Holy shit, it would be worth it even if the record sucked. Embossed metallic silver on matte black jacket, inside a metallic silver on black insert, a metallic silver on black sleeve, even the record labels are reflective silver, super striking and SO worth the extra scratch.
At first glance, it might be difficult to know what this record it all about. The sleeve is just a photo of trees and leaves, a dense overgrown forest. Pull out the cd, that too is cryptic, just some random letters on the disc, the sleeve, an old crinkled photo from some seventies porn mag of a topless cowgirl with a gun in her mouth. There's an insert, with a bunch of strange shapes, the word CAVE right at the top. But we know what it is. We've been waiting for this disc for ages. The debut recording from, wait for it� CAVE! Who just so happen to be the spacerock krautrock dronerock riff heavy jam band side project of one Warhammer 48K, who were already spacey and krauty and droney to begin with, so needless to say this is some seriously kick ass, aQ freakout worthy shit.
For the attention span impaired, howabout some Hawkwind, Can, Circle, Lightning Bolt, Pharaoh Overlord? Sounds good huh? Well, it's easy to hear bits and pieces of all of those bands in the sound of Cave, a dual drummer-ed riff heavy psych rock, that takes single riffs and hammers at them, pounding and pummeling, repetitive and mesmerizing, a sort of kraut flecked hypnorock, but with all sorts of strange twists and turns, bizarre arrangements, baffling breakdowns, but woven into longform jams that should have anyone into the above mentioned bands frothing at the mouth.
The opening track is a gorgeous little tangle of minor key melodies, looped and repeated, over a tense distant drone, thick swaths of keyboard whir over soft tangles of acoustic guitar and space-y backwards guitar swoops, but then the opening riff of the second track kicks in, and it's all fuzzy and feral, the greatest riff Pharoah Overlord never wrote, and they just hang on it, way longer than any normal band would, FOREVER, before the drums kick in, and they're off, a relentless and hooky groove, with brief blasts of super dynamic chaos, before slipping right back into it. Keyboards lay still more hypnotic melodies over the top, vocals, when there are any, are shouted way down in the mix, or are wordless falsetto la-la-la's, adding more texture and sonic complexity than anything. The dual drummers mix it up spitting out occasional tribal squalls, sometimes thick swirls of staticky fuzz wash over the proceedings, but their propulsive fortitude never falters. The first two tracks would almost be enough. Nearly 12 minutes of heavy freaked out space jam nirvana. You can practically feel the walls heaving and the sweat dripping through the speakers. You'll probably need a lie down afterwards. But there's no time, cuz hell, there's 6 more tracks to dig through. The sound is punk rock, lo-fi, but lush and epic, damaged and delirious, like garage rockers raised on Magma and Faust, there's plenty of Neu! in there, Stereolab too then, but it's way heavier than that, the guitars crunchy and thick, occasionally opening up into wailing psychrock blowouts, the drums getting more and more distorted and frenzied. Imagine an amphetamine fueled Circle or Can, but via the basement, the sound a sweat soaked drug drenched mostly instrumental kraut groove
Mathy, murky, like the fucked up younger brother of Yes, a Neanderthal krautrock, laced with awesome grinding space rock riffage, blown out squalls of ur-psych, flurries of percussive splatter, chanting cult vocals, bits of what the fuck vocoder (!), but for all the weirdness, the core sound of Cave is THE RIFF. Whether it's a warbly synth, or a superdistorted guitar, or tra-la-la vocals, they all align themselves with that riff, the mission, to entrance, to ensorcel, a heaving, pulsing, throbbing mass, the sound magnetic and irresistible. Endless jams that aren't really, but feel like they should be. Like they are anyway. Transcending the laws of time and space, dragging us kicking and screaming, bouncing and bobbing, into some blissed out basement at the end of the universe, where we subsist of nothing but riffs, drums and FX. We never want to leave.
Killer packaging, it's an lp AND a cd, same music on both, fold over full color sleeve, full color one sided cd sleeve (all described above) and a full color thick cardstock insert. And of course, limited, only 500 copies!
They just don't make bands like Florida's Cavity anymore. Or I guess maybe they do, but now they just make 5 or six bands out of the ingredients that made up Cavity back in the day. Not to sound like an old man, but these days most bands have 'A SOUND' and they stick to it. Cavity on the other hand were pretty tough to pigeonhole. Sure they were heavy. And they were metal. But also punk. Sorta grindy too. They tended toward the sludge-y end of the sonic spectrum, but in the middle of some sub Sabbath dirge they'd explode into a furious thrashing grind only to immediately slow back down to some impossibly glacial Khanate like crawl, complete with tortured shrieks, and buzzing droneguitar.
This record, originally recorded way back in 1997, sounds as fresh as it did a decade ago. Someone joked recently that super hyped duo No Age were punk rock for people who had never heard punk rock before. Which is not entirely fair to No Age as they are an awesome band, but there is some truth to the fact that lots of bands these days borrow pretty heavily from the past, without a lot of fans realizing it. No Age are kick ass and wild and fun, but they're not necessarily reinventing the wheel. That's also true with a lot of heavy bands these days. If Cavity were bunch of kids and Laid Insignificant was a super limited cd-r, or a one sided etched 12", labels would be lined up around the block to put something out by these guys, kids would be losing their shit. But just because this record is ten years old is no reason they still shouldn't. This is epic mindblowing heaviness. Furious and freaked out, sweaty and brutal and visceral. Elsewhere on this list Allan talks about Vincent Black Shadow in terms of sheer blown out sweat soaked pure rock and roll power. The same could be said about these guys, just leaning a little more toward the extreme side of the sonic spectrum. Back in the day, no band could touch Cavity live OR on record, and listening to them again, it seems like nothing has changed. The guitars are massive, the riffs incredible, heavy and melodic and thick as shit, the drums HUGE and pummeling, the songs super catchy, even when they're all tangled into buzzing blasts, or sprawled out in huge black oozing pools, the hooks remain intact. And vocalist Rene Barge has the wickedest raspy howl this side of Eyehategod. About as EMO as that kind of voice can get. Which also keeps these songs from turning into wanky riff fests. These are SONGS, dark and dense, complex and hypnotic, groovy and crushing, utterly headbangable for sure, certain to fill a pit in the blink of an eye, but at the same time, musical enough to be serious headphone bliss for the hard and heavy.
Not sure what else to say. These guys ruled. And still rule. This just proves it all over again.
Longtime regular aQ customer Joshua Maremont commented that Cindytalk's Camoflage Heart is a record which was only really meant for about 30 people. Not that only 30 copies of this record were released, or that it is so terminally obscure and willfully difficult that it by design has a marketing ceiling of an elite few. What he's on about is that Camoflage Heart is such a personal document of self-realized torment, pain, and sorrow that when Cindytalk embarked on the project, it's hard to imagine that they had any delusions about the intensity of this album and the potential for these songs to alienate beyond a limited few.
At the helm of Cindytalk is transgendered vocalist Gordon Sharp, who to this day is probably still best known as one of the multitude of vocalists who appeared in This Mortal Coil. In many ways, Sharp is the masculine equal to the Cocteau Twins' Liz Fraser in delivering expressionist falsettos, trills, and banshee wails in an eerie, yet heavenly fashion. He's one of those few vocalists who can make the lyrics embody their content by shaping the words into emotionally charged sound. In fact, Sharp and Fraser had come together for a duet back during the Cocteau Twins' Peel Sessions of 1983. In his 4AD lineage, Gordon Sharp's first band was the criminally overlooked punk-glam ensemble The Freeze, where his Marc Bolan strut matched the nightmarish lyrics on top of some truly fantastic Bowie / Buzzcocks sparkplug riffs. Sharp, alongside fellow Freeze band members John Byrne and David Clancey, found shortcomings in the glam punk agenda, and sought a wholly new direction that became Cindytalk.
While undeniably dark and theatrical, Cindytalk cannot be pigeonholed as an '80s goth band, even in comparison to such off-kilter groups like The Virgin Prunes, Princess Tinymeat, or Sex Gang Children. Camoflage Heart was Cindytalk's first album and originally came out in 1984; and it's an album like those This Heat albums which is quite unique in terms of production and aesthetic. The album opens with the militant drum machine of "It's Luxury" setting the stage for an explosion from a monotone guitar riff, coated in amplifier grit, distortion, and detuned heaviness that comes across as a mix between late-'80s Skullflower and The Cure's Pornography. At this moment, Sharp's voice also erupts into the mix crooning with a downtrod beauty to this industrial dirge, spitting and swooning at the same time. The next track "Instinct (Back To Sense)" is more of an ambient interlude with distant heartbeat rhythms, haunted with impressionist piano trickles and Sharp's siren song buried between an atmosphere of smoke and mirror. Two more explosive tracks -- "Under Glass" (featuring Mick Harvey from the Birthday Party for a disjointed stutter of abject rock) and "Memories of Skin and Snow" -- are examples of loud / quiet / loud dynamics, later embraced by the likes of Slint and Mogwai to equally profound effect. "Everybody Is Christ" is often viewed as the pinnacle of Camoflage Heart with its harsh arppegiation of electronics cast against Sharp's heavenly voice. Soon after, the album disintegrates in a cascade of delicate piano, voice, and grim drones.
As Cindytalk had suffered through the fate of several record companies going out of business (first Midnight Records then World Serpent), their work might have been forgotten had it not been for this reissue. Thankfully, that oversight can now be remedies with this long overdue reissue.
So the rumor goes that Gordon Sharp was invited to join Duran Duran after Sharp dissolved his Edinburgh glam-punk band The Freeze in the late '70s. He turned them down. Elizabeth Fraser and Robin Guthrie also put out the request for Sharp to join the Cocteau Twins. After a brief stint accompanying the Cocteau Twins for a Peel Session in 1982 and a guest spot on This Mortal Coil's It'll End In Tears, he opted for his own project -- the obscure, yet majestic Cindytalk.
In This World is an opus in every sense of the word. Originally, In This World came out in 1988 as two separate albums under the same name, each with slightly different artwork. One album, a masterpiece of abject post-punk that in all honesty is the closest parallel to Swans' Children Of God; the other, a delicate ambient construct of melancholy piano scarred with surface noice prognosticating pretty much everything that Type Records has released (e.g Machinefabriek, Jasper TX, etc.). It's very good thing that both of these albums have been repackaged into one self-contained object, as the only half of In This World that seemed to be floating around was the piano-laced ambient one. As good as that half is, you need the grit and dirge of its companion album to complete Cindytalk's ideas of grand dualities: heaven / hell, pleasure / pain, holiness / transgression, etc.
While billed by Sharp as the 'disgusting' part of the In This World diptych, the first half begins with a lovely tonefloat of scratched violin drones and painterly piano notes. Yet, with the crushing rhythm and noise attack of "Janey's Love," Sharp does not disappoint with his disgusting tag. This is a monstrous industrial dirge with huge monotone slabs of distortion and atonal drones counterpointing Sharp's soaring falsetto. The punk poet Kathy Acker supplies a brief spoken word interlude as the coda to this incendiary number. Immediately hereafter, Cindytalk continue their turgid rhythmic marches with an angular distorted rhythm, slippery bassline mired in audio rust, and twin guitars spitting acid, fire, and brimstone on such tracks as "Gift Of A Knife" and "Circle Of Shit." As the first half of the album progresses, the songs steadily disintegrate as rhythm, song structure, and noise all collapse into a blur of smeared grey that is eerily reflective of William Basinski's Disintegration Loops. The piano which opened In This World becomes the dominant sound in Cindytalk's soundscapes, also marking the delineation between the two halves of In This World. Yes, this is the beautiful side of Cindytalk, coated in ash, snow, bruises, and rust. Gordon Sharp's piano playing comes from Brian Eno's Thursday Afternoon, which in turn came from Erik Satie; and that impressionist sentiment continues forward amidst subterranean drones and field recordings of barren spaces. Sharp's voice is mostly absent from these tracks, although the eponymous finale to the album showcases one of Sharp's most emotive croons. They really don't make albums like this any more, with such attention to detail and dynamics between rage and beauty.
Fortunately, both of these records were concise enough that they could both fit onto one CD; and if you've not had the opportunity to hear Cindytalk, please do not let this album and its predecessor Camoflage Heart pass you by!
This was Coltrane's debut for the new Impulse label in 1961 and what a first impression! His quartet at the time: McCoy Tyner, Reggie Workman and Elvin Jones, were backed by a large brass orchestra conducted by Eric Dolphy (though there has been conflicting reports over the years that actually give more credit for the orchestration to Tyner). The 16 minute opener "Africa" is one of Coltrane's most masterful compositions (and that's saying a lot!). It features two basses with Art Davis joining Reggie Workman as Coltrane wanted to create a piece using African rhythms instead of 4/4 or 3/4, so he spent lots of time listening to African music for rhythmic inspiration and came up with something that forty years later still sounds so damn soulful and pleasing.
While we sometimes dig all the bonus tracks that come on reissues, it often can get a bit tiresome so we're actually glad this was reissued just as the original album was released with just three songs, a short sharp 30 minutes of true musical genius.
One of the best album covers ever, for the Flower Travellin' Band's 1970 debut LP Anywhere, a photo of that band as naked Japanese hippy freak outlaw bikers ridin' free, adorns the cover of this book. Good choice! If that doesn't look cool to you, you don't need this volume. If it does, then queue up! The subtitle: "How The Post-War Japanese Blew Their Minds On Rock 'N' Roll" is perfectly illustrated by that cover picture.
Let's back up, though. British author Julian Cope, originally best-known as something of a rock star (with The Teardrop Explodes in the '80s and his subsequent solo career) has also long been entertaining and informing us all as a writer, an expert on the heavy and the ancient: both the stone circles of Megalithic Europe, and the stoned rock n' roll of the psychedelic/progressive variety, yesterday and today. His happenin' website, Head Heritage (www.headheritage.co.uk) should be bookmarked by everyone who looks at OUR site. Way back when, over a decade ago, Julian Cope published a slim little paperback volume called the Krautrocksampler, one fan's obsessive, opinionated look back at the wondrous krautrock scene of the '70s. If you've got one, you're lucky, they're out of print and hard to come by these days, going for $$$ on eBay (er, anyone with a spare copy, please contact Allan at the store, he foolishly never bought it when we used to sell 'em and has regretted it ever since, maybe we can work out a deal...). Another reason to pick up this new Japrocksampler while you can!
It's about the same approximate dimensions as the Krautrocksampler, but thicker (over 300 pages!) and hardcover, with color plates depicting various rare album covers in the center of the book, and black and white graphics throughout. Nicely done, the paper stock and binding bringing back memories of a particular type of book we used to have in school.
And, as you have probably figured out, it's the Japanese '70s rock companion to Cope's krautrock treatise. But because the Japanese underground music scene of the same era is comparatively a lot more obscure over here in the West, Cope had to do a lot more in-depth research to give us all a real history lesson, starting off all the way back in the aftermath of WWII. Moving forward, he devotes much attention to the experimental composers of the sixties, like Toshi Ichiyanagi, and (for a time) his wife, Yoko Ono. All sorts of radical "actions" and conceptual sound art get their due. Other early chapters include include investigations of the homegrown "Eleki" scene (Japanese surf music, sort of) and the "Group Sounds" phenomenon (Japan's reaction to the British Invasion). Then Heavy Rock hits, with freaks and festivals, and Cope digs with utmost detail into the behind-the-music stories of such artists as cover stars Flower Travellin Band, Speed, Glue & Shinki, and, perhaps most crucially ('cause they're so mysterious and influential), Les Rallizes Denudes. In all cases, he reveals lots of stuff we didn't know. Regarding Les Rallizes, ferinstance, apparently their original bass player was involved in a JAL jetliner highjacking back in 1970, which lead to innocent Rallizes leader Takeshi Mizutani being trailed by CIA agents, which may help explain his legendary reclusiveness!
The Japrocksampler also provides plenty of info about important intersection between the avant-garde theater scene and rock n' roll in the early '70s, with a chapter on the brilliant J.A. Caesar. There's also pages and pages on the Taj Mahal Travellers, Far East Family Band, the Tokyo Kid Brothers, and much much more. It's exhaustive, impressively connecting all kinds of dots. Probably equally obsessed fanboys will have facts to check and nits to pick (we're thinking of our pal JW in particular) but really, where else are you gonna find all this info in English?? And so entertainingly written? Nowhere. Anyone who's read the Krautrocksampler, or visited Head Heritage, knows that Cope's got a knack for writing that's both enthused and erudite, a bit like Lester Bangs with footnotes. You don't even really have to know (or have heard) what he's talking about to fall under his spell, which is helpful 'cause the one big drawback to reading the Japrocksampler is the frustration most folks are gonna have trying to track down and listen to a lot of the music being discussed. We do our best to stock a good selection of '70s Japanese psych/prog/experimental reissues, whatever we can get by bands like the Taj Mahal Travellers and Flower Travellin' Band, but even we had to cry when looking over the section of the book devoted to lengthy reviews of Cope's top 50 favorite Japrock albums. Some we've got, others... someday we hope! Maybe this book will spur some more reissue action.
Can't come up with too many criticisms, other than that he slams some records we like (Foodbrain!), seemingly omits Flied Egg, and we guess we're not sure exactly how politically correct the term "Japrock" is, though it's not any worse than saying "krautrock" when you think about it...
Basically, this is a fascinating read for anyone curious about the effects of rock n' roll on the artsy underbelly of an "alien" culture. A must have if you're already into this stuff, of course, but also totally recommended if you're just a little bit curious about this "secret history" 'cause of being exposed to all the wild, freaky sounds currently being made in Japan by bands like the Boredoms, Boris, and Acid Mothers Temple.
Oh boy. Now here's a real "holy grail" psych album, at last reissued on cd and widely available!!! You've heard a taste of this if you've got the Brazilian edition of the Love, Peace & Poetry compilation series. Lula Cortes E Ze Ramalho's amazing acid-psych-folk-prog album Paebiru came out in Brazil in 1975, and at some point afterwards, many of the original copies were apparently destroyed in a fire (y'know, kinda as if they knew that collectors were gonna cry over that later). So, it possesses such desirable status in part 'cause the record is so rare and obscure. But in fact it's truly deserving of its holy grail rep 'cause the music on it is so terrific -- so lovely and so freaky. The Shadoks label has done us all a favor here.
The talented multinstrumentalist Lula Cortes was one half of the wonderful acoustic hippy folk duo Satwa, whose eponymous 1973 album was reissued and reviewed here earlier this year. If you picked that up, you've got an idea of how nice the folky parts on here are, inspired by both Portuguese/Spanish and South Amerindian musical tradition. But that's only a part of the sound here. On the elaborately produced Paebiru, Cortes and equally gifted collaborator Ze Ramalho, along with several supporting musicians, have expanded the scope of their music to include pulsating krautrock-ish throb, wild jazz improvisation, and distorted electric fuzz attack, utilizing both rock and ethnic instruments, piano, horns, and more -- all with a high degree of inspiration, emotion, and technical skill. The result is a sprawling but consistent masterpiece, originally a double LP. Four sides, four elements: Terra, Ar, Fogo, Agua. This elemental concept allows for many moods and revelations. As Shadoks says, it's "uninhibited tribal psychedelic rock" that they compare, rightly, to the brillance of Amon Duul II and Algarnas Tradgard. Recommended.
The black cloud over sunny California grows and grows, with each addition to its dark army and each new missive from one of its elite! Black metal has found a strong foothold in this unlikely location. Xasthur, Leviathan, Draugar, Crebain and a small dark likeminded legion lurk in the shadows, far away from the fun and the sun, unleashing some of the most raw and uncompromisng black metal we've ever heard.
AQ pal Wrest and his genius one man avant black metal outfit Leviathan return with what may quite possibly be his best, most intensely weird material to date. We just can't get enough of his dark and violent, totally skewed take on grim frosty black metal. And for this release he teams up with relative newcomer Ancalagon The Black and his outfit Crebain. Not quite as weird as Leviathan, Crebain channels his darkness through a more thrashing Darkthrone/Mutiilation style.
On this split, Wrest takes his ultra distorted inhuman vocals, pummelling hyperspeed blasts, and violent riffery to a whole 'nother dimension, and moves even further away from his contemporaries, both in terms of sound and concept. There are certain sonic similarities for sure, but Leviathan has such a personal and undiluted take on the black sounds that so obviously flow through is veins. For every blast beat and every buzzing riff, there's some stuttery, fucked up breakdown, or extended blissed out ambient soundscape, or rhythmic mathrock workout, or strummy clean guitar jangle, or weird production with all sorts of glitches and strange sounds. The ambient parts here are definitely some of the most beautifully creepy we've ever heard, from a metal band or otherwise. And the metal, well, by now you should know few can touch Leviathan when it comes to black metal brilliance. And the thing is, Wrest doesn't think any of this is weird. He just makes the sounds he hears in his head, and they sound right to him. And they are right, but in such a beautifully weird way. Can't wait for the upcoming full length Tentacles Of Whorror. His half of the split ends with a straight ahead and super necro cover of cult early '90s San Francisco metallers Von's "Blood Angel." Nice.
The other half of this is Crebain's first offical cd release, having previously only released a super limited cd-r demo last year, and it's just as good as that demo led us to hope. This is as raw and buzzing and blazing as it gets. Where Wrest is a master of arranging, creating moods and ambience, Ancalagon is a master of the riff. An unbelievably good guitarist, these riffs are lightning fast and swarm into your ears like a plague of locusts. Thrashing and chaotic, Crebain is a furious no-nonsense metallic onslaught. Programmed drums allow the rhythms to keep up with the madness inducing riffery. Occasionally things slow down to midtempo, and then it becomes quite obvious that Crebain is actually writing catchy songs, not just an insane series of parts. Melodies and almost-groovy riffs propel loping hypnotic dirges towards their eventual obliteration via hyperspeed blasts and that blurry Crebain riffery. Fucking great.
This split is another nail in the coffin containing the corpses of the Nordic metal elite, as black metal's Calfiornia contigent threatens to thaw their frosty corpses with the soul shearing rays of its black sun! Aieeee! Limited to only 666 copies!
A rockin' return (of course!) from Portland's finest, the mighty Danava. Retro stoner rock melodic metallic garage prog psych heaviness. Whew that's a mouthful. What did we say about 'em when reviewing their recent 7"? "A band whose ripping '70s style metallic power trio action is augmented by a dusting of trippy space rock synthesizer soundz from fourth member Rockwell."
The deal with Danava is that, bottom line, they rip. Metal or indie or retro or hipster or whatever, we don't really care, we just know that they obviously love the same sort of '70s prog excess we dig (a la Sabbath's Sabotage), with flamboyant keyboard flourishes (check out the last minute of "Where Beauty And Terror Dance" ferinstance), write actual songs, sing 'em too, and totally kick ass live. Maybe that's not much to ask from a band, but these days, such real deal rock n' roll acts are few and far between. Likewise with kick ass albums like this one. Who else might we cite? Birds Of Avalon are one of 'em. Also recent Danava tour mates Witchcraft. And Oakland's Drunk Horse (imagine them in cahoots with SF's Crime In Choir perhaps, to approach the boogie prog shred you get with Danava).
Unonou brings fans another seven songs sprung from the bulging collective Danava forehead, in the manner to which we have become accustomed. Which means, they feature virtuosic guitar (and bass) solo action, frenzied drumming, Ozzish vocals (very much so, up to and including some snippets of the lyrics), and the aforementioned eccentric electronic embellishments. Plus, this time 'round, there's a frickin' horn section throwing down in several songs! The album ends with the 13+ minute "Mind Gone Separate Ways", wherein the band manage to kick out the jams whilst making melodic space rock fusion, wow. Yep Unonou has got its share of sinister moodiness and spaceouts but consists mostly of REALLY energetic rollercoaster, uh, rippage (to use that term once more). Danava's '70s era references/influences would seem to include proggy Black Sabbath, early Blue Oyster Cult, lashings of Gobin (like the disco-ish groove that starts off "The Emerald Snow Of Sleep"), very early Alice Cooper, maybe even Jobraith... If that sounds good to you, get this, and definitely don't miss 'em live whenever that chance presents itself.
(Vinyl coming soon, btw.)
Chock up another dandy from Destroyer! Love, travel and other projects (New Pornographers, Swan Lake, Hello Blue Roses among others) sure haven't kept Daniel Bejar from his main musical outlet. Unlike many other multi-taskin' music folks these days, with Bejar nothing gets the short end of the stick. You can always count on consistently high caliber pop songcraft, artful arrangements, wryly witty and obtuse lyrics, and that voice -- equal parts Donovan, Marc Bolan, and Cat Stevens. Ultra liltingly sensitive and so darn Canadian-earnest! And it's all stamped with the indelible, unmistakable mark of the Bejar... Free spirited and fantastic!
The Dirtbombs are back and they're gunnin' their hotrod, straight out of the gutter, burning bluesy rawk for fuel, all spiced up with some unexpectedly contemporary modern rock elements. Far less garage-gritty and rebelliously raunchy than any of their earlier recordings, We Have You Surrounded is at times sleeker, dancier and more trippy! The results come across as something that calls to mind TV On The Radio and EMF (check out "Indivisible" which at times bears a bizarre resemblance to the latter's hit "Unbelievable")... yes, very different! Might take some getting used to for old fans!
How many bands can you name from Fargo, North Dakota? None. That's the number we came up with. Ever hear of the stoner doom outfit Egypt? We hadn't either.
But this here 4 song mini lp will change all that.
This short lived band hailed from North Dakota, and only managed to commit to tape these 4 tracks, but doomlords and stoner rock freeks will definitely wish there was more where these came from. Lurching doomic slow and low, heavy on the bass, heavy on everything really, but the songs were pretty reliant on thick bass grooves and the pounding drums, lazy sunbaked Kyuss-y riffs were then draped over the top, plenty of wah guitar, and wailed, SUNG not screamed vocals, that were also reminiscent of the late great Kyuss.
This is not funeral doom, or ultra doom, this is groovy stoner doom, classic metal filtered through the sound of old school doom. Sabbath, Pentagram, that sort of thing, heaped with some Kyuss, left out in the desert to bake, doused in LSD, just enough to give it a slightly psychedelic vibe, and let loose. Most of the songs slink along for ages, growling and simmering, slithering darkly, all low end groove, before exploding into furious space rock freakouts, wicked wah guitar solos, thick crunchy rhythms and those impassioned FX soaked vocals. The label suggests that Egypt will appeal to fans of Sleep, Sir Lord Baltimore and Deep Purple, which is definitely true, but expand that to include anyone into classic metal, fuzzy psych rock, and heavy doom metal. And again, fans of Kyuss, and THAT sound, will eat this up.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Mastered By James Plotkin. Amazing eye popping packaging, super thick gatefold sleeve, black and white on the outside, full color and psychedelic on the inside, printed with a spot varnish, super super striking.
What to say about this guy that we haven't already. A long time aQ fave, every one of his records an absolute drone bliss gem. That's really the most difficult part of this job a lot of the time. First time out, a band's debut, it's easy to gush and get all poetic describing a band's sound, even with the second record, we're usually able to come at it from a different angle, to further describe the sound in a way that conveys what we're hearing through words. But after that, it gets a little rough, especially with a band whose sound remains fairly consistent. On the one hand, we could just say, "it's awesome, buy it", and that's all folks will really need if they're already a fan, but with every release, there are always a few more folks who are discovering a band for the first time, and their discovery is as valid as that of the folks who got the first super limited long out of print cd years back. And thankfully, most of the bands worth listening to record after record, do in fact alter their sound a bit, growing, progressing, exploring, Encomiast are no different.
Thus we have the latest from one man dronescaper Encomiast, on Crucial Bliss, the, uh, blissier sublabel of the more heavy oriented Crucial Blast�
From the first few notes, we're transported to some swirling sonic nether region, where everything is slightly out of focus, blurred around the edges, lit from within, sun dappled and misted with glistening dew, warm whirling washes of sound drift weightless, voices are pulled apart into their constituent parts and allowed to float freely through the ether, swirling and realigning themselves into dreamlike melodies, in fact the overall sound of Encomiast is so very dreamlike. Fans of Kompakt's Pop Ambient sound will probably wonder why they haven't heard this guy on one of those comps. The sound is appropriately breathy and blissy, soothing and serene, the opening track is the perfect soundtrack for somnolent drift. The second track is another bit of low end shimmer, but introduces some Eastern sounding percussion, tablas maybe, but very minimal and spare, spread out over a creeping doom chord progression, laced with swirling steel string guitar, gorgeously moody and dramatic.
The next track too, offers up minimal percussion, and some minor key steel string guitar, which instead of sprawling into some sort of moody ambience, takes the shape of some super abstract folk, lilting vocals way down in the mix, the melody sorrowful and melancholy, there's even some fluttering flute. The second to last track returns to more familiar Encomiast ground, a billowing dronescape of metallic shimmer, a sea of softly reverberating gongs, cymbals, and other chimes and bells, smoother out into long drawn out tones, and woven into what sounds like soft voices and whirring organs. Quite lovely.
The biggest surprise is probably the closing track, which begins with soft strummed acoustic guitar, crooned vocals, what sounds like strings in the background, until about the last two minutes, when the drums kick in, some distorted guitars swoop in, and the track is transformed into a slightly metallic soaring shoegazey coda before drifting off again in a fading cloud of processed cymbals and tribal percussion.
Gorgeously packaged like all Crucial Bliss releases, a full color two panel sleeve, the front panel folded over like an obi, revealing the full color, hand sewn sleeve inside, as well as a full color two sided insert with liner notes. And as always, EXTREMELY LIMITED.
The first four Fairport Convention albums are cannon, no doubt about it. But while many may disagree with the inclusion of the first album, the one before Sandy Denny joined, and their full on embrace of traditional folk material on the fourth, Leige and Lief, pretty much all Fairport fans can agree that their second album, What We Did On Our Holidays, and third, Unhalfbricking are their very best. Thankfully Water has reissued both.
Unhalfbricking? What the hell does that mean? Perhaps the title was alluding to the transitional shedding of American rock elements that had featured more prominently on their first two records and laying the foundation towards redefining a traditional British sound. Sure there are still Dylan covers, in fact three of them, but the exiting of Ian Matthews brought in another Fairport stalwart, fiddler Dave Swarbrick which tipped the balance musically towards classic British folk. And what's more British than this cover? We think that's Sandy Denny's parents. So awesome! Of course, strong songwriting doesn't hurt, and Sandy Denny contributes her most famous song, "Who Knows Where The Time Goes" and the equally haunting "Autopsy". But the finest moment of the album (and prescient of their future sound) goes to the eleven minute take on the traditional tune, "A Sailor's Life". Rumor has it, that they recorded this song in a single take because Denny, suffering from a cold, didn't think she could sing it more than once (though she wouldn't stop smoking). It's definitely the band at their peak and one of the finest recordings they made. Unfortunately, as we mentioned in the "What We Did On Our Holidays" review, the band was cursed and this was the last record for teenage drummer, Martin Lamble, who died in a freak accident involving the band's van. This cemented their future foray towards traditional material as the band refused to play live any of the music that they previously recorded with Lamble. But it's the air of that legendary rock curse (which would also tragically claim Sandy Denny, eight years later) that gives the early music of Fairport Convention it's mysteriously bewitching and dark edge. Recommended!
The first four Fairport Convention albums are cannon, no doubt about it. But while many may disagree with the inclusion of the first album, the one before Sandy Denny joined, and their full on embracement of traditional folk material on the fourth, Leige and Lief, pretty much all Fairport fans can agree that their second album, What We Did On Our Holidays, and third, Unhalfbricking are their very best. Thankfully Water has reissued both.
What We Did On Our Holidays is our definite favorite. If there were one classic British folk-rock record we could recommend, it would be this one, mainly because it's so unclassic sounding. Here is the band at their most adventurous and unsettled, moving into different territory with each song. Mixing covers of American songwriters Joni Mitchell and Dylan with a wide array of original numbers and spirited takes on traditional material, we're taken through a trip of lively blues stomps, eastern mysticism, ghostly ballads and the best pairing of male and female vocal harmonies from Ian Matthews and Sandy Denny. Fairport Convention had the blessing of being made up of many other talented songwriters and musicians as well, including Richard Thompson, Martin Lamble, Simon Nicol, and Ashley Hutchings, but they were forever cursed by never having the same line-up twice on any of their records. While replacing former co-lead singer Judy Dyble (Giles, Giles and Fripp, Trader Horne) with Sandy Denny definitely upped their musical profile, this was sadly the last record for Ian Matthews. He went on to found Matthew's Southern Comfort and then later pursue his own solo work, but it just wasn't on the same par as his work on the first two Fairport albums. This is arguably the best line-up they had which makes for our highest recommendation.
Fuck Buttons? Please just ignore the name for a moment. We're glad WE did, and actually gave this band a listen... 'cause, fuck if they don't push our buttons. The pleasure ones, big fat buttons labeled massive super distorted heavy electronic drone fuzz pop damage. Really we were surprised, though maybe the colorful cover artwork that kinda makes this look like a Black Dice record should have been an indication that this Bristol UK duo was gonna be cool, despite their name. They're energetically exotic and hypnotically repetitive and just chock full of sheer noise fuzz bliss, bulldozering over buried melodies, tribal weirdness, and equally distorted screaming vocals, though this is mostly an instrumental, rhythmic throb. These six fairly lengthy songs wrap the listener's ears in a multihued steel wool blanket of abrasive warmth, made from such shimmering sonic elements as ambient piano, motorik machine beats, and thick spaced out synth. And just when you think it's already pretty darn fuzzed out, they flip a switch or step on a pedal or something and then the REAL fuzz kicks in.
Definitely for fans of Growing at their most SUNNO)))-y. Also we might say this sounds like Vulture Club doing the vacuuming over at Gang Gang Dance's house, playing Jesu and M83 albums real loud while they do so. A beautiful blend of noise and drone and bright shining eternal pop loveliness...
The very first track, "Sweet Love For Planet Earth" might be our favorite though we're crushed out on the whole album. But this song really sums it up, it IS the album the way the first song on the Mammal's Lonesome Drifter WAS that Mammal album too. This track has got the pretty, ringing piano part to start with, gloriously building up into the choppy fuzzed out throb we soon learn is Fuck Button's modus operandi. Damn this is good -- and there's even vocals amidst this heavenly buzz that sound like they could come off some cvlt black metal album.
So yeah Fuck Buttons, cool band, dunno about the name. Seems like Fuck is the new Super or Jesus or Black, as bandnaming trends go. There's been The Fucking Champs, Fuck I'm Dead, and of course, Fuck. But more recently, bands named Fucked Up, Holy Fuck, and now Fuck Buttons have made the scene... always hilarious when they get popular enough to be played on the radio or mentioned in the mainstream press. Not so hilarious when spam filters prevent AQ list subscribers from getting emails with our reviews. But whatever, we swear a lot ourselves anyway, sorry about that. Anyway, fucking recommended.
Latest from these fucked up noise makers. A sort of collective, every record a brain melting brew of whooped howling vocals, angular distorted guitars and chaotic percussion, this live set no different. 18 minutes but with about twice that crammed in somehow. Dense and destructive, a screaming whirling skree filled fury.
It's not hard to imagine a stage full of squirming sweaty bodies, judging from the crowd sounds in the more minimal parts, it sounds like the folks on stage just might outnumber the folks in the crowd.
The drums are a stumbling tribal pound, the vocals shriek and howl, moan and wail, the guitars go from sheets of acidic buzz, to tangled, damaged lurch, feedback everywhere, impossible to tell if the shrieks are part of the music, or the crowd getting swept up in the band's pure joy and making such an intense and ear shredding racket. In the red, blown out, crumbling, damaged, distorted post-post-post punk verging on complete musical collapse. The band slip into serious grooves here and there, but never for long, always seeming to be barely holding it together, the band gleefully letting it fall to pieces, rolling around in the shattered song structures and fragmented melodies, only deigning to try and reel it all in if they feel the fuck like it, and thankfully they rarely do.
A gloriously chaotic and challenging free for all. Recommended for the iron eared and and the noise obsessed.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Package in full color two sided mini dvd style sleeve.
The last we heard from Gareth Hardwick, and actually also the first we heard, was on a collaborative lp with long time aQ fave Machinefabriek (we have a few copies left, see elsewhere on the aQ site), the two made for a good combination, each offering up their own take on modern minimalism and abstract dronemusic.
But in that context, with two sonically like minded composers, it was difficult to figure out who was bringing what to the sound of that record.
So this is the first glimpse we've gotten of Hardwick solo and we're quite smitten. Two loooong tracks, both recorded live in 2007, both quite beautiful and sublime. The first is a pure, barely shifting drone, at least initially, very Niblock like, but focusing more on the purity of the tones instead of how they interact. Deep slow motion swells, the tones warm and glowing, rich and lush, but simple and streamlined. The track shifts here and there, the tones shifting subtly, some stretches sounding almost chordal, others so simple and quiet, the tones seem to be drifting through a vacuum. Near the end, streks of high end are draped over the warm languid swells, offering up a brief subtle counterpoint, adding a bit of soft tension.
The second track is similarly structured, but the tones sound more like notes coaxed from a guitar and allowed to drift lazily, ring out almost endlessly, stretched and smeared into deep soft blurs, again toward the end, the various tones seem to come together into chords and the sound becomes gently lush and sun dappled, dreamy and soft focus before fading out completely.
So so lovely. Fans of muted, minimal drone music, Coleclough, Chalk, Murray and the like, should definitely explore the sounds of Gareth Hardwick, and folks into the hazy drift of Pop Ambient style shimmer, might just dig this more minimal take on that sound as well.
Fantastic packaging too. A printed full color cd-r, housed in a plain black sleeve, with a full color textured plastic transparent insert, slightly longer than the sleeve so the transparent top edge sticks out.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!
Last list we featured a release by the mysterious Clutchy Hopkins, a hippie recluse who was the son of a Motown engineer, and who recorded these amazing instrumental jazz funk tracks sometime in the eighties or early nineties and then disappeared. Rumors have been circulating that this was actually an alias for DJ Shadow or Cut Chemist, as like Bigfoot, only a few people claim to have seen Clutchy Hopkins.
Well, Ubiquity, has released another batch of Clutchy tracks along with a dvd with clips from an unreleased documentary about this mysterious figure. Of course this does little to shed any light on whether this is fact or fiction or a little bit of both. According to the dvd, the tapes were found with a bunch of homemade and middle eastern instruments by a junk collector in Hawthorne, CA. The homemade instruments including a really cool flute wired up to a wah device, a modified electric kalimba, and a mini-electric organ were kept by the collector while the tapes were sold to a friend. Supposedly there were enough tapes to release ten albums, and they were shopped around to various places, and two full albums (including this one) were released. The rest of the tapes were allegedly stolen back and hidden by the junk collector who is now in prison somewhere in Southern California. Other testimonials come from a masked Mexican record collector who fought over the same record, a hippie lady in Venice Beach who lived with Clutchy for three months before he disappeared and a Seattle record store who has some grainy footage of someone believed to be Clutchy shopping. Meanwhile we learn from these testimonials that Clutchy was not only an amazing multi-instrumentalist, but an artist, visionary architect and spiritual philosopher as well. On paper, it sounds so absolutely far-fetched, yet most of the folks on the dvd actually seem quite genuine. So we're really confused. But like the last review, we're gonna stick with our gut and just wholeheartedly buy into this. Why, because the music is awesome for one, and this release also shines a light on another soul obscurity, Darondo, who guest vocals on a track. Whether Darondo recorded the song with Clutchy or was added in later is still a mystery, they didn't include him in the interviews. Recommended!
NB. the dvd portions of this review don't apply to the vinyl format...
Just a few weeks ago, we openly wondered where Illusion Of Safety had been for the past few years. Well, it turns out that Dan Burke (the principal director of the ensemble at the moment) has entered a renewed period of activity now that IoS is 25 years old. This milestone has not softened the psychologically dark currents of one of America's finest producers of post-industrial abstraction and silence-plus-noise sound construction. Sedation & Quell is the first of many releases slated for 2008, being a vinyl-only release pressed on translucent gold vinyl.
Sedation bristles with low end frequencies capable of delivering catatonic states. Vinyl crackling and warm swathes of radio hiss billow out of the deep deep deep dronings, and huge oceanic swells of growling frequencies offer a lethargic rhythm to this dark ambient opus. On Quell, a brusque crunch of electronic malfunction is followed by a steady hypnosis of rumbling drones which in turn are engulfed by a wash of hiss and white noise. While it's not the aggressiveness of Prurient or Merzbow that Illusion Of Safety is going for, there is a malevolent strain to this production, as if Machinefabriek were to gingerly steer towards power electronics ever so slightly. Very well done!
Iron Bitchface. Some names just tell you all you need to know about a band. If your response to the words Iron Bitchface was "Umm, euuuw, whatever, ok, well�" or something along those lines, then you might as well stop reading right now. But if you immediately thought "FUCK YEAH!" as you brushed your Misfits style devillock away from your corpsepainted face, your obsidian painted nails shining in the black light glow of your cave like domicile, and hitched up your leather biker pants, after lacing up huge Frankenstein boots, your be-spiked wrists and fishnet clad arms scarred from dancing wildly in the pit, whirling and thrashing on a very grim dancefloor.
Or if you're like us and just love you some fucked up freaked out synth drenched digital hardcore gabber-grind black metal. We reviewed a split release from Iron Bitchface ages ago, and ever since we had been waiting anxiously for this, their first proper non cd-r full length. If you got the other disc you know what's in store for you here, and you're probably DYING for more. If you've yet to experience the grinding glory of IB, you're in for a treat, that is if a treat for you is being pummeled by buzzing synths, programmed blast beats, howled vocals, Atari 2600 jams and furious riffing.
Long stretches of synthy ambience, Goblin-y haunted house soundtracks, all gloomy and proggy give way to garbled digital freakouts and soul shearing blasts of howling black metal, bits of 8-bit glitch pepper the tracks, sometimes becoming full on lo-fi old school techno jams, usually quickly turning back into grinding black buzz, but more often than not, all of those sounds at the same time, for a head spinning brilliantly confusional, heavy as fuck, weird as all get out black metal / techno / video game music hybrid.
Packaged in a mini dvd style clamshell sleeve with full color cover/insert.
Islaja is pretty much our dreamdate... 'cause after all, doesn't the collective AQ personals ad state that we're really into Finnish forest freak folk? And gentle late night moodiness? And heartbreakingly beautiful, breathy vocals, sung in a language we don't understand? Droning yet melodic psychedelic soundscapes? Yep, we're swooning over here. We even think it's kinda cute that young miss Islaja (aka Merja Kokkonen) is flipping the bird on the album cover! But, we're a little jealous of the shirtless dude standing next to her, that must be her partner Jukka Raisanen, who along with Kokkonen herself plays the music heard here. We also have to contend with Thurston Moore (hey, he's a married man), who has stepped in to arrange Islaja's first domestic release on his Ecstatic Peace label, after three wonderful previous releases on the Finnish label Fonal that had us (and presumably Thurston) swooning when we all first heard 'em.
This new Islaja is just as good as any of those. Actually, Blaze Mountain Recordings is a live album, featuring versions of some songs originally found on Islaja's Fonal releases (like "Pete P" from Ulual Yyy), performed with perhaps even more intimate magic. This collection of songs is as dreamy and drowsy sounding as you'd expect, full of twilight melodies and chiming abstraction.... and sorta sounds like the Jewelled Antler folks on a dreamdate of their own with the lovely Islaja. Delicate and mopily relaxed, or sometimes dark and sinisterly nervous, always with the restraint of small sounds (some played on toy instruments?) that allow Islaja's singing (a bit Cat Power, a bit Bjork) to carry the day. Swoon swoon swoon, our hearts are yours Islaja.
One of our favorite reissues and new/old discoveries of last year was the passionate and powerful work of Gerard Manset. We immediately fell hard for his rich and textured songs which showed the more intense side of '60s and early '70s French Pop. So we were immediately intrigued by this collection of songs by Rene Joly when we saw that the orchestration was credited in part to Gerard Manset. But once we listened, it turned out to be Joly's voice that grabbed our attention right away. Full of drama, fire and beauty we couldn't believe that this was the first time his amazing voice had made it into our ears. It made us think of what Antony & The Johnsons might have sounded like if they were from France in 1970, or maybe Bryan Ferry doing Edith Piaf covers.
Even some of our friends who grew up in France had not heard of Joly so we don't feel quite as bad for not hearing him until now. How glad we are that this gem of French orchestral psychedelic pop has finally risen to the surface, brought to us by the same label that brought us the great Pop Made In France compilation highlighted last time. Prog fans will even want to check this out for the great King Crimson cover "La Cour Du Roi Musicien" (The Court Of The Crimson King). Majestic sounds filled with cinematic flair, and bubbling with grandeur and rich color. Joly's commanding voice sweeps us off our feet every time we listen. Highly recommended!
We talk about 'long awaited' releases all the time, records we hear about well before their actual release date, forcing us to wait and wait and wait, but few records have been as eagerly anticipated, or generated so many emails from customers as this, the latest from SF black metal behemoth Leviathan. Especially considering the rumors circulating that this may indeed be the final recording from Wrest and his one man band, Leviathan. If it is indeed a swansong, it's hard to imagine a more fitting or more powerful farewell-and-fuck-off.
Even being a huge fan and voracious devourer of black metal, we would be hard pressed to tell lots of BM bands apart. It's the nature of the beast in some ways. But the second we threw this on, even if we hadn't known what was playing, there's no mistaking the sound of Leviathan, the guitar tone, those demonic croaked vocals, the dizzying lush black buzzscapes, the convoluted song structures, the weird mathy rhythms and the incredible riffs.
Massive Conspiracy is not a huge departure from the sound of Tentacles Of Whorror, if anything, it just takes all the elements of that record and pushes them just that much further out. The sound is a bit more dense, more epic, the drumming is amazing (especially after the switch from electronic drums to real drums) the compositions more sprawling and expansive in scope. Which is saying a lot since past Leviathan records were pretty dang epic and sprawling already.
The sheer hatred of the titles is certainly expressed in the music as well, this is some scathing, hateful furious sound.
The record begins with some strange static, hissing drone-like buzz, ominous ambience beneath it, a haunting melody, then Wrest's howl and the record explodes in a flurry of rapid fire riffing and relentless blasting, but only briefly, the song immediately switches gear into a lurching lope, then right back into the blast. The song is peppered with super dense squalls of high end buzz, streaks of ultradistorted skree, while beneath all sorts of murky melodies lurk, almost like some old 78 was left playing in the background, giving the track an incredible creepy vibe, the last half of the song wraps itself around a slithery downtuned staccato riff, a gorgeously grim dirge that pounds its way to a burst of black chaos at the finish.
The second track is all whirring synths, loping drums, and Wrest's gurgling growl, a weird skeletal ambient dirge that is soon swallowed up by keening high end guitars, crunching downtuned churn, and some super freaky almost operatic vocals, the middle of the song is all full speed freaked out intensity, before again, the song locks into a super riffy groove, much like the opener, before finishing off in another black blaze.
The rest of the record follows suit, weaving super elaborate soundscapes of black metal buzz, and moody mathy meandering, dense black ambience, and swirling low end drones, the tracks rife with parts and bridges and confusional changes, all masterfully wound up into dense convoluted blackened, that while on their own are strange enough, are also peppered will all manner of sonic weirdness, be it slippery peals of woozy, dizzying melody, garbled vocal fragments, soaring harmony guitar melodies, super obtuse dynamics,
All culminating in the final two tracks. "Vulgar Asceticism" is definitely the most fucked, and maybe most amazing song Wrest has ever recorded. Even the opening, with its muted riffing and murky bass throb, staccato riff, and weird Greg Ginn-ish scrape and grind, before the song takes off. And the main riff is super warbly, almost sounding like he's playing with a slide, the notes wavering and detuning, only to be yanked back in line, and then bent way out of tune again, the result a blurry seasick lurch, exacerbated by the dynamics, the riffs often slipping into strange start stop stutters, until the song reaches it's middle stretch, the bass and drums locked into a relentless midtempo blast, while layers of guitars, and various riffs slip and slide, waver and warble, a super dizzy expanse of funhouse mirror blackness that is as fucked up and far out as it is amazing and masterful.
The closer, "Noisome Ash Crown" is an appropriately somber end to Massive Conspiracy, maybe even Leviathan itself. The whole first half a funereal crawl, a bleak grim landscape of whirring thick black ambience, and strange squalls of processed vocals, squiggles of distorted guitar, the drums a solid framework for the drifting abyss above. A strange washed out, gauzy black ambient bridge, gives way to a crushing almost industrial dirge, the melodies majestic and sorrowful, the vocals harrowing and harsh, the drums furiously flailing before transforming into muted little tangles, the rest of the song following suit, a dark minor key outro that gives way to the same black static that started the record.
The first limited pressing comes in a red digipak, featuring some seriously twisted original artwork from Wrest on the cover. Inside lurks a 12 page full color booklet, with more freaky drawings, lyrics and no liner notes.
NB. this officially comes out on Tuesday (3/25) so we can't sell any in the store 'til then, but of course mailorder folks can go ahead and order it now, to get in the mailorder queue...
For their umpteenth release (and fourth since their 2001 comeback) this from-the-'80s true metal cult lead by Mark "The Shark" Shelton has decided to do an album about Vikings. At first we were like, huh, hasn't that been done before... and, like, by bands from Sweden? But leave it to Manilla Road to inject something weird into the proceedings to keep it interesting. Who else would make a Viking concept album partially set in Mexico??
Voyager tells the tale of a group of hardcore Vikings who, upon returning to their northern homeland from one of their usual business trips involving rapine and plunder, find that the local king has converted to Christianity. Disgusted, they flee to Iceland, only to find the place also crawling with Christians. What's a proper Odin-fearing Viking to do? Off they go to Greenland. Sadly, it too proves to be filthy with Christianity, so they are forced to set sail points further west, and south. Along the way, the narrative includes a gratuitous torture scene, pretty much just as an excuse for the band to do a song called "Blood Eagle"... Eventually these Viking voyagers wind up in Mexico, where the native Toltecs hail the Viking captain as the human incarnation of their Serpent-God. And more bloodshed ensues. But at least there's no Christians about.
You can imagine how this story would provide some darn good metal fodder, violent and aggressive. And indeed it does, but given the unique Manilla Road treatment, it's also psychedelically atmospheric, epically doomy, and very heavy within Manilla Road's untraditional take on traditional metal. Mainman Shelton, to the delight of Manilla Road fans everywhere (Germany, Greece and Italy, mainly, and maybe now Scandinavia and Mexico!), gives it his all, whether it be via wild extended guitar soloing or his eccentric vocal crooning (with some instances of more extreme, death metal like guttural rasping). Acoustic guitars, synthesizers, and a cathedral organ are also woven into the mix. There's melodic mellow lamentations here, full of serious, sheer emotion (which will make you forget the cheeky way we described the story above), along with thrashier fare featuring raw choppy riffs and drum beats, like waves rocking a Viking longboat.
In the end the surviving Vikings sail onward, keeping it true, much like this band... whom by now must be assured of their own place in Valhalla.
The long overdue return of aQ faves The Mausoleums, whose last record was a confusional swirl of grim black buzz and weird jangle pop, blown out bliss and thick dense noise. A record we fell in love with, on the recommendation of an aQ customer, long before we discovered that The Mausoleums was in fact a he, and not a they, and just so happened to be a beloved aQ mailorder customer!
For this second record, the Mausoleums seem to have turned down the buzz (just a bit) and turned up the pop. That's right. POP. Not that there wasn't pop all over the last Mausoleums disc I Am The Mausoleum, but the opening track on Blackened Fawns Cleanse The Earth With Fire, "Livelihood", is a gorgeous organ drenched slab of crunchy distorted shoegaze jangle. And we're not talking about the new wave of "metalgaze" that so many metal bands seem to be glomming onto, this is just glorious and resplendent and soaring, shimmering blisspop nirvana, the guitars jangly but washed out and fierce, the melodies sprawling and sun drenched, the sound crumbling and gloriously distorted. In fact, one song in and we're thinking it well worth the price of admission.
But it doesn't take long for the band to dip back into their other true love, the next track, "The One Who Sees", finds the band returning to a furious blackened buzz, howled vocals, pounding drums, insect like riffage, but even then, the sound is still rife with disembodied pop jangle and soaring guitar buzz, an impossible hybrid that sounds way better than it should. The next track is neither, instead a dense processed soundscape of soaring guitar feedback, little curlicues of buzzing melody, looped stuttering drums, dizzying minor key strum, all tangled up in a gloriously seasick hypnotic whirl.
"Thief" begins as straight up pop, like some super distorted Pavement outtake, or lost Sebadoh jam, all fuzzy jangle and simple propulsive drumming, until the vocals come in, a super distorted black metal shriek, bringing with it another layer of buzzing blown out distortion.
And so it goes for the rest of the record, careening from glorious shoegaze distortion drenched buzz pop, to in-the-red lo-fi black metal crunch, but with those two various sonic strains constantly bleeding and leeching into the other, resulting in the record's finest moments, the impossibly dense, epic, majestic guitar drone shoegaze blowout of "Old Woman In The Woods", impossibly heavy, yet gorgeously melodic at the same time, the strange distorted folky raga buzz of "His Reward", the frenetic ultra distorted surfy twang of "Skeletal" and finally the brief closer, "The Bees", a lovely chunk of overdriven steel string Appalachia that near the end explodes into a brief blown out buzz-drenched burst of looped digital fuzz.
Be warned, these are hand made, each and every one. And by hand made, we mean, made by hand, with scissors, and glue, and perhaps not a ruler anywhere in site. Each copy is different, most of them strangely fitted together, a paper gatefold, some slightly smaller than others, some seriously skewed, the color varied from copy to copy, some slightly wrinkled, some almost normal looking, others like maybe they were made as an arts and crafts project at a grade school. But heck, that just adds to the coolness, and makes each one TRULY unique. Cool cover image (but one that has been used before, several times, sadly) and a full color thick paper stapled insert. And probably limited as most things like this usually are...
Another crazy limited cassette release. This one from a name we'd never heard before, Sean McCann, but judging from this tape, we'll definitely want to be hearing more.
The sound is super distorted and in-the-red, lo-fi and warbly, like it was recorded on some old thrift store tape on a busted up tape recorder, the guitar being the focal point, but rendered in numerous un-guitar-like sounds and setting, simple strums are distorted to the point of complete collapse, strange effects make the tape sound like it's skipping, vocals howl and croon, everything super washed out.
Some tracks are warm and whirring and warbly, almost old timey sounding, everything shimmery and dreamlike, circus like melodies, kitchen sink percussion, and a soft focus patina of fuzz and buzz and whir, the tape continually slowing to a crawl, or skipping and hiccupping like the stop and record buttons getting pushed, others are dense and chaotic, but with the same sort of sun dappled summer dreaminess, the distortion and the tape drop outs as much, if not more of, a part of the sound than the actual instruments.
Noisy, but that sort of soft noise, dreamy, but not sleepy, instead a sort of druggy bleary eyed drift, think lo-fi folk or pop, via Merzbow, filtered through Philip Jeck and Tim Hecker, recorded by Faxed Head, and played back on a Dictaphone with dying batteries plugged into a massive P.A. with blown speakers. So cool.
LIMITED TO ONLY 50 COPIES!!! In beautiful silk screened sleeves, with a printed insert, each tape hand numbered.
Now back again on Vinyl!
With all the DJs out there diggin' deep, trying to one-up one another with some unknown killer dancefloor fodder, some intriguing discoveries have been made, and as a result we've seen more and more rare funk LPs get reissued for all to enjoy. Such is the case with this record by Ohio-based funksters Machelle McNeal and Wilbur Niles, originally released to general obscurity in 1979. I'm sure it will sell many more copies now than then, with the Chocolate Industries stamp of approval. And such tracks as "Punk Funk" and "Hypertension" sure have a tight, crisp energy that still sounds fresh -- these guys could even teach the likes of The Rapture or Tussle a groove or two. Right out of the gate, we're reminded of something off of that that Shuggie Otis album... It's synthy, Mooged funk with a jazz-fusiony, disco-era gloss. If you like your funk raw, look elsewhere -- this is smoove but so so tight. It's definitely got that cheesy-but-hip TV show soundtrack vibe, you can imagine these tracks accompanying the action on some rad '70s police drama. Done up in nice new packaging (apparently the original private-press LP didn't have much in the way of graphics).
What to make of a black metal band that has releases on both the Alien8 (Nadja, Merzbow, Acid Mothers Temple) and Tour De Garde (Ash Pool, Marblebog, Tomb Of..., Uno Actu) labels? That they're probably pretty weird? They are. And intense too. This is some sick stuff. Also beautiful, if you, like us, have fallen under the spell of this most extreme aesthetic, if you're someone whose eyes/imagination can scan the soot-blackend skies of an apocalyptic otherworld, and still spy flights of swans and stars beyond.
Menace Ruine, from the "frozen north" of Quebec, are the mysterious male/female duo of S. de La Moth and Genevieve. This James Plotkin-mastered Alien8 release is their debut album, after one demo (being reissued as a cassette on Tour De Garde). MR's original black metal art really made an immediate impression upon us despite how easily jaded we can be with the glut of black metal out there. It's the unholy layering of sometimes melodic feedback-sculpted ambient drone howl, with machine gun blasting... long stretches of atmospheric synth heavily infiltrated with sheer noise and distortion, scattered further with clanging industrial raw rhythms. There's almost 20th c. avant-garde moments of majesty, like some Romanian electronic composer gone insane in his or her sound laboratory, and others that with the occasional female vox bring to mind Wolves In The Throne Room wandering in another dimension. Or simply blaze with the burning black metal fires of not mere churches but whole civilizations.
For Alien8's first foray into the troo cvlt world of black metal, they couldn't have done much better, with a release that's indeed (oc)cult and true but also experimental, and not something that we've heard already a thousand times before, a rarity indeed! Fiercely recommended.
Featuring two members of AQ-faves Guapo, this instrumental band from the UK plays a kind of dark, baroque chamber-prog that's seemingly trying to evoke the magick of Aleister Crowley and the drawings of Edward Gorey, and also sorta sounds like eerie Eastern European circus music or a sinister silent movie orchestra or something. Theirs is a refined sort of precise prog bombast that would be ok to play as background music at the right sort of dinner party (in a candlelit English manor house, perhaps, with some murders occuring before the night is through). The song titles ("The Mage", "Whitening: Foxes Templar", "Reddening: The Blood Of The Pelican", "Asmodius Arise", etc.) suggest that some sort of occult narrative is being played out. Fans of the likes of Univers Zero and Devil Doll should definitely investigate.
Super bizarre 7" match up, that will have weirdo music freeks flipping out. Two bands, with essentially nothing in common, each exploring extreme and opposite ends of the sonic spectrum, both completely ruling. And in one case, completely baffling.
The A side is a band from Virginia called Never Presence Forever. Never heard of em? We hadn't either, but all it took was this brief 7" sampling to have us wanting to hear way more. We were sort of expecting some furious black metal, or damaged noise, but instead, NPF offer up some gorgeous creeping dark ambience, low rumbling strings, deep metallic reverberations, all mournful and melancholy, cinematic and haunting.
The flipside is a whole other something. A band, or a guy, called Ungeromimizu, whose sound is a sort of lo-fi black metal Whitehouse, a square wave damaged synth blown out psychnoise screamo, that is so intense and noisy and freaked out, we weren't sure if we were loving it or hating it. But it only took a few second for us to go with love.
Imagine full on white noise chaos, all hiss and squeal and speaker shredding skree, like Faxed Head with no bass and all the treble your stereo can('t) handle, super processed vocals Masonna style, squiggly FX addled synths, total ear punishing insanity. The second track is toned down, but only a little, a weird warbly techno synth pulse beneath howling black metal vox, and all sorts of squiggly high end streaks and squeals.
Due to a pressing mistake, pressed not on black, or bloody red, or trippy swirled vinyl, but various shades of pink!
One of our favorite free rock outfits returns, with a sort of homage to another one of our favorites. This live set from 2006's All Tomorrow's Parties festival finds the No Neck Blues Band offering a sonic hail to brethren in noise, Jazzfinger, or maybe not, who knows what goes on in those guys' heads, maybe they just they just thought writing "For Jazzfinger" on the cover looked cool. And if we try, maybe this NNCK set -does- sound a bit like Jazzfinger, but it also sort of sounds like NNCK. Either way, we're not complaining, since we weren't there, so we're feeling lucky just getting to hear this stuff.
Originally released as a super limited, and now out of print cd-r, the set has been all gussied up, resequenced and re-mastered and is a monster.
The A side seems to be one loooooong track, creaking and groaning and abstract, grinding slabs of low end growl, speaking-in-tongues vocals, random clatter and clank percussion, a foresty folky tribal primal free for all, but eventually the drums kick in, and the band lock into a murky stoned groove, a simple Can-like beat, and a rumbling bass throb, while the abstract skree above continues to swirl and stumble. Guitars moan and wail, detuned angular melodies unfurl drunkenly, vocals whisper and hiss, like it's some sort of disembodied hellish krautrock, which eventually coalesces into a gorgeous high end dronescape, sounding like a more lo-fi hippie Sunroof!, all that creaking and groaning and wailing woven into brilliant bolts of fiery psychedelia.
The flipside begins on more familiar NNCK territory, dense flurries of hypnotic percussion, chanted vocals, shakers and bells, tribal percussion, pizzicato strings, super intense and propulsive. That jam simmers down into a Grateful Dead meets Can groove, super abstract laid back blues, with the band finally living up to their name.
Eventually NNCK explode into a druggy expanse of FX drenched psychedelia space rock, that splinters into some aggro free jazz, and finally finishes off in a blaze of effulgent ur-drone glory.
"Two Shaves And A Shine" is one of those rare 'songs' penned by the lysergically inclinded Steven Stapleton, originally found on the Nurse With Wound album An Awkward Pause. The track's got a rolling bassline that would have made King Crimson very happy back in the day, a frantic backbeat supplying a spry rhythm, sparkplug guitar stutter, David Tibet screaching in rapidfire fashion, and all of those fucked-up Nurse With Wound idiosyncracies that make the track a distinctly Nurse With Wound track.
A few years ago, Stapleton discovered that somebody had created a mash-up of this track with James Chance's "Contort Yourself" (or was it the James Black redux?), and out of this discovery came the idea for a NWW remix competition, with the best tracks to be released on a CD on Stapleton's United Dairies imprint. Well here's the result. We can't say that any of these bands are well known projects, with the Bay Area entries from Xambuca and Forms Of Things Unknown being the only ones we even recognize. Not surprisingly, it's a pretty diverse compendium of deliberate weirdness, Beefheart theatricality, and cranky audio collages, all of which are connected by the insistent bassline of the original tune. The highlights are the blurred shoegazing drone of Pepe Wismeer, Xambuca's human beat box grooves which brings Tones On Tail's "Slender Fungus" to mind, and the scattered fun-house collage of Coil-esque electronica and squiggled noise from Lithopedion. Other contributers include The Stomach Aches, James Hill, BB, Anemone in Toto, Balog, dell.tree, the Vivian Girls, Horst Jankowski's 21st Century Swingers, Crab Fisher, and Nelson Ford Templeton.
Lion Productions brings us another super obscure psych/prog reish that's pretty darn cool. France, 1972: the dawning of Ophicus, an astrologically inclined band staffed by some serious musicians from the French rock/pop scene, including a former member of Zoo. They certainly had a lot of promise, this debut album of theirs being a gorgeous and eclectic (and sometimes experimental) stylistic mix, encompassing everything from lilting acoustic folk to lush symphonic pop to raw backporch blues to heavy fuzz acid rockin' grooviness (Francais Metal de Proto ooh la la!). Sublime string orchestration, lovely vocal arrangements, and memorable melodies contribute to the wonderful moody atmosphere that pervades this album despite its diversity.
There's a lot to like here. This disc's 20 tracks include eight bonus cuts taken from a unreleased second album, among them several English language versions of songs from the debut meant for international release. And Lion (as is typical of them) provides a fairly hefty cd booklet into the bargain, full of photos, lyrics, and brand new liner notes from the band themselves, including commentaries on each track (for example: "'Darbouka' was meant to silently convey the feeling of oppression and the impossibility of expressing where it comes from"). If you liked the previous Lion reissues from France (Classical M, Ilous & Decuyper) you definitely should check out Ophicus, likewise if you've been digging that Pop Made In France comp we highlighted recently.
Who would have thought that an Atari 2600 would be the instrument of choice in the new millennium, but as technology moves forward in leaps and bounds, seems like the most forward thinking sound makers are reaching back, WAY back. Souped up Gameboys, home soldered circuit boards, old school analog synths, even the recent Tristan Perich release which did the 8bit-ers one better (or more precisely seven better) by creating a suite of music assembled from ONE bit sounds, as low as we can go. For now.
But for our generation, there's just something about the sound of 8bit buzz and crunch, the video games of our childhood, the strange alien computer soundtracks, it may push lots of nostalgia buttons, but you didn't have to grow up in the early eighties to dig that sound.
So here we have the first release from Ken Fec, one of the folks responsible for the tripped out bubblegum electro pop dreaminess of Black Moth Super Rainbow, who for his alter ego as Power Pill Fist, seems to have gone back to his childhood home, pulled all the boxes out of the basement, and plugged every video game and antiquated game console from his youth into a 4-track, run it through his fractured pop sensibilities, a bank of damaged effects, and voila. The cool thing is this is not a 'noise' record. There are some seriously noisy moments for sure, but at its core Power Pill Fist definitely has a glowing pulsing energy crystal pop heart. Albeit a pop that is way more freaky crunchy fuzzy trippy and whatthefuck than most. And it's flecked with bits of skittery electronica, downtempo hip hop, and whatever else Fec had up his sleeve or in his head at the time.
Originally this was touted as a record that was almost a straight recording of Fec PLAYING an Atari 2600, which would probably have been amazing, but this is way more musical and composed. There do seem to be some guitars, and some extra percussion, lurking within and beneath all the crunchy fuzzy buzz, but it's that buzz and crunch that defines the record. Give this thing BIGGER beats and you can almost imagine Daft Punk or Justice rocking some of these tracks in a DJ set. The disc opens with a murky bleep filled jam, the warbly melody and scratchy rhythm buried beneath thick layers of hiss and whir, wrapped around a simple way-down-in-the-mix guitar strum. It somehow manages to be lo-fi and lush all at once, some weird krautrocky Nintendo jam. The follow up is all big lurching drums and warbling blown out synths, that sounds like something Beck would jump all over. Some of the other tracks are much noisier, but even then, soft melodies, and haunting song fragments lurk below the surface. Then there's songs like "Chuckanut Drive" that sound like they could have been, should have been, heck, maybe actually were the soundtrack to some super obscure video game, bits of �other games-, Pac Man, Donkey Kong, etc. cannibalized and recontextualized into some new old game, but liberally sprinkled with dizzying synth squiggles and an extra layer of stuttering buzz.
In between all of these blown out, almost-electro fuzz drenched 8bit jams, lurk subtly simple, bedroom recorded interludes, the strangely metallic minor key minimal strum of "Contours Gaining Shape" or the washed out low end droning whir of "R4eactor", and sometimes Fec will offer up a bit of abstract synth / 8bit experimentation or a more arcade-centric soundscapes like the straight video game field recording sound collage of "The Meat Tree" (sounding quite a bit like one of those Arcade Ambience discs), but it's always right back into another awesome grinding buzzy video game electro pop adventure.
Imagine Pan Sonic produced by J Dilla run through a Colecovision. Or think Donkey Kong meets Rastan, chopped up and reassembled by the Flaming Lips. Or Autchre recording a new record using only a busted up old acoustic guitars and the guts of a Sega Genesis, or some crazy psychpop jam session, but with Intellivision consoles instead of guitars. Weird and warped, fuzzy and fun, heavy and crunchy, poppy and druggy and just fucked up and freaky enough to keep our ears buzzing and ringing non stop.
Latest noisy missive from one of our favorite 'noise' artists going. Prurient, aka Dom Fernow, has managed to rekindle our waning love of noisemusic, by incorporating all sorts of typically un-noise elements, the least of which is black metal, but also, melody, dynamics, mood, mystery, all without losing any harsh energy, and without resorting to any of the tired hackneyed devices used by noise musicians as far back as there has been noise music.
The sound of Prurient may have begun life as a blast of face peeling white noise, but has blossomed into a dark art, a creepy, sinister, fucked up and black as pitch exploration of negative sonics, and we can't seem to get enough. Every release seems to stretch the boundaries of noise music into some new shape, challenging and weird enough to appeal to the not strictly noisists, but brutal and intense enough to keep the faithful's ears bleeding.
This limited 7" offers up two new blasts, both employing a similar sonic approach, but to different effect. The A side is an explosion of beautiful noise, a dense tonal wall of sound, but beneath the caustic hiss, is a hypnotic minor key melody played on what sounds like a marimba, looped and repeated, building tension and creating a truly creepy atmosphere beneath and within the could of blacknoise surrounding it. Wild unhinged vocals howl, bathed in distortion, all in a downpour of hiss, but that strange haunting Carpenter / Goblin style melody repeated below the surface imbues the track with a cinematic menace that only sounds that much better wrapped in prickly noise.
The flipside is another wave of intense crunch and crumble, this time the melody beneath the skree is some sort of tangled guitar melody, but the effect is the same, repeated and looped mantra like, the crushing grinding lurching noise is transformed into something beautiful and beautifully ominous.
White sleeve, white vinyl, white labels, black and white insert. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES.
We knew pretty much nothing about this band, other than Rock Is Hell put it out. So of course we were sort of expecting some wild, angular skronky psychedelic damaged art rock, but nothing could be further from the truth. And truth be told we're far from disappointed. In fact, this record has been kicking our asses big time.
Another guitar and drums duo, but instead of Lightning Bolt style freakout or Godheadsilo pummel, these guys spit out an incredible, dense and tangled and ultra heavy 18 minute math rock epic. What sounds like 5 or 6 songs sewn together, the band kicks out the jams like we wish more bands would, channeling the spirit of nineties math rock through a more modern metal perspective. Heavy, groovy, hypnotic, complex, we hear lots of Dutch instrumetallers Gore, as well as long time aQ faves Fuehler, the drums are incredible, relentless, and precise, but with just enough wild abandon to keep things on edge, the guitar is crunchy and thick, the riffs hooky enough that vocals are not at all necessary, going from tangled and thrashy to sludgey and doomy, the band lurching and grooving and pounding and grinding out some of the most bad ass heavy metal instrumental math rock madness we've heard in ages.
The packaging is pretty stellar too, a thick folded over sleeve, revealing most of the record itself, the lp pressed on thick clear vinyl, one sided, with a striking image of an angelic woman silkscreened on the flipside. Nice!
The end is nigh! Heck here it is, at long last. The final tolling of the bell for Finnish apocalyptic doomsters Reverend Bizarre. Thus this album is titled So Long Suckers, and there's a sticker on the front that says: "Doom Metal Is Dead". What could be doomier than that? Funny how these guys, who started off as not much more than an enthusiastic fanboy tribute to their favorite doom metal acts, have now become almost one with the genre itself. Or at least their own, admittedly redundantly denoted, subgenre of "Apocalyptic Doom".
When we heard they were breaking up, that was a bummer, but we were eager to hear this promised swansong release. So, sad to see them go... but what a way TO go. A sprawling double cd, six slo-mo (like swimming in a moat filled with molasses) songs of super heavy repetitive riffage and lyrical lethargy, lasting over two hours total. Everything that we love about the bizarre Reverend sorta summed up right there. Spirited, eccentric and extreme, the sort of band that thinks nothing of writing 25+ minute long songs, like some sort of oppressive, epic, plodding prog, giving them all the more space to display their guitar blunt force trauma and deep voiced vocal drama... so massive and monotonous. Disc one starts off with the twenty nine minutes of "They Used Dark Forces / Teutonic Witch". Track two, "Sorrow", is a 25 minutes. Track three, "Funeral Summer", a mere 11:41... and that's the whole of disc one. There's a few shorter numbers on disc two (like the fuzz ripping instrumental "Kundalini Arisen"), but also another 25 minute bruiser (the majestic and martial "Anywhere Out Of This World"), which becomes psychedelically trance-inducing by the end, for us, almost like Om.
Of course, song length doesn't put the o's in yr dooooooooooom alone. Reverend Bizarre take their final shot here at the classic crush of heroes like Saint Vitus (also a big influence on their cleanly-crooning vocalist), Cathedral and of course Black Sabbath. The riffs they repeat forever and ever are forged from the heaviest of distorted tones, the overall atmosphere is one of weighty, weary, weirdness. This is one monolithic tombstone all right, an end to this band's 13-year career that itself seems rather endless while you're listening to it. Endless and eternal. Reverend Bizarre, R.I.P... and doom on!!
