This newest Acid Mothers Temple dvd release, a double disc set, is pretty much essential for fans of that prolific Japanese freak-hippy musical commune. And we're not just saying that, like we would about any of their millions of releases. This is extra-essential 'cause it's intended as a "history of" the whole AMT phenomenon. And it pretty much proves them to be a "Never Ending Space Ritual" indeed! Heck, the menu loops alone are pretty cool... naked ladies and explosions and psychedelic effects, all right!
The first disc has two main sections. One features an example of archival live footage from each year of the band's existence, 1998 to 2007, plus an "early years" concert that's remarkably jazzy.
The other section includes video from a bunch of AMT "family" offshoots, including Acid Mothers Temple SWR, Acid Mothers Gong, Acid Mothers Guru Guru, and one we hadn't heard of before, Acid Mothers Temple & The Incredible Strange Band. During the Acid Mothers Gong segment, Daevid Allen pretty much out-freaks the entire band just by dancing (and wearing an outfit handed down from Madonna in her conical bra phase)!
On disc two (the main menu of which features video footage of the Father Moo album cover photo shoot!), you get an interview with Makoto Kawabata (in English), a bunch more live concert footage including performances of such faves as "La Novia" and "Pink Lady Lemonade", and a selection of extras -- among them a "guitar smashing medley"!!
So, even if you don't buy every last AMT thing to come your way, if you're at all into this band, this would be one to seriously consider picking up. ----* ----* 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 ABSOLUT NULL PUNKT "Absolute Magnitude" (Blossoming Noise) cd 14.98 AHMED, MAHMOUD "Ere Mele Mele" (L'arome Productions) lp 16.98 AJA ROSE & GABRIEL SALOMAN "s/t" (Self-Released) cd 9.98 AJATTARA "Kalmanto" (Spikefarm Records) cd 17.98 AMERICAN MUSIC CLUB "Golden Age" (Merge) cd 14.98 ANAAL NATHRAKH "Hell Is Empty, And All The Devils Are Here" (Feto) cd 14.98 APPLES IN STEREO "The Discovery Of A World Inside The Moone" (One Little Indian) cd 14.98 AUTISTIC DAUGHTERS "Uneasy Flowers" (Kranky) cd 14.98 AVERSE SEFIRA "Advent Parallax" (Candlelight) cd 13.98 AXA HOUR OF DARA BLEU "Clones Of Eros" (Fire Museum) cd 13.98 AXELROD, DAVID "Seriously Deep" (Dusty Groove) cd 14.98 B-52'S "Funplex" (Astralwerks) cd 14.98 BAUHAUS "Go Away White" (BMI) cd 14.98 BLUES CONTROL "Puff" (Fusetron) cd 14.98 BORATTO, GUI "Annunciation" (Kompakt) 12" 11.98 BORN RUFFIANS "Red Yellow & Blue" (Warp) cd/lp 14.98/17.98 BOTTOMLESS PIT "Hammer Of The Gods" (Comedy Minus One) cd 12.98 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 BROWN JENKINS "Angel Eyes" (Moribund) cd 14.98 BURKETT, JOSHUA "Where's My Hat?" (Time Lag) cd 14.98 BURNING STAR CORE "Amelia" (No-Fi) 10" 21.00 CHILDREN "Death Tribe" (Kemado) 12" 12.98 CROWLEY, ALIESTER "1910-1914 Black Magic Recordings" (Cleopatra) cd 16.98 DATURAH "Reverie" (Graveface) cd 13.98 DEAD CHILD "Attack" (Quarterstick) cd 14.98 DEATH IN JUNE "Rule Of Thirds" (Ner) cd 16.98 DEEPCHORD (ECHOSPACE) "Grandbend" (Echospace) double-12" 25.00 DEL THE FUNKY HOMOSAPIEN "Eleventh Hour" (Definitive Jux) cd 14.98 DEVOTCHKA "A Mad & Faithful Telling" (Anti) cd 16.98 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 ECHOSPACE "Spatialdimension" (Echospace) 12" 11.98 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 GOLDFRAPP "Seventh Tree" (Mute) cd 15.98 GUILTY SIMPSON "Ode To The Ghetto" (Stones Throw) cd 14.98 HABITAT SOUND SYSTEM "Zebras In The Dancehall" (Gematria) 7" 4.98 HAINO, KEIJI & YOSHIDA TATSUYA "Hauenfiomiume" (Magaibutsu) cd 21.00 HALF MAKESHIFT "Omen" (Profound Lore Records) cd 13.98 HAYAINO DAISUKI "Headbanger's Karaoke Club Dangerous Fire" (UPC) cd 10.98 HEAVY, THE "Great Vengeance and Furious Fire" (Counter) cd/lp 14.98/22.00 HOWLIN' RAIN "Magnificent Fiend" (American/Birdman) cd 12.98 HUMAN INSTINCT "Stoned Guitar" (Rockadrome) cd 14.98 IRON MAIDEN "Live After Death" (Sony) 2dvd 22.00 ISIS "Holy Tears" (Ipecac) cd ep 7.98 ISLAND "Orakel" (Vendlus) cd 13.98 JANDEK "The Myth Of Blue Icicles" (Corwood) cd 8.98 JARBOE & JUSTIN BROADRICK "J2" (The End) cd 13.98 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 KHAN "Space Shanty" (Esoteric Recordings) cd 21.00 KRONOS QUARTET AND WU MAN "Terry Riley: The Cusp of Magic" (Nonesuch) cd 16.98 LOCKWOOD, ANNEA "A Sound Map Of The Danube" (Lovely Music) 3cd 37.00 MACHINEFABRIEK "Bijeen" (Kning Disk) cd 14.98 MELOY, COLIN "Colin Meloy Sings Live" (Kill Rock Stars) cd 14.98 MESHUGGAH "Obzen" (Nuclear Blast) cd 15.98 METABOLISMUS "Snowy Meadows / Somnia" (The Social Registry) 7" 6.98 MGR "Wavering On The Cresting Heft" (Conspiracy) cd 14.98 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 MONO "The Sky Remains The Same As Ever" (Temporary Residence Ltd.) dvd 17.98 NAKED ON THE VAGUE "Blood Pressure Sessions" (Dual Plover) cd/lp 16.98/13.98 NALLE "The Siren Wave" (Locust) cd 14.98 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 NORTT "Galgenfrist" (Avantgarde) cd 15.98 NUMAN, GARY + TUBEWAY ARMY "Replicas Redux" (Beggar's Banquet) 2cd 15.98 OAKEATER "Molech" (Nihilist) lp 21.00 PAN SONIC "Kuvaputki" (Cargo Records) dvd 15.98 PELLARIN "Gundso" (Statler & Waldorf) cd 17.98 POWER PILL FIST "Extra Life" (Graveface) cd 11.98 RACONTEURS "Consolers Of The Lonely" (Warner Bros.) cd 16.98 RAMESES III "Basilica" (Important Records) cd 14.98 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 SAMAIDON "All Is Well" (Bedroom Community) 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 SIC ALPS "Description Of The Harbor" (Awesome Vistas) lp 14.98 SILVER MT ZION MEMORIAL ORCHESTRA & TRA-LA-LA-BAND "13 Blues For Thirteen Moons" (Constellation) cd/lp 15.98/22.00 SINGER "Unhistories" (Drag City) cd/lp 14.98/17.98 SLIM CESSNA'S AUTO CLUB "Cipher" (Alternative Tentacles) cd 14.98 SNOOP DOGG "Ego Trippin" (Geffen) cd 15.98 SONS & DAUGHTERS "This Gift" (Domino) cd 14.98 SOURVEIN "Ghetto Angel" (This Dark Reign) cd 14.98 SPRING HEEL JACK "Songs & Themes" (Thirsty Ear) cd 16.98 STRIBORG "Autumnal Melancholy" (Dis-Order) cd 14.98 SUISHO NO FUNE "Prayer for Chibi" (Holy Mountain) cd 15.98 SUN KIL MOON "April" (Redeye) cd 14.98 SUN RA "Some Blues But Not The Kind Thats Blue" (Atavistic) cd 15.98 TALL FIRS "Too Old To Die Young" (Ecstatic Peace) cd 10.98 TERMINALS, THE "Last Days Of The Sun" (Last Visible Dog) cd 13.98 TERMINALS, THE "Touch" (Last Visible Dog) cd 13.98 TIDES / GIANT "Split" (Teenage Disco Bloodbath) cd 9.98 TODD, MIA DOI "Gea" (City Zen Records) cd 13.98 UNEARTHLY TRANCE "Electrocution" (Relapse) cd 15.98 V/A "Encyclopedia Asthmatica Vol. 1" (Asthmatic Kitty) dvd 15.98 V/A "Imaginational Anthem Volume Three" (Tomkins Square) cd 14.98 V/A "Shadow Music Of Thailand" (Sublime Frequencies) lp 25.00 VVEREVVOLF GREHV "Zombie Aesthetics" (Relapse) cd 14.98 WHITE, JIM "Transnormal Skiperoo" (LuakaBop) cd 14.98 WHITMORE, WILLIAM ELLIOTT "Hymns For The Hopeless" (Southern) lp 12.98 WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE SON GOD "Out of Body Diva" (Holy Mountain) cd 13.98 WHY? "Alopecia" (Anticon) cd 14.98 WILL HAVEN "The Hierophant" (Bieler) cd 14.98 WOODS FAMILY CREEPS "s/t" (Time Lag) cd 14.98 WOOFAH "#2" magazine 10.98 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
We had a handful of customers recommend these fucked up doomdamagemetalnoise weirdos, and around the same time, in some glorious moment of serendipity, the band dropped us a line so we grabbed as many copies as we could of their super limited (only 66 copies) cassette, released on the same label that fellow countrymen Silvester Anfang call home...
These Belgians create a serious ruckus, pounding super distorted grim necro ultra raw dirgey droney doom metal, we saw it described as filthyblacksludgedoomdrone which pretty much sums it up. Pounding sludge, with blown out practice space production, grinding guitars, blasting super distorted drums, filthy super sick vocals,�with bursts of blackness and stretches of loping minimal crunch, sort of mathy, very doomy, all very very heavy and noisy and awesome. One of our favorite new bands easy.�
Essential for fans of Bone Awl, Ancestors, Ash Pool, Beherit, Akitsa as well as other practitioners of grim buzz and noise drenched sludge...
LIMITED TO 66 COPIES!!! In super DIY packaging, printed sleeve, photocopied insert, each tape hand numbered...
Space... tones... space. A bass note now and again, and whispering hissssss. A guitar string plucked, muffled by effects, droning into silence. And repeat. Doom paced (as per much on the Southern Lord label, home to SUNNO))) after all), but not "heavy" like doom metal. Talk about slooooooooooooooow though. Soporific this is, in a nice nice dreamy way. Warm and pretty and so, so sad sounding. There's three long tracks here that do indeed wrap you in their embrace, and proceed with the reassuring steadiness of a pendulum's swing. Aussie experimentalist Oren Ambarchi (known for many collaborations, projects, and solo albums, including 2004's wonderful Grapes From The Estate to which this is perhaps offered as sequel) utilizes sounds both fragile and foreboding, from instrumentation including glass harmonica, bells, piano, percussion, and of course guitars. The opening track "Fever, A Warm Poison" sleepwalks glacially, as per the first few sentences of this review. Ambarchi orchestrates the swell of strings, or what could be an accordion's wheeze, into this album's soundworld on the second track, "Inamorata". Utterly gentle & melancholic. As is the 17 minute finale, "Trailing Moss In Mystic Glow", which while blissfully relaxed, might be the "busiest" track of the disc on account of the presence of some quiet, spectral vocals, indistinct but still a suggestion of songiness towards the end of the piece. The guitar melodies are denser here, and there's a hint of glitch. It's gorgeous at any rate. This cd should appeal to fans of Earth's Hex, and Bohren & Der Club Of Gore, and even Boris's gentler moments, as if held under a microscope, volume hushed. Also this very list, we've reviewed the new release from another Ambarchi act, Sun. This could be that Sun album, left out to melt in the (actual) sun, to droop and drip, pooling into a limpid, low-key loveliness...
Okay doomlords and dronelords, it's been a while since we got something in this heavy and grim and bleak and doomic. Something so blackened and crushing, but also so dark and droney, so blissed out and blurry.
The mysterious B.Baphomet, utilizing a strange collection of sound making devices, including bass guitars, Moogs, FX, vocals, Rhodes, percussion, oscillators, seat creaking, vibraphone and of course "knocking something over", has concocted this haunting mysterious collection of blackdrones and downtuned ambient doom, of shimmering whispers and washed out electronic landscapes. Weirdly, two of the tracks here are credited to B.Baphomet, while two of them are credited to M. Colby, who IS B.Baphomet.
Regardless, the opener is for the doomlords, a near black metal crawl, huge guitar chords poured out like black tar, super processed vocals howl and growl, streaks of feedback and long stretches of crumbling rumble, like a black metal version of that Vulture Club record we love so much. This is ultra-ultra-megadoom, an impossibly thick wall of black buzz, of low end sludge, creeping and seeping, the vocals buried in the mix, crushing and pummeling, a slow motion sonic flaying. The track eventually morphs into something much more static, the guitars spread out into throbbing drone, layered with fuzzy synths, and tons of low end, occasionally peppered with barely audible vocals, strange short wave interference, damaged FX,13 minutes of utter and glorious aural punishment.
But from that point on, the other three tracks, are for the dronelords (and hell, by now most aQ customers should count themselves as both, doomlord and dronelord), something much more abstract and minimal, the second track, is a strange swirl of muted melodies, buried rhythms, swells of processed guitar, all smeared into a blurry glimmering dronescape. The third track is similarly minimal and drone-y but much more gritty, the various tones crumbly and distorted, crackle, hiss, whir wrapped around decaying sound, the track slipping from warm alien glow, to subterranean industrial grind, but always stretched into long drawn out alien sounding sonic expanses.
The final track is the prettiest of the bunch, a sort of lullaby, drifting bell like tones, glimmering chimes, muted delicate melodies, warm soft chords, all so soft and shimmery and so unlike the rest of the disc, especially the blackened opener.
SUPER LIMITED!! Only 111 copies! Each disc comes in a super swank hand screened brown on brown cardstock sleeve, with a printed red Japanese style obi, inside, a printed color insert, each one hand numbered.
Let's get this right out of the way, Erykah Badu is a genius! While we love and can't get enough of folks like Sharon Jones and Nicole Willis, there really is no one else like Erykah Badu, someone who is taking soul and funk into new and outer dimensions. She represents the best of hip-hop culture as well as carrying on a legacy of spiritual and cosmic soul. Badu has that something special that you can't really put your finger on but you sure can feel.
Her last record Worldwide Underground ranks as one of our favorite psychedelic soul/hip-hop records ever made! Five years later, she returns with another ambitious and crazy rewarding record that boasts Madlib as a producer, as well as the Sa-Ra crew, collaborations and guest spots by Georgia Ann Muldrew, Bilal, Omar Rodriguez (Mars Volta), and more. There's super tight and punchy live instrumentation, and samples that demonstrate a wide reaching and enlightened taste (The Yamasuki Singers, Eddie Kendricks, Curtis Mayfield, Nancy Wilson, etc). Badu is mindful and super knowledgeable about the past but she isn't a retro act, she is so about the here and now and could care less about trends and fads. She is one of the few high profile modern artists who truly has her own vision and such a special touch. Her live show a few years ago at the Paramount Theater in Oakland we reminisce about all the time, her band was so out there in the best of ways, and she owned the stage, even playing the Theremin and taking everyone in attendance to the outer limits of a super soul planet we wish we could always orbit.
Her new record starts off with an adaptation of the Roy Ayers produced Ramp classic "American Promise" and from there on out is filled with some of the best songs Badu has recorded to date, including a couple chilling tributes to her close friend J Dilla who passed away since her last album. New Amerykah has a couple moments where it trips up, but like all brave artists it takes the courage to slip up from time to time in order to create so much musical magic. Highly recommended, and for sure check out Worldwide Underground as well if you haven't!
Very first solo record from one Mr. J. Bannon, who most of you might know better as the frontman for the mighty Converge, as well as the head honcho of Deathwish Records. But don't let the whole Deathwish / Converge angle mislead you, Bannon also did time in a group called Supermachiner, a more abstract project exploring drones, and blissed out post rock and epic cinematic ambience, and while this 7" is a bit closer to Supermachiner than it is to Converge, it's actually very little like either.
A single track, beginning with a slow whispered shimmer, a simple throbbing distorted bass, very spare and spacious, pulsing amidst soft sonic swells, a creepy minor key melody, a soft dirge. Eventually the vocals come in, mirrored by plinking piano, underpinned by simple percussion, the vocals plaintive and melancholy, a mournful croon, the piano adding some instrumental gravitas, a slow slow slow build, only truly exploding near the very end, and even then it's not so much an explosion as a culmination, a sort of Godspeed like pinnacle, which quickly fades back into the record's opening shimmer. Very reminiscent of Low actually, a dark, dreamy, drifting, abstract slow core. A tempting teaser for the forth coming full length.
And most folks know that beyond playing in Converge, Bannon is also an amazing graphic designer, and that becomes plainly obvious when you see the over the top packaging. The records are pressed on various colors of vinyl, silver, gold, creme, it's a one sided 7", the flip side features a super intricate etching, a winged skull, flowers, and tiny text, all housed in a gorgeous screen printed card stock sleeve that folds together origami style. Each record also includes a download coupon so you can get these analog sounds on your digital player of choice.
If we had to pick our favorite modern psych rock band, it might be tough. There are so many groups who have mastered the fine art of druggy soundscapes, tripped out space rock, and in-the-red avantpsych drone jams. But if push comes to shove, most of us would probably pick Bardo Pond.
Release after release, every single one of their records manages to push all our musical buttons, be it droney krautrockishness, damaged freaked out noise rock, trippy stoned drift, fluttering psych folk, heavy riffrock, or all of the above! These guys have mastered their craft, but remain unafraid to just wing it, jamming wildly, almost always resulting in something truly transcendent.
Batholith, while ostensibly an actual album, is in fact, a collection of some of Bardo's favorite songs that for whatever reason have never been released until now. Some live tracks, Peel sessions, and the opener "A Tune", that the band began their legendary Terrastock II set with, a laid back stoned groove, all warm washed out guitars and shuffling drums, until over the top, in swoop the Gibbons brothers, to tear it up, unfurling fiery sun baked leads over the top, wrapped around the vocals, a buried murmur, ghostly and gauzy, the whole track a glorious acid drenched, fuzzy buzzy drone-y jam.
In fact most of Batholith sounds like that, super hazy, lazy, drawn out, sprawling riffs, dreamy and definitely WAY druggy.
But that all changes about halfway through.
"Splint" begins as a post rocky meander, barely any guitars, just little trills and flourishes here and there, amidst a cloud of bass thrum and shuffling drums, which rev up about half way through into a dense churning wall of sound, crumbling and massive, before drifting back to the track's opening drift. "Slip Away" is total nineties shoegaze, somewhere between the Swirlies and Swervedriver, the vocals ethereal and dreamlike, the drums a driving pound, but guitars EVERYWHERE, thick and fuzzed out, layers upon layers, one guitar soaring above the rest, skywriting buzzing minor key melodies over the top, sometimes exploding into wahwah drenched squalls, other times just adding to the overall buzz.
The final track, the longest at 10 minutes, is all Eastern raga, with some steel string buzz that sounds a bit like a sitar, a loping sea sick main riff, a hypnotic pulse like drum beat, and again the guitars take over, snarling and growling and glowing, a super intense tangle of downtuned buzz, draped over the steady motorik jam beneath, until the band launch into space, and unload an incredibly fierce and furious space rock outro, the drums dense and complex, the bass thick and fuzzy, the guitars all wound up in a glorious psychdrone battle to the death.
Incredibly deluxe packaging. Heavy heavy gatefold. The record pressed on 180 gram vinyl. Included with the lp is a cd of the same music. LIMITED TO 1049 COPIES!!!
BUT! While they last, we have the even more limited first edition (only 533 copies!) which come with a second bonus cd, featuring one lengthy bonus track. First come, first served, once the bonus disc version is gone, you'll get the regular edition, which still comes with the cd of the album proper.
Frans De Waard and Freek Kinkelaar have been very active in the Dutch experimental sound community for well over two decades in far too many projects to count. Beequeen was one of those projects, having originally producing some lovely post-Eno driftwork ambient pieces; yet, over the past three album, De Waard and Kinkelaar have steadily pulled atmospheric songs and folk structures out of that ambience. Sandancing is the latest venture and really seems to be mining the same skeletal songwriting as Low had on Secret Name. It doesn't hurt that the two have recruited vocalist Olga Wallis to join their project, as she's got a voice eerily similar to Low's Mimi Parker.
In the time it takes to read this review, your head would have spun around about 1000 times if you'd been listening to this album, instead. It's the latest tour de force from hyper technical math metal geeks Behold The Arctopus, and it's chock full of their usual blazing fast fretboard acrobatics (on instruments with WAY more strings than most guitarists would want to contend with) and blasting superprogalistic complexpialidocious drumming. Imagine a jazz fusion band called Melt-Meshuggah, with Eddie Van Halen sitting in to shred, that's kinda what BTA is all about. Whew! We can really only stop and stare at the stereo when these boys get going, though they do let up for some post-rock atmospheric bits too at times. It's all instrumental, also as per usual, with song titles like "Canada", "Scepters", "You Are Number Six", and the sorta Champs-ily named "Some Mist".
With most bands who possess the kind of extensive catalog that Birchville Cat Motel does (41 different titles on the aQ site so far, this making it 42), after a while, it's hard to know what to say. It's tempting to just say something like "you love this band already, if you like the other records, you'll like this one too, so just buy it", and that would probably work on a bunch of folks, it sure would on us, but the thing about BCM, is the sound changes enough to make every new record exciting and new, familiar enough to appeal to fans, but definitely interesting enough to convince most of us that we actually do need another BCM disc to add to the 30 or 40 we already have. This one is no different. Right out of the gate, BCM main man, and axe wielder Campbell Kneale, offers up something we haven't heard from him in a while, a fierce roiling cloud of blown out psych guitar. Thick sheets of keening feedback, dense swirls of high end shimmer like Haino plays Sunroof!, dense squalls are pulled out into long ropy streaks of blinding white hot buzz and skree, as the track progresses, the rough edges and jagged corners seem to get worn away, the sound becoming more washed out, but still just on the edge of full on ear drum damage. That's sort of the magic in music like this, figuring out a way to harness noise, and twist it into pleasing shapes, which Kneale is quite adept at. By the end of the track, the low end has caught up to the high, and the track blisses out nicely.
But that track definitely sets the stage for the rest of Seventh Ruined Hex, a record that is all about HIGH END. It's much easier to wrangle low tones into something dense and beautiful and drone-y and listenable, but the upper registers are inherently a lot more brutal and punishing and difficult to work with. But Kneale, as always, is up to the challenge.
That opening, extended high end ur-drone is followed up by some awesome sonic weirdness, a brief respite from the skree, a strange stuttering rumbling soft cacophony of looped guitars, damaged FX, some thick metallic crunch, all warped an warbly, with a haunting pretty little melody underneath. Definitely another one of those tracks (every BCM record has one) that you can totally imagine being an hour long and it's own full length.
The next track brings us right back to the static drone, and those upper registers, a simple chiming bit of percussion, underscores a crystalline high end smear, various notes and tones, woven into a glistening web of slowly shifting notes and overtones, a glancing listen, and it sounds like some difficult listening, but let your ears adjust to this high end soundworld, and suddenly the track blossoms and reveals its sonic treasures, filling your ears with a cascade of blinding glimmering streaks and warm glowing barely-there melodies.
The title track brings things back into the midrange, at least briefly, a growling, rough edged loop, guitar it sounds like, grinding out a muted pulse, some dark shimmer, some fuzzy blur, but still shot through with slivers of that high end skree, building again to swirling slow motion supernova of sound, emitting thick pulses of smoldering opalescence.
Finally, the record closes with the 17 minute "Bee", which begins all ultra lo-fi doom jam, moaning downtuned guitars and crumbling production, before transforming into a thick gossamer haze of gorgeous lullaby like whirs and shimmer, the high end kept in check, the whole track a slow build, very epic and cinematic, the various stretched out notes and chords churning beneath a layer of warm gentle buzz, midtrack, the sounds threaten to loose themselves and soar skyward, but are quickly reeled back in, the rest of the track a long slow fade, the high end sinking deeper and deeper beneath a warm blanket of instrument hum and blurred melody.
We discovered this just a little too late. The first in a series of cool compilations, all insanely limited, dvd-r's with interviews and live performances, super fancy homemade packaging. But sadly out of print, a bummer considering how perfect this one seems for aQ. C'mon! Birchville Cat Motel, Tarentel and Charalambides! Limited to only TWENTY FIVE copies. Arghh. Well somehow we convinced the label to do another pressing just for aQ, so here it is, a killer triple 3" dvd-r set, gorgeously packaged, with three long time aQ faves.
Up first is Charalambides, recorded live in Hasselt 2006, several songs, lovely as always, dark and funereal, ethereal, gorgeously shot, super close ups of the guitar, lips against a microphone, lit in reds and blues and purples, a dark stage, nothing but the two players... Really nice, intercut with simple abstract animations and interviews with the band.
The second disc is Birchville Cat Motel, recorded live in Gent 2006, and features Campbell Kneale, aka Mr. BCM, lurking on a hellish looking stage, all red lights and dry ice fog, just Kneale's figure hunched over his instruments, mic stands like demon's claws reaching up through the mist, a huge pair of painted eyes behind him on the wall.
Kneale sort of swaying back and forth in a total trance, wearing a black mask, singing and twiddling knobs, in a surprisingly tiny space, playing to about 20 people, the sound appropriately massive and thick, even mixing in a loop of Metallica (!), electronic bagpipes, and a Buddha Machine. Awesome. Also includes an interview with Kneale, talking about how nobody in NZ knows who he is, and about his very normal, run of the mill life, he's a school teacher, recording as a solitary process, and other cool stuff.
Finally, the third disc features Tarentel live in Geneva and Bern 2006, interviews with the whole band, talking about the development of their sound and creating new sounds, their approach to music making, improvisation, etc. The live stuff features beautiful films drifting behind the band, who are all cloaked in shadow, the sound dark and abstract, low shimmers and abstract drones, thick and textural, fluttering horns and whirring guitars woven into thick rough expanses of muted growl and soft focused creep, laced with tripped out dubby drums.
The video includes shots of the club, the bands wandering around, exterior shots, all woven into the super striking live footage.
Second pressing just for the aQ faithful, LIMITED TO 30 COPIES!!! The packaging is fantastic, every single one slightly different, sizes, shapes, each one a folded up map, the mini dvd-r's affixed to little nubs on the map, liner notes and little photos affixed to other panels of the map, all folded up in a plastic pouch.
This North Carolina band's debut last year, Bazaar Bazaar, we hailed as a brand new classic of, uh, classic rock. Super '70s yet super fresh too, with their kick ass combo of hard rock and power pop, fueled by killer twin guitar harmonies and fronted by a lead singer with the looks and the lungs of rock gods of daze past. Yep, if anyone's still making truly classic rock, these guys (and gal) are. They're on tour opening for the Raconteurs as we write this, a perfect match though we wouldn't be surprised if the Birds blow the headliners off the stage every night...
So, to tide us over 'til they've got a new full length, here's an ep, six new tracks, both badass and breezy, Birds Of Avalon always making it look easy... If anything, the blissful pop quota has been upped, with "Hazy 98" in particular sounding pretty darn Beatlesy. Elsewhere, they let the guitars lay it on thick and heavy, with "The Reeds" perhaps being the proggiest bit of asskickery (or vice versa) on this sweet lil' disc.
So again, we say check this out to anyone looking for a unique, modern day mix of (hints of) Cheap Trick, Led Zep, Big Star, Thin Lizzy, Southern rock, Rainbow, Raspberries, Nuggetsy garage psych, and other goodness... like maybe if somehow Drunk Horse and The Makes Nice were melded into one band, bathed in sunshine???
Originally released in 1972, this album by the Uganda born Birigwa is one of the most unique and hard to categorize albums of afro-folk-jazz-blues-psych we've ever heard. Birigwa came to America to study at the New England Conservatory in the early '70s when he made this beautiful record, which falls somewhere between Tropicalia, pastoral South American psych, spiritual soul-jazz and eclectic blues, accented by his super versatile vocals which swing freely from deep to falsetto, playful to wonderfully weird (check out the last track!) to downright pretty. Backing Birigwa was a really strong band, his sound bolstered by the rich bass lines of Stark Reality member Phil Morrison and the perfect flute touches of Stan Strickland. Think of Caetano Veloso, Jorge Ben, Devendra Banhart or Milton Nascimento, with one foot in Africa, the other dipping its toes in sonic waters flowing from all sorts of great and unexpected places.
It's weird. We can describe some stuff like nobody's business, dark drones and buzzing black metal, freaky folks and found sounds, harsh noise and weirdo electronic music, but for some reason, pop music seems the hardest to review. Which might be what makes the best pop music so timeless. It's some ineffable something that in some ways is actually impossible to describe, the music contains some mysterious magic, it's what makes songs stick in your head. And your heart. Some impossible chemistry, there's a moment when the drums and the guitars, the bass and the vocals, the voice and the melody, just click, and suddenly, what is just a regular old rock band, and just a plain old song, is transformed into a piece of music, that stirs your soul and that can stick with you forever, whatever is going on in your life, right at that moment, is somehow fused to the music that accompanies it. That record you loved when you broke up with the love of your life, 10 years later it still makes you weep, that first song on the mixtape given to you by someone special, still gives you a little thrill, the first music that made you want to start your own band, the songs that got you through the tough times� there's a reason people NEED music.
And the more music you listen to, the more you realize that the best pop music is the simplest. No amount of overdubs, or crazy psychedelia, or far out production or instrumental prowess can disguise a mediocre record. Granted that stuff can definitely be mixed in such a way, that a record can be total ear candy, but without the songs and the hooks, candy is all it is, sweet and fizzy and then it's gone.
We first discovered Bitter Bitter Weeks a few years ago, aka Brian McTear, an engineer and producer from Philadelphia, and we're sort of kicking ourselves for only getting BBW on the list now, not sure what exactly kept us from reviewing any of those records, especially considering that the first two discs were on constant rotation. Still are actually. That's the problem with so many records to review and only so many hours in the day. But we're finally trying to make it right. The first two BBW records were mostly acoustic affairs, just McTear and an acoustic guitar, it was all about the songs and the voice, the vocals so emotive and intense, warm and familiar, a high, almost falsetto (slipping into a full on falsetto here and there), but rich and rough, and the songs� so so gorgeous, perfect indie pop, hell perfect pop period, just so goddamned good, that we were convinced that McTear HAD to be a guy from some other band that we knew, but nope, he was an engineer, and BBW was his first real project. This latest record finds McTear expanding his previously solo outing to a full band and as hard as it is to believe, considering how much we loved those stripped down discs, it sounds even better.�
The songs are still simple and spare, but manage to be lush and layered, clouds of jangle guitar, wrapped around McTear's gorgeous voice, the melodies lilting and perfect, subtle harmonies everywhere. The first song alone is worth the price of admission. A killer main riff, that manages to be heavy and crunchy, but without losing any of its jangle, a cool dark smoky twang in the guitar, intricate but understated drumming, the whole song propulsive and intense, the vocals soaring and lovely, the main hook absolutely unforgettable. This is where writing about music all falls apart, where words begin to fail to describe something that is essentially magical, not sure what else to say. Catchy, lovely, a bit rocking, emotive, lilting, jangly, by now you probably know if this is your cup of tea or not. Listen to the first sound sample, if you're not sold after that, then you have a black black heart devoid of pop and we pity you! The closest comparison we can come up with is maybe My Dad Is Dead, that same sort of dour beauty, minor key melancholia, a definite nineties indie rock / college rock jangle vibe, but at its core, just timeless and practically perfect pop.
Most female fronted, angry rock bands probably get tired of getting tagged Riot Grrl, especially since for all intents and purposes, Riot Grrl ceased to be relevant years ago, maybe even ceased to exist entirely. BUT, if anyone was hoping to spawn a revival, Black Bug would be the band to make it happen. The A side of this 7", "I Don't Like You" is a mother fucking ANTHEM. The main riff totally distorted and so in-the-red it threatens to just fall to pieces, but then the chorus kicks in, and another guitar, EVEN MORE distorted and heavy and high in the mix, lurches into action, and lays waste to EVERYTHING. The drums are a mere pitter pat when faced with such blown out riffage, but it doesn't even matter. The vocals, though, seal the deal, distorted, wrapped in effects, howled with haughty pissed intensity, as loud and corrosive as the guitars it snarls around. And the hook, shit, if you gussied it up and got rid of some of the guitars and re-recorded it in a real studio we're talking something like the Breeders' "Cannonball", but instead, as is, it's a fierce fucked up, filthy fucking ANTHEM!
Like the Raveonettes if they were 13 years old, obsessed with Turbonegro, and SO pissed at their shit for brains boyfriend. Or maybe Daisy Chainsaw, but with a singer who is less waifish and sexy, and more bad ass and scary as shit. Reminds us a bit of Monarch punk rock alter ego Rainbow Of Death.
The flipside is not quite the ANTHEM as the A side, but it still slays, processed synthy buzz, tons of effects, this one more groovy and almost dance-y, in a sort of robotic way, more sassy pissed girl vocals. It's not hard to imagine Black Bug waiting outside some dance club and then kicking the living shit out of Uffie. Hellz Yeah!!
Cool thick black and blue sleeve, pressed on coke bottle clear vinyl.
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.
Black Mountain have to be just about the best burn out seventies retro hard rock and stoned soul combo going. A druggy blend of chugging Sabbath riffs, Zeppelin bombast, smoldering slow burning after dark jams, late night FM radio ambience and wasted hypnotic Velvet Underground style junkie groove.
This record has been hyped beyond all belief, so you probably already read about it, or maybe even own it, but if not, it's definitely worth checking out.
There's nothing here quite as potent as "Druganaut", the monster metallic jam from their self titled debut, serious contender for one of THE heavy rock jams of all time. A killer riff, awesome dynamics, sexy and intense boy / girl vocals. The opening track on In The Future, "Stormy High" comes pretty darn close, partly by blatantly ripping off "Druganaut" actually, the opening riff is a killer, laid over warbling organs, but the minute it modulates, it begins to sound EXACTLY like "Druganaut", right down to the stop start verses, and the wailing Robert Plant like vocals, but this one does change it up a bit, with weird call and response vocals, and a bunch of fuzzy crunchy Deep Purple-y organ.
Their self titled record was pretty frontloaded, mellowing out quite a bit over the course of the rest of the disc, but hearing "Stormy High" we thought this might be the one where the band kept it heavy and rocking all the way through, but nope, this is a band that definitely and obviously doesn't want to just rock, which, the more we listen, we don't mind one bit. The rest of the record is all stoned and laid back, with killer hooks, and warm carnivalesque organs, soaring strings, and awesome falsetto vocals, it's easy to imagine listening to this stuff in your old beat up El Camino, parked at some make out spot, where all the kids hang out and drink and smoke, hoping to get laid or at the very least forget all about your crappy job and your shitty life. In The Future is all black lights and bongs, late night and leather vests, big amps and bellbottoms, even when it's heavy, it's not so much metal or rocking as it is soulful and grooving. There are some more heavy moments scattered throughout, the opening minute or so of "Tyrants", a swirling super dynamic guitar / organ duel, or the tribal psych jam of "Evil Ways" with some serious ELP worthy keyboards and wailing vox. But for the most part, In The Future is a groovy slab of heavy seventies stoner mood rock, tripped out, dark and dreamy, druggy and just a little bit witchy.
Way back before Black Oak Arkansas became the wild, liquored up, Southern fried hard rocking musical party we all know and love, and well before James Mangrum strapped on a washboard and transformed into wild Jim Dandy, the ringmaster of the BOA traveling sideshow, there was a little band called the Knowbody Else, who barely hinted at what was to come.
Instead, the sound of the Knowbody Else, essentially the proto Black Oak, is more more laid back and groovy, druggy and stoney, lots of twang and jangle, the drums loping and lazy, lots of slippery slide, and Dandy's, er, Mangrum's vocals are awesome, scratchy and rough, a throaty ragged croon, melodious but still raw, a bit wild and slightly unhinged, like a cross between the guy from Nazareth and the guy from The Monks, basically even though he's super young, he sounds like some crazy old man with a beard fronting a hippie rock combo, which isn't all that far off, minus the old bit.
The opening track is so great, a killer hook, weirdo lyrics about candy bars, some awesome lightning fast slide guitar leads, lots of twang, and a killer shuffling swing rhythm, plus a wicked hook that sticks fast in your head and is damn difficult to get out.
The rest of the record follows the same sort of sonic path, groovy sixties hippie rock, a little like the Allman Brothers meets the Grateful Dead mixed with a little Canned Heat maybe, guitars unfurling dreamily, muted tribal percussion, some flute flutters in the background, warm warbling organ swells, gentle minor key strum, slide guitar melodies, soft swirling twang, occasional bursts of wild lead guitar, it sounds like we're describing some super limited freek folk cd-r, and folks who are into that stuff should definitely check this out, but for the most part, the Knowbody Else is dark and doleful country rock, most of it sounding like just a guy and his guitar, or maybe at the most a couple folks, not the massive outfit pictured on the cover. The songs though are slightly off kilter, a bit trippy and weirdly mysterious, the unique vocals and brooding moodiness, turning the music into something much more 'out there and dark' than most of the stuff from that era. Minus the first track, which is just a killer Southern rock jam!!
It's not hard to imagine, walking down some long stretch of buckling asphalt, nothing but fields and cows in every direction, stumbling upon some old dilapidated roadhouse, pushing open the door, dark inside, except for the dim lights from behind the bar, and the stage against the back wall, filled with a bunch of shirtless longhairs, kicking out these mellow jams. Awesome.
But then there are the bonus tracks from a few years latter, which feature Tommy Aldridge on the drums, who would go on to drum for Ozzy, Whitesnake and Pat Travers, and sound WAY more like the Black Oak we're used to, big heavy proto hard rock party grooves, heavy blues, with crunchy guitars, and big beats, the first of the two bonus tracks is a killer, sounding even more like Nazareth, or maybe Blackfoot, with some super heavy guitar, and Dandy's wailing vox. The second bonus track, titled "Jim Dandy" is a bit cheesy and is sort of skippable, but that first one definitely has us hankering for more of the BOA heavy stuff!
Comes in one of those weird new fangled rounded corner style cd cases, and while they last, includes a button and a patch for your fringed leather vest!
Sure, all you drone obsessives and out rock freaks can't get enough Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, an endless fount of whir and rumble and skree and grrr and rrroooaarrr. But this new record from James Blackshaw is a whole 'nother ball of... um.. steel strings apparently. Celeste is made up of two 15 minute tracks (one played in open C major tuning, the other in open C minor) of totally mesmerizing Appalachian raga folk, performed mainly on 12-string acoustic guitar with occasional farfisa organ and cymbals. Fans of John Fahey, Jack Rose, Matt Valentine and all things free folk will be completely blown away. There's still an element of drone in the repetitive raga-like riffing, but this is mainly and most definitely a weird and wonderful modern avant bluegrass / folk record. Lovely! SUPER LIMITED AS ALWAYS!! NOT SURE WE'LL BE ABLE TO GET MORE WHEN THESE ARE GONE!
Of these three new James Blackshaw cd reissues of long out of print cd-r's, Lost Prayers & Motionless Dances is the only one of the three that we never managed to carry at all. We've long gone on and on about how records this good deserve to be heard by more than the 100 or 200 lucky folks who manage to get their hands on the limited cd-r's, and finally, someone (thanks Tompkins Square!) had the good sense to gussy these discs up and give them the actual proper cd reissue they so deserve.
Originally released as a cd-r on Digitalis, limited to 200 copies in 2004, this one slipped right under our radar, which is a huge shame as it is just as good as Sunshrine or Celeste. But it's also quite different. Where as the other discs focus on Blackshaw's deft fingerpicking, and mastery of the steel string guitar, this disc is just as much about the drone and the ambience. Not to say, Blackshaw doesn't get to unleash dexterous little tangles of Appalachian filigree, but those stretches of strum and shimmer are set amidst thick harmonium drones and blissed out field recordings.
The disc begins with a warm whirring drone, all thick wheezes and rich lustrous chords, Eastern melodies, drawn way out into long soft smears. Eventually the guitar joins in, but simple spare strums, soft chords, and gentle fingerpicking, nestled amidst the softly undulating harmonium in the background, the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance, bits of slippery sitar style squiggles. The sound gradually slips into something much more familiar, 'that' Blackshaw sound we love so much, a lot like the other reissued discs, until the guitar fades out, leaving a murky muted shimmer, which soon fades out as well, leaving nothing a strange high end hiss-scape of weird processed percussion and shortwave radio, peppered with bits of high end jangle and distant upper register guitar scrape and disembodied clatter, before the track finally shifts gears once again, filling the last few minutes with urgently strummed guitar, big chunky chords, moaning harmoniums, and billowing splashes of deep resonant cymbal shimmer, a glorious kinetic finish to a another gorgeous sprawling languorous guitardronedrift.
Remastered and with new artwork.
More gorgeously lush neo-Appalachia from James Blackshaw, finally released on a real cd instead of an ultralimited cd-r, which makes perfect sense as this is way too good to be so limited. Two tracks, the first an extended thirty minute epic, a lush and completely gorgeous steel string raga, huge dense sweeps of intricately finger picked guitar, dense with reverb, accompanied by sarod, harmonium, Farfisa organ, glockenspiel, bells and bowed cymbals. Overwhelmingly beautiful and impossibly otherworldly. Expressive and aggressive but completely delicate and introspective at the same time. The end of the track is especially powerful when the guitars fade out and all that is left is the thick wheezing drone of the harmonium and a cloud of tinkling bells. The final three minutes is a very Fahey-esque, steel string guitar workout, gorgeous folky twang, simple and so lovely.
Packaged in a gold metallic paper sleeve with a small printed insert.
Super Roots craziness!! As if to capitalize upon the recent Stateside reissues via Vice of volumes 1 through 8 of their classic Super Roots series, Japan's major exporters of psychedelic, trance-inducing, rhythmic throb the Boredoms have turned on their blinding sonic sun rays and turned out a NEW Super Roots volume, number 9, number 9, number 9... their first in eight years! We just got this import in and it's been blasting in heavy rotation at the store, we're mesmerized.
In the past, the Super Roots series was very much UNLIKE the, um, "regular" albums produced by the Boredoms. For instance, back when they were more of a Buttholesy noise-rock spazzrock outfit, the Super Roots were where their now trademark krauty drone rave moves first seeped into thee higher Bore-consciousness. Now that their output of late has come so much closer to the sounds previously pioneered in the Super Roots series, we were wondering if this new installment would either a) sound like "old" Boredoms or b) introduce some entirely new approach of Bore-music. Well, instead it's c) a lot like recent Boredoms albums Seadrum / House Of Sun and Vision Creation Newsun. In fact, if you've had the chance to see Boredoms (aka Voordoms) lately, this is similar to what you've seen/heard, and the single 40+ minute piece documented here was in fact recorded live in concert on Christmas Eve of 2004. A super-charged minimalist rhythmic symphony built from wordless vocal samples manipulated on Bore-leader Eye Yamantaka's turntable, and the efforts of three hard-working drummers (Yoshimi, ATR, and Yojiro). It drones and churns and builds and bursts and keeps on going and going and going, very choral (it appears that Eye's usual samples are here reproduced and/or augmented by an actual 24 person choir!), each plateau of shining beauty that's reached, each level of energetic ecstasy that's achieved, soon left behind and bettered before it's over... wow. WOW. We hear that they're soon planning on trying to top this with a concert in New York on 7/7/07 featuring 77 drummers! (And our own Andee just might be one of the 77... ) You can't say the Boredoms aren't ambitious, but it's all so totally worshipful of the cosmos at the same time.
Adorned with the usual colorful EYE-artwork, this comes in Japanese oversized jewelcase, with plenty of room for the admittedly thick cd booklet -- 40 pages thick, containing all the musical notation for singing this piece in case your local church choir wants to get together to do a karaoke version.
In conjunction with the new album Smile, Boris offer up this super limited remix 12", already out of print, limited to 1000 copies worldwide, we only got 40 copies, so once these are gone, probably by the time you've gotten this far into the review, that's IT.
So two songs, both remixed versions of songs from other releases. One a super effected revamped version of "Message" the opening track from the Japanese version of Smile, which itself is a remixed version of "Statement" from the Southern Lord 7" and the US version of Smile. Confused yet? Welcome to Boris country.
So the remixed "Message" takes the original, and drenches it in FX, strips much of the guitar away, leaving just that relentless tribal rhythm, and then wrapped all around it, various little sonic flourishes, drones, and shimmers, little melodic tangles, long drawn out high end streaks, whirs and little stuttery strums, and the original's "woo hoo" vocals. Super minimal and trancey and blissed out. A bit like Boris filtered though later Boredoms.
But the real attraction is the remix of "Floor Shaker", the original was exclusive to the now out of print Southern Lord 7", but here the song is totally pulled apart and twisted into new shapes. At first, the vibe sounds really retro, skittery high hats, the vocals all by their lonesome, then some disco-y beats and some super fuzzy synths. Very new wave sounding. On the verge of being cheesy, but paired up with the plaintive almost emo vocals, the result is actually pretty cool.
But as the track progresses, it gets weirder and weirder, the synths more skeletal and damaged sounding, the beat a simple throbbing pulse, the whole thing doused in weird feedback and electronic squelches, high end chirps, and a cool looped vocal snippet, the vibe much more M83, a sort of washed out sun dappled overdriven shoegaze-y electro bliss out, shades of Health, Crystal Castles, Justice, and that whole new wave of modern synthsoaked dirty disco electropop, all wrapped around little bits of fuzzy blown out Boris.
Again, already out of print, limited to 1000 copies worldwide, we got 40. That's it. Packaged in plain yellow 12" sleeves, sealed shut with a sticker.
Every once in a while, we sort of wish we could just move on musically, forget whatever it was we super into, no matter how magical. Find a new band to fall in love with. To obsess over. To slavishly track down every single shred of recorded music by. Buying multiple versions of the same record just to get one extra song, or a just a few more minutes of glorious drone and buzz. But then along comes a record like this, and wipes that wish away. Boris are indeed the rarest of bands. Few groups engender such utter devotion. If it wasn't Boris, sure it would probably be someone else, but it wouldn't be the same.
Not sure if it's the fact that they're Japanese, or that their early records were so shrouded in mystery, or guitarist Wata's utter bad ass coolness, the increasingly elaborate and insane packaging, the outrageously limited releases, it's probably a combination of all of those things, but the overriding factor is ultimately, that they're an amazing band, who are not afraid to change their sound at the drop of a hat, going from shoe gazing dronelords, to crushing sludge doom destroyers, to wild thrashing rock and rollers, with all sorts of unexpected stops in between. Some folks prefer the droning beauty of Flood, others the Stooges-y stomp of Pink, still others the glacial guitar crush of Absolutego, most folks love them all, and who can blame them?
Smile, the latest from this mighty power trio, takes elements of Pink (arguably, most new fans' favorite Boris record, and most old fans' least favorite) and stretches them way out, turning a record that most of us were expecting to be Pink part two, into easily the group's weirdest and most chaotic. Which is in fact a VERY good thing. Add in some guest action from SUNNO)))'s Stephen O'Malley and Japanese guitarist and Rainbow collaborator Michio Kurihara and away we go...
The record opens with "Message", a dramatically redone version of the A side from the now out of print Statement 7". We described "Statement" like this: fans of Boris' Pink will feel right at home. A serious KISS like riff, some cowbell, and then some ridiculously blown out in the red acid psych lead guitar. It's weirdly lo-fi sounding, but still fierce, and if the band sounds a bit fuzzy and muddy, the leads sound like Wata is IN your headphones, ramming her guitar straight into your ears. It's pretty amazing actually. The music is a wild wooly garage metal stomp, tons of FX, wah wah, the vocals though are a bit of surprise. Weirdly poppy. Double tracked. Super melodic, almost sing-along-able. But it's all about the riffy groove and those impossibly acidic guitar freakouts.
But in the stretched out "Message" version, the track begins with some throbbing sub sonic bass, some seventies "woo-hoo" vocals, some hypnotic tribal drumming, a killer minimal groove that never stops, and even when the track kicks in, it's way more sludge-y and gritty with head spinning stereo panning and an awesomely fucked up mix (another reason to pick up the Japanese version, besides the artwork, more on that later).
The second track, most folks should recognize from seeing the band live. A killer riff, some wailing lead vox, wild thrashy drumming, the various parts spiced up with swoops of backwards guitars, and a crumbling super distorted tripped out FX drenched outro. The next track is THE killer of the disc. With guitars so blown out, they threaten to FRY your headphones, a killer stop start groove, weird blown speaker bass, all wrapped around a pretty sweet pop hook, but the band do their best to bury it in crumbling distortion, and acid fried psych freakouts. Until the last half of the track, where things devolve into some super minimal dronescape with soft strummed whispery guitars, a damaged percussive thud, and lots of barely there shimmer.
Our favorite track, oddly enough, is probably the next one, a cover of legendary Japanese group PYG's "Flower Sun Rain", a gorgeously languorous drift, all reverby clean guitars, soulful vocals, simple subtle percussion, a brief squall of gorgeous sun blasted psychguitar, slipping smoothly back into that slow dreamy drift. We'd have been just as happy to hear Boris do a whole record of PYG covers after that one. But then comes "Next Saturn" another weirdly blissed out pop song, muted tones drifting over muted programmed drums and a thick sheet of distorted guitar, and the vocals, which in the past have often detracted from Boris' power, have definitely become an intricate part of their new sound and have improved vastly, now able to carry a song, and in some ways this whole record, and here they soar and croon, a wicked hook and a lilting moody melody. But it wouldn't be Boris if they didn't smash it to bits part way through, and they do, unleashing huge sheets of heavily delayed guitar and dubbed out drums, throbbing bass, all tangled up into glorious psychedelic meltdowns.
Even the heaviest songs on Smile are infused with hooks and offer up brief glimpses of the poppiness underlying the crunch and rrroooar, no truer than on "Dead Destination" (by the way, some of the song titles in this review are probably wrong, as they are in Japanese on the sleeve, and various sources had different titles, arggh), a thick droned out, bliss blast of thick corrosive guitars, wild sinewy, buzz drenched leads, drums literally buried beneath layer after layer of whir and hiss and a dense wall of guitar. Eventually simple finger picked guitar and more dreamy sad vocals surface from within the roiling psychscape, offering a haunting counterpoint to the fierce fury all around. Even here, at it's thickest and most intense, the song is imbued with a certain melancholy, deftly woven into the freaked out guitars and stuttering mostly buried rhythms.
The second to last track, for its first half at least, is a gorgeous slowcore crawl, just plaintive vocals, delicate guitar, soft cymbal shimmer, a gauzy dreamy drift, that eventually fades to silence, before streaks of feedback fall from the sky, an avalanche of drums follow, until an incredibly emotive main riff, heavy and blown out, takes over, dragging the rest of the track with it, slowly churning, a sort of metallicized krautrock jam, the main guitar thick and distorted, but all around it glimmering harmonics and whirling melodies, those soaring vocals, and of course an appropriately majestic, dramatic in-the-red coda.
The record finishes with a massive 20 minute track, untitled, that almost sounds like a single song synopsis of Boris' new sound. Beginning with tripped out backwards guitar, and skeletal melodies, briefly interrupted by a fierce squall of intense psychedelia, only to bliss back out, giving way to a dreamy dirgey shoegazey dirge, all cascading distorted guitars and hazy lazy vocals, eventually overtaken by huge crumbling slabs of slow motion distortion and blinding streaks of high end skree and moaning feedback, finally drifting off into a slow shimmery feedback infused fadeout.
Be prepared for plenty of confusion in the coming months, this is the Japanese version, the domestic Southern Lord version will have a slightly different track listing, including some different mixes, the lp versions too, will be different, we're not exactly sure how yet, but we'll do our best to keep you informed.
But as is usually the case, the Japanese version has knock out packaging, WAY better than the US version. A puffy plastic gatefold, like something you'd buy at the Hello Kitty store, or a bath toy, a yellow transparent heart cut out of the sponge-like background, all the text printed in metallic silver, inside liner notes printed silver ink on yellow vellum, a silver metallic ink on yellow vellum obi.
If you're a crazy Boris obsessive, you're probably gonna need to buy both the Japanese version and the Southern Lord version, and maybe one of the lp versions as well when they come out, but if you're just here for the music, and you were gonna get just one, we'd probably lean toward this one, for the packaging especially, but also for the revamped opening track.
As always, WAY recommended.
A few weeks back we gushed and gushed like crazy over this legendary doom classic, all gussied up and elaborately re-packaged and re-issued by the fine folks at Southern Lord. Well, we just got our hands on the Japanese version, now a triple cd instead of a double cd, the packaging very similar, the only real difference being that the Southern Lord pressing came with a download card, so you could download some demos and live shows, well, that's what's on the third disc here. So if you already downloaded those tracks, you don't really need this unless you want to own those tracks on cd. And if you somehow missed this the first time around, and the $42 price tag doesn't scare you off, then by all means grab one! It's worth it. And be warned, we only got a handful, so when we run out, be prepared to wait for us to get more from Japan.
FINALLY!!!! The reissue all DOOOOOOOOOOOOOM heads have been waiting for! The monolithic BURNING WITCH! For those of you that don't know, before SUNNO))), before Khanate, Stephen O'Malley, along with Greg Anderson at least in the beginning of the band, were digging a mass grave of tortured, drugged to hell, low as fuck, abstract blood smeared DOOM in the band Burning Witch. We're pretty sure most people knew that already and are eagerly awaiting this dark treasure. First off, this is probably my (Matt) favorite doom band EVER, so I'm biased, but this record changed me forever, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. This record makes me want to hide in my room.
The sound of the Witch is everything you can hope for in a heavy band, BRUTAL guitars downtuned to the center of the earth, plodding, fucked up rhythmic patterns, twisted harmonics beating against each other, piercing feedback, noisy textures, and ANGUISHED vocals, courtesy of the ultimate goth, Edgy 59. The vocals range from high pitched, bamboo shards under the fingernail, tortured screeching, to low pitched, classic metal crooning, and even some death metal grunting to boot! All of these songs are structured in interesting ways, the sounds stretched out to the point of transcendence, spacious and demented, but strangely melodic. Every sound on these discs is allowed its own room to live and breath/wither and die, fully resonating in your cavernous skull, until your eyes glaze over, and catatonic fugue state is achieved.
This collection includes both the Towers... EP, which is more of a pummeling, savage slab of heaviness, and also The Rift.Canyons.Dreams EP, which is maybe a little darker and more abstract...both totally inhuman, both completely menacing, and essential to any fan of DOOM. Also includes some tracks from the Goatsnake split, which is loooong out of print, and also a third bonus disc with a killer live set, plus some never heard BW demo material. SICK!
The packaging is also AMAZING, This double disc set comes with a beautiful bound booklet, filled to the brim with cryptic occult iconography printed in stunning gold ink, and some appropriately scary band photos, along with some commentary from that fella Aaron Turner, you know that dude? Totally scary, completely demented, innovative, weird, HEAVY as all the laments of hell's dammed souls combined! Pretty much essential for fans of all things, uh, doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooomy!
RECOMMENDED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A few years ago Chris Clark decided to drop his first name as he continually tweaked and changed his sound, making his records some of the most consistently interesting and innovative releases in the world of electronica.
With his latest album he's made more bold changes, probably the most immediately felt (and heard!) of his career. Clark's sound is changed to full throttle on this outing and we are loving it. This is way more four on the floor full on crazy dance party style than anything we've ever heard from him before, but still with such an interesting and unpredictable sound palette. While it taps a bit into 90's Aphex Twin and the more raging side of Kid 606, we still can hear Clark's great and eclectic touch in all of these songs. This is the soundtrack to a rave we'd love to spend all night, every night at. We gotta say this is making us want to do a hit of E and dance the night away, but what's awesome about the record is that it also appeals to those of us not too keen on the dance floor, but who still love pounding and driving electronic music that we can totally spazz out to.
Definitely a contender for electronic record of the year!
It's been a while since we've heard from the Cloaks, aka Spencer Doran. But the first Cloaks cd, A Crystal Skull In Peru, is still a steady seller, and for good reason. Two tracks of piano, electronics, guitar, zither and bells, all woven into lush dreamlike soundscapes. The Starving Weirdos released that first one on their label, which made a lot of sense, as they two seems to share a distinct aesthetic, but with the SWs taking the darker path, while Cloaks path was dappled with sunlight, and would around grassy knolls and windswept vistas.
We're pleased to report, that on this latest release, another two tracker, Doran and his Cloaks haven't altered the formula too much. Another couple of fuzzy, gauzy, washed out dronescapes, the first rich with flurries of muted piano, and processed guitars, the emphasis on the piano, which, much like the first disc, reminds us of continuous music guru and master pianist Lubomyr Melnyk, albeit less frenzied. Instead, the clouds of notes emerge from the piano and drift like motes of dust, swirling in the slightest breeze, surrounded by bits of glitch, and crumbling effects, backwards melodies, soft swaths of buzz and whirring shimmer, delicate and crystalline, but so warm and rich and soporific, 35 minutes of dense, swirling soft focus bliss, utterly mesmerizing and hypnotic, yet another one of those tracks that should go on forever and ever.
The second track is much more brief, and acts more as a sort of addendum. A dark, languorous avant Appalachia, dark notes tumbling from the guitar, soft swirls of steel string shimmer, the subtle buzz of deftly fingerpicked melodies, minor key and melancholy, hovering over a backdrop of watercolored whirs, a near static drone beneath the gorgeous little tangles of guitar, laced with spare, spacious piano melodies, a gorgeous late afternoon drift, that near the end, builds to a swirling, densely layered, subtly kinetic coda. So nice.
Packaged in a beautiful full color sleeve, hand stamped and numbered cd-r's, photocopied inserts, LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES...
Second release from this droning duo. Coelacanth is our very own Jim Haynes and AQ pal Loren Chasse (Jewelled Antler, Blithe Sons, Thuja, Franciscan Hobbies, Id Battery et al). Four extended tracks of gorgeous space-y drone-y almost-ambience. Forests of cricket-like chirps are blurred into smeary ambient washes of cool greys and pale whites, beneath smatterings of clinking clicking clatter. Keening, indistinct moaning tones sound like distant foghorns, reflected from the slowly shifting terrain. Underwatery warped sonic shudders billow outward as vague melodies drift and float, chiming and reverberating, eventually dissipating into misty clusters of ethereal almost transparent notes. Hissing, fuzzy high end buzz whirs machinelike over industrial clatter that has been smoothed out into pulsing, barely-there rhythms. So so nice. All of the sounds were collected from various public and private Coelacanth performances over the last couple years, before being assembled into the Glass Sponge. Released by local sound art nonprofit 23five.
Issued at the end of 2005, The Ape Of Naples marked the end of an era for Coil. It was the grand finale to a tumultuous career of psychotropic electronica, sidereal ambience, and post-industrial occultations. A year earlier, Jhonn Balance died as the result of an alcohol related accident. In the intervening months, his partner -- both creatively and romantically -- Peter Christopherson resurrected many of the tracks from the ill-fated Backwards sessions as well as unreleased recordings that date back to the beginning of Coil in 1982. It should be noted that Christopherson did not intend The Ape Of Naples to be lumped in with the Stolen and Contaminated series of rare and unreleased material; rather, he shaped the album to reflect his grief and melancholy.
The Backwards sessions were originally commissioned as a follow up to their seminal oblique dance album Love's Secret Domain, which emerged out of Coil's obsession with British acid house and rave culture. In fact, Trent Reznor had brought Coil to his New Orleans studio to record much of those sessions in hopes of releasing the album on his Nothing imprint. Unfortunately, more than a decade went by with only false starts and creative dead ends; and Backwards never emerged. While it's not all that clear if The Ape Of Naples is the album that Coil envisioned when they were making Backwards, The Ape Of Naples stands as a mighty triumph in the Coil pantheon of releases, ranking up there with Horse Rotovator and the aforementioned Love's Secret Domain.
In releasing The Ape Of Naples on vinyl some three years after the original cd, Important Records has bundled the 3LPs of The Ape Of Naples with a fourth LP comprised of Christopherson's further revisitations of the Backwards sessions onto an LP called The New Backwards. These tracks found here may be even better than what's found on The Ape Of Naples. The only drawback is that this 4LP set is a bit pricey, and painfully limited to 500 copies, most of which have already been snatched up.
Man, we really, really love old school video games around here. The Tron and Rastan games in the store, the Arcade Ambience field recording series, Power Pill Fist, etc. It has to be part of what lured us into the world of Toronto's Crystal Castles and their 8-bit electro mayhem. We're so glad this finally came out, because half of these tracks have been on the internet for about two years and a legitimate release was looking sort of unlikely. But here it is! We digress, on with the review.
Okay, so the duo has been lumped in -- maybe mistakenly -- with the Klaxons, Justice, Digitalism, and the like, but we hear darker, more interesting minor key melodies that occasionally hint at things like The Knife and Junior Boys. In reality, they're not divorced from any of those bands, but there's something about them that gets us. No, not just the aural video game quality, but the undeniable urge to somehow say they're just a bit more punk. Fun. Playful. In fact, there's a handful of tracks on the record that aren't even mixed. And when we saw them play here a year or so ago, their singer Alice was telling us about how she had been kicked out of the previous night's venue for underage drinking.
It doesn't hurt their art-punk street cred that they're best buds with LA's own Health, who they did a split 7" with a year or so ago. When listening to Crystal Castles, there's the feeling that this duo would be just as happy blasting their sounds through a shitty stereo system at their friend's house party, but lucky for us everyone else seems to be feeling it too -- and now they can invite us along to the party.
The Philosopher's Stone marks the end the of ten long and productive years during which Der Blutharsch have unleashed their signature dark neo-folk upon the masses. Apocalyptic prophecies, mantras, and manifestos spewed forth from the hate-forged lips of Albin Julius, but even this must come to an end. Over the course of 8 tracks and nearly 56 minutes, long-time fans can't help but sit back and marvel at the gargantuan change between 1998's Der Sieg Des Lichtes Ist Des Lebens Heil! and the present release.
The band was considered highly innovative at its inception, but in retrospect it's easily classifiable as straight-forward neo-folk, albeit at its very finest. These days? Geez, I mean, we're hearing something like a blackened, post-industrial Loop or Jesus and Mary Chain. Or maybe even what the Birthday Party would've sounded like if they were a suicidal '70s psych group. Staccato dirges grab distorted basslines and ride them into droney psychedelia, underneath a sky of swirling guitar leads and brutal, haunting vocals. In a way, the album is heavily indebted to Death In June's old, old album The Guilty Have No Past, but on tons of heroin -- and probably a fistful of other downers and/or mood stabilizers. But through it all Julius's mantra could not be clearer. In fact, the back page of the booklet even reads in bold letters: "Uniforms are always changing, rock n' roll will stay forever." And if rock n' roll's main objective is to scare parents, or the majority of society in general, Der Blutharsch are definitely, definitely a rock band. Even though they sure as hell don't look like one. If you were to see them in the street, you'd probably try as hard as possible not to make eye contact, and maybe assume they were an extremely well-funded fascist militia of sorts. Ah, which brings up their (at least implicitly fascist) politics. Well, they're highly questionable at best, and to get the whole story, you'd need to maybe talk with them yourself. As for us, it's not much different than listening to old Ike and Tina Turner recordings, great songs written by a much-less-than-admirable dude. Either way, The Philosopher's Stone is a fantastic cross-section of what Julius and crew are capable of producing, truly mood-altering, honestly fucked up music that completely transcends any traditional understanding of the way songs -- and albums -- work. Somewhere between a heathen liturgy and a well-produced personal catharsis, Der Blutharsch never fails to provide the listener with new experiences and forge new territory in a genre that tends to be cripplingly simplistic, predictable, and indulgent. Recommended.
As always, the packaging is incredible, the cd is in a miniature hardcover book style digipak, all glossy inks and subtle embossing, a big booklet, and super striking imagery. The lp too is extravagant, a similarly rendered glossy layout, but with a BONUS 7" with two tracks not on the cd, in a full color sleeve affixed to the inside of the gatefold.
Another Japanese version to drive collectors and completists crazy! This is the import version of the most recent release from eternal aQ faves Earth, and in addition to the record itself, an absolutely gorgeous and timeless slab of dark lugubrious cinematic twang, this double disc tacks on a live disc, recorded in 2006 in Europe, and originally released on Southern Lord as Live Europe 2006, a disc so limited (maybe just tour only) that we never even heard about it, let along carried it. But it's just what you might expect, live versions of all the new Earth favorites, slightly heavier in places, maybe subtly more raw and immediate, but really hewing pretty close to the recorded versions, so most likely for completists only, or folks not put off by the idea of shelling out $35 for a record they already own, for the extra 6 tracks...
And be warned, we only got a handful, so when we run out, be prepared to wait for us to get more from Japan.
Our beloved Earth return, and continue to move ever farther away from their pioneering slow motion riffage, into a world much more stately and elegiac. A sound that more and more resembles A Cormac McCarthy novel rendered in notes and chords. In fact, some forward thinking movie exec, might consider having the modern incarnation of Earth score the next (inevitable) McCarthy movie adaptation. Blood Meridian? Would be pretty amazing. And almost overkill. As the sound of Earth evokes all of those images all on its own. The heat rising off sunbaked desert highways, animal carcasses beneath leafless tress, carrion circling overhead, old farmhouses burnt out and abandoned. The sky thick with a haze of campfire smoke, a dusty path stretching out forever into the horizon.
The sound on Bees is not a huge departure from Hibernaculum, more a subtle progression. The first track sounds as if since the last record, the fields have grown more fallow, the creek dried up, the youngest passed away and is buried in the backyard, beneath a pile of stones so the coyotes don't dig her up, the factory in town closed down, everything quietly and sadly fading away, leaving nothing but ghost towns and weed choked fields.
But the music on Bees, is not all as dour as that, it's also strangely hopeful, glimmers of sunlight through the slowly parting clouds, the chords major, the melodies, sweeping and majestic, it's hard with Earth to not think in cinematic terms, like coming over the hill to discover a verdant valley, a rushing river, and cows grazing, fattened on the bounty of the land.
The guitars on Bees are thick and full, but not distorted or heavy really, just massive, paired up with piano, and organ, thick ropy bass, leaving plenty of space, lots of drift and shimmer, the drums not so much a pound as a soft insistent shuffle, the music moving in waves, like a heavier Low playing country music, or Godspeed slowed way down, darkened and simplified. Earth is now a four piece and it shows, the sound is definitely more expansive and sprawling, cinematic and subtly complex. They're even augmented by jazz guitarist Bill Frisell on a few tracks.
Fans already know they need this (and probably already have it), but folks who have yet to check out Earth, or found their doomdrone trailblazing unappealing, might really dig this, as might fans of the Dirty Three, Calexico, Friends Of Dean Martinez and other outfits who traffic in the twangier strains of dark dolorous slowcore.
Cool cover art by Arik Roper, housed in a gorgeous black slipcover, letterpressed and printed in gold metallic ink.
Haunted and humorous, Excepter's Debt Dept. opens with a Sabbath like riff, looped and fuzzed to create the platform for the vocals of not 1, nor 2, but 3 vocalists' unhinged ramblings.
Excepter's cast flood the track with faithless and caustically delivered lyrics, half sung, half spoken. The effect is oddly chilling, considering the tone is ultimately that of Excepter's tried and true mix of futurist-dub, narcotic fuzz and drone, and mellow yet schizophrenic vocals; a pastiche sometimes too dynamic, ridiculous, or slapdash to take "seriously." Nonetheless, on Debt Dept., Excepter's sardonic wit and notedly more focused approach gives them a winning hand. Their most recent efforts have been less oriented towards vocals and lyrics, but the addition of two new vocalists, Clare Amory and Lala Harrison, has changed that. The vocals by committee approach is made a dominant fixture through the diverse array of effects their digressions are filtered through. The rhythmic collision course is more spacious than previous efforts giving time for grooves to develop, and even a few hooks to set in. Beyond the half-sung/postpunk/almost-rap like vocal delivery, there are also spectral vocal interludes, resulting in blanketed and billowing textures that soften the harsh and incisive beats and guttural, expulsive, and erotic moaning.
Those who love Excepter will find themselves well satisfied with Dept Debt., as it embellishes and improves upon their developing style of droney, dubby eclecticism. On this, their full length Paw Tracks debut, the band offers a near staggering swirl of most of the styles and sounds the label already offers, with heavy ladle-fulls of Black Dice, Rings, and Ariel Pink added to the already potent brew. Lest this hint at a lack originality, it must be stressed that the way in which the band incorporates and stirs these qualities is wholly original. Rhythmically, the album is a little tighter and more committed than previous efforts, with a greater apprenticeship to hip hop and dub, and some wacked notion of post-industrial dance. It could work well as the soundtrack to some alchemists in a satellite factory processing dark matter into... well... dark pop. Or perhaps like watching a disco ball shatter in slow motion, its shards reflecting a disparate collection of cultural references as they fly past you. Whichever the more operative metaphor, the band has invited you lovingly to their fucked-up, post-everything party, and if we were you, we'd be joining them in the festivities.
Remember that Spire record on Touch a while back? A series of Organ works, by a handful of the usual avant drone suspects: Fennesz, Jeck, Biosphere, Tsunoda, Ambarchi, Watson and others�
Well, this 7" is part of a series of limited eps, based on the Spire recordings. The first we think. And is a tribute to Arvo Part, and to "mystic minimalism". Charles Matthews who was featured on the original Spire recordings, playing the massive pipe organ, is the player here as well, and both Jeck and Fennesz get a side to do what they want with those original sounds.
Fennesz turns the sound of the organ into a minimal whir, gentle washes of grit and whispery buzz, long tones subtly pulsing, deep rich chords, soft swells, gently effected and transformed into haunting alien drones. Those drones infused with melancholic melodies and deep metallic reverberations. Truly mystical and minimal.
Jeck however is much less reverent. Choosing much like he did on the original Spire recording to try something more aggressive, more dark, more noisy, and much less soothing, his side is an almost industrial soundscape or crunch and buzz, the organ's notes transformed into bell like tones, chopped up into jagged melodies, almost like someone is flipping stations, the melody lurching suddenly from note to note, jarring and uneasy, but at the same time hauntingly compelling. The tones are dense and distorted, lots of smeared feedback, thick clouds of pixilated grit and deep droning walls of whir, a super intense and extraordinarily noisy approach from Jeck, something we're definitely interested in hearing much more of in the future.
As always, comes houses in an immediately recognizable Touch style sleeve, with gorgeous Jon Wozencroft photos and design.
A brand new blast of grim frostbitten Canadian blackness from the masters of Metal Noir Quebecois, Forteresse. We were first struck by these guys when we saw the cover of their first record, an old yellowed photo of a young man cradling a violin, then once we threw the record on, it began with a crackly old recording of some sort of folky fiddle music. Whatthefuck, we were thinking, until the band launched into the first track, exploding in a frenzy of classic sounding nineties styled black metal buzz. That record was a tribute to the folk music and culture of the French part of North America apparently, but as we mentioned in the review of that disc, we never would have known it but for those brief bits of scratchy violin.
This latest disc seems to be also steeped in some sort of mythology, the record cover, a very Burzum like black and grey drawing of some old farm house, of leafless winter trees and thick drifts of snow, they are Canadian after all. The songs separated into movements. The music inside is appropriately frosty and grim, barren and wintry, a distinct departure from the thick black buzz of their debut. Here, the sound is super brittle and high end, the tracks are super washed out, the buzzing guitars so smeared and blurred and mixed down that they sound almost like long static streaks of upper register drone, the drums way down in the mix, surfacing here and there in brief flurries of percussive mayhem, but just as often rendered a relentless muted throb, the vocals a harsh howl sprawled over the top.
The result is amazing and totally mesmerizing, an intense blown out blackness, that is rife with soaring keening high end tones, shards of feedback, the riffs cyclical and repetitive. Our favorite track would have to be "Tenebras", where all of the above elements are made even more extreme, the riffing becomes some soaring looped ur-drone, super emotional majestic streaks of sound are woven into an almost static wall of throbbing high end, the drums more a distant splatter of subtle pulses, the vocals even more anguished, tangled up in the shimmering strands of sound, the result is something truly original and unlike any black metal we've heard. There must be some sort of keyboards happening too, the sound is thick and layered but it just sounds like long drawn out drones arranged into an alien orchestral black drift. WOW.
The sound might have changed, but Forteresse have managed to somehow get both better and weirder, and thus remain still, one of our favorite of the current crop of buzzing black hordes.
A gorgeous and mysterious one sided lp from GazHeart, a duo made up of artist Rita Ackerman, and No Neck Blues Band's Dave Nuss. The two played together in Angelblood as well, but these recordings were made after the breakup of that band, on the duo's annual trip to visit Ackerman's family in Budapest. During late nights in the backyard, with Nuss beating on coffee cans and broken bottles, Ackerman sang lyrics she had created using automatic, unmeditated writing. The results are beautiful, innocent, playful, haunting and very mysterious.
This consists of a series of short tracks, each with a slightly different tribal rhythmic component beneath Ackerman's vocals, which range from ghostly chantlike recitations, to sweet cooing, to wild wailing. The record drifts from tripped out FX drenched clang and clank beneath childlike gurgling, to campfire handdrums and sweetly almost whispered vocals, to hypnotic almost looped sounding tribal drums tangled up with breathy ethereal hum, to Casio style drum machine pitted against manic vocalizing and buzzy synth melodies, to the final track, the percussion super abstract, with chimes and bells, the vocals sung by a little girl, very cute and innocent, but also quite haunting.
Fans of Deerhoof, OOIOO, Tenniscoats and obviously No Neck and Angelblood will definitely dig.
Pressed on 180 gram vinyl. Housed in a thick sleeve, with Ackerman drawings on both sides, each the opposite/negative of the other, printed on nice thick paper, the lp is one sides, the flipside has an original Ackerman etching. Cool.
France pretty much has the market cornered on modern progressive black metal. Deathspell Omega obviously, Hell Militia, Amesoeurs, Alcest, Peste Noire, Mutiilation, Blut Aus Nord, Aluk Todolo, Spektr, Angmar, Wolfe, and now you can add Glorior Belli to the list.
Deathspell fans will go apeshit for these guys, their buzzing blackness is all mathy and post rocky, songs lurch and sway, some songs are thick furious blasts, relentless and dense with black grit, the sound massive and crushing, while others are sprawling post black doomscapes, the guitars unwinding into fractured melodies, the drums stuttering through convoluted tempos, and even the blasting black numbers, more often than not splinter into super angular blackmath workouts.
Manifesting The Raging Beast somehow manages to be raw and grim, but simultaneously super dense and incredibly heavy, the production is incredible, the guitars are thick streaks of luminous melody, wound into black thunderbolts, the drums sound like sticking your head in a cement mixer full of anvils, as much as we love us some super lo-fi tinny 4-track buzz, it's kind of awesome to have a record sound this powerful, especially a black metal record. The riffs are kick ass, and catchy, and the band are not afraid of a groove, so much of the record is spent lurching through weird black waltzes or swinging in strange time signatures before exploding back into soul shearing blasts. And it's that balance between relentless black onslaught, and strange tangled weirdness that keeps this record sounding so amazing.
Definitely for fans of DSO, Funeral Mist, Katharsis and other like minded progressive black metal hordes...
Summer Jam lightning rarely strikes twice, and in the case of Gnarls Barkley fluke hit, "Crazy", they were lucky lightning struck at all. So instead of setting out for the impossible, they have made a more memorable full length without the erratic stylistic leaps and goofs of their debut. The tone is darker, but more soulful and while the upbeat jams are fewer, they have enough hooks to keep you listening and coming back. While St. Elsewhere was neurotic and bi-polar, The Odd Couple is addressing demons in a far more beguiling and groovy manner, one that gets better with each listen. Could this be therapy?
It seems almost criminal to release something so limited by a band as hyped as these guys (or this guy) are lately. But there you go. 100 copies. Already sold out. We got almost half of them, but even just in the store they've been flying out of here. So you should know what that means by now. Thankfully, all the hype is well deserved and then some. Gnaw Their Tongues is one of the grimmest, sickest, darkest, most gloriously fucked up outfits going, mixing black ambient drones, dirgey sludge, buzzing black metal, abstract industrial, even mixing in bits of dialogue and snippets of opera and random other weirdness, the result a totally baffling and bewildering headfuck, that manages to creep the shit out of us, but somehow keep us listening over and over and over and over.
Devotion though is a departure, ditching much of the metal of past releases, as well as most of the song structure, and opts for something much more static and ambient, but no less heavy, these four tracks are thick swaths of dark torturous throb and groan, creaks and shimmers, rendered in crumbling greys and hoarse ghostlike wheezes. It's like an aural tour of some mysterious catacombs, built from skulls and rotting flesh, the bleak atmosphere rife with the sounds of strange machinery, the tortured cries of the doomed, a veritable symphony of cacophonous crashes and deafening blasts of blown out buzz, boiled down into a primordial ooze and smeared into gorgeously lush waves of corrosive grinding crush, a bristly brutal blur that slithers and undulates like a pit full of black snakes.
The packaging is appropriately grim and black and bleak, and fancy, as are most At War With False Noise releases, printed cd-r's housed in a two sided washed out black and white gatefold sleeve, decorated with goats and candles and bloodshed and naked women, tucked in an oversized A5 sized black cardstock gatefold jacket, with a barely legible black on black vellum cover, all in a plastic outer sleeve.
And again, limited to 100 copies, already out of print, blah blah blah...
We listed the 7" by these guys ages ago, and in that review coined the term DRONOISE for whatever it is that Haare do. A roiling black mass of distorted dark ambient, and slow motion abstract free-doom, that record went out of print in no time (it was limited to 270 copies after all) and we've been waiting patiently for more. And now it's finally here.
Another split release between two Finnish labels, Kult Of Nihilow (Fleshpress, Dot [.]. Marzuraan, Boris, Church Of Misery) and Freak Animal (a noise/drone/industrial sublabel of the mighty Northern Heritage). This Finnish one man band continue of from where that 7", and their last full length (The Temple, a Julian Cope Head Heritage record of the month!) left off.
Beginning with an avalanche of skree and shimmer, Haare navigates his strange vessel, assembled from skulls and bones, sticks and twigs, leaves and dried flesh, through four extended soundscapes, each rife with high end, but offering much in the way of deep rumbling drones and buzzing black ambience. Everywhere fall hailstorms of corroded crumbling melody, so blackened they appear more as grey smears than anything resembling melodies. Malfunctioning machinery groans and whirs, clouds of warped effects are shot through with streaks of feedback like shafts of sunlight, explosions of post industrial chaos, riffs pulled to pieces, the parts nothing but jagged shards of crumbling shimmer and decayed drone, everything bathed in a gritty, grimey unearthly glow. It almost sounds like Avarus and Yellow Swans, dosed with LSD and sealed up in a cave with nothing but some busted amps, guitars with no strings, a junky 4-track and the spirit of the undead cave dwellers.
Creepy and noisy, heavy and drone-y, buzzy and blackened and almost psychedelic.
Unfortunately, like the 7" before it, this is crazy limited, ONLY 275 COPIES!! And almost out of print at the label. We got a bunch, but they won't last long. And once they're gone, there's a good chance we won't be able to get more.
Norwegian singer-songwriter Hanne Hukkelberg's debut, Little Things, was an enchanting collection of delicate instrumentation, fluttering vocals, and sophisticated songwriting. It took more than a few of us here at aQ by surprise and became something of a sleeper hit for lazy sun-drenched afternoons. The same sensibilities that made Little Things so successful are evident on Rykestrasse 68: vocals pushed to the front of the mix, dry, personal and sultry while a kaleidoscope of drips, drops, bells and whistles flutters in the background. However, the darker mood and sense of melancholy on this record make it more suitable for grey days and rain-streaked windows than its sunnier predecessor.
The obvious points of comparison are, of course, artists like Bjork, Feist and Tujiko Noriko -- powerhouse singers who blend fractured acoustic sounds, electronic flourishes and sophisticated songwriting; however, Rykestrasse 68 stands on its own as a beautiful work from a tremendously talented artist who manages to achieve a really engaging combination of naivete and a deliberate, self-aware intellectualism. It's a winning blend, evident in the mix between the toy instruments and found sounds that lend the record a certain childlike quality and the darkness and drama to that comes out in its best moments (take her cover of The Pixies' "Break My Body," for example).
This, much like her previous, will undoubtedly fly beneath the radar, as it falls into that awkward middle ground between something you'd read about in The Wire and cafe-friendly pop. However, give this one a chance and it'll undoubtedly become the perfect soundtrack to some quiet, melancholy moment in your life. Simply gorgeous.
Sorry, we never got for y'all the limited vinyl 12"s that are now (thankfully) combined onto this 2-on-1 compact disc full-length (and then some) offering from Chicago doomcore dirgemasters Indian. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. But heck, here's all four tracks from Slights And Abuse and five tracks from The Sycophant on one handy 5" digitally encoded disc. And anyone into the HEAVY (that would be, a lot of you) damn well ought to check it out. This is the follow up to Indian's previous Seventh Rule album The Unquiet Sky, and it crushes just as much or more than that impressive debut did.
The initial attack of Slights And Abuse's first three tracks had us a bit staggered with their speedy spew... it's a vicious thrashing all right, the band ripping through some tricky riffing and unleashing the wretched vokills with frenzied ferocity. But then that record's 15 minute finale "Fatal Luck" slows things down, waaaay down, and we remember why these guys remind us so much of the Melvins. And Khanate. Buried At Sea, Boris and Cavity too!
The second half of this disc, The Sycophant half, is the weirder one, with experimental interludes like the eerie ambient piano instrumental "Allotriophagy". More distorted drone abounds on "Gloat". Yet the metallisms of part one certainly bleed through, from the doomy triumph of "The Sycophant" to the chunky chuggery of "Pigs In Your Open Wound"... truly, each song on this whole disc being pretty killer in its own weird and/or wrathful way. And you gotta like the cover paintings, 'specially the one on the back for The Sycophant, depicting a Pope doing the bloody bird-biting routine a la Ozzy.
Besides having some of the most memorable album covers ever, Millie Jackson also made some damn fine music! While it's her saucy mouth and sassy attitude that she is usually most known for, It Hurts So Good is all about an undeniably deep hitting and fiercely delivered Southern soul that sizzles so damn good! This was her second album, recorded in 1973 and while many later albums would provide some great moments, It Hurts So Good really stands as her strongest album from start to finish. Her voice is so strong and bold and the rich instrumentation kicks oh so right. Millie shows her range from in your face and funky to smooth and sultry without losing a bit of rawness or conviction in the process. With bonus tracks worth hearing and extensive liner notes this is a must have for soul & funk lovers, and a record that really deserves more attention and praise. Highly recommended!
Wow! We've got ourselves a big time winter crush! A youngster living in LA, Jeremy Jay has made an ep that we've been playing on repeat pretty much nonstop since we first got our ears on it. By far the best thing K has put out in ages. While it's a brand new record it has a charm and feel that made many of us think it was some amazing lost gem from the early eighties. Tapping into the poppier side of the early Factory vaults, Jeremy Jay's Airwalker reminds us of great early '80s records by The Wake and The Go-Betweens. He's like some amazing twee incarnation of Ian Curtis. Imagine Kings Of Convenience doing Joy Division covers. This is one of those rare records that just about everyone on the AQ staff has been smitten by. It's pretty impossible not to get swept away by his young fey pop chops filled with a richness and spark that demands you to pay attention. Somehow managing to cover both Blondie and Siouxsie & The Banshees while making those songs his own, this is a kid we're pretty certain the world will be taking notice of very soon. We haven't been this enamored with a new, young indie-pop voice in ages. This could very well sneak on to some of our best of 2007 lists. Highly recommended!
We were never really all that into Crass. And we have no idea who the heck Jeffrey Lewis is, but shit, this record has totally kicked our asses. Okay, ass kicking might be a little off, considering what a playful, fun, and goofy record this is. And not goofy in a bad way, just goofy in that way that old pop record are, those super naive early K records singles, old They Might Be Giants. You know, clever and cheeky, almost like children's music. In fact this record might be just the thing to get your toddler started early in their nascent desires for anarchy and their just waiting to blossom urge to smash the state. And it won't hurt teaching them some profanities either, maybe baby's first words will be "Fuck off!"
The arrangements are sing songy, strings, piano, simple acoustic guitar, the sing songy aspect is probably due to having to cram so many words in such little spaces. Minus the lyrics, this might be some gorgeous twee bliss pop disc, bits of folk, tinkling piano, moaning strings, stretches of drone, some subtle twang, all woven into a lilting playful pop. The darker songs almost sound like Magnetic Fields, all brooding melancholy misery and muted pop jangle. But it's the lyrics hat make the record, that turn these playful pop songs into off kilter punk rock, indie folk, protest songs. Lewis has a super laid back sung/spoken delivery, that suits the songs and lyrics perfectly. He's also joined by some awesome female vocalists, who sing a handful of the songs, but mostly join in for the choruses, like on "I Ain't Thick, It's Just A Trick", the hook delivered in a strange boy/girl harmony that sticks in your head like crazy.
Some of the tracks sound a bit beatnicky, with bongos, and tongue twisting political manifestos, lots of this sounds like it could be some weird NYC band from back in the nineties with a record or two on Shimmy Disc, a sort of off kilter, fractured anti-folk, some are extra goofy, a couple are intense and dark. But light or dark, goofy or earnest, the lyrics transform each song into something almost sinister, something subtly powerful, the lyrics having to carry much of the anger and bitterness, since in Crass, the music was as vitriolic as the words, and here for the most part, the music is anything but. The result, while still patently poppy and folky, is much more thought provoking and subtly challenging than most pop music.
Huge Crass fans might be distraught at these reinterpretations, but Anarcho dabblers might just dig, and folks into weird pop, and weird folk, who like their tunes with a little weight-of-the-world behind them, should definitely give this a try.
Awesome packaging, a colorful coloring book sleeve, with two die cuts, revealing an inner sleeve decorated with various images which show through the die cuts depending on which way the sleeve is oriented. Also includes a massive comic book rendering of how this record came to be on one side, while on the other, a comic revealing just what those images showing through the cover mean.
When we first heard Lumsk a few years back, it totally blew us away. Some really odd combination of Hammers Of Misfortune, Enslaved, Scandinavian folk and The Fucking Champs. Yep, you read that right.
And that is what it actually sounded like, lots of Viking riffery, some epic vocalizing, but also some serious metallic shredding, boy / girl harmonies, folky interludes, some medieval / renaissance faire filigree, some fuzzy synths, pretty weird, but pretty dang cool too.
So here's the follow up, and if anything, it's more of the same. But with a couple changes, much of the shredding is gone, and the folk element is more pronounced, but other than that, it's still some confusional combination of chugging riffage, fluttery female almost-operatic vocals, super dramatic male vocals, soaring strings, folky fiddle and a mess of over the top Viking metal chug.
A handful of the tracks are almost straight Scandinavian folk, the vocals lilting and delicate, the arrangements swooning and melancholy, and then just when you're all ensorcelled and entranced, the band will kick in with some over the top, downtuned chugging stein-hoisting metallic drinking song or some epic metal hoedown.
Definitely an acquired taste, but we can tell you that at least two people at aQ dig this band a LOT (bet you can't guess which ones).
What was meant to be a limited series, seems to be extended indefinitely, with a new disc on this week's list, and at least two more installments planned. And if anything, they just keep getting better, and more perverted! There's just too much sexy sound to stop now. Longtime readers of the aQ list will no doubt be familiar with the Erotic Oriental Sunshine series of archival releases from Tiliqua Records in Japan (who also released the Joakim Skogsberg, this week's Record Of The Week). Each disc in the series unearths a lost gem from a particular sexy chanteuse, lost examples of a strange, and distinctly Japanese artform, where studio bands would perform groovy tunes, exotica, lounge, new age, jazz, even sometimes sort of Morricone style soundtracks, while a starlet would coo and purr, groan and moan over the top.
Past installments have included sexy action heroine Ike Reiko, Japanese "Play Girl" Kuwabara Yukiko, seventies bondage / S&M queen Naomi Tani (who Mabuki is often compared to), legendary porn actress Taguchi Kumi, sexy Lolita, Petite M'Amie, aka Mari Keiko and the most recent disc (and the only one not out of print), which instead of focusing on a particular starlet, focused on the composer responsible for many of these releases, Masami Kawahara.
But this newest installment returns to the series' original pattern, collecting all the recorded works by a single actress/performer, in this case, S+M / bondage queen Mabuki Junko, who essentially took over when Naomi Tani retired. Mabuki was curvaceous and busty, and a spirited performer, writhing and squirming as she was restrained, tied up, whipped and spanked, finding fame starring in films with titles like All Women Are Whores. Her film career was brief, her musical career even more so, having released a single 7" and a single cassette. The cassette was part of a series called Yoru No Driver, designed for truckers, to keep them company on long lonely all night drives, and were thus sold primarily in gas stations and truck stops. Both are collected here, and both are as weird and wild, freaky and fucked up as all of the other installments. And in its own way, one of the weirder installments.
Playing more like some soap opera on tape, the music is exotic and groovy, somewhere between easy listening and light jazz, but with strange Eastern tinges. The music fading out, to play in the background, while Mabuki and her male 'co-star' deliver their lines. Growing more and more frenzied and feverish, until Mabuki begins to sob, and groan, and squeal, the sound of fabric tearing, the sound of tape being pulled from a roll, the sound of whipping, grunting, breathless grunts and howls, all bathed in reverb, and over a smooth jazzy backdrop.
Other tracks feature fuzzy flute, muted trumpets, string stabs, groovy guitars, some actual singing (most notably on the second track, which was the title song to one of Mabuki's films), steel string guitars, spacey synthesizers, shimmering harps, shuffling snares, what sounds like koto, xylophones, some tracks totally goofy and cheesy, others haunting and ominous, at least one a groovy string soaked disco groove, but most all of them featuring long stretches of soap opera drama, with Mabuki pleading and sobbing tearfully, eventually giving in, and losing herself in some sexy punishment. Weird weird weird, but as always pretty fascinating and of course way recommended for fans of wild and exotic sounds.
Packaged in a super deluxe Japanese miniature gatefold style cd sleeve, with a printed obi, sexy photos of Mabuki including the cover shot of her gagged with a scarf, and the gatefold phot showing Mabuki in an open robe trussed up with red cords, and extensive liner notes in English and Japanese including a biography of Mabuki, and notes on each track. ULTRA LIMITED!!! Like most of the releases in this series, this one is a one time only limited pressing of only 1000 copies, and is already SOLD OUT. There's a good chance once these are gone we will be unable to get more...
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It's been a while since we've heard from Machinefabriek. Never thought we'd have to type those words. But it's true, after a relentless release schedule, it's been at least a few months since we've heard even a peep from Rutger Zuydervelt aka Machinefabriek, but as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and we were getting a little overloaded to be honest, too many releases to listen to let alone review.
But listening to this now, we're reminded just why we were all so excited about this group in the first place. Zuydervelt has such a way with sounds, merging the pristine with the gritty and damaged, turning soft subtle shadings into dark crumbling mysteries.
This cd-r collects a handful of scores composed for the International Film Festival in Rotterdam earlier this year, and harkens back to the Machinefabriek of old, back when we first discovered his Marijn record.
Dark and doleful, soft shimmering ambience, smeared with tape hiss and subtle digital distortions, notes and tones drifting over a crystalline landscape of blurred murmur and strange crackles and creaks, everything gauzy and washed out, the sound gradually decaying, chords falling to pieces, a slowly collapsing house of sound, recorded in slow motion, and all the various elements fall to pieces, a gorgeous bit of decasia rendered in deep resonant rumbles and haunting ghostly melodies.
Elsewhere dense squalls of static explode, the shards and fragments drifting to the ground like dead leaves, hailstorms of hiss fill the air with sizzling shimmer, piano notes flutter and flicker like dying stars, thick metallic strings rumble and reveberate, huge cavernous swells sprawl over a field of muted glitch, and the subtle whir of alien machinery, gong like tones ripple lazily through a gauzy moonlit haze, disembodied chords float weightless, the ghosts of songs, the spirits of melodies, allowed to flat freely, affording us just glimpses and overheard whispers. So good.
All we needed really was a little break, and now with fresh ears, we're totally re-smitten by the gorgeous sounds of Machinefabriek.
The bad news though, is that like always, this is crazy crazy limited. So when we run out, it's not entirely likely that we'll be able to get more...
Latest release from one of our favorite proponents of drone/doom/dirge, alongside folks like SUNNO))), Corrupted, Earth, Khanate, Boris, Eyehategod, etc. But as we've mentioned before, unlike many of those other bands, UK's Marzuraan always seemed to approach their sound with one eye on the sludge, the other on the pop. Imbuing even the heaviest and murkiest of dirges with crystalline shimmer, or subtle muted melody, or even buried hooks, without sacrificing any of their sheer power or skull caving heaviness.
This disc collects a whole mess of odds and ends, from live shows, to rehearsals, to practice space recordings, random jams, improvised grooves and awesome unlikely covers. And if anything give us a glimpse into the development of their sound, from primitive noise dirgescapers to full on heavy pop band and back again.
The opening track is a cover of "After Glow" by Loop, and Marzuraan covering Loop is only one step removed from Boris covering Swervedriver, meaning a fucking grungy shoegaze goth drone bliss out match made in heaven. And the band don't change it up too much, it sounds like it could be some lost live Loop recording. Dark and dreamy and groovy and intense, the guitars washed out, the drums propulsive and tribal, the vocals weary and lightly effected, helps that it's one of our favorite tunes already, but Marzuraan nail it.
The other unlikely cover is "Turned Inside Out" by the Rollins Band, recorded live in 2005. A dark roiling filthy groove, all tightly wound Greg Ginnish guitars, raspy wailed vocals, the guitars muddy and massive, the drums pummeling, the whole track a relentless lurching groove.
The comp is loosely in reverse order, starting now, and ending way back when, so track by track, the sound becomes more and more simple, moving away from the progressive drone pop and blown out shoegaze drone of recent recordings to something much more primitive and noisy.
There's "Moneybox" recorded live in 2006, an abstract noisescape that manages to shimmer and drift, eventually coalescing into a gorgeously doomy plod, the drums an occasional crunch, the guitars spread out in thick sheets of crumbling low end and fluttering feedback. Like a much prettier more washed out Khanate. Then there's "Bad Flange", another live track, from 2004, which finds the band drifting even further into pummeling glacial doom, slow slithery heaviness, spread out over a pounding spare beat, and fragmented melodies tangled up in the downtuned caveman riffage.
"Martian Deconstruction" spreads out a thick undulating guitarscape, like a supercharged Fear Falls Burning, the guitars smoldering and whit hot, the notes and chords pulled apart into crumbling cascades of crackly buzzing sound, wound up into warm melodic swells. "Earth 3" sounds just like you might imagine, thick guitars, unwinding lazily, over a plodding propulsive bass line, very skeletal and almost unfinished sounding, a dreamy sort of slowed down dronefuzz jam. The disc finished with the oldest Marzuraan track, "HARMed" from way back in 2002, and is a massive processed soundscape of tangled downtuned guitars, sheets of buzz and hiss, stuttering jabs of grinding fragmented riffage, deep resonant metallic shimmer, shrieking feedback smeared into soft high end whirs, a muddy, murky, super distorted melted guitar blur.
Amazing Thumbprint Press packaging. A six panel, thick cardstock sleeve, printed in black and clear gloss, super striking. The inside featuring a full Marzuraan discography.
There's noise, and then there's noise!!! And then, there's Masonna... and this, the Ultimate Masonna (volume one).
Never heard any Japanese noise? Well, there's always a first time, and this could be it. Maybe you'll love it (if not, you'll probably hate it... not much room for any reactions in-between). If you have heard Japanese noise, you probably already know Masonna. Along with Merzbow and Hijokaidan, he's probably the most (in)famous and most extreme of all the many Japanese noisicians. At AQ, he's also quite popular for his other sonic endeavors, the analog spaced out kosmiche electronic trips of Space Machine, the super psychedelic rhythmic synth grooves of Christine 23 Onna, and the fuzz-freaked garage rock of Acid Eater. Those outfits, to varying degrees, can be considered music, even pop music. But recording under the Masonna moniker, Maso Yamazaki makes sheer noise, no "music" involved at all. Just ultra dynamic, distorted screaming and electronic distortion, volume cranked to the max, an all-out expressive attack, acrobatic and energetic. Very similar to his famous "jumping" live performances.
In honor of Masonna's 20th anniversary of noisemaking, packaged with super swank graphics (we dig the elaborate Greatful Dead/Quicksilver looking logo) and liner notes in both English and Japanese, Ultimate Collection Vol.1 brings back two long out of print Masonna documents. It includes the oddly titled Masonna Vs. Bananamara LP, originally released on vinyl in 1989 by Japan's Vanilla Records in an edition of 290 copies, and the aptly titled 1996 album Hyper Chaotic, originally from tiny US label V Records. Reissued together on one compact disc, these two albums comprise 48 mostly short tracks (many of 'em under a minute each) of the most intense, shrieking shards of distortion with which you've ever abused your ears... you've been warned!!
The vs. Bananamara album (which was Masonna's debut LP after some self-released cassettes) perhaps features more high-end skree, while the later Hyper Chaotic is more about blown-out white noise... but there's plenty of both sounds throughout!
