"A Collection of Obsolete Primitive Variations" reads the subtitle to this lp from Nurse With Wound. Beta-Lactam had issued this in 2003 as a cd-r in an edition of 300 copies to coincide with Stapleton's DJ appearance in Portland, Oregon at around the same time. Of course, those cd-r's disappeared rather quickly; and this vinyl edition of 500 won't last long either. Given Steven Stapleton's history with recycled sounds, it's hard to say if this is a collection of outtakes like the recent Rat Tapes Volume 1 or if this is one variation on a theme extended over the course of the album. In any case, Stapleton's mastery of audio techniques through metallic clank, musique concrete razor cuts, and grim psychedelic smoke & mirror is on full display here with plenty of fizzed noise and electrical drone cast in sidereal shivers and electrical delirium.
The good news, is that this disc will be absolute heaven (or hell if you prefer) for the doom obsessed, for those who NEED utter and extreme heaviness, who thrive on massive walls of sludge, of creeping crumbling downtuned riffage, of skull splitting rib cage rattling drum pound. And the fact that this disc contains exclusive tracks from four of THEE heaviest and THEE doomiest bands around. The bad news though, is that somehow, this disc is already sold out at the label, so this could very well be the last we see of Four Burials. We did get a bunch of these, but since so many of the aQ faithful are of the doomier persuasion, odds are these will disappear in no time.
So most doomlords will see the above names and that's all it'll take, four exclusive tracks, LONG ones, from Loss, Orthodox, Mournful Congregation and Otesanek. For avid readers of the aQ list, you too are probably familiar with 2 or 3 of those. But just in case, we'll give a quick rundown of the bands / tracks that make up the Four Burials here...
Otesanek is up first. Last heard from splitting a disc with Japan's Coffins. They are definitely doomy, obviously, but might also be the heaviest of the bunch, a sort of Eyehategod meets Moss thing going on, and one of the few bands this slooooooow, to also fuck things up big time. Super strange arrangements, ultra dynamic, lots of weird starts and stops, angular riffs, crazy vocals (both male and female, both super intense and harsh). Definitely for fans of Khanate and Bunkur and all that sort of ultradoomdirge, but weirder and more fucked up. Definitely dying to hear more from these guys.
Next up is Loss, whose approach to doom is much more classic and melodic, beginning with some unnerving samples, woven into a spare doomy plod, the band slip into some seriously melodic post rock, all clean guitar and sparse drumming, eventually morphing into a sound majestic and massive, a bit like old My Dying Bride, impossibly loooow vocals, super mournful melodies, very dramatic and miserable. The song weaves back and forth between that classic doom-ic crush and the melancholy loping post rock, eventually somehow fusing the two.
Then comes longtime faves Orthodox, from Spain, whose sound, especially here, is way more spacious and spare, very minimal. with long stretches that are practically inaudible over the daily din of the store (this is headphone doom for sure!). Chanting, monk-like and somber, clean guitars drifting and shimmering, simple stripped down drumming, some wailing dramatic vocals, the sound an abstract mysterious slowcore that seems to get more and more strangely psychedelic, without ever getting overtly heavy. Really strange, but fans of Orthodox will already be well used to their, umm... un-Orthodox approach to all things doom.
Last up, legendary purveyors of true doom, Australia's Mournful Congregation, whose sound is sad and sorrowful, melancholy and miserable, a gorgeously epic lugubrious crawl, super melodic, but totally washed out and painted in sweeping shades of black and grey. Think Skepticism, Thergothon, Esoteric, Asunder, the sort of dark, slow motion, soul stirring creep we could listen to forever.
Mister Pollard keeps on keepin' on... and on and on! Is there a word beyond "prolific"? His musical output is ceaseless! It's a neverending string of lo-lo-fi pop meanderings and dishevelled bizarre noisy shambles that's been peppered with some absolute winners as well as some stinkers. We've got two new ones in this month, Superman Was A Rocker (under his own name) and We've Moved (under the moniker Psycho And The Birds). Right now, we're leaning in favor of the latter because this one is a bit too wacky with its radio clips and other random tidbits of mischief interspersed with the songs. Might be your cup of tea though! If you're gonna get your feet wet with this or any other Pollard release, you've gotta be prepared to accept the wheat with the chaff, the dreamily tuneful with the discordantly tuneless. Of course if you're already a Robert Pollard fan, you probably already own this! Heck, we often wonder why he doesn't just set up an Uncle Bob's cd of the month subscription club.
It seems a bit strange to spend very much time writing about the new Portishead. Since by now, odds are you're probably sick to death of hearing about it. Sure we all loved Portishead back in the day, they were one of those rare 'electronic' bands whose appeal knew no boundaries, metalheads, moms, indie kids, the sound of Portishead was dark and sexy and mysterious, sinister and ominous, dark and rife with crackle and buzz. Perfect drugged out late night bliss out music, their strange way of creating sound and composing music, recording their own samples on to vinyl and then spinning and scratching those samples to create new textures, made for a totally unique sound.
So what does a band do after taking almost a decade off? Do they return with a record that sounds just like the last one, which is probably what most folks want, or do they return radically altered? With a sound bold and brash, reinventing the sound they themselves invented in the first place.
On first listen, Third definitely sounds like the latter, but with repeated listening, the record slowly and subtly begins to slip toward the former. Which most definitely speaks to the magic of Portishead, and the new record, which at once embraces the old sound, while turning it into something new. More than past outings, Third is dirty, out of tune, atonal, noisy, chaotic, urgent, sure past records had all that crackle and buzz and fuzz, but those elements were carefully placed, and kept well within line. Third sounds much more, well, loose for lack of a better word, like actual musicians, feeling each other out, maybe even improvising. Less like a studio concoction and more like a real live band. And the sound suits them. And makes for a record at once warm and familiar, but also alien, sort of 'rocking' and rife with WTF? moments.
Take the opener, "Silence", which begins with some sort of radio broadcast, which gives way to a killer loping breakbeat, immediately the fastest tempo Portishead have ever explored, strings swoop in, the sound raw and urgent, almost like the chase scene from some spy movie, gorgeous distorted chiming guitar harmonics ring out, until finally the track slows down, and slithers sexily, the vocals a sexy sultry croon, but it's not long before the track kicks back into the haunting and tense, string laden cinematic jam that opened the track.
Then there's "Hunter", which begins like classic Portishead, all smokey and late night sounding, soft muted reverbed guitars, a lush gauzy production, the vocals ethereal and ghostly, but even here, a few seconds in, the song is interrupted by a super distorted crumbling guitar chord that halts things in their tracks, before fading out, and allowing the song to resume. The a few minutes later, a strange noodly synth freakoutsurfaces, again derailing the song's slow motion groove, but It just sounds perfect. It doesn't at all sound like random weirdness for random weirdness' sake. The first time is jarring, the second time, you find yourself waiting for those parts, even humming along as if they were as crucial to the song as the main melody or the vocals, and the thing is, they are.
Near the end lurks the single, "Machine Gun", with its very machine gun like rhythm, herky jerky, stuttery and not at all fluid, reminiscent of Art Of Noise, the vocals sweetly soaring over this jagged rhythmscape below, which only really varies part way through when the original machine gun drums are replaced by BIGGER, more distorted drums, and wrapped in strange moaning horns (or maybe synths), only to shift once again moments later becoming more electronic, the beats awash in strange FX and metallic buzz. It's so unlikely, that it makes perfect sense as the first single. If you can embrace that strange rhythm, that relentless and very un-Portishead like sound, then the rest of the record will make perfect sense, unfolding in front of you, revealing both the warm familiar sounds missed, and the new, bizarre sonic elements never even imagined
All over the record, the band confounds and confuses, gloriously, the brooding whispery "Small" shifts gears partway through and transforms into a fuzzy organ drenched krautjam, "Deep Water" is a straight up old timey folk song, the vocals and strings soaked in fuzzy ambience (and reminding us a bit of vocalist Gibbons' post Portishead project Rustin Man), "We Carry On" is a sort of atonal Stereolab style jam, relentless percussion, thick swaths of synth, very repetitive and hypnotic, "The Rip" is part whispery folky flutter, part synthy electro buzz, every track here offers some sort of surprise, whether it's the song itself, or some little sonic strangeness lurking within, but never is the song or the sound sacrificed, each track is perfect in its own beautifully twisted way, catchy but never obviously so, groovy, but often convoluted and fractured, it's a difficult record to explain for sure, which is perhaps why so much ink has been spilled, and while we may be sick of reading about it, we sure are finding it nearly impossible to imagine ever getting sick of listening to it, which is precisely why it's one of our Records Of The Week.
Mister Pollard keeps on keepin' on... and on and on! Is there a word beyond "prolific"? His musical output is ceaseless! It's a neverending string of lo-lo-fi pop meanderings and dishevelled bizarre noisy shambles that's been peppered with some absolute winners as well as some stinkers. We've got two new ones in this month, Superman Was A Rocker (under his own name) and We've Moved (under the moniker Psycho And The Birds). Right now, we're leaning in favor of this one 'cause it's got more distinctly Pollardesque fuzzed out, catchy pop numbers. If you're gonna get your feet wet with this or any other Pollard release, you've gotta be prepared to accept the wheat with the chaff, the dreamily tuneful with the discordantly tuneless. Of course if you're already a Robert Pollard fan, you probably already own this! Heck, we often wonder why he doesn't just set up an Uncle Bob's cd of the month subscription club.
As much as we love that Hydra Head sound, huge churning riffage, pummeling drums, crushing metallic dirges and all things heavy heavy heavy, we're becoming more and more obsessed with the releases that don't fit so comfortably on HH, don't necessarily embody that classic Hydra Head sound. Although that's not necessarily fair, as the more bands HH sign that sound different, the more diffuse and varied that HH 'sound' becomes, which renders this whole theory moot. But whatever, stick with us for a second, there is a point. It's sort of how we were with Sub Pop, sure we loved Green River and Soundgarden and Mudhoney, THAT sound, but we got crazy obsessed with stuff like Rein Sanction and Hardship Post, the stuff that stuck out, that sounded WEIRD, maybe almost more than the regular Sub Pop stuff.
It might be just that for a band to kick someone's ass SO much, that they're willing to release a record by them, even though sonically it's a whole different ball of wax, means that the record in question is that good, that fucked up, that unique, or could be that we just like to be contrary. Either way�
Whatever. We love Isis and Cavity and Pelican, but lately, we, like a lot of you, have been obsessing over Jesu, Hayaino Diasuke, Austerity Program, Torche, Pet Genius and now Pyramids, who hail from Denton Texas, and who sound like nothing on Hydra Head. If we had to pick one band, it might be Jesu, but even then, the similarities are minimal. Pyramids are blissy and fuzzy and gauzy and pretty, almost ambient at times, drifting dreamily, their sounds shimmering and glistening, everything blurred and washed out and totally fucking gorgeous, BUT, they do have some surprises up their sleeves. And it's those surprises that make this record such a mind blower.
But let's start at the beginning. The first three tracks here are totally lovely, guitars are wisps, vocals are fluttery shadows, melodies are delicate and fragile, the production is warm and sun dappled, rhythms are muted shuffles, effects swirl and sway, here and there, the sound thickens into something almost heavy, but never quite gets there, remains on the pretty drifty side of heavy. It's like a more avant freaky version of Mazzy Star or Galaxie 500, that same sort of windblown washed out blissy vibe. Until the fourth track.
Beginning with some minimal guitar buzz, amidst a whirl of chiming harmonics, shortwave interference, and blown out buzz, the drums kick in, and the riff locks into an insectoid buzz, and suddenly the Pyramids are some sort of black metal band, still bleary and blissy, but with pounding drums and buzzing guitars, eventually vocals come in and it's like a metalgaze Sigur Ros, which is most definitely awesome.
The next track too offers more of the same, a sort of swirling chaotic shoe gaze-y black metal, and in fact the rest of the record continues on in that vein, each track a twisted convoluted take on blissed out black metal, sometimes grinding and furious, but even then swathed in a warm sonic glow, sometimes more poppy and swirly, like a more abstract Swervedriver. As you can tell, it's pretty hard to describe. Not sure it's really black enough to appeal to black metallers, it's more like some shoegaze ambient metal pop band just borrowed some black metal tropes and wove them into their gorgeous blown out soundworld.
There's a second disc too, of remixes, by the likes of Jesu, James Plotkin, Loveliescrushing, Birchville Cat Motel, Blut Aus Nord and more, and we would have assumed that remixes by those folks, of this sort of music, would just render them more blissed out, but instead, at least the first two, transform the songs into furious blown out black jams. The first, remixed by Toby Driver of Kay Dot, Ted Parsons of Prong and Swans and Colin Marston of Behold the Arctopus, begins all soft and swirly, but by the end has added super distorted drums, and all manner of fried buzz. The Plotkin remix up next, strips away most of the bliss, and leaves a seriously fucked sounding lo-fi in-the-red black metal blast. The Jesu remix sounds just like you might imagine, a gauzy slowcore drift, with the vocals jacked way up, soaring through the ether, a fluttery falsetto. The two Loveliescrushing mixes bring out the soft blurred ambience of the originals, making them even more tranquil and serene. Birchville turns his mix into a virtual BCM track, using bits and pieces of the original, creating a thick slow growing drone, that builds to a buzzing crescendo before fading back into a dark moody drift. Blut Aus Nord is the most fucked up remix. Not sure if they added tons of stuff, or just did some crazy mix, but the guitars groan all dizzy and woozy and angular, the drums, pounding and machinelike, the vocals a hissy evil howl, the whole track a lurching black lope. All the mixes here are amazing, utterly transforming the originals, but in doing so hewing to the spirit of the original record, which was already pretty schizophrenic and all over the amp as it was.
Way way way recommended. A new aQ favorite for sure...
From the Bay Area folks who brought us the wonderfully twisted, eclectic sounds of Borful Tang, Blanketship and Vulcanus 68, we've now received a new project of mind-loosening aural trips. Qulfus (aka Dominic Cramp who is currently on the road playing organ with Carla Bozulich's Evangelista whose new cd we also have listed this week!) roams freely through the hills and valleys of art-damaged exotica and dank noise soundcapes. The craftily collaged samples and tactile sounds from analog synths, electric bass, pots'n'pans and other unconventional instruments make for a listening experience very much reminiscent of the glorious dark strangeness of Bruce Haack and Gershon Kingsley. Comes packaged in a burlap covered cardboard case.
For most folks involved in rock music the usual trajectory is that they start out loud and rocking, full of piss and vinegar and then as they get older they mellow out and explore their more sensitive and mature sides. But if you're Allan Sparhawk, you did just the opposite and started out as quiet and slow as can be, so it kind of makes perfect sense that he's now moonlighting, using his -other- non-Low project to explore his more full on rock cravings. While there have been some hints of Sparhawk's desire to rock on a few Low albums (especially on Low's Sub-Pop debut, The Great Destroyer) it hasn't been until now that we've actually heard a record from him that is all about the rock, from start to finish. Produced by Mark Kozelek, we can imagine it was really refreshing for both Allan and Mark to let loose in the studio and let out some good old fashion testosterone, where both usually have to hold back so much in all of their other endeavors. Of course Sparhawk's trademark voice and guitar playing are instantly recognizable. Just because he's rocking don't expect this to be some fluffy fun rock band, because the same intensity, tension and conflict that has made Low's music so important to so many of us is still embedded in what he's doing with Retribution Gospel Choir. The record sounds like someone working out their demons and battling a possible musical mid-life crisis in a really cathartic and moving way. This isn't really a departure as much as it is someone letting off some much deserved steam, sweating in the garage and showing that just as he helped invent and perfect slowcore, he's just as capable at rocking, with the same glorious results.
The Reveries were indeed a revelation. A modern slow-mo, off-kilter, creaky rickety avant country combo, whose sound was a bleary blend of campfire twang, woozy slowcore, and most notably, a system by which each player holds a tiny speaker in their mouths while they play, with the various other players sending their sounds and signals into the mouths of the other players, letting the various musicians shape and twist and contort those sounds, often combining them with their own vocal parts.
The result was truly unique, haunting, mysterious, and gorgeously fractured. The last Reveries disc, was titled Plays The Music Of Sade. We weren't sure if that was some high concept thing, and it was in fact inspired by the Marquis De Sade, or if they were indeed covers of songs by the pop vocalist Sade (pronounced shar-day). It's perhaps a testament to the Reveries skill at reinvention that we were unable to realize that they were actually Sade covers (or it might speak to our being wholly unfamiliar with her body of work minus THAT song) Regardless, just like the record before, the Reveries created a wholly otherworld of moaning melodies, and creeping tempos, of strange voices, of detuned guitars, warbly basslines, shuffling percussion, all warped and funhouse mirrored by their circuitous journey from instrument to amp to speaker to mouth to microphone to recorder to compact disc.
On this first volume, in a proposed ongoing series, the Reveries tackle, as the title suggests, the music of country music icon Willie Nelson, and it's a pretty fine match. The first track is a surprise though, fairly rocking by Reveries standards, a rollicking version on "I Let My Mind Wander", with propulsive drumming, some serious riffing, and that strange whistle like melody that the band seems to lace each song with, a sort of falsetto croon. And the vocals as always are a sort of mush mouthed garble, due in no small part to the singe having to sing around the speaker in his mouth.
The rest of the record unfurls lazily, all creaking back porch blues, the guitars often drifting by in disembodied twangs, each arrangement spare and abstract and seemingly always on the verge of collapse, the drums shuffling and minimal holding it all barely together, but it's the melodies that make it immediately the Reveries, each one, each vocal line wavery and woozy, unfurled and filtered through a jew's harp like warble, keening whistle like tones tangled and ghostlike. Even the most recognizable songs, like "Crazy", become something totally and utterly different.
The overall sound is dark and drunken, mournful and mysterious, some tracks add harmonica, nose-flute, singing saw, and while those elements add to the lushness of the Reveries' sound, they're almost unnecessary, their core sound is so delicate and alien even at its most stripped down, so beautifully creepy, that all it ever takes to suck us in is that slow languorous twang, some warbly vocals, and a sweetly sad minor key melody...
We've long been fans of sound artist Steve Roden, and his 'lowercase' sound explorations. His music is minimal and often flickering on the very edge of audibility. Beautiful and occasionally dangerously delicate. On a recent visit, he passed us a cd from Jeffrey Roden, who just so happens to be Steve's uncle, and who is also a musician, a bass player by trade, but just like his nephew, Roden is not content to work within the traditional confines of an instrument's sound, or a particular genre. Roden composes for and records solo bass, but unlike many solo instrumental records, Seeds Of Happiness is all about melody and texture, this is not noisy, or skronky, or 'difficult', the strings are not scraped, or bowed, the sound is not processed, the bass is played like a bass, the notes rich and reverberant, the melodies fluid and lovely, the arrangements languid and lush. Some tracks are super simple, almost like a bass line just plucked from some lost pop song, allowed to hover and drift out in the open, loosed from its traditional rock moorings. Other songs are dense and subtly complex, little flurries of notes, tangled melodies, all woven into a shimmering static backdrop, for a simple swooping melody to drape over the top. The mood is minor key and melancholy, but most of the songs here are infused with a rich warmth, the melodies not so much sad as they are wistful.�
A simply gorgeous, gorgeous lazy afternoon, rainy day assortment of dreamy drifting loveliness. So recommended.
A new Jack Rose disc is always cause for celebration around here. Along with James Blackshaw, Ilyas Ahmed, Richard Bishop and a few others, Rose is one of the new modern masters of the steel string guitar, helping to reinvent and redefine neo-Appalachia or modern folk or whatever you want to call it. But this disc is even more exciting, because not only is it a brand new album (recorded last year), it also includes as a bonus disc, the long out of print s/t album originally released on aRCHIVE, now available only in this set.
Let's first talk about this new record. No huge changes, we're happy to announce, just more of Rose's gorgeous steel string beauty, gossamer sheets of buzzing shimmer, droning ragas, traditional bluegrass, slippery slide, melancholy melodies, jaunty pick and strum, the mood occasionally dark and ominous, sometimes playful and festive, and other times dreamy and serene, it's as much about the sound as the songs. To see Rose play live is pretty mindblowing, his mastery of the guitar is truly humbling, his playing incredibly physical, but so fluid and seemingly effortless. And the sounds that emerge from that chunk of wood and steel are consistently breathtaking. Which is true even on record, those sounds well removed from the actual recording, but retaining much of the physical act of the performance, the energy and the emotion, the sound vibrant and LIVE. This new disc is no different. Sonically, well in line with the rest of Rose's recorded works, but like every new Rose record that comes along, it manages to subtly expand and progress, sonically and compositionally, while continuing to sound classic and timeless.
Fans will obviously need Dr. Ragtime, but for folks who have yet to discover the magic of Jack Rose this is a perfect place to start, and odds are those same folks will very likely find themselves wanting and perhaps even needing more!
As we mentioned above, this double disc set also includes the long out of print self titled Jack Rose aRCHIVE release. Here's what we had to say about that disc when we first reviewed it way back when:
By now, Mr. Jack Rose should need no introduction. Numerous releases on Eclipse, VHF, Tequila Sunrise, tons of amazing shows (including a killer instore right here at AQ) every performance totally spellbinding, with a repertoire that runs the gamut from classic bluegrass to drone drenched ragas to neo-Appalachia and probably to some styles of playing he just made up. In fact Rose was seemingly the first to not just ape the music and style of John Fahey, instead choosing to create his own sound and style, due in no small part we'd guess, to his continuing membership in drone-raga ensemble Pelt, and that raga vibe most certainly informs all of his playing, which just might explain why we find Rose so much more interesting than many of his contemporaries.
This disc collects a handful of studio recordings recorded over the last year, featuring Rose exploring the slide guitar, and as always, it's positively divine. From twangy countrified bluegrass breakdowns, to dense tangles of elaborate finger picking, his slide so slipper and fluid, totally emotional and moving, every song so complex and technical, but at the same time so goddamn simple and beautiful. The highlight would have to be the 12+ minute "Spirits In The House", with its amazing harmonics over a warm backdrop of buzzing low end overtones. The main melody so completely captivating, shimmery and wavery, sounding very Eastern and very much like a sitar, the perfect blend of wistful bluegrass melancholia and buzzing Eastern style raga. So gorgeous. And as with pretty much every Rose record, absolutely essential.
(There is an import jewel case version, but this is the domestic, super limited (only 1000 copies) version with much more deluxe packaging, an oversized booklet style sleeve, a Japanese style obi, and more...)
Following up their recent split with Oakland's Stormcrow, this warlike Seattle-based crew of crusties drop their full-length for 20 Buck Spin. And it's the sound of a whole lotta new ones being torn! Angry, crushing metallic mayhem. Guttural vox over churning, deathly guitars n' battery. Inspired by the likes of Bolt Thrower, Unleashed, Extreme Noise Terror and Amebix, they do their influences proud, carrying the banner of "War Crust" high, following their own marching orders into the meatgrinding artillery barrage and resulting bloody red mist that their music creates.
Packaged in a nice cardboard mini-LP-style gatefold sleeve, adorned with black and grey grim graphics. We count AT LEAST twenty-three obvious skulls and/or severed heads on stakes in the artwork. The disc also includes seven bonus tracks taken from two earlier vinyl ep releases.
Let's state right from the outset that Trey Spruance's musical entity known as Secret Chiefs 3 is simply impossible to nail down and describe. Words really do not do SC3 justice, especially in the case of their latest work -- sprawling in scope, intricate in detail and majestically presented -- but we will make a valiant attempt here. Indeed, adjectives such as magical, mysterious and mind-blowing do apply, however they barely scratch the surface. We'd say 'spectacular' but the folks at Tzadik already beat us to the punch by using it on the cd's obi blurb. On Xaphan they've joined forces with their comrade John Zorn, performing eleven passages from his epic work, Masada Book Two. The eleven players embrace, attack, caress and devour the compositions with an otherworldly zeal. They come together as a single inimitable force, at once seeming absolutely unhinged and utterly in control. The threads of the SC3 aural tapestries are always densely knotted and woven with ace musicianship and from a myriad of disparate styles and inspirations delving into spy thriller soundtracks, exotica, metal, surf, esoteric knowledge and so much more. So it is on Xaphan, and the formidable outcomes may seem impervious to some and electrifyingly listenable to others. Breathtaking.
The Shining Path is the psych rock alter ego minimalist experimental duo Ilya Monosov and Preston Swirnoff, and in the past we've raved about their blown out kraut flecked space rock. This new 7" captures the group live in 2005, two tracks from one of their very rare live performances.
The opener is a deep slow burning dirge, glistening and glowing, the sound of a planet slowly drifting into the orbit of a collapsing sun, guitars swirl and soar, grind and growl, effulgent and resplendent. This is drone rock rendered almost static, the riffs crawl, the bass throbs, the whole track creeps, or more appropriately, floats weightless, in a cloud of layered red hot psych guitar, spit out in thick glowing gouts, shot through with feedback, it's like High Rise covering Stars Of The Lid!
The second track is a bit more rocking, the drums and bass locked into a motorik groove, while the guitar, still super distorted and blown out, spits out riffs in sudden bursts, eventually coalescing into one constant stream of psychfuzz, pelted by fragments of super effected vocals, strange little squalls of FX, and then the bass gets all dubbed out, bouncing back and forth beneath the buzz and fuzz.
Like all Trensmat 7"s, the vinyl comes bundled with a bonus cd-r, this one featuring an extra live track, a heavy rocker, with some serious riffing and harmonica (!), as well as four live videos from various performances, nicely filmed, cool effects, tripped out lighting, and most importantly, more awesome music, with bleated sax, moaning horns, droney raga-like buzz, chanted vocals, creepy ambience, thick walls of guitars, rumbling throbbing bass, all woven into some seriously spaced out psychedelic dronerock.
Pressed on white vinyl and of course, VERY LIMITED!
It can sometimes be daunting with some legendary artists, especially with ones who have left us so much great music, to figure out where to start in terms of really exploring their music. Truth be told, any time or any way you get to hear a Nina Simone song it's pretty damn special. Whether it's on a mix someone made you, or one of the many best-of collections, or even any of the great live recordings. But lately we've really wanted to spend some quality time with her albums, as they were created so meticulously and flow so amazingly, with perfect emotional peaks and valleys that take you on a spiritual sonic journey from start to finish.
We easily could list a handful of essential albums from Nina Simone (we reviewed the great Silk & Soul a couple years back and it's become a staple of the AQ soundsytem), but this time around, we'll focus on one of her true masterpieces, High Priestess Of Soul, recorded in 1966. With lush and tasteful arrangements by Hal Mooney, this is a record that definitely demonstrates Simones's dynamic range and magical touch. From sad and sultry to empowered and resilient, her songs have this magical way of cutting right to the truth. From the rich gospel of "Take Me To The Water/I'm Going Back Home" to one of the most amazing and minimal deep groove songs of all time!!! "Come Ye" and the strong and proud anthem "Don't You Pay Them No Mind", High Priestess of Soul is filled with songs that that are like mirrors that reflect all that is true and real.
One of our all time favorite records, and an album that if you don't already own, we know you will want to start spending some serious time with, as it will become one of those special records you turn to when you need the real deal to hit your soul just right!
This one was definitely made for aQ. Self described black noise / doom metal from Maniac, formerly of Norwegian black metal legends Mayhem, joined by Kvarforth of Swedish black metallers Shining, and Attila from SUNNO))) (and also Mayhem oddly enough) and featuring music by Current 93. A pretty odd mix for sure, especially the two former Mayhem vocalists, and what's even more odd, is that this release features only two studio tracks, the other 6 recorded live, one of which is an intro recorded by David Tibet and Andrew Liles as Current 93. But a strange band deserves a strange release, so here we go.
The opening title track is some super abstract noise drenched doom, falling somewhere between Khanate, Gnaw Their Tongues and something much more spacious and abstract. A simple little guitar melody drifts through a landscape of howled and shrieked vocals, thick bursts of caustic crumbling distortion, little flurries of metallic chug, haunting minor key melodies, a truly twisted doomscape for sure, but it's Maniac's vocals (as well as Attila's here) that make it so fucked up and freaked out. So impossibly harsh and intense, a monstrous growl/shriek totally in the red, swallowing up all the sounds around it, managing to sound as creepy and crawly as it does intense and insane. There's tons of shit going on in the background too, strange voices speaking, other instruments drifting in and out, random samples and field recordings, some buried percussion, all only adding to the weirdness.
The second studio track is a whole different story, a hugely heavy slab of plodding doom metal, guitars thick and loud and distorted, layer upon layer of grind and crumble and buzz, the vocals super intense, slipping from hellish shriek to demonic growl and back again. Lots of effects, the arrangement full of starts and stops, plenty of grinding guitar lurking beneath the main riff, a loping freaky fucked up ultradoom jam for fans of Moss, Monarch, Nihill, Bunkur, Whitehorse, etc.
The rest of the disc is a live show recorded at the Camden Underworld in the UK in 2007, and begins with a creepy Current 93 intro, with David Tibet, howling his strange invective, over a wash of hiss and white noise and guitar rumble, until the band launch into a live version of the second studio track mentioned above which launches the band into an expansive trudge through some serious tweaked and twisted doom. Live it sounds a lot less freaked out and a lot more TRUE, huge riffing, caveman drums, amazing throat shredding vocals, the sound is definitely raw and live sounding, but it perfectly suits Skitliv's hellish black doom. The record closes with a live version of "Amfetamin", the track that opened the disc, and it's appropriately intense, the addition of drums doing nothing to take away from its minimal menace, the focus less on vocals (minus a flurry of howls and shrieks midway through) and more on the droning guitars and grinding crumbling creepy black ambience.
First in a new series from the Utech label, a curated collection of releases, each featuring original artwork from artist Stephen Kasner (whose book we still have a few copies off, see elsewhere on the site), a hand picked roster that seriously SCREAMS aQ: Aluk Todolo, Final, Skullfower and more!
First up is Skullfower, a brand new disc, which finds Matthew Bower embracing mayhem and chaos. He may have flirted with riffage and space rock for a brief spell, but he is back to creating huge caustic guitarscapes, with Skullfower seemingly a much harsher, noisier, more aggressive take on his Sunroof! project. Where Sunroof! traffics in blissed out ragas and soaring high end ur-drone, Skullfower is creating dense worlds of sound. Psychedelic, textured, layered, but blown out and ultra distorted, it's almost like a guitar orchestra, Bower conducting a symphony of Keiji Haino's, but he's doing this all himself (for the most part). A cursory listen reveals an ear shredding blast of whitenoise sound, but the opening track is about as melodic as music like this gets, not in the traditional sense, but there seems to be some sort of sonic narrative, the various chunks of riff, the keening high end squiggles, the washed out chordal whir, it all blends into one massive, organic, strangely musical chunk of soft noise.
However, the second track will take a bit more digging to discover its inner warmth, for it is indeed white hot, a wall of grinding hissing speaker punishing white noise, the next few tracks follow suit, never straying far from the upper registers, sometimes pulsing and stuttering, but remaining on the difficult side of easy listening. But even in these harsh sonic environs, Bower manages to create melody and texture within what is essentially a noise context, this is far from Merzbow (well, okay, not FAR).
By track five, the low end has caught up the the high, and while the proceedings are still noisy, the skree is offset by the whir, there seems to be a sort of industrial percussion buried WAY down in the mix, melodies fracture and fly apart, only to drift back together in new shapes, some stretches are downright beautiful, tangled melodies, disembodied riffing, a convergence that turns chaos into structure, a song surfaces where there was once noise, before slipping back into unhinged drift. The final track is a blast of psychedelic noise guitar blow out, a sonic battle, riffs clash and break into jagged shards, lightning bolts of feedback are hurled then deflected by a churning rumble of amp buzz, speakers are cannons, the sky black with buzz, the ground wet with whir, a gorgeous sky splitting, earth shaking cacophony.
Harmine Korine tapped both the Sun City Girls and Jason Pierce (aka J. Spaceman of Spiritualized and formerly of Spacemen 3) to write the soundtrack to his film Mister Lonely. No, it's not a collaboration; but rather two opposing forces that may or may not work within the context of the film. As of the release date of the soundtrack, the film has not been released, so we can't comment on how it work in the film. Much like the restrained interludes on recent Spiritualized albums, Pierce offers lushly cinematic arrangements with spectral guitar crescendos, pretty-pretty pastoral tunes from string and woodwind ensembles, and sustained eerie ambience; and the Sun City Girls don't. These tracks do account for the final recordings ever to be made by the Sun City Girls, as drummer Charles Goucher passed away shortly after their completion. That said, these SCG tracks are not as absurdly weird as some of their soundtrack ventures (e.g. Dulce, Juggernaut, and Piasa: Devourer Of Men), but Alan Bishop's off kilter croon emerges alongside the rickshaw guitar picking of his brother Richard, plenty of out of tune piano ditties, and some cacophony between a transistor radio and a harmonica. It goes without saying that the Girls had to deliver a spectacular cover of the Bobby Vinton tune "Mr. Lonely." Hey, is that Werner Herzog issuing some demonstrative claim between a couple of the tracks? Why yes, it is!
From the first few chords and softly warbled vocals of April's 10 minute opening track, "Lost Verses," it's clear that we are in familiar territory with Mark Kozelek's latest release under the Sun Kil Moon moniker -- his first collection of new songs since 2003's Ghosts Of The Great Highway; his incredibly distinctive, molasses-slow blend of roots, indie rock, doom and gloom folk, Neil Young-tinged guitar sprawl, and traditional American songsmithery is in full effect here. Kozelek has made a career out of continually refining a very particular and immediately recognizable aesthetic. It's a sound that is at once both sprawling and intimate, expansive and hushed, confident and reserved. April is marked with the same sense of haunted yearning and loneliness that has characterized all of his best work. In fact, this may be one of the finest collections of songs he's produced to date. It's easy to get lost in this record, as the delicate interplay between words and melody weave their way around one another and reveal a stark beauty that only Kozalek is able to produce.
This 2cd set includes a bonus disc with alternate versions of 4 songs from the album lovingly packaged in a digipak adorned with ethereal b&w photography that will be as familiar to fans as the sound of Kozalek's voice. Simply gorgeous.
Just the Sun Ra album to make your friends go, "what the bleep bloop is that? (bleep bloop)". That's 'cause the cosmic-Afro-jazz maestro's space age synthesizer extemporaneity is fully one-fourth (or much more!) of the soundfield, this being the product of an unusual quartet lineup (Sun Ra: piano, organ, Moog synth, rhythm machine, vocals, John Gilmore: tenor sax, drums, vocals, Luqman Ali: drums, vocals, Michael Ray: trumpet, vocals), So, want some way-out Sun Ra action? Check this out!
The groaning low-end synth that starts disc one, track one ("Saturn Research") should immediately get your attention. And by track two, "Constellation", Ra & Co. have gotten into a groove worthy of the Star Wars cantina... Throughout, all sorts of warped electronic sounds are conjured by Ra's keyboards, with his primitive drum machine occasionally also augmenting the beats of the live drummer in the mix.
This is the follow up Disco 3000, highlighted here a few weeks ago, and if you liked that, you'll like this too. If anything it's possessed of even more mystery and otherworldliness (as only Sun Ra can deliver, in the realm of jazz or elsewhere). Again, as with Art Yard's Disco 3000 reissue, this is an expanded double cd edition (13 tracks, 96 minutes), restoring much previously unreleased music from the original performance tapes recorded on tour in Italy in 1978, with this unique four-piece mini-Arkestra.
Like we said, this is laced with lots of spooky electronic drone and bleepage, but of course as "out" as it gets, being a Sun Ra record there's a lot of jazz tradition to it too, with Ra getting melodic on the piano, and featuring plenty of gorgeous sax soloing from Gilmore, though he gets freaky with it too. Plus there's scaled-down versions of some of the Arkestra's famous space-positive chants -- and a rather more negative chant as well: "The Truth About Planet Earth... Is A Bad Truth!" They sound inexplicably happy chanting that one, maybe 'cause they have travel plans to other planets anyway -- the next track after it is "Space Is The Place".
Finally the way too limited Ribbons Of Dust cd-r's get a proper cd reissue. Three volumes, each a 3" cd-r, from one of our favorite abstract drone outfits going. We raved about all three installments, so if you missed out on any or all, or just want to upgrade to actual cd, then now's your chance.
Seems like the impetus for starting a cd-r label must be born from a similar need to create music yourself. Considering how many microlabel bosses are also serious sound makers in their own right (Campbell Kneale and Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, Antony Milton and PseudoArcana, Brad Rose and Digitalis, etc.) Makes sense, a passion for discovering new music can be fed directly by making that new music yourself. Taiga Remains is the solo electric guitar project of Alex Cobb, who also happens to run Students Of Decay, a pretty badass cd-r label. Volume 1 of Ribbons Of Dust is a slow moving, bleary eyed, slow moving morning of a track. The guitar is rendered riffless, instead it's transformed into a sparkling glistening glimpse of a sun dappled expanse of still water, foggy and fuzzy, a dream world of shimmering muted high end drift and warm soft hum. Reminds us a bit of ex-Souled American axeman Scott Tuma, and his abstract slow motion soundscapes. So totally lovely and blissfully otherworldly.
Volume 2 is made up of huge billowy clouds of dense but soft electric guitar drift. Melodies played out over minutes instead of seconds. Ambarchi meets Fennesz but with the bones removed, leaving just a drifting ghost of the guitar. It's hard to even think of this as a guitar. There's no strumming, or picking, or bowing, instead it's nothing but shimmering and glistening and sparkling and reverberating and drifting and shining and floating and twinkling and slowly fading away...
The final volume is all about late night, disembodied slow shifting guitar glimmer. Huge soft clouds of warm chords, thick swells of reverberating steel strings, minor key drifts of shimmer and whir, very oceanic, like drifting on some soft sleep sea, each note another gentle swell, lulling you into a state of complete bliss out. So beautiful.
Packaged in a super striking silkscreened origmai style fold over cardstock sleeve with a printed insert.
Hapna has reissued the second album from the Swedish trio Tape, in a digipack with new artwork and four bonus tracks (hence the Plus in the title) from the original 2003 recording sessions. They've done the same with Tape's first album as well (now Opera Plus) but for some reason that disc didn't excite us nearly as much as Milieu did (though we should probably use this opportunity to revisit it and see if we feel differently now). Actually, we didn't even ever review Opera, yet were immediately taken with Milieu. It's simply great, gorgeous.
Theirs is a melodic yet abstract soundworld, very Jewelled Antler in approach, and very delicate. Field recordings + instruments in a calming, semi-improvised setting of simple song-sketches. Acoustic guitar, harmonium, trumpet, electronics, tapes... Hushed, droned, very pretty but not precious. A most pleasant half-hour (plus) indeed! From the Hapna label, who previously brought us Tape member Johan Berthling's marvelous drone collaboration with Oren Ambarchi, My Days Are Darker Than Your Nights. (Hapna is also the home to AQ-faves Sagor & Swing as well amongst many others, by this time hopefully you all have some Hapna in your house).
Ok, you wanna know where the NWOFHM (New Wave Of Finnish Heavy Metal) gets all their ideas? Our pal Jussi (of noted NWOFHM purveyors Circle/Pharaoah Overlord/Steel Mammoth/Krypt Axeripper/etc.) kind of gives it away by reissuing on his Ektro imprint this classic 1985 live album by metal/bodybuilding legend THOR!!
Yes it's a live album (the band rockin' Detroit rock city, with appropriate album cover artwork) but don't worry, it's an AWESOME live album. The recording is great, the band's performance is killer, the crowd is raucous, of course it's got almost ALL the hits ("Thunder On The Tundra", "Knock 'Em Down", "Keep The Dogs Away" among them), AND Thor's between-song stage raps are worth the price of admission all by themselves. Love it when he asks if the crowd reads Kerrang! magazine, gets no response, and is like, "anyhow..." and goes on with his story (about the remarkable size of his back up singer's breasts). Or when he introduces a song as being "a big hit in Alaska". Yes, he-man of metal Jon Mikl Thor is hilarious (he'd happily agree we're sure) but he also rocks, as anyone who's seen him play even recently knows, and heck this was laid to tape back in his heyday! At the time, his heavy metal superheroics were probably only matched by the combined might of Manowar.
If you're gonna buy just one Thor album, you won't go to wrong to make it this one. It includes three bonus tracks also from '85, live recorded in England, New York City, and Thor's native Canada. One of them is a song that was lost for 23 years and has never been heard on any other Thor recording!! The cd booklet is stuffed with rad old photos of the band playing and posing, with glimpses of the feats-of-strength that, along with his cool tunes, made this campy metal muscleman famous. For a few seconds back in the '80s anyway. But not forgotten!!
Yet more proof that Ektro is one of the best record labels ever. Not only did Ektro just reissue this live Thor album but at the same time they've released a live album by krautrock legends Faust! Thor -and- Faust. Damn. That's our kind of label. After all, we had Thor do an in-store album signing here a couple years ago, and still have the autographed hot water bottles to prove it!
Most of us got kind of bored by the whole laptop revolution years ago. Nerds checking their emails while some sound program runs basically on its own, a cascade of bleeps and bloops and glitches. Electronica, intelligent dance music, glitchcore, glitchtronica, what-the-fuck-ever. There have been exceptions of course, and some folks can most certainly turn a crappy old laptop into a wheezing world of wonder, or an alien symphony. One of our all time favorite 'glitch' records would have to be Oval's Diskont, a gorgeous murky underwater soundscape of burbling beauty and glistening shimmer, all woven together from digital glitch in the form of skipping compact discs. Few records since then have managed to bridge the massive gap between technical tomfoolery and emotional resonance. But damn if this latest (and first as far as we know) from Guillaume Graux, aka Tuk doesn't come damn close.
Unlike Diskont, Tuk's Shallow Water Blackout isn't all dreamy bliss and soft focus flutter, instead Graux weaves super dense tangles of sound, organic and otherwise. The most notable sonic elements are traditional instruments, acoustic guitars, piano, harps, organs, but it's what he does with them... chopping and stretching, twisting and tweaking, long stretches of skips and stutters somehow coalesce into strangely haunting minor key melodies, occasionally getting all backed up into huge crunchy, super dynamic rhythms, but not dance music rhythms, more sort of 'song' rhythms. The opener is the perfect example. What begins sounding like Hill Street Blues or Christopher Cross given a Jeckian muted mumbled abstract dream fuzz makeover, gets more and more dark and moodily melodic, bookended by these amazing math rock style stop/start arrangements, where huge blasts of fuzzy ambience give way to utter silence, only to burst back into motion again, the glitchy electronic equivalent to the hardcore breakdown maybe. With the same physically powerful affect.
And the whole record continues in that fashion, gorgeous chopped and reassembled minor key guitar tangles, bits of piano and random song fragments, peppered with digital crunch, of course plenty of glitch, loads of fuzz and hiss and crackle, all perfectly interacting and transforming the organic elements. Graux most definitely has a deft hand at composing and songwriting. These are not just huge messes of sound, these are actual songs, dark and beautiful, with an internal logic, a sonic story, a melodic journey through a weird world of dissected and strangely reassembled pop music. Much like labelmate Ignatz, who constantly reimagine and reinvent Appalachia and Delta blues, creating a whole new sound, Tuk do something similar with electronic music, coming up with a sound that is neither cold nor unemotional, not dance-y or really in any way groovy, but instead is some weird futuristic mood music, weirdly emotional mysteriously ominous and so so lovely.
Think Oval, Chris Clark, Jeck, Tim Hecker, Pierre Bastien, Dialing In, Part Timer, Machinefabriek, Jasper Texas, Grouper... So pretty...
It's appropriate that Nigeria Rock Special kicks things off with a supremely heavy slab of organ/bass/drum groove by Ofege called "Adieu," as this is the third and allegedly final installment in Sound Way's incredible Nigeria Special series. We were skeptical that this volume would be able to live up to the high standards set by the first two, but honestly this is probably the best of the three. No joke, it's so effing good that when we put it on in the store all of us just look at each other and kind of do that squinty head bobbing groove thing where you're kind of like, "holy crap how good is this? SO GOOD!" In fact this is one of those rare compilations that manages to transcend its genre and appeal to people who may not normally be into African music -- it's not every day that you see some of the serious blackened noisemongering customers digging stuff from the "international" section!
First thing, the title might be a little misleading... if you're coming to this expecting to hear stoned out proto-metal clomp or extended blues riffage, you might be a bit disappointed. While there are fuzzed out guitar explorations aplenty on this disc, the overall feel definitely leans more towards the funky side of things. If you're a fan of the Boscoe lp we reviewed a few lists back, or the Skull Snaps record, or even Black Merda (or anything from the now sadly out of print Chains and Black Exhaust compilation) you are going to LOVE this record: imagine blown out, psychedelic instrumental passages layered over heavy, heavy, heavy bass and drums with no shortage of traditional highlife and afrobeat flourishes and you're in the ballpark. In fact, with the exception of a few tracks (most notably, Question Mark's "Freaking Out," which, believe it or not, sounds kind of like Can covering something from the Nuggets box), the western influence is actually less present in this collection than it was in the last volume.
There are too many standouts to list them all, but we would be remiss not to mention that Mono Mono's "Kenimania" comes on like Fela tackling a Booker T jam; or that Ofo The Black Company's "Enario" is a simmering pot of mid-tempo funk and call and response vocals that holds up as a worthy successor to their mighty "Allah Wakbarr" (a song you might remember from two other essential compilations: Nigeria 70, and World Psychedelic Classics Vol. 3); or that the treble-kicking guitars of Colomach's "Cotocun Gba Gounke" create a mind-blowing hybrid of Middle-Eastern-tinged desert blues and Hendrix-ian pyrotechnics; or that Joe King Kologbo & His Black Sounds' "Another Man's Thing" is a frenetic polemic that switches gears from hyperactive shuffle to deep funk throb-n-stab in the blink of an eye!
Look, we know we've been pushing these Nigeria Special comps hard for the last few months but it's for good reason: the three volumes together form a meticulously curated, beautifully packaged collection of songs that spans two decades and demonstrates the intense creativity and musical diversity in post-revolution Nigeria. Taken by itself, Nigeria Rock Special is a gripping, exuberant, and infectious listen from start to finish and definitely comes with as high a recommendation as we can dish out!
There are cult bands and then they are the TRUE KVLT bands. Few fit that bill better than San Francisco's Von. Von existed for a few years back in the late eighties / early nineties, recorded only two demos, and then split up and disappeared.
But that's just the sort of stuff that creates the cult, that turns a band into something more, that and an incredible collection of furious grim thrashing black metal madness. Fourteen songs, all fast and black, all quite similar sounding, almost like one long song chopped up into 2 minute movements, but like very few bands, there's just something special about Von, sure the sound, the production, the energy, but it has to be the songs too, since even played by other bands, those songs exude a strange black power, a grim malice and hellish energy that belies their simple composition.
Lots of folks have covered Von over the years, most recently SF's own Leviathan, on his split with fellow Bay Area black horde Crebain, but here we've got a whole disc of covers, most of them true to the spirit of Von, in that they are raw and primitive and buzzing, but each special in its own black way.
Very few bands here that we've actually heard of: Enbilulugugal, Black Vomit, Godless, Execrator, Beastcraft, Tjolgtjar, Raw Hatred and that's about it. Check out the names on some of the other bands: Blasphemophager, Unholy Crucifix, Godslaying Hellblast, Sermon Of Foulness, Nuclearhammer, Ceremonial Castings�
And they all sound just how you might think, carrying on in the grim tradition of Von, lo-fi, thrashing, black, brutal, buzzy, the rhythms fast and relentless, the riffing and drumming in a constant fury, the vocals in various shades of howl and gurgle, lots of the tracks peppered with wild squiggly leads, sometimes the sound is thick and caustic, a white noise blur, other times it's a tinny practice space recording, once in a while, like with Black Vomit, the song is transformed into something freaked out and damaged, but for the most part, this is one for the true, the grim, those of black heart and cursed soul.
Definitely for fans of Von (obviously), Beherit, Bone Awl, Akitsa, Ash Pool, Darkthrone and other practitioners of raw raw raw primitive black metal.
You might recall the sunshine-sweetened sounds of SF pop band Morning Spy from a few years back (we carried two of their releases Subsequent Light and The Silver Age). Well, since then the fella from that band up and started an indie label Abandoned Love Records and a new solo project Virgin Of The Birds. Jon Rooney is his name and this is his debut album. In our reviews of Morning Spy we likened his vocal stylings to Daniel Bejar (Destroyer, New Pornographers) and John Darnielle (Mountain Goats), and with Mixed Choir we can utter the same refrain. The resemblance is often striking similar, and the results strikingly good!
We're always up for some more tripped out abstract space psych, or some druggy far out improv krautdrone, or even some cracked electronic prog, so this debut cd from local outfit Von Himmel definitely hit the spot, touching on all of those imaginary genres and then some.
The note that arrived with this disc included a bunch of wacked text including bits like: "Recorded through a single mic with the power of a thousand suns" and "First in a series of stone-age crystal technologies' hyper metareverberant mycophiliac outer space groove unit transmissions" and of course "An as yet unknown German psych substitute with free jazz perversions discovered lodged in the core of a meteorite" which all sounds completely wacked, until you wrap your ears around the sounds these guys conjure up.
Picking carefully through those garbled transmissions, we come up with German, free jazz, metareverberant and psych, and you might be getting close. You'd also have to include druggy, krautrock, murky, tripped out, and handful of other descriptors.
Three long songs that manage to sound both abstract and groovy, channeling German Oak as much as any other influence. The German Oak vibe is huge, the cavernous lo-fi production, the strangely funky vibe running throughout. But at the same time, Von Himmel are exploring some lost corner of the galaxy, setting a course for the heart of the sun, they blast through dense clouds of swirling effects, metero belts of tribal percussion, the sky a series of fuzzy smears, their path shifting from blown out psychjam, to laid back sun baked groove to full on drug doused black ambience.
The first two tracks are extended sonic explorations, equal parts Can, Faust, Popol Vuh, German Oak, Amon Duul, looooooong spacey voyages, all long hair and big amps, black lights and bellbottoms, big drums and lots of wah and flange, but for the final track, the band lets loose of all that stuff, leaving some whirring buzzing black hole, which rumbles and reverberates eventually disappearing into the inky blackness.
Definitely for fans of the above mentioned groops, but well worth checking out if you're into stuff like Comets On Fire, Wooden Shjips, Hawkwind, Spacemen 3 and other outer sonic space explorers.
CRAZY LIMITED! Only 50 or so copies...
Al Green on the front, Q-Tip on the flip. It's another as always awesome issue of Wax Poetics, our favorite magazine covering hiphop, jazz, funk and soul.
128 pages, lots of the usual beautiful photography and vintage album art. And text too: features on Estonian Rare Groove, the Afrobeat of Orlando Julius, King Britt on soundtracks, afro-jazz trombonist Phil Ranelin, Headhunters drummer Mike Clark, the two cover stars, and of course much more. Dig!
Latest from these aQ beloved, NY based drugdronepsychspace rockers, this time, they've teamed up with mysterious UK outfit Gnod, who add a whole other layer of fuzz and grit and blown out buzz, to WH's already heady heavy spaced out sound. In fact the entire first track are most of the second consists primarily of blurred, smeared ambient drones, washed out FX drenched soft noise, more Sunroof! that Hawkwind, but eventually, this sprawling freeform swirl begins to coalesce into something only slightly more cohesive, a shuffling tribal mantra, a cycle of simple percussion and whirring thrum that reminds us of No Neck or Sunburned Hand. Even into the third track, the record has yet to ROCK, instead, muted tablas, streaks of space-y effects, more warm shimmering whir, very tranquil and meditative and almost sort of stoned sounding. Track three finishes off with a little flurry of glitch and squelch, leading into still more muted bliss.
BUT, track 4 is when the band really start to intensify, the drums locked into a more Krautrock sounding beat, the guitars thickening, the ambience slightly more ominous, until finally, the band launch into a seriously heavy and dark, spaced out kraut jam, mostly drums, way up in the mix, pounding and pulsing, beneath a sky full of FX and riff-less guitars offering up clouds of rumble and throb, the bass, a thick black serpent, coiled up around the propulsive rhythm. It's even more intense and 'heavy' sounding after the first three tracks, that while awesome on their own, all dark and raga like, also served to build some serious tension, like some sort of super long intro. But this jam will definitely not disappoint long time WH fans in need of their drone psych space rock fix.
The record finishes off with some super intense synth dronebuzz, like a super ominous dark ambient Tangerine Dream, a simple wavery tone, whirring malevolently within a cloud of drifting muted effects, little bits of shortwave buzz, streaks of hiss and whir, eventually drums join in, but not to rock really, instead they just lock into a repetitive pound, laced with little flurries of percussive splatter, but mostly the drums just pound away, the cymbals unleashing huge sheets of metallic shimmer, the guitars again forgoing riffs and gushing blown out FX soaked buzz, over all that synths swirl, electronics bleep and bloop, it's like a chaotic blend of the heaviest most drugged out and damaged Acid Mothers Temple and Hawkwind outros, until the crowd sounds come in and it becomes clear that this was all live, which makes it even more impressive.
Packaged in a plain black cardboard sleeve, with a paste on front and back cover, and a photocopied insert with liner notes.
SUPER LIMITED as always. We got the very last copies. 40 of em. Not sure we'll be able to talk them into making more if they run out, we'll of course try if it comes to that, but best to grab one of these quick just in case!
Ok, we've got one here for anyone into the sludgy, stoner sounds of the likes of Electric Wizard and Sleep!! Yob is perhaps your new favorite band. From Portland, Oregon, these psychedelic doom lords take their chosen genre's obligatory Black Sabbath worship to the extent of incorporating the swingin' jazzy/jammy aspects of the Sabbath sound that most doomsters tend to disregard. Nor do they skimp on the the meaner, rigidly metallic side of the Sabs, or on the mountains of the moon sized riffage doom fans require. Yob is slow motion, sweat leaf'd sludge to the max. Most notably, while their vocalist does dip into a demonic growl at times, mainly he soars like an insane, heavily effected hybrid of Ozzy and Geddy Lee. The result is a remarkably unique sound for a band that unquestionably wears their influences on their collective sleeve. The closest comparision would be to a spaced-out combination of Sleep and Dead Meadow. The three long tracks (18, 7, and 23 minutes) showcase a stoned style that even fuses funk with full-on dirge doom. There's a couple other fine doom metal releases on this weeks' list (Solitude Aeturnus, Well Of Souls). But while those bands' style is to build big castles, these guys tunnel through the earth, out the other side, and into outer space. Recommended.
