Wow, not sure what we were expecting with this new Alias album, but it sure wasn't this - a remarkably grand, ebullient and shimmeringly pretty album! It's as though Flaming Lips decided hiphop was their next avenue of musical adventure. No, really! Also quite reminiscent of late '90s IDM (such as Oval or Plaid) or early '00s jazz-tinged pop-tronica (such as Four Tet or Ulrich Schnauss), Resurgam is a lush affair that's blissed out yet driving at the same time. Fans of all of the above will surely find much to dig into here!
In the wake of Jesu, and about a million other shoegazey bliss-metal combos, it's a little surprising that Asbsestoscape is the first band to take that blown out dreamy heaviness to an entirely new place. Well okay, maybe not entirely, but this, the debut cd-r by this mysterious one man band is actually quite refreshing, and a handful of folks we trust are proclaiming this their record of the year. And we can see why. In a nutshell, imagine sweeping post rock epics, merged with crumbling distorted blissed out metalgaze, but now lace the whole thing with skittery programmed rhythms, bursts of stuttery jungle, stretches of shuffling downtempo grooves, it's pretty fucking great. And the sound, deconstructed, can result in two different equations, one: a metal band, a slow, fuzzy dreamy metal band, mixing in cool jungle rhythms, or two: an electronic outfit, jungle or drum and bass or whatever, incorporating guitars and post rocky melodies. Either way, the results are sublime.
But this juxtaposition, while cool, is not enough to sustain an entire record. Thankfully, Asbestoscape has a deft hand with composition too, the tracks here are dark and minor key, grand and majestic, epic and super dramatic. Instrumental of course, but never boring, the textures and melodies and rhythms more than enough to keep it interesting. It's easy to hear bits of Jesu, Mono, Explosions In The Sky, Mogwai, Nadja, but those sounds get their own unique twist, the deal sealed by flurries of spastic drum splatter, or mechanical minimal almost industrial rhythmic crunch. There are long slow building epics, the jangly guitars, shot through with high end streaks, underpinned by thick swells of muted heaviness, all held together by crystalline frameworks of programmed skitter, there are huge chugging metallic riffs gradually blurred into shimmering squalls of blissy buzz, some gorgeous slow burning dirges, that almost sound like a slowed down, prettier Godflesh (doing it almost better than Jesu), simple glistening stretches of stripped down post rock, wreathed in prismatic guitar jangle and a deep droney low end that sounds almost like strings, there's even a track that sounds like a post rock-ed chunk of dubstep. But it all works, and while in lesser hands the programmed rhythms could sound forced and gimmicky, they don't here, not only do they manage to sound organic, they also become an integral part of the Asbestoscape sound.
The more we listen to this, the more we dig it. And thankfully, as Jesu moves more and more toward M83's eighties retro revival, albeit heavier (a move we're not at all opposed to, btw) it seems like Asbestoscape are here to fill that void, in addition to offering up a new take on the post rock / metal sound that should have fans of any of the above mentioned bands freaking out big time.
Oakland's doooooooooooooooooooomiest, Asunder, return with their second full-length album. Just back from a tour of Japan with none other than cultish doom-crust behemoth Corrupted, Asunder further cement their doom bonafides with Works Will Come Undone, which features just two tracks, one of 'em ("Rite Of Finality") almost a full-length itself at 50 minutes duration! The other track ("A Famine") isn't quite so long -- a mere 20 minutes. That's more than enough time for these guys and gal to squeeze in a few lugubrious riffs, even at the glacial pace with with they play their morose metallic funeral marches.
Asunder are all about atmosphere, allowing some really pretty and mellow parts into their crushingly heavy and depressed, slow-moving sound-world. The use of cello (played by Jackie Perez-Gratz, also of Amber Asylum) is one of Asunder's trademarks, and for giving an extra-mournful, classically elegant dimension to their doom it's hard to beat. The guitarists successfully venture to enter that sublime realm as well. Meanwhile the vocalist recalls the phlegmy throat of Forest Of Equilibrium era Cathedral frontman Lee Dorrian, mixing the rough with the smooth as it were...
For those unaware, we should also note the presence of former Weakling guitarist/vocalist John Gossard. What Weakling was to trance-inducingly epic Norwegian style black metal, Asunder is to trance-inducingly epic Finnish style doom metal!! Or maybe we should just say Oakland style, since this genre of doom has its roots all over, from Finland's Thergothon to Australia's Disembowelment and Long Island's Winter...
Volume number Two of BBC Radiophonic workshop guru, John Baker's amazing recorded output. This time focusing on his jazz compositions, homemade electronic experiments and library music, most of it largely unheard. Less small themes and interludes than volume one, which also means less of what he made exclusively for the BBC. But that should not deter the BRW fanatics out there from picking this up. It's even stranger because it's so varied, covering his entire musical career from 1954 up until his death in 1985. Exhaustively culled from boxes and boxes of often unmarked tapes, there's homemade musique concrete pieces made early in his musical development, as well as his early recordings with a jazz combo. The jazz and library compositions (made for the Southern and Peer International organizations) are similar in form and sound to Basil Kirchin and Michael Garrick (two other Trunk luminaries), urgently spright and pastoral, sometimes soft and spacey. There is also soundtrack music for an early Ridley Scott short film, Boy on A Bicycle, and advert music, one of which we suspect the group Broadcast must have been very aware of ("Jazz Advert"). A great and essential companion to Volume One, and for anyone interested in early British electronic music.
As the temperature and leaves gradually fall into autumn, a fittingly dusky and haunting album from former Bay Area now New York based folk troubadour Mr. Matt Bauer has arrived! It's a devastating song cycle inspired by the story about the mysterious death of a girl (posthumously known as Tent Girl) which took place back in 1968 in Bauer's old stomping grounds in Kentucky. Absolutely heart-rending and beautifully realized, The Island Moved In The Storm is a wonderful progression from his 2006 Wasps And White Roses cdep. Unquestionably his best work to date! The artfully Spartan arrangements allow much room for his achingly withered voice and deeply affecting words to sink in. He was ably assisted by many musical luminaries: Elizabeth Dotson-Westphalen of St. Vincent, Alela Diane, and Dirty Projectors' Angel Deradoorian to name a few. Fans of M. Ward, Jolie Holland, Sean Hayes and maybe even Calexico too, please take note immediately! This just may be your new favorite album and artist! Recommended.
Jared Blum is back with a new alter ego - Beaks Plinth! In case you didn't guess from the title, it is a Hawaiian themed project. That said, don't be expecting warm sandy beaches, luscious fruity concoctions and gently swaying palm trees. Nope, instead imagine yourself in the depths of a not-so-dormant island volcano, molten lava creeping forth and sizzling in the heady ocean mist!
It's like a tropical fever dream in which the shadows of giant tiki figures loom and ominous giant birds of prey menace and peck at you from above. It's a bit murky and mysterious with sounds smeared into dank cavernous echoes. In fact, we might suggest that the dozen foreboding soundscapes on Kai Kohola Leo meld quite nicely in between aQ faves Nurse With Wound's Salt Marie Celeste and Coelacanth's Glass Sponge. Recommended.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The first Curved Earth Destroyer collected a handful of live Birchville performances, from all over the world, spanning enough years, that we were able to hear the gradual development of BCM, from more ethereal tripped out ambient drones, to something much more aggressive and almost metallic.
This second installment doesn't offer the same development, or such a wide breadth of sound. It's simply a collection of various stellar performances, culled from the last three years. Seven long sets, spread out over three discs, recorded all over, New Zealand, France, Australia, Hong Kong and a couple from the USA, some of the song titles sound familiar enough that they seem like variations of songs from other discs ("Dead Call Home Their Birds" instead of the other way around, "Gunpowder Church Of Satan", etc.) but it hardly matters, the sound of BCM is so gorgeous, so epic and organic, whether it's a glistening sheet of high end shimmer, or a corrosive slab of crumbling blistering crunch, the sounds are deftly stretched into expansive sonic vistas, some sun dappled and dreamy, others blackened and harrowing.
Disc 3 (no need to go in numerical order right?) features the above mentioned tracks, recorded in France and NZ, and finds BCM, aka Campbell Kneale, doing the epic Ur-drone, long tones held forever, layered and layered, both tracks washed out and shimmery, the second, almost orchestral, both completely mesmerizing, like an even more epic Sunroof!
Disc 2 begins with the 29 minute "Junkshop Rainbow Superserpent", a live collaboration with 1/3 Octave Band, the first half of the track, much more folky and abstract than usual, before building to a super dramatic crescendo of bowed metals and feeding back guitars, before unwinding into a field of bell like tones, and swooping backwards FX. Tripped out and haunting. The other two tracks, recorded in Hong Kong and NZ respectively, feature still more static ambience, the first like a cd-r minimal drone version of Arvo Part, glimmering, glistening, shimmering stretches of slow drifting sounds, soft overtones, gentle buried barely-there melodies, the second, much more lo-fi, lots of static and buzz and hiss and fuzz, but beneath it all lurk little warbly melodies, wheezing layers of whir and whisper, and a deep droning rumble.
Disc 1 is all USA, recorded in Rochester and Chicago, the Rochester track is nearly 25 minutes of slow building ambient clatter, blurred and smeared into long tones, a warm whirring drone over the top, all tangled up with low end melodies that creep in gradually, the percussive clatter transforming into a cloud of tinkling chimes wreathed by the increasingly corrosive buzz. The Chicago track is another wall of static buzz, this one spends its first half murky and muted, before blossoming into a flurry of whirling buzz and more distant tinkling chimes, before finally fading out into a super minimal lo-fi drift.
Packaged in that instantly recognizable CPSIP wallpaper style sleeve, with three inserts containing minimal liner notes for each disc, and of course SUPER LIMITED! We did get a bunch of these, but as always, these very well might be the last copies we can get, so grab one while you can...
We've got pretty much an AQ-fave shoo-in here, this strange Japanese band combining crusty, doooooomy heaviness with wyrd folk ritual, like Corrupted (with whom they have some membership connection) combined with Ghost. This 40 minute album, featuring three tracks (a two minute into and then two much longer pieces), starts by building up the ancient, Asian folky ambience, adorned with mysterious Scooby Doo meets Ol' Dirty Bastard kung fu mumble, all of it very much darkly psychedelic, before it gets HEAVY at about 5 minutes into the 20+ minute track two, Birushanah suddenly kicking out the lurching, kinetic riffs/rhythms along with much more wretched, raspy vokills in the Khanate vein. Tricky tribalistic percussion conspires with sinuous, strangled guitars, stopping and starting and coming down hard, on the bizarre bulk of this creepy and crushing album. One whose eerie eccentricities, rooted in traditional Japanese music, we figure should appeal to a lot of you who dug that Quest For Blood release we made Record Of The Week recently!
They're never gonna be our favoritest band, but we can't help but like 'em a lot. Why not an absolute favorite? 'Cause these guys and gals from Austin, Texas, are maybe just a little bit too safe, too obviously derivative in their sound. But then why do we like 'em so much anyways? No, not because they have a song here called "Mission District", but 'cause their sound is one we love, one built on bands that ARE our faves: Spacemen 3, Loop, Joy Division, and of course the Velvet Underground, from whom they copped their name ("Black Angel's Death Song" being a track from Velvet Underground and Nico, and The Black Angels make the connection explicit by naming their publishing company Death Song). The Black Angels sure do a good job of synthesizing and celebrating their influences, creating throbbing, druggy, hypnotically repetitive spaced out psychedelic pop, full of fuzzy guitars and swirling sitars, heavy and jammy, moody and melodic too. With floating female vocals that remind us not only of Nico, but also a bit of Siouxie and the Banshees.
Directions To See A Ghost is this band's second album, the cd again packaged in a deluxe digipack, with a tactile, op-art cover design like their debut, Passover. And if you liked the music on that one, you'll like this too. What they lack in originality, they make up for in solid, sounds-like-something-we-already-know-and-love songwriting and soundmaking of the shoegazing variety. We'd especially recommend this to fans of Wooden Shjips, they definitely have something in common, a retro psych vibe with several shared inspirations. Though, the Shjips experiment more, while The Black Angels are content to emulate. That said, they do it well, and if you like what they like, this will be a satisfying listen indeed!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We've never seen Black Boned Angel Perform live, but judging from the photo on the insert of this disc, the band might owe SUNNO))) some royalties, as the image features one of the Black Boned Angels (yep, now there are three) in a monk like robe, wielding an axe, but also poised to strike a drum! But fuck it, robes were a part of rituals long before SUNNO))), and BBA have their own ritualistic thing going on. Especially considering someone is simultaneously playing guitar AND drums.
The trio of BBA, now featuring not only main man Campbell Kneale on guitar, drums and tapes, and James Kirk on guitar and "amprifier worshippo" (?), but also now Jules Desmond on bass guitar, offer up the first recorded evidence we've heard of the three piece BBA on this here super limited TOUR ONLY cd-r, we got all the copies the band had left after their Australian tour, so once these are gone, that's it.
One single track, 34 minutes, beginning with nine minutes of washed out staticky buzz. For a minute there (actually for 9 minutes) we thought this might be it. One long buzz. Which would be fine, we love that stuff, but right around the 10 minute mark, the band kick into a slow motion doomy plod, the guitars thick and viscous, the drums a simple occasional plod (dude is also playing guitar!), the trio lurch and lumber, a woozy, spaced out tar pit dirge, the guitars throbbing and crumbling, eventually, blurring into a nearly static whirl of low end sound, an industrial soundscape of muted clatter and textured buzz, smeared into a slowly decaying outro.
Again, this is CRAZY LIMITED, pretty sure it's OUT OF PRINT, and thus these are most likely, the last copies ever...
While we all wait patiently for a new slab of abstract heaviness to come our way from the lovely folks who comprise the Grey Daturas trio, we can spend a little time immersing ourselves in the dronier dirgier darker side of Rob MacManus, aka one third of the aforementioned Gray Daturas.
So far we've only heard from BW (not to be confused with the -other- black widow), on a pair of collaborations with fellow Aussie noisemaker Blarke Bayer, so this here is the first real chance we've had to hear what BW is really all about, and we're psyched to discover it's all about the massive slow motion downtuned heavy dirgedrone. Like old Earth, or Sunn 0))) that sort of drawn out guitar drone action, but MacManus give it his own twist, sometimes letting the guitar just ooze and sprawl like some sort of viscous blackness, other times, offering some weird angular disembodied steel string thrum, but still drifting on a sea of droning shimmer, and still other times, unfurling a grinding, crumbling super distorted slow motion riff. Whichever way the sound veers, it's always infused with some haunting abstract melodic element, that in some cases is quashed by the sheer heaviness, while in others, it manages to float to the surface, glimmering and shimmering, while the grind and throb is relegated to the background. Good stuff, and more essential listening for the guitardrone legions...
YES! It's about time this was reissued! A cult metal fave, this debut record from San Francisco underground true metal masters Brocas Helm was originally released on LP by a label called First Strike back in 1984. The only cd edition of this was released in Germany long, long ago and is just as tough to find as the vinyl itself, not to mention that it was a budget release without even a track listing in the cd booklet, just a catalog of other cd reissues by various '80s contemporaries of Brocas Helm like Iron Angel, Trouble, Leatherwolf, Tokyo Blade, and Wendy O. Williams! Now, more than 20 years after its first appearance, here's a much more reverently presented cd reissue complete with five bonus tracks (from their 1983 Into Battle demo) and, better yet, a bonus live mpeg video of the band (with 2 guitar lineup) performing Allan's favorite Brocas Helm track, "Ravenwreck", live at the Old Waldorf in San Francisco in '83, in front of a crowd of raging 'bangers. About the only thing to complain about this reissue is that for some dumb reason they've put some new and not so great cover art on the front, with the album's original (and to be fair, also not so great) art only included inside the booklet, thumbnail sized...why??
But that hardly matters, what's important is that now a new generation of metal fans can hear why this band is mentioned alongside the legendary likes of Cirith Ungol and Manilla Road (if you're wondering who those bands are, well, just think Iron Maiden but way more obscure).
Into Battle is a proud and powerful album of hyperkinetic epicks. It's fantasy metal that pounds beers and gobbles acid and loves to rock and roll, weaving in psychedelic elements as well. The songs are about wizards and warriors, but also with lyrics actually about guitars and amplifiers too! Definitely inspired by the NWOBHM and also '70s hard rock like Thin Lizzy, Van Halen, and Riot, Brocas Helm's debut might have catapulted them to commerical success in the '80s metal world if only more people had ever heard it... though the San Francisco Bay Area was a hotbed of metal activity, with Metallica, Exodus, Testament, and many others breaking big, Brocas was perhaps just too eccentric and medieval to make it. Fortunately they never gave up, so the brave and bold can STILL go see these guys play and slay here in San Francisco now and then. They've released two other albums since Into Battle, those being 1988's Black Death (also just reissued on Eat Metal, to be reviewed here next list) and after a sixteen year wait, 2004's Defender Of The Crown! All are brilliant, with Into Battle being both essential for fans and the obvious place to start if you're new to the band. With their galloping tunes, heroic vocals and guitar shred, Brocas Helm are metal incarnate. If you like their spiritual brothers (nephews?) Slough Feg, you'll like Brocas Helm!!
The violin is probably the last instrument you think of when you think of underground cd-r noise drone music. Okay, maybe not the last, but it's pretty far down the list for sure. Yet Mr. C. Spencer Yeh has forged a career with his trusty violin, creating a sizable body of work, ranging from full on blown out noise assault, to breathless delicate beauty, to propulsive krautrock infused space rock, and various mixes of all three. We even Record Of The Week-ed his Operator Dead album a while back. But where that record was more of a group effort, this latest disc, Challenger, finds Yeh returning to his solo roots, getting a minimal amount of assistance on just a couple of tracks, but handling the bulk of the soundmaking himself. And while there is no list of instrumentation, we have to assume that violin is not the only instrument present. NOBODY is that good. But even so, Yeh is really really good, and with a violin and whatever else he has in his soundmaking arsenal, he has once again conceived something of great beauty and import, a collection of sounds, of SONGS, an album that is cohesive yet varied, personal and introspective, yet somehow epic and expansive. If anything, this new disc finds Yeh moving his BSC into the rarefied world of spaced out Krautrock. Neu!, Popol Vuh, Tangerine Dream, Ash Ra Tempel, A.R. & The Machines, Brian Eno. Much in the same way aQ faves Expo '70, channel seventies space kraut, so does Yeh, but where Expo '70 create thick heavy spaced out dronescapes, the sounds on Challenger are much more melodic, and drifty, dreamy and mesmerizing. There is plenty of noise to be found, but it's doled out sparingly, melodies are sometimes halo-ed in buzz, or delicate rhythms wreathed in feedback, but it's always muted and minimal, allowing the melody and arrangement to shine, and shine they do, each track, a gorgeously repetitive stretch of space-y abstract groove, looped, but slowly shifting and changing shape, propulsive but subtly so.
The opening two track salvo is some of the most blissfully beautiful soft noise we've heard. In fact, even calling it noise might be doing it a disservice. The opener is a slow burning slab of minimal murmur, laced with soft tinkling chimes, an abstract ghostly melody over a softly pulsing drone, eventually augmented by some shimmery hiss and random sampled ambience, but instead of distracting, these sonic events, cars driving past, wind, tape hiss, they only add texture to the glimmering drift beneath.
The second track begins with a riff (played on a violin?) that is quickly wrapped up in corrosive swaths of warbly effected buzz, the two elements twisting around one another, creating a strange churning soundscape of stretched out space rock riffage and crumbling distorted drone, that manages to be absolutely riveting.
The next few tracks offer up some more experimental fare, brief chunks of ambient weirdness, one of plastic cup percussion, heavily reverbed, in a wide open stretch of distant whir and tangled electronics, another a symphony of processed vocals, looped and chopped into a hiccupping stuttering soundscape, eventually joined by soft shimmery chords and warm chordal buzz, yet another a collection of crinkles and crackles, like someone stepping on bubble wrap, balling up wrapping paper and a campfire, all draped over the sounds of children laughing and playing.
All before returning to the blissed out dronedrift of the opening few tracks. Reverbed jaw harp floats in a field of static hum and twinkling fragmented melody, deep tones are woven into gentle lilting melodies, symphonic snippets are looped and assembled into a slow building drone, underpinned by fuzzy droney melodies, totally stirring and epic, haunting and mysterious, a bit of Jeck mixed in with BSC's usual glorious buzz, maybe one of the most moving (and possibly one of the best) tracks we've ever heard from Yeh and his 'Core. The final track is an Avarus like coda, sheets of hiss like rainfall (might very well be), bits of percussive chime and clank, plenty of hiss and whir, over the top, a shimmering high end electric melody, that drifts and stutters dreamily, like some alien lullaby.
Absolutely stunning. And thus, entirely and unequivocally recommended.
It's been a while since Pan Sonic released anything new, with four years passing since their 2004 4cd boxset of crunched post-techno and electro-shock minimalism. And it's actually been even longer since we've heard anything from Raster-Noton's Byetone. That said, we didn't recall Byetone sounding so much like Pan Sonic. With the lack of Pan Sonic releases anywhere in sight, a Pan Sonic clone is as good as the real thing at this point. On Death Of A Typographer, Byetone lays down plenty of low-slung breakbeats for his caustic hiss of electricity coaxed into arpeggiated melodies (think Coh, also from the Raster-Noton camp) and disciplined basslines (again think Pan Sonic). All of the digital clicks, distortions, abrasions, and pixel-points which comprise the Raster-Noton glitch aesthetic are present, but Byetone (aka Olaf Bender) does not seem to force any of these tracks into one of the conceptual frameworks which may have hamstrung some of Alva Noto's concept-then-execution albums. As a result, Death Of A Typographer is an immediately compelling electronica record, and who the hell cares that it sounds so much like Pan Sonic?
Children of Bodom are back yet again with more melodic thrash metal. For a second time, the band is joined by former Stone member and legendary Finnish guitarist Roope Latvala. The kids are continuing their move even further away from extreme metal, with an ever increasing keyboard presence, more prog, and catchy, straight-forward riffs. Still, there is that little bit of Death gleaming through. So, yeah, melodic-prog-thrash that remains heavily indebted to Chuck Schuldiner. Basically, if you're into exclusively kult black metal bands, or something else equally insular, then this isn't going to do it for you. But, you probably already know that. What we're saying is that this will fit nicely next to your copy of In Flames' Clayman or something of that nature, but probably not so well with your dubbed, internationally traded cassette of Von rehearsals - but if that exists and you have it, please let us know. However, if you, like many of us here at the store, grew up on metal and you can get into metal for the sake of metal, then turn it up.
An awesome three way collaboration, five way label split, with each artist using mainly sounds contributed by one of the other artists. The three include Andrey Kiritchenko who runs the Nexsound label, Ukrainian abstract drone folk combo the Moglass and Anla Courtis formerly of the mighty Reynols! A strange combination but it definitely works, with each artist twisting and turning the sounds of the others into something completely their own.
Kiritchenko uses sounds sourced from Anla Courtis, but also incorporates bandura, guitar, objects and field recordings. His first two tracks are thick glistening snarls of keening high end, ringing chimes, warm processed warble, grinding industrial whir, all coaxed gently from his super limited palette. His final track is our favorite, a super spare cavernous soundscape, constructed from swirling wind like whirls and muted white noise hiss. Over the top is a stumbling damaged, deconstructed guitar melody that scrapes and buzzes and rumbles. So good.
The Moglass also use mostly Anla Courtis sounds, introducing guitars, synth and vocals. And as you might imagine, they manage to turn those disparate sounds into dark dronelike dreamscapes of slow oceanic swells, thick buzzing rumble, and an occasional blast of super strange circusy psychedelic freak out, a dizzying collision of scraping strings, creepy falsetto vocals, moans and chants and all sorts of falling apart melodies.
Finally, Courtis gets the chance to return the favor, borrowing a little from both the Moglass and Kiritchenko. His first three tracks are assembled using ONLY sounds taken from the Moglass, the results vary, from murky shimmer, to glistening ambience, soft blissed out whir, to sparse skeletal industrial landscapes. The last two tracks again feature Courtis using only sounds borrowed from Kiritchenko, one ends up being a super pare abstract mechanical percussive shuffle, lots of creaks and clatter, sounding a bit like a rainforest, or some sort of giant shower, the final track is wash of fuzzy clang that sort of settles into a dense field of tightly woven chimes and tinkles, amidst a swirling sea of hiss and fuzz.
An amazing concept that actually produces some incredibly beautiful results!
Feels like it's been ages since we've heard from local faves, The Crooked Jades, and just when we were about to file a missing persons report, in they walk with a brand spanking new release of the darkly tinged Americana that we've been craving. Shining Darkness has a more fleshed out sound than previous Jade releases covering a lot of ground from haunting Appalachian lullabies and fiery bluegrass dust-ups to dirgy British folk, full of sweet two part male and female harmonies, fiddle, mandolin, guitar and atmospheric harmonium. So nice!
How can you not love a band called Schnauzer? You can't. Not. Love them! We discovered a super fucked up looking cd in a bargain bin somewhere and bought it just cuz the band was called Schnauzer, and of course it was awesome and of course we were immediately obsessed. So here's a brand new disc from these miscreants, and just so you now what we're talking about here, the cover features a mugshot of some shifty looking dude with a wicked devillock, the songs are called "Total Lunatic" and "Blasted Beyond Belief", and here's a message for the listener in the liner notes: "Do NOT attempt top contact this band. Any efforts to do so will further agitate the members of Schnauzer. If you don't like us now, you CERTAINLY won't like us should we become angry. LEAVE US ALONE." Fuck yeah! And the sound? A furious pounding metallic hardcore, a howling vocalist that sounds a bit like Fozzy The Bear from the Muppets, filthy, cruty, blown out, heavy and MEAN as a Schnauzer!
It's a split with some Cleveland band called Crossface, who are cool, NY style hardcore, short pounding and brutal, two tracks, but it hardly matters really, it's ALL ABOUT SCHNAUZER!!!!!!!!
This is some great stripped down psychedelic garage post-punk, and we've been playing it over and over once in the shop once we finally checked it out. Turns out this was actually recorded a few years back but it fits so perfectly with some of the great releases of the last year, the way it channels the likes of Jesus & Mary Chain and Joy Division without sounding like a copycat at all. Filled with delicious reverb, smoky melodies and an overall aura of dark and cool that hits us so right. Like recent releases by Indian Jewelry, The Raveonettes, Jeremy Jay and Psychic Ills, this is a record that exudes such a seductive spell. Something so perfect about an ep from a band that is new to your ears, as all six of these songs are so great and never wear out their welcome. These New Yorkers are further proof that you can channel the ghosts of the past and still create something that sounds so present and alive. Highly recommended!
Porter Records strikes again. And again and again and again and again... We've been overwhelmed with releases from this one-man-run label juggernaut, we might even have to hire another person just to keep up. But until that happens, we'll just have to pick our favorites, and do our best to get them reviewed and on the list. And with all the stuff Porter keeps digging up it really is difficult to pick favorites, but this one definitely hit the spot.
Two long form pieces, both composed by a youngish composer Andrew Raffo Dewar, the first, "Six Lines Of Transformation" is a sprawling drift of deep swells, soft trills, fluttering woodwinds, dizzying melodies, haunting percussion, and plenty of space. This is a swirling soft cloud of free jazz flutter, peppered with some strange music concrete, and some almost folky melodies. Nearly a half hour, beginning tranquil and a bit droney, with the various instruments, sliding down descending scales like musical rainfall, the piece gets more and more spare until the last movement when things get really strange, and players start huffing through the mouthpieces, bits of bizarre percussion surface, buzzing drones, really cool, and pretty strange for sure.
But it's the second piece that is worth the price of admission. The title says it all, "Music For Eight Bamboo Flutes", 40 minutes of layered woodwind drone, subtly shifting tones, a slowly unfurling melody spread out over the whole 40 minutes, what sounds like crickets in the background, as if it was performed and recorded outside (maybe it was?), the piece goes from soft and breathy to dense and densely layered, tons of overtones, soft fluttery high end, swirling clouds of drones and tones shifting and shimmering, swelling to intense crescendos, then drifting back down to a hushed whir, so very simple, yet richly textured, so primitive and primeval and mesmerizing and beautiful. Absolutely essential listening for the drone inclined, and jazzbos with a thing for far out, space-y and static sounds...
You know these guys. A seminal outfit of the post rock ilk, one without whom... well let's just say there's a good reason they'll be namechecked in every Battles or Hella review we're or anyone else who knows what's what is gonna write. Pittsburgh's finest, the SCTV lovin' Don Cab, led by drummer extraordinaire Damon Che, are back with yet another lineup, and their second Relapse release (7th album overall if you count the singles comp). While the "metal" leanings of their 2006 Relapse debut World Class Listening Problem have been scaled back a bunch here, it's still another dazzling display of their trademark instrumental mathrock chops. Except, this time, it's not all instrumental! There's vocals on some (about a third) of these 14 tracks, and they're surprisingly melodious. (Maybe not so surprising if you've ever heard Che's other band, Thee Speaking Canaries, in which he sings and plays guitar.)
But don't worry, aside from the sometime singing, everything else is 100 percent Don Cab: Wise ass song title non sequiturs. Stop on a dime changes. Complex song structures. Unusual time signatures. Loud-soft dynamics. Proggy perplexity. And quite a lot of pretty parts too! Several tracks are much more harmonious than hectic, soundscapes with airy grooves and lulling, lovely vocals. But an album called Punkgasm can't be a total blissout, it's usually a bit busier. On most tracks, the guitars - sometimes bright and chiming, at other times heavy and distorted - mesh with precision into the spinning gears of Che's constantly percolating, plentiful percussion. Imagine a King Crimson "Projekt" gone indie rock, but better.
We're not sure what the deal is with this Canadian band, who they are, if they're folks from other bands, if they're part of some scene, but it hardly matters, the music of Duchess Says is totally fucked up and freaked out and AWESOME. Totally reminiscent of a bunch of other stuff we like, but stuff that shouldn't and probably doesn't actually fit together all that well, but here, those sounds are twisted and pounded until they do fit together. The result is a sort of mathy, new wave-y riot grrl disco prog. Or something.
The opener begins with some super disco drumming, and burbling space bass, but then launches into some fractured Melt Banana stop start mathgrind weirdness, in between these bursts of whatthefuck, the band employ rubbery bass, hushed wordless vocals, and whirling synths. The second track begins like a new wave "Tom Sawyer", with washed out synths, and simple rock drumming, peppered with bursts of super blown out bass buzz, a dirgey groove, that quickly transforms into a super propulsive dancefloor destroying groove, but still way to thick with distorted synths, fractured riffing, and angry grrrrl vocals. Elsewhere the band stretch out into some Liquid Liquid style jamz but those too eventually morph into furious frenzied blasts of metallic new wave. Folks who remember that Black Bug 7" from a while back, this almost sounds like the full length they should have (or maybe will) make. Or maybe imagine a slightly dancier VSS with a female vocalist, or a female Six Finger Satellite - they even cover 6FS's "Rabies (Baby's Got The)", this is just fucking awesome! These folks must be so amazing live. Heavy and funky and fuzzy and new wave and angular and mathy and metallic and punk rock and fucked up and fun. Quickly becoming one of our new favorite records...
As regular readers of the aQ list can no doubt attest to, we sure do love droning guitars. Whether downtuned and mostly motionless, or frenzied and buzzing, or blown out and shimmery, there's just something about the sound of those steel strings vibrating projected through massive walls of amplification. There's the primal primeval sound itself, the actual drone, a sound found everywhere in nature, then there's the power, the amplification, this transformed sound. The drone is most certainly linked to the machinations of life and the universe, we can only imagine, the Big Bang resulted in an aeons-long drone that hung over the nascent Earth, the sound of insects, the growls of beasts, the rumble of thunder, the white noise of the surf, all harnessed and sculpted into a more modern, more human experience of sound, into actual music. But the best drone music, with the most resonance, is the music that conflates the two. That creates a listening experience, wherein we find ourselves drifting off, sometimes to some man made universe, of songs and sounds and music, sometimes to someplace wholly other, where the music looses itself from the strictures of composition and arrangement, and is allowed to float freely, to drift. It's then, that the music maker becomes more than a musician, more than a rock band, almost more like and esoteric, ethereal wrangler of sound. The magic is creating music, that sounds like it wasn't 'created' at all, but instead, was discovered, unearthed, or if created, not from guitars and 4-tracks and drums, but from some strange energy, or some alternate universe, the sounds become glimpses into other worlds, or peeks into the music maker's soul. In creating these sorts of sounds, the listener is inexorably drawn in, and pulled quite willingly into a whole new dimension, where unlike the creator, who may have meticulously assembled the various elements, they are allowed to wander, and wonder, to float and drift and get lost, to allow the sounds to unleash emotions, to open up their mind, their hear, maybe in some cases even their soul.
As you might imagine, and we've mentioned it before, the drone is a mercurial beast, and one not wrangled easily. There are plenty of comers, who feel like once you've conjured the drone, it does the work for you, but such is not the case, as is proven time and time again, by sonic alchemists like Expo '70, whose take on the drone is less monochromatic, less one dimensional, whose dronemusic is infused with elements of krautrock, spacerock, postrock, but all woven into vast black expanses of sound.
Even more than past Expo '70 releases, Black Ohms manages to create some impossible world of sound, that is at once dark and sinister and foreboding, yet somehow dreamlike and serene, a collection of tracks woven into a seemingly continuous sonic drift, beginning with a deep, almost corrosive buzz, pulsing and undulating, shot through with streaks of melody, layered and textured, looped and hypnotic, heavy and dense and in its own minimal way, quite brutal, before giving way to something much more tranquil, a sea of glimmering, harmonics, and deep drifting tones, here the guitar is revealed as just that, a guitar, its abstract chords and minimal riffage, clipped and effected, draped in reverb and delay, and allowed to unfurl into softly propulsive rhythms, and spider web-like textures, again, infused with subtle melody, and blurred, burnished shadings.
The record wanders through miniature otherworlds of atonal melody, of machine like click and chitter, fifties computer bleeps and bloops, soft chiming jammy summer sun guitars, before returning to the deep, dark drone for a nearly 35 minute two part finale. The first part, a fifteen minute return to the sound of the album opener, the guitar again distorted and dark, not so much riffing as buzzing, a Niblockian soundscape of overtones and harmonics, a warm blackened bed for the ethereal melodic drift above, streaks of glimmering melody, soft stretches of wispy ambience, laced with an almost buried, looped guitar figure, all subtly rhythmic, a distant throb, like the pulse of some buried giant, muted and mysterious, but supporting the whole delicate structure.
The second, a 20 minute slow burn, a crystalline assemblage of barely there rhythms, deep layers of shimmering drone, this is the sound of a million dronemusic cd-r's fully realized, a smoldering chunk of minimal propulsion, rife with strange, tape speeds shift, but instead of jarring, it only manages to make the sound woozy, slightly alien, underwater, glimmering melodies, sparkling like black diamonds, fields of soft static like clouds of tiny insects, deep soft swells like the ebb and flow of some otherworldy tide.
Imagine the most minimal krautrock record you own, dubbed over and over and over onto the shittiest tapes possible, left in the sun, then played back on a car stereo, with only one woofer, but then render that in ear popping hi fi. The sound may seem murky and muted, but it is most definitely by design, there is nothing low fidelity about the sound of Expo '70, because within the meticulously and deftly obscured sound world, lurk all manner of sonic mysteries, each suspended in an impossibly beautiful blurred constellation of sound, which in turn is left to drift across a vast expanse of Black Ohms.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
The quintessential Krautrock projects -- Faust, Can, Guru Guru, Amon Duul, and all things vaguely associated with Conny Plank -- had been huge influences on Nurse With Wound's catalogue. So it goes without saying that when Steven Stapleton got the call that Faust wanted him to produce a record of theirs, he enthusiastically leapt at the chance. What he didn't expect was that Faust only passed on a series of sloppy studio improvisations to Stapleton with the instructions to make a Faust album out of them. We can imagine that Jim O'Rourke had been given a similarly loose framework when he was granted the opportunity to produce Rein back in 1995. Just as O'Rourke took those sounds and sculpted an album which was remarkable in its similarity to classic '70s era Faust (e.g. Faust Tapes, Faust IV, So Far, etc.), Stapleton with his trustworthy cohort Colin Potter at his side has crafted an excellent pastiche of that obtuse Faust sound of mutant psychedelia which guided the more experimental proponents of prog rock, industrial, post-punk, and post-rock. Disconnected is filled with dynamic tumbling percussive riffs, rolling acoustic guitar nestled into clouds of vibrating distortion, unsettled sweeping driftwork, and stoned basslines. In other words, Disconnected sounds like a fucking great Faust album.
Unfortunately, this has been very difficult for us to get a hold of; so don't expect it to stick around for very long. We should also let you know that this is the regular edition of Disconnected. The special edition (which we didn't get) does feature two 'bonus' tracks, the first of which is called "Silence" and features just silence (some bonus!); and the second is a live track without the presence of Nurse With Wound. Nope, those ain't here; but honestly we really don't think purchasers of this regular version are missing too much.
We've only read the first half so far, but c'mon, it's Reign In Blood, one of the greatest thrash metal records ever. And music obsessives, you should already be reading this series, up close and intimate looks at not bands, but your favorite records, interviews with the bands, the fans, and all sorts of awesome behind the scenes drama!
Anyway, Reign In Blood is still an amazing record two decades later, and metal bands are still finding influence there, some WAY more than others.
This volume digs deep into maybe the most influential 29 minutes of metal EVER. Interviews with the bands, the producers, the engineers, the roadies, and most interestingly, the fans, a who's who of rock luminaries including: Tori Amos, Phil Anselmo, Page Hamilton of Helmet, Danzig, Jack Endino, Larry from Pelican, Angela from Arch Enemy, Kurt from Converge, Charlie from Anthrax, Sean from White Zombie, Matt from High On Fire, Gene Hoglan, rapper Ill Bill, Nergal from Behemoth, Buzz from the Melvins, Ripper Owens, Devin Townsend, Kat VonD, all the dudes from Mastodon, and tons more.
So far a super fun read, most of the series is, we've probably read about half of 'em, but as soon as we finish this review, first thing we do when we get home is to finish reading about REIGN IN BLOOD!
We always wanted to like Fucked up. C'mon, their called Fucked up! Plus the band members have names like Pink Eyes, 10,000 Marbles, and Mustard Gas. But when we got down to listening to them, they just sounded like regular old punk rock. Definitely cool, but nothing enough to warrant all that hype. If we wanted punk rock, we'd take Pissed Jeans before Fucked Up (both bands that were reviewed in the NY Times, with neither name deemed fit for publication, and thus each band got written up without their band names EVER being mentioned!), the vocalist too, had a definitely sort of Scissorfight howl that put us off a bit, but that all changed when we heard "Year Of The Pig". A nearly twenty minute piano laced jam, that features angelic female vocals, that aforementioned howl, simple shuffling drums, the whole thing erupting into some serious almost Killdozer-y noiserock jams, the whole thing surprisingly proggy, with tons of weird dynamics, warbly organ, freaked out drumming, strange arrangements, a long stretch of almost krautrocky garage rock groove, culminating in another noise drenched chaotic psychrock blowout. We're definitely gonna have to revisit their Hidden World full length now.
Formerly vinyl only, "Year Of The Pig", the cd version is packed with extra tracks, b-sides, and alternate edits of "Year Of The Pig", one for each region: US, UK and Japan. The B sides / extra tracks are much more punk rock, sort of how we remember Fucked Up sounding, but we're actually digging it more now. The vocals especially, a bit Lee Ving from Fear, a bit Killdozer, perfectly suited to Fucked Up's ramshackle punk rock frenzy. The edits are cool too, the Japanese one tending toward a more murky blurry blissy sound, the US and the UK leaning heavily on the female vocals, but each ending with a blast and a rrrooooaaar. We may weigh in on the full length eventually, but for even doubters like us, Fucked Up absolutely destroy with "Year Of The Pig".
Everything we've read about these Brits says thrash, thrash, thrash, and lists Nuclear Assault and Sodom as possible comparisons. Hmm, not untrue, but we're also hearing some weird, super-fun frat party version of early Slayer and Metallica. Lyrically, it's all beer and thrash. Yeah! Song titles like " Zombie Blood Nightmare," "Sentenced to Thrash," and "In the Court of General Zod" kinda say it all. Okay, maybe the most distinctive moment is on "Zombi Brew," on which they talk about "beer and brains." Yes, it's a zombie party where they're getting all "I love you, man!" and eyeballing people's brains. The band also encourages listeners to "put on your bullet belt, time to thrash like it's 1986." They're putting it out there. You're either into it, or you're not. But if you are, this is pretty fucking awesome! Includes bonus DVD while supplies last, haven't watched it yet, probably lots of gore and/or beer being spilled.
Here's the follow-up to The Goat Family's lively debut album Unstopperable from a few years ago! Sounds like these seven fellas are still bustin' their britches with rambunctious energy and mighty fine pickin'! All We Need is jam-packed with sixteen old fashioned bluegrass and country tunes written and performed in both conventional and somewhat less conventional fashion by modern day folks fueled by ample jugs o' moonshine. Good times for sure!
True Norwegian Black Metal is an interesting release on several levels. Okay, it features new vocalist Gaahl, as well as the guitarist (and oldest member) Infernus. In the time since this was recorded, the latter was kicked out of the band - but has started another band he insists is the real Gorgoroth - and they've been feuding ever since. Part of the fight involved Regain Records taking up the side of Infernus, and after which Gorgoroth's remaining members swore never to work with them again. But here it is! A live record on Regain, so we're wondering if this is just to fulfill any final obligations before band and label officially split. Did we say live? Well, live in Grieghallen Studio, that is. Oh, and Infernus re-recorded all of the bass guitar. That means this isn't so much a real live album as it is an album of previously recorded songs being played again by live people, during a new recording session. So what could possibly be gained by hearing this album? Well, if you're a huge Gorgoroth fan, this does give you a chance to hear Gaahl perform vocals on some songs that precede his entering the band. This also feels like some bizarre swansong from Infernus. The bottom of the thank you list just has his name, and as the list comes to a close he starts mentioning some weird names, such as: Leo Fender, Marcus Aurelius, and Mikhail Bulgakov. Sort of needlessly epic? Dude may be losing it. Anyway, this release is for fans only. If you're new to the band and want to find a good starting point, we'd probably point you to Under the Sign of Hell, which - incidentally - features more songs on this release than any other proper album. Tracks sampled below are from the following original releases: "Forces of Satan Storms" is from Twilight of the Idols, and "Unchain My Heart" surfaces first on Incipit Satan.
It's been ages since we've heard from Yeti, the killer bombastic space/psych/prog rock band from Texas. The Great Tyrant features two of the fomer Yetis and if anything is even more bombastic, but in a bit of a new direction. Yeti definitely had some musical drama going on, a hint of Goblin, but this new band takes it WAY farther, into something weirder, more gothic and WAY more dramatic, crooned vocals, lots of piano, bells and chimes, but wrapped around some off kilter metal, a sort of blackened circusy metal, blast beats over swirling dizzying melodies, the sound weirdly new wave-y and a bit punky, with synths and twisted textures, a very dense tripped out slab of doomy blackend space pop? Or something. It's hard to describe so that must be a good thing, definitely want to hear more from these guys. The swirled colored vinyl 7" comes with a cd-r featuring 3 extra tracks and A MAGMA COVER!!!
What it is exactly that constitutes "Krautrock" is definitely up for debate. It seems often largely construed to be the insistent, motorik pulses of Neu! and Can. But to limit the genre to just that would be a mistake. Bands like Guru Guru and Ash Ra Tempel were also present, bringing some of the heaviest psychedlia ever recorded. Hinten is the former band's second album, and a classic. Free range guitars grazing on open, organic jams. It is more evidently structured than their debut, UFO, while still retaining an improvisational feel that is as playful as it is crushingly acidic. This is one of both Allan and Cameron's favorites within the genre. Halfway between killer rock riffs and complete psychedelic blow-out. Essential, though an expensive Japanese import in its current incarnation.
What it is exactly that constitutes Krautrock is definitely up for debate. It seems often largely construed to be the insistent, motorik pulses of Neu! and Can. But to limit the genre to just that would be a mistake. Bands like Guru Guru and Ash Ra Tempel were also present, bringing some of the heaviest psychedlia ever recorded. UFO is the former band's debut effort. Fans of heavy psych, German rock of the '70s, and free improv jams will consider this absolutely essential. And chances are, those fans already own this, or they simply haven't found a copy yet... here's the currently in print, Japanese mini-LP sleeve version. Repetitive, hypnotic, transcendent. And at the same time jarring. This is a fist full of mushrooms being shoved through the speakers. Embrace it.
We've had these for a while now, but are only getting around to listing it now. And unfortunately it's been so long we can't remember any of the details about who these guys are. Web searches have revealed very little as well, but as usual, it hardly matters once we get down to the sounds, which are awesome. A stumbling noiserock, light on the noise, a sort of loping, meandering postrock, the drums simple and spare, while all over the place electronics swoop and buzz, guitars clang and chime, a sort of slowcore crossed with some abstract electronic noise... Imagine a more post rock less machinelike Geronimo, or a prettier, WAY less chaotic Dead C, woozy and weary, and washed out, slow motion math rock dipped in glitch and skree and left to wander aimlessly. Really weird and atonal but pretty and subtly tripped out. There's definitely some Godspeed moments, and some distinctly Dead C sounds (or at least NZ noise rock sounds), but the way that they're arranged, it almost sounds like a normal everyday post rock band gradually and gloriously going haywire. Hard to explain, but this dusty little back room find is suddenly a new fave!
SUPER LIMITED and now discontinued and out of print. We only have a handful, so grab 'em while you can...
Who doesn't love Harry Pussy? Actually probably a lot of folks, but don't count us among them. One of the finest noise rock bands ever, with a strange flair for infusing their racket with something special, not melody necessarily, or musicality, something more ineffable, and something much more abrasive and harsh. But heck, female fronted noise rock was a rarity back then (and still is sadly), and Adris Hoyos, was a whirling dervish of damaged drumming and freaked out vocalizations, and their sound was totally unique, a stumbling super distorted acid fried feedback drenched blow out, and this here disc captures the band at their best, live and out of control, on their last tour, live in Texas in 1998.
The music is amazing of course. Fucking heavy as shit, a maelstrom of drum chaos and super distorted guitars, the recording SO in the red, but the best part is probably Adris' crowd baiting, so much shit talking, calling the crowd a bunch of assholes who dress like jocks, but in the same breath trying to pimp shirts and records, usually met with a chorus of "FUCK YOU"s, before launching back into an explosion of fucked up glorious pounding noise rock.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES, but beautifully packaged in a full color sleeve, with a cool printed insert.
The problem with a split lp featuring two bands who are somewhat unfamiliar, when there is no specific info on the record labels or cut into the grooves on the vinyl, is deciding which band is which, going on number of track (here both bands have three), instrumentation (HGP list no instruments, Zond have a guy credited with skateboard, which seemed like it would be a dead giveaway but sadly we could hear no skateboard), but then, usually we decide fuck it. It doesn't really matter until you decide you need more by either / both bands, which unfortunately (or fortunately!) you probably will after listening to this twisted slab of sonic weirdness.
We'll tackle the B side cuz that's what we threw on first, and we'll assume that this is actually Zond, who we have never heard before, but are digging BIG TIME. Super distorted and blown out, sludgey dirgey noise rock, howled vocals barely audible over the din of downtuned riffage and in-the-red psychrock squalls, the drums a buried muffled pound, the whole thing a churning, grinding, gloriously filthy trudge. Maybe imagine a more Dead C-ish Brainbombs and you'd be close. That is until the extended final track, the eschews all the damaged outrock that came before, and offers up a stretched out expanse of buzzing shimmering ambient drone, not really tranquil, still a bit noisy, a little off kilter, the sounds bathed in distortion, wrapped in feedback, but stretched out into a weirdly hypnotic noisescape.
So working under the assumption, that the B side is Zond, then the A side must be Hi-God People, who we have heard once before on a split with none other than the Dead C, but the sound here is dramatically different, which is probably what threw us off in the first place. The first and longest track, is a sort of fractured free folk, detuned acoustic guitar twang, sitar like buzz, crooned atonal vocals, wreathed in shimmery effects, swirling clouds of wah wah guitar, strange bleepy bloopy ambience, it almost sounds like some sixties hippy jam, but completely fried and fractured. A more spaced out, free folk, No Neck, or maybe a Sunburned Hand / Avarus musical summit. Until the track slips into something a little different, unleashing more of a krautrock vibe, a subtle pulsing propulsive jam, underneath all of the twisted twang and abstract strum.
The second track is much more abstract, a tripped out buzzy dronescape with random clattery percussion, wheezing organs, swooping melodies, fluttery woodwinds, all very creepy and somewhat cinematic, finally finishing off with the brief closer, a gorgeous, hazy, druggy buzz drenched psych jam, that begs for a whole 'nother side for it to drift and unwind.
Good stuff, from both bands, whichever is which. Super limited of course, and housed in super swank hand screened sleeves!
Part three in the ongoing series of limited cd-r explorations from mysterious drone combo High Mountain Tempel, and like the two before it, the band continue to delve into some murky sonic underworld, again presenting loooong songs, each separated by brief sonic interludes, this disc seems feature more actual vocals, the opening track features a processed voice, that sounds a bit like throat singing, or a Speak And Spell, intoning some arcane message, interwoven with long drawn out tones, and a thick ropy buzz, super dark and intense and atmospheric. Elsewhere sampled voices surface, there are bits of chanting here and there, all peppered throughout the disc. But even with the extra voices, the focus here is still on dark, lugubrious, extended dronescapes.
The sound of High Mountain Tempel is probably closest to Expo '70, as their various permutations of dronemusic seem to have a definite krautrock vibe, that gives the sound a sort of spaced out quality, and a subtle propulsion, but unlike Expo '70, HMT seem to have a distinct Eastern influence, much of the music is meditative and subtly dramatic, a bit soundtracky, and some of it sounds like it could be Japanese. Especially the way field recordings are incorporated into the sounds. Giving everything a definite texture, some of it sounding like it was perhaps recorded live in some hilltop temple. Which we would imagine is the idea.
Not sure what else to say actually. This is indeed fantastic, brooding and malefic, but also shimmery and dreamy, sonically it has much in common with the first two installments, so definitely check out those reviews to read more about their 'sound'.
Needless to say, fans of the drone and folks into the current crop of cd-r soundscapers will for sure dig this, but like the other HTM discs, this is more than simple drone music, this is ritualistic alchemical soundwork, one can almost imagine stumbling across a group of cloaked figures huddled around a fire in a forest clearing, tossing various powders into the flames, causing the fire to change color and cast beastlike shadows on the branches above, and this is the sound filtering through the forest like a black moonlit fog...
SUPER LIMITED of course, packaged beautifully in a foldover silkscreened sleeve, gold metallic on red on the outside, black on red on the inside.
***Expo '70 alert*** ***Expo '70 alert*** ***Expo '70 alert***
That's right, we're sounding that alert 'cause you might not know these names... suffice to say though that Justin Wright is better known (to AQ customers) as the guy behind Expo '70, whose new full-length cd Black Ohms happens to be our Record Of The Week this list. And Matt Hill is his touring partner, whom you've seen together with Wright if you caught 'em recently in SF at the Hemlock with Wooden Shjips, or elsewhere on tour. Also, their pal Duane Pitre is another guitar-wielding dronester with tendencies in line with the cosmic Expo '70 aesthetic. The prolific Expo '70 being an outfit we've continually championed as they constantly amaze us with their sooooo gorgeous, '70s krautrock inspired, spaced out instrumental drone musick.
There's four tracks here on this solid black cd-r. The seventeen minute long track one, finds Wright, Hill and Pitre playing together, droning out mightily, live at someplace called The Pistol Social Club. The credits have 'em all playing guitar, all responsible for "textures, drones", with Pitre also on "prepared percussion, disjointed lines" and Wright handling "melodic lines" as well. It starts as a hushed ambient soundscape, at once spacious and intimate, hesitantly melodic and repetitiously trancelike; raw, rough edges softened by gentle whirr, their guitars' volume gradually increasing, eventually building into a quite dense, distorted finale.
Then there's one track apiece from Hill, Pitre, and Wright. Hill's seven minute contribution is all acoustic guitar and field recordings, sparse pickings and pluckings, sounding like a broken music box, crank turned at half-speed, backwards, amidst nighttime insect buzz. Unidentifiable crackle, rustle, and hiss infuse the plinking proceedings, which could be a mellowed out Derek Bailey with Jewelled Antler production. Pitre's piece, "Motorized Music for Electric Guitar (live)" is what that says: a live performance, at a church in Brooklyn, with Pitre applying a "handheld high-speed rotary tool" to the strings of his electric guitar. The result is a twelve minute Niblockian drone divine, slow-building and shimmery. Wonderful. And then Wright bats cleanup, ending the disc with a live improv guitar piece featuring the use of two amps, and, we're told, a squeaky chair. It's ten and a half minutes of dreamy, subtle cosmic throb and drift, with sci-fi electronic FX whispering from outer space to swirl around this piece's glowing meditative center. So nice.
For Expo '70 fans and anyone into the guitar-drone-zone, this here's a varied four-part treat indeed!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Earlier in 2008, we received a fantastic collaborative project from Darren Tate, Ian Holloway, and Banks Bailey. At the time, we were well acquainted with the work of Darren Tate, thanks to his ongoing British drone eccentricities as Monos and his former Ora project with Andrew Chalk, Colin Potter, and others; but Ian Holloway and Banks Bailey were two whose work we didn't know anything about. Thanks to a suggestion from a long time customer here at the shop, we looked into the solo projects from Mr. Holloway; and damn if that tip didn't pay off with this fantastic cd-r (with more to come from Holloway in the coming weeks!). Self-released in a tiny edition of 50 copies, A Lonely Place is a breathtaking composition for time-stop dronemusik, achieving a similar stasis and similar dark beauty as Andrew Chalk did on his masterpiece East Of The Sun. It's hard to say what Holloway used as a source material for the album -- maybe guitar, maybe long-thin wire constructions, maybe field recordings, or maybe not. Like plenty of dronemusik before, it's the production that guides Holloway's success, as his deft manipulation of acoustics and electronics generates smoke, fog, and mirrors through sound that result in this amazing piece of long-form drone-smear. There's billowing swells of deep architectural space. Kosmiche electronics, rasping gong tones stretched toward infinity, and subharmonic thrumb swaddled in soft focus reverb. Think Expo '70 gone ashen black or Aidan Baker's ambient work at his most somber. Altogether wonderful, altogether very limited.
When M.S. Waldron is not gallivanting around the world in the touring ensemble of Nurse With Wound, this Californian audio alchemist has occasionally staged his own luminous and deranged performances as irr. app. (ext.). Waldron has been able to generate a very consistent catalogue of recordings whilst living in his humble abode in the Santa Cruz foothills, but the number of live performances from irr. app. (ext.) have been erratic (if not ecstatic) to say the least. Despite the paucity of irr. app. (ext.) gigs, Waldron has been able to wrangle plenty of talented folk into his maddening collection of sounds, including longtime irr. app. (ext.) associate R.K. Faulhaber, Nurse With Wound's Steven Stapleton, aQ's own Jim Haynes, the Scharpen brothers (John and Greg), and a few others who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Or maybe wrong time and wrong place, depending upon how you look at it.
An irr. app. (ext.) recording can be a curiosity of audio surrealism where a sense of dread or unease or comedy or beauty bleed through the cross pollination of many sounds within the digital workstation. However, the irr. app. (ext.) live performances are purposefully theatrical, full of bizarre props, instruments, costumes, films, and even culinary delicacies. Waldron and co. operate a series of contraptions that are always on the brink of falling apart, leaving the participants dangerously close to being stuck up on stage with a bunch of broken toys that don't do anything. Perhaps even more so than Nurse With Wound, irr. app. (ext.) seeks to recreate the absurdity of surrealist and dada theater from the early 20th century in a modern day context.
Aspiring To An Empty Gesture Vol. 1 documents the handful of irr. app. (ext.) performances in recent years with one of Waldron's live contributions for Nurse With Wound thrown in for good measure. The irr. app. (ext.) live sound veers from creaky audio collage from found objects clacking away like an ill-tempered frog chorus with bursts of noise and squiggled gestures for comic relief; but Waldron throws in an oddly minimal prog freakout, tossing back to one of his other big influences alongside NWW, that being King Crimson. Hence, you'll find a very low-tech skronk of mutant basslines, analogue synth squiggle, and scraped percussion. The NWW track is stellar, in part thanks to the deft production grafted onto the sounds by Colin Potter. Waldron wraps up the collection with a version of The Residents proto-synth-punk 'hit' "Smelly Tongues." While just a cd-r, we've been told this might not be a limited production; but then again, it might be and could disappear at any time.
As with all irr. app. (ext.) productions, this one comes highly recommended.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We only got a handful of these, so odds are they will be gone quick, as the last volume disappeared in the blink of an eye. This long in the works vinyl version of the now out of print cd is finally available, but not for long
There was a time not so long ago, where the idea of mixing metal with post rock was a unique one. The thought of taking massive slabs of downtuned heaviness and mixing 'em up a bit with some moody rhythmic bits or some angstful angular bits was just a flight of fancy. A whole slew of metal bands influenced as much by Slint as Neurosis? Hardly. Well, here we are, 2008, and you pretty much can't turn around without bumping into a post rock metal band, or a metallic post rock band. Which is okay, cuz it's a sound we can definitely get behind, in fact we've been championing that sort of stuff for ages, maybe even before it had a name or was an actual musical movement. Isis were definitely one of the first of this new breed of metallic post rockers, and as such continue to hone their sound, push the boundaries and give all those young whippersnappers something to shoot for. The last proper full length was epic and majestic. A deft Neurosis / Godspeed hybrid. Expansive and majestic, but controlled and precise. Some folks have labeled it intellectual metal or something similar, but for us, it's just heavy, and complex, cinematic and gorgeous kick ass rock. In addition to proper releases, Isis have released a series of live recordings, capturing the band live, where, not only do they sound slightly heavier, and a little bit more loose (a good thing), they also stretch out, and let the songs breathe, let riffs repeat, add parts, even improvise, from dark moody drones to blown out space jams. It's awesome to hear a band at the top of their game, a band who seem to be all about control, let loose and just rock (or drone or shuffle or whatever). Live Selections 2001-2005 is the 4th live release so far, and collects material from 2001 through 2005, including on air radio performances, as well as live shows from the Troubadour, CBGB, the Middle East and more. Of all the live records, this is probably the loosest and weirdest. The songs sound great (of course) but the band takes way more chances, parts are twisted and stretched out, long parts turn into epic jams, there's even a lengthy improv / jam loosely inspired by Nirvana's "Endless Nameless". The songs sound fantastic, epic, soaring, heavy, brooding, beautiful, great recordings, amazing sound, essential for Isis fans for sure.
But the packaging, wow! Custom letterpressed gatefold jackets, really minimal and quite striking, we have the HONEY colored vinyl, a sort of translucent brown, limited to 524 copies, we only got about 10 of those, so act fast...
Attention Japanese psych fans!!! All bow and bear witness to the divine collaboration between two pillars of modern Japanese psych, Kawabata Makoto, temple lord of Acid Mothers Temple, and Michishita Shinsuke, frontman of LSD-march! Blown out, fuzzed out, and tripped out, this monumental collaboration delivers much of what you'd expect from these two long-haired masterminds, spastic improv, dueling electric guitar, unearthly walls of damaged freak-out. Recorded live in Sapporo, Japan, Basement Echo is completely unedited and improvised, a true documentation of, like, two generations of Japanese underground meeting for the first time!
Hopefully there's a bunch of you out there (at least 2 or 3), who have been eagerly waiting to read this Aquarius New Arrivals list mainly to find out which old KISS album Allan's gonna gush about now...
Last list, it was Destroyer. A classic. And before that, I talked up Dynasty and Music From The Elder, two rather more problematic yet still cool Kiss releases. This time, as you're already aware, I'm writing about 1977's Love Gun. Their 7th album overall. Released more or less in the midst of their pop culture superstardom (comic books, lunch pails, TV movies, platinum-shipping albums, record breaking concert attendance) it displays both their true rock n' roll charisma, and juvenile cheesiness too. This is entertainment, not high art, y'know? And furthermore, the thing is, despite Love Gun's Frank Frazetta styled cover painting, Kiss wasn't ever really a "heavy metal" band. They dabbled, and certainly had a hand in forging some of the tropes of the genre (corpsepaint, perhaps?), but first and foremost, Kiss was a moneymaking pop group on the hard rock side of things. So, while they DO have some heavy faves in their songbook, like ferinstance Love Gun's title track (which sounds a lot like W.A.S.P. later on, Blackie Lawless owing something to Paul Stanley in the vocal dep't.) you have to appreciate 'em for being, ultimately, a pop group, looking for hits how ever they could find 'em. And yet always, keeping it Kiss. Which means, sometimes corny, always catchy.
Uptempo opener "I Stole Your Love", shrieked by Paul Stanley, has an underlying high-energy urgency that maybe for a moment could remind one of the MC5 (Kiss must have been fans, cf. "Detroit Rock City"). Up next, "Christine Sixteen" is a bubblegum jailbait fantasy, the sort of subject matter that they leeringly specialize in so often. It's a Gene Simmons tune, as is the following one, "I Got Love For Sale" (hey, that's convenient, since mine just got stolen... hey wait a second). The album's first real surprise comes next, with the raw, rockin' "Shock Me", a number written and sung by Ace Frehley (actually the first ever time the guitarist did lead vocals on a Kiss album), his amateur-hour vox getting over on cheeky chutzpah alone - when he sings "Put on your black leather" you've gotta smile. Next, two Stanley tracks back to back, "Tomorrow and Tonight" and the aforementioned "Love Gun". Then drummer Peter "Beth" Criss, gets a tune in too, "Hooligan", this time neither a ballad nor a hit. Following that, there's two more from Simmons. "Almost Human" is a heavy groover that could only be sung so convincingly, with (extra-length) tongue-in-cheek, by someone of his demonic appearance and persona. And "Plaster Caster" finds Gene singing about what he knows best, groupies... Finally, "Then She Kissed Me" wraps things up with Paul Stanley at his campiest, doing a swoonsome cover of an old Phil Spector girl group tune (originally titled "Then He Kissed Me" when sung by The Crystals). Cheesy, but charming. And again, not altogether metal...
Kiss definitely delivers here, Love Gun firing many more hits than misses, nothing getting in the way of the (mostly) hard rock, (always) pop product. Keep It Simple Stupid apparently as much their motto as is alternate apocryphal acronym explanation Knights In Satan's Service.
They used to be available separately (and maybe still are, as fancy expensive Japanese imports). But if you want one, you probably want 'em all: the first three (and only, until recently, with the advent of the Vulcano and Admira cds reviewed on list #294) lps of pioneering proto-Industrial krautrock from the trio of Moebius, Roedelius, and Conrad Schnitzler. The first two of whom went on to form Cluster with a C, whose career is one of the most significant in all of krautrock -and- electronic music (and whom we were proud to recently host a performance by at our store!). Meanwhile Schnitzler also made quite a name for himself as a solo electronic experimentalist too.
Together with producer Conny Plank, the trio recorded two proper studio albums, 1970's Klopfzeichen and 1971's Zwei-Osterei. Both of 'em dark and dismal soundscapes, improvised and abstract, with some sort of strange religious sermon (in German) over top of the first side of each.... apparently they cut a deal with some church or cult to pay for these records' release, and in return had to include the creepy God-talk! Which, since we don't understand much German, doesn't bother us too much. Eruption, a live recording from '71, has a similar vibe, but without the spoken word (and it's plenty spooky anyway). All of these were originally issued in incredibly small quantities (200-300 lps) and we doubt at the time that Kluster ever imagined this music would be in print, and revered, nearly 40 years later!
Packaged in a fat 3-disc jewel box, with cd booklet giving much more info than we've supplied here.
Latest release from the UK's Aurora Borealis label, responsible for the KTL double lp elsewhere on this list, as well as records from Moss, Ginnungagap, Wolfmangler, Guapo, the Grails, even Crebain!
Knives Ov Resistance are a European ensemble who weave dense soundscapes of blissed out ambience and abstract guitar shimmer, Channeling the spirit of Popol Vuh, Spacemen 3, Godspeed, Jackie O Motherfucker, and other like minded sonic explorationists.
A lush blend of field recordings, glistening guitars, rumbling drones, warbling turntables, all woven into drifting sun dappled sonic tapestries of sound. An ambient post rock drift, that flits and flutters amidst the sounds of children laughing, the lush din of the forest, chittering birds, the sound of leaves and water, a dense and thick backdrop, rife with turntabled fragments of sound, bits of opera, soaring strings, muted squiggles, slowed down ambience, warm whirs, mixed in with simple percussion, everything smeared into fuzzy blurs, all beneath an abstract summery folk, that glimmers and drifts, gradually changing shape and color, texture and timbre. Epic and expansive, yet subtle and simple. Some sort of abstract avant ambient folk perhaps... really really nice.
Fans of the above mentioned bands will definitely dig this, as well as fans of new weird America, modern free folk, and all things Jewelled Antler.
Packaged in a thick vinyl pouch, housed in a cool textured paper sleeve that folds out into a poster.
Recently we've been getting caught up on a few releases that slipped under our radar! There's so much great music coming out all the time. try as we might, it's darn near impossible to keep and eye and ear on everything!
Brad Laner cruises down yet another musical avenue on this his self-titled solo debut. He got his
electronic itch scratched under the moniker Electric Company and prior to that he got his drone rock on in the awesome early '90s LA noise pop band Medicine. Now he's getting all cozy in a delirious psych pop dream. Very very retro '60s and Brian Wilsonesque, Neighbor Singing could easily be mistaken for a long lost Olivia Tremor Control album... an absolute treasure in our opinion!
You might recall The Last Of The Blacksmiths' fine self-titled debut back in 2006. Despite this Bay Area band's name, The Last Of The Blacksmiths prove they're in no danger of extinction. They've stood strong for over two years and now have a sophomore cdep under their belt. If you've a hankering for some slow creeping soulful Americana, Young Family Song is for you. The band's brooding bleary folk-rock melancholia will bring you down in the best possible way. Steeped in hard liquor and salty tears, these are songs of slurred speech and blurred vision that cast a heady spell that linger long after this short ep is over.
As is the case with Aidan Baker and Nadja, it almost wouldn't seem like a proper aQ new arrivals list without the presence of�Machinefabriek, aka Rutger Zuydervelt, so we're quite relieved to have both. Actually, all three.�
This latest Machinefabriek recording captures three live performances, all in Amsterdam, recorded between 2006 and 2008 all looooong, the shortest 16 minutes, the longest 22.�
All three performances find Machinefabriek in fine form, offering up thick billows of warm guitar shimmer, fluttery staticky ambience, and at one point some uncharacteristically heavy super distorted metallic guitar, but here, it's not so much metal as simply a mighty drone, thick and throbbing and super intense. There are long stretches of near silence and super minimal high end drone, glimmering slow building crescendos, squalls of distorted choral buzz, warm whirring metallic reverberations, shimmery almost new age and dense black dronemusik, all the stuff we love about Machinefabriek, BUT, and this is what makes this disc so good, is that live, while still being dynamic and subtle, Zuydervelt also proves to me way more intense and aggressive than on his recordings. And thus, we must recommend!
LIMITED TO 180 COPIES!
Poor misunderstood Charlie Manson. Visionary, musician, troubador, murderer. Wait, one of those things he is not. Murderer. That's right, let's not forget that Manson committed no murders himself, it was his 'Family' that did 'em. Which of course insured that these recordings would be both way more infamous than they would be otherwise, but at the same time would be poison to any one who agreed to release them. Recorded a couple years before the Tate-LaBianca murders, these recordings have a rich convoluted history: it was rumored that the intended victim of the murders was in fact a record producer that rejected this record, and every producer approached to release them later recieved death threats, and it was later proven that much more succesful musicians than Manson had been taargeted for assasination! Phew. You'd never know it listening to this album. In fact, in a blind listening test, you'd be hard pressed to pick this out as the work of a soon to be incarcerated cult leader / mass murderer. Reverb drenched beatniky psychedelic freekfolk, sort of hippy and trippy but really pretty great. And Manson's voice is really nice, a little rough, a little raw, but warm and rich. The tracks range from gorgeous lilting dream folk to tripped out beatnik jams, to sixties psych rock, complete with bongos, acoustic guitar, strange clattery percussion, noodly electric leads, all with lots of delay and reverb giving the whole thing a rich shimmery vibe. Not all that surprising as Manson was BIG into music. Read any of the Brian Wilson / Beach Boys bios, and you'll find the Boys spending a great deal of time hanging with Manson, who seemd to always be a fixture at big Beach Boys bashes, and threw wild parties at his desert hideaway Spahn Ranch. And indie rockers have been obsessed with Manson Sings for years, always talking it up as a lost folk gem and sometimes even covering Manson's songs (the Lemonheads do a killer (sorry) version of "Home Is Where You're Happy").
Fans of the current crop of indie hippy forest folk, like Devendra, Feathers, Wooden Wand, Fursaxa and the like should realize, if they don't already, and whether they like it or not, that they have a freak folk father figure in the form of one Charles Manson...
This new version has extensive liner notes by Phil Kaufman, road manager of the Stones, Joe Cocker, Frank Zappa and others, ESP label honcho Bernard Stollman, as well as an interview with Manson himself.
We haven't heard from MHFS for years now, not since their now long out of print cd-r on Celebrate Psi Phenomenon. That release found these NZ noise makers kicking up a serious freerock fuss, with wild spacey synthesizer, crashing chaotic freakout and a bunch of whirring and bleeping and screeching. That very same record though finished up with a stretch of strummy soft shimmer, and that's pretty much where this 3" finds them again. Taking up right where they left off. They incidentally is in fact a he, one Mark Sadgrove, who is quite a fixture in the NZ music underground. In MHFS, Sadgrove utilizes homemade electronics, found sounds, field recordings, his own software, as well as the more traditional voice and guitar to create, subtle soundscapes, from very very minimal happenings a la Francisco Lopez, where we found ourselves reaching for the volume knob just to get a fleeting glimpse of the fuzzy details and barely these smears of soft sound, to rough crackly drones, waves of crumbling guitar distortion and buried in the haze mumbly vocals, all very sleepily sun drenched and beautifully blown out.
Over the last couple years San Francisco's Mon Cousin Belge have earned quite the reputation for their raucous, theatrical and dazzling live performances. And in a city that's got such a great history for campy, subversive and wonderfully queer art and music it's actually kind of sad to say that it's becoming more rare to find a really good charged and dazzling homo-rock band around these parts lately. Luckily Mon Cousin Belge have been filling that void quite nicely. With a sound equally influenced by glam-rock, torch songs and the sparkling seedy side of high octane pop, Quelle Horreur is an action packed flamboyant and proud album that fits perfectly in any record collection containing the soundtrack to Hedwig & The Angry Inch, Ziggy Stardust era Bowie, Sparks, B-52's and Nina Hagen. With song titles like "Tweaker Bitch", "Sodomy" and "Pigdog" and the trashy chops to back it all up, someone really needs to get this in the hands of John Cameron Mitchell and John Waters as this could be their new favorite band!
