Third release we've carried from the Stellar Auditorium, and we said it before, but it bears repeating, how awesome a label name is that. Totally evokes some sort of black metal lazer light show, the kind we used to sneak into when we were kids, but way more grim and buzzy and space-y.
Anyway, a few lists back we reviewed the latest from psychedelic black metal one man band Procer Veneficus, and a mysterious Swedish outfit called Underjordiska, whose full length Dystert Vilse we could barely keep in stock. Their sound a warped blend of epic sweeping shoegazey buzz and warbly and raw soft black noise, that definitely hit the spot for all of us outsider black metal obsessives.
So we managed to get a second release from those guys, this one a split with the more ambient but equally dark and mysterious Spectral Lore, who just so happens to be the guy who runs Stellar Auditorium, and whose haunting drift definitely compliments Underjordiska's blown out buzz. Although here even moreso, as Underjordiska try something a little more abstract and ambient.
Once again, incredible packaging, full color, very striking, but still weirdly, the disc itself remains a cd-r, this one limited to 300 copies, each one hand numbered. Two tracks, one from each band, both 30 minutes plus!
Underjordiska is up first, their track begins with the sound of waves crashing, gulls, all beneath a delicate drift of clean guitar, the sounds of the surf soon fade out, while in their place a strange assemblage of buzz and hiss, and spacey effects all swirl and swoop, the sound growing more metallic, more alien, more chaotic, before slipping back into a swirling morass of churning black low end, and softly muted buzz, a droning crawl, laced with bits of crunch and rumble, becoming gradually more and more minimal, until the sound is all hushed and delicate and almost static, barring some delicate melodic fragments drifting through the darkness. The band build on that minimal foundation, finally adding guitars, and creating a sort of stop motion doom-ic black buzz, layers of droning buzzing guitars seeming to hover and slowly drift into one another playing out some grim melody, but very very very slowly, before the guitars slip away, and the track ends with an almost choral sounding outro.
Spectral Lore start out with some downtuned guitars, a noisy bit of distorted riffage, making us think for a moment that we may have gotten the two tracks mixed up, but soon those guitars are smoothed out into a deep subterranean crawl, distant shimmering strings, deep low end drift, with the guitars resurfacing here and there, offering up a squall of crumbling crunch or jagged chug, before slipping back under, the distant drones sounding like some sort of Italian horror soundtrack, getting weirdly Goblin-y at one point, before dissipating in a flurry of delay and reverb, leaving just overtones, overlapping and layered, whirring and effulgent, giving way to a weirdly jazzy mini-jam outro, set in a slowly fading sea of hiss, that becomes the sound of water once again, revisiting the first few moments of the Underjordiska track.
Both groups offer up truly strange sonic journeys, mysterious, haunting, otherworldly, meditative and tranquil, but unstable, unpredictable, crafting long stretches of dark ambience, muted shoegazey guitars, deep cavernous drones, crumbling blackened riffage, hushed shimmer, all twisted and transformed, and woven into these mesmerizing alien landscapes...
No longer vinyl only, G-Spots is now on cd. We didn't know it would happen so soon, but it's boon for all the turntable-deprived amongst you. And it's got six extra tracks on it, as well! Here's more or less what we said about this collection when we highlighted the LP version:
Aside from the eye-popping cover art, the first thing you might notice about this record is its intriguing title - G-Spots: The Spacey Folk Electro-Horror Sounds Of The Studio G Library. But what does it all mean, and how could the music live up to such a ridiculously awesome yet difficult to parse description? Well, check the sound samples to find out, or read on...
Some of you may remember the equally great, SUPER limited (not to mention uber-pricey) Electrosonic record from a few lists back, featuring library music from esteemed BBC Radiophonic Workshop composer and titan of early electronic experimentation, Delia Derbyshire. Much in the vein of that long gone gem, G Spots contains selections from the somewhat mysterious Studio G, a production company started by one John Gale, whose work in advertising inspired him to up the ante on the music we either take for granted or generally find annoying as shit. Rather than approaching this work as mere background music, Gale wrangled in a number of composers to bring his vision to life. Things kicked off with a series of 7" records before moving on to lps. Gale claimed to release the first collection of library music to feature actual artwork, and you are advised to go to Trunk's website to view some stellar examples of Studio G's visual aesthetic.
The music, of course, is pretty dang great as well. The songs basically set out to mimic the popular trends of the time, resulting in a sound that is at once familiar, yet strangely distant, as they were produced in a laboratory-like setting with studio musicians. Of course, that kind of thing happened all the time, but it's much more intriguing to imagine this as some sort of parallel reality interpretation of pop music in the '60s and '70s, made by chain smoking guys in their thirties with thick horn-rimmed glasses and neckties. Aside from song titles, the 20 spacey folk electro-horror tunes collected here are identified only by their catalogue numbers and composers, most (all?) of whom you will not recognize. This lack of information only adds to the mystery, in the best way.
It is possible, based on the 4 digit catalogue numbers, to piece together some sort of loose history, not only of Studio G's evolution, but of musical trends in general. Opening with the moody organ piece "Icicles", many of the other songs on the first side are fun, lightly psychedelic pop that would have fit perfectly in any number of party scenes in any number of 1960s movies. Airy acoustic guitars mesh with the occasional spacey weirdness, the songs are at times accompanied by live drums, but sometimes feature early, primitive rhythm machines. The final song on side one of the vinyl (track 15 here), however, the perfectly named "Deformed Theme", is an anti-melody that ventures into darker territory, a creepy synthscape setting the mood for much of the rest of the disc, where ominous, surprisingly heavy Goblin-esque songs like "Cosmic Dust" and "Cosmic Blues" rub elbows with "Freak Blues", which would not sound too out of place on Bruce Haack's The Electric Lucifer. Then there's the hilarious "Dangerous Voyage", a funky, tropical-tinged piece that would sit well in your favorite '70s porn film, with its lead harmonica, fretless bass, and hi hats galore. Other songs feature flutes, more synths, weird tape effects, and random elements of percussion. Throughout it all, things flow perfectly, all part of the style that John Gale created with Studio G.
On first look, and even first listen, Plantation Gold will probably seem quite familiar to a lot of folks, the faded cover image, the list of performers beneath the album title in big gold letters, inside, lots of twanging guitars, foot stompin' rhythms, slippery lap steel, booming stentorian male crooners, rich dulcet female vocalists, tales of love and loss, heartbreak and tragedy, all the sort of stuff you would expect from country music in the sixties and seventies. But look, or listen, even a tiny bit closer, and Plantation Gold reveals itself as just about the furthest thing from traditional country you can imagine.
The Plantation label (later SSS) was the brainchild of a man named Shelby Singleton, who over close to a decade, gathered up some of the most idiosyncratic, unique, and plain crazy country music artists EVER. The closest to gold that Shelby and Plantation got, and probably the only name / song here that will be truly familiar, is the country classic "Harper Valley P.T.A." written by Tom T. Hall and performed by Ms. Jeannie C. Riley, which was in fact a bona fide hit record, the single went on to sell hundreds of thousands, the album millions, and even convinced Singleton to put together a singing group actually called the Harper Valley P.T.A. to cash in on the hype, as well as inspiring a handful of homages, the weirdest one included here, more on that shortly. The rest of the tracks on these two discs range from full on over the top whatthefuck, to slightly skewed, sometimes incorporating strange sound effects, bizarre instrumentation, but sometimes playing it straight, letting the song subject and the lyrics take what on the surface sounds like regular old country music, turning it into something way more freaked out and gleefully goofy (and on occasion borderline offensive to today's more PC sensiblities).
Dee Mullins' "I Am The Grass" seems pretty straight ahead, minus the lyrics about Bigfoot and the freaky metallic effects laden hissy psychedelic refrain in the chorus. Neil Ray's "Big Fanny" is one of those Johnny Cash style talking country songs, the subject of the song a metaphorical 300 pound ugly woman in Vietnam. Weird. "Sold To The Highest Bidder" by Johnny Moore And Col. Tex Herring, is the story of all the happy memories and the family home being sold at auction, featuring an actual auctioneer reeling off the list of everything that must go. Becki Bluefield offers up the surprisingly saucy "Somebody's Gonna Plow Your Field". And then there's "Happy Valley C.I.A.", the aforementioned problematic version of Plantation's big hit, here laced with groovy sixties sitar, the vocals delivered in a very politically incorrect faux Chinese accent.
Johnny Credit offers up his theme song, featuring the clever refrain "I ain't never had no cash", and sounding, as you might guess, just like the Man In Black himself. Best country song title award would have to go to "I'm The Mail She's Waiting For" a innuendo laced love song by Chuck Wood. Then there's The Harper Valley P.T.A.'s "I Dig Dangling Participles", a clever bit of country wordplay. The other star attraction here is Tokyo Matsu, who sounds like an Asian Patsy Cline, all woozy reverb soaked twang, barrelhouse piano, slippery slide guitar, and Matsu's thickly accented croon.
And that's barely getting into the FIRST disc. There's LOTS more on disc one, and 30 MORE weird and wonderful twangy jams on disc two. Every song is a gem, whether it's laugh out loud funny, clever or subtly racy, or heartfelt and dramatic. We could pretty much go track by track, "Four On The Floor (And A Fifth Under The Seat)" is a dark brooding morality play sung by an actual police trooper, "Groovy Grubworm" is a countrified funky hoedown by Harlow Wilcox & The Oakies, and then there's Rod Hart's "C.B. Savage", the tale of a gay trucker, and his suggestive transmissions, another politically incorrect gem, the kind of song that makes you laugh, but also makes you a bit uncomfortable, and is most definitely the sort of song no one could get away with anymore.
Every time we play this in the store, people stop what they're doing to listen, to laugh, most of the time they come up to see what the heck it is we're listening to, and more often than not, leave with their own copy. The booklet is massive, with a history of Singleton, Plantation and SSS, and a fairly in depth description of each artist and all the songs, as well as tons of photos and reproductions of some of the jackets and record labels.
Some seriously twisted outsider country genius, WAY recommended, even if you're not necessarily that into country music, and all you folks into 'incredibly strange music' kind of stuff and those song-poem compilations we love so much, should definitely check this out!
In the few months since we first gushed about our new found obsession, a weird little buzzy noise pop band called Wavves, it seems like a ton of other folks have been feeling the same way about the urgent, catchy, blown out and energetic sounds this young lad from San Diego has been whipping up. Already following up the great Woodsist debut is a new record on the bigger Fat Possum label, but not to worry the sound is still way blown out and in the red, and the songs still make you wanna sweat and jump and play with your friends in the burning sun. What makes Wavves so great is that they really are drawing from such classic sources yet infusing new life and energy into those sounds. Imagine the best parts of the Beach Boys, the Ramones and the Misfits, all channeled into some buzzy lo-fi shredder and you begin to understand the world Wavves calls home. Since we still have the debut on heavy rotation it caught us a bit off guard to find a brand new full length already, and another self titled one, but we get the feeling that Nate Williams (just 22 years old) is at one of those special creative peaks where songs are just bursting forth with no end in sight. And heck, we're not complaining, not one bit, cause when the songs are this damaged and catchy and kick ass, he can keep cranking them out FOREVER. Here's to a THIRD self titled record, BRING IT ON!!
Sometimes Belgium's Sub Rosa label comes up with really unusual, unpredictable releases. This one's a good example. Which by the way is NOT classical music, but IS pretty wild. It's full-on, loud, noisy, partly improvised rock music, but with an extra extreme, um, "outsider" element. Sort of in the "special" tradition of The Kids Of Widney High and the Children Of Ala Costa, but much much more rockin'! We didn't bother to read the notes yet to learn all the background details, but we do know that the basic deal here is that the band is comprised of four developmentally disabled (to use a PC term) and untrained musicians, Johan Geenens, Linh Pham, Kim Verbeke, and Rudy Callant, organized by a fifth member, the ensemble's drummer and "artistic mentor" Damien Magnette, who himself is not differently-abled and has more musical schooling. He helps direct the group's activity and keeps the resulting energetic freakouts somewhat reigned and structured in with his tight rhythmic propulsion. Meanwhile, the other four (plus a couple guests) do their thing, whatever it may be, with all kinds of instruments, obviously enjoying expressing themselves. Proving that while they may be "mentally challenged", they are in fact musically challengING. It's pretty far out and in a way, glorious. There's what can only be described as crazy wailing vocals, freer than free jazz horn blats, distorted electric guitar skree, off-kilter keyboards, sampling, and krauty tribal beats... Imagine the primitive psychedelic jams of Ya Ho Wha 13 mixed with the most abstract avant garde efforts of electro-acoustic improvisers Supersilent. Definitely something for fans of Reynols, too.
A lot of it is surprisingly heavy, almost metal-brutal, but without grim intent, instead done with a spirited feeling of joyful abandon. There's also a few mellower moments too, of flute twitter and eerie wordless vocal choruses (as on track 6, which reminds us of Pocahaunted). And briefly, they come close to Maher Shalal Hash Baz style damaged "pop" territory (though we don't think MSHB has ever done any rapping, which MIGHT be what's happening on track 8). Yep, this sure beats a lot of the "normal" underground psych noise rock weirdo bands we sell here at their own game.
In various reviews here at AQ, we have described lots of music (mainly black metal) as "retarded", in a good way. Always in a good way. It probably would be uncool to say precisely that about this... but if we did, it again would be meant as a compliment, a very positive thing meaning that these are unique, primal, creative sounds not bound by boring conventions of genre or technique, played for the sheer, universal love of music-making. Not self-conciously trying to be hip or anything in particular beyond what it simply IS.
A new ep from San Francisco's Wildildlife serves as a more concise and slightly less abusive introduction to the band than the dense and unremitting Six, December's Crucial Blast full length release (see review on list #281). Whereas Six showcases the band's expansive capabilities, Peas Feast demonstrates a band equally willing to direct their songs more pointedly. Simply put, this is the sound of a bunch of stoned Hessians taunting Tatiana the tiger (R.I.P.)...
The opener, "White Eyelidz" starts with Chrome like distorted vocals that slowly give way to a groove that is simultaneously long-haired and atonal. The vocals are treated with such reverebarance that they may have been recorded in God's icy womb. The guitar line swirls effortlessly while the band locks into circular Neu! like syncopations. The deep-sea diver finds his hidden treasure; a sludgy walk along the ocean floor. Darby Crash drops by for some tea; for the record he wants Darjeeling, fill his cup 5/4th's full.
"Violent", keeps it super slow and heavy. Picture My Bloody Valentine on 6.66 RPM. Harmonies shouldn't work but they do, possibly accidentally. Every sound feeds back grossly. Like a too full stomach. But the food's just so good, how're you gonna stop eating? Yet the song only gets slower and slower and now your burrito weighs seven pounds. Gentle Californian psych licks expedite the digestive process. Still, you're gonna shit blood.
If your crusty friend P-Nutty let his dog stick his head out of the window of a car he didn't have, "The Shining Son" is what it would sound like inside his doggie's brain. This is easily the catchiest song Wildildlife has ever written. Vocals wretch triumphantly, trying in vain to disgrace this gem of a pop song. Not gonna happen. The final track, "My Song", which had appeared earlier as an acoustic track on the bands self-titled EP, mixes an urgent sing-songy dementia with timpanic bass and drum blasts. This review has yet to mention the constant presence of the shrieking guitar, and this track is jammed with it, beginning to end. The epic track eventually melts away into a into a lalaland that channels a desperation not heard since the coda of Leonard Cohen's "One of us Cannot be Wrong." It should also be said that the experience of seeing Wildildlife's live show can range from pseudo-intentional beer-on-amp pouring to psychosexual hypnosis to telekinetic skull-bashery. Buy this ep it is HIGH-ly recommended.
(Thanks to aQ pal Amitai for the killer review!)
Oooh, oooh. This issue of the Wire is has two features about particular AQ-faves: an article about the French prog genius of Magma and an interview with doomdronelords SUNNO))), who are on the cover! And there's lots more of interest in this month's Wire as well, from dubstepper El-B to Norwegian singer Susanna, noisican Sudden Infant and Portishead guitarist Adrian Utley (doing the "Invisible Jukebox" blindtest feature). And more! Including a piece about undersea field recordings! Cool. Plus there's a free cover-mount cd sampler, Wire Tapper 21, with tracks by Barbara Morgenstern, Shogun Kunitoki, Hitoshi Kojo, Pekka Airaksinen (of The Sperm), Sheik Anorak & Weasel Walter, and others to check out.
Debut full length from these East Bay doomlords, who once featured our very own Andee behind the kit! It's three tracks 43 minutes, of slow building, brooding, emotional, classic epic doom, the emotion mostly due to the vocals, way up in the mix, a cool sort of John Garcia (Kyuss) / Chris Cornell (Soundgarden) hybrid, moaning and mewling during the slow post rocky parts and howling and wailing during the churning chug of the more doomy parts.
Surprisingly catchy and hooky, Worship Of Silence minus the vocals might slip into something more sludgey and ultra dooooooom, but the vocals transform this into something much more accessible, this sounds like a slight, but it's totally not, it really wouldn't be that weird to hear this stuff on some super progressive alternative / metal radio station. It's the Soundgarden vibe, it's hard to avoid, but fuck it, why bother, we all love Soundgarden, so imagine Cornell and company trading in their Zep worshipping grunge, for sprawling epic downtuned doomscapes, with cool swirling riffage, wild tribal drumming, long expanses of shimmery drift, a definite prog element too, as during lots of the slow brooding tribal parts, the band definitely dip into Tool territory, which makes for an awesomely hooky, catchy, but still crushing and epic post-doom. And it's not just the vocals, the riffs and the arrangements are awesome, well crafted, channeling the sound of old school classic doom, but twisting it into something much more modern and polished, eminently headbangable, but definitely a little progged out and catchy as fuck. We're definitely digging this big time.
Brand new, vinyl only release from Xela, aka John Twells, head honcho of the amazing Type label. On past Xela releases, Twells has dabbled in abstract ambient doom, crafting haunting and heavy landscapes of ominous low end and sprawling blackened dronemusick, and also explored sounds much more delicate, soft crystalline shimmers and washed out sepia toned blurs, but here, on Heirs Of The Fire, Twells tries his hand at arranging vocals, creating gorgeous vocal variant of the Xela sound. A shimmery chorale, ethereal female voices drift amidst muted metallic chimes, a bit like Grouper or Inca Ore, but less lo-fi and more lush, in the background whirring bits of old machinery creak and hiss, this haunting shadowy tableau seemingly frozen in amber, a snapshot of some other world in some other time, the voices gradually growing less distant, the sounds melting into one gloriously organic, woozy, druggy bit of textured soft focus drone.
The flipside is another bit of washed out gauzy ambience, ghostly traces of instruments and shadows of melodies, reverbed chimes over softly effected tones, a bit like a gamelan, drifting in a mysterious haze of blurred shimmer and late afternoon fade. Deep and dark and dreamlike, minimal but at the same time understatedly lush.
Gorgeous packaging, super striking red design silkscreened on thick black jackets.
We're so happy this is now on vinyl as these are songs meant to be slapped on the turntable and blasted in bedrooms for full on pillow fight and punk rock sleep over action. An added bonus is that the vinyl also comes with a cd copy of the record. Now on to the music inside...
Full on DIY scrappy and delicious garage punk jams brewed up by the Bay Area's own Brontez, best known for being in Gravy Train and beloved by many for his amazing DJ nights (such great taste in music!) and his overall contagious inviting and exciting spirit and high energy. Ever since moving to the bay from Alabama several years ago he's injected such a great bolt of sexually charged queer spirit into what can often be such a straight and white dominated punk rock scene. In true punk fashion he taught himself how to play guitar and with Gravy Train on a bit of a hiatus had songs pouring out of him that begged for a home so The Younger Lovers was born.
His covers of The Rip-Off's and The Replacements show how he loves his rock n roll to be loud, fast, scrappy and full of relentless energy. We love how honest and direct his lyrics are, whether coming clean about his wandering heart in "Ballad For All My Bandmates And Lovers" or singing about how he can't resist a hottie in "Low Top Chucks & Skinny Jeans." You can tell that Brontez loves punk, garage and riot girl a as much as he does girl groups and sassy bubblegum pop. These are songs that are as rocking as they are endearing, making us want to jump and dance as much as they make us wanna lick an ice cream cone and have a pillow fight with a room filled with our punk rock crushes. So damn fun!
