We LOVE Liquorball. Distorted, drugged out, off kilter, noisy, space-y, dirgey, seriously fucked up and freaked out sludgey garage rock genius. Someone needs to do a cd reissue of all the old out of print lps (there have been rumors, tUMULt? Holy Mountain?), but these guys keep plugging away, this latest vinyl-only sonic behemoth finds the newly expanded Liquorball mixing it up with legendary saxophonist Steve Mackay (Stooges' Funhouse!) as well as another horn player and a viola player. Definitely sounds intriguing. And the horns definitely add a strange vibe to the proceedings, but we're not so sure it's for the better.
Where the sound of LB of old was transcendent, fucked up and blown out in a way that was difficult to understand, and hell, why even bother, all we knew was it sounded insane and amazing, the sound on this new record is weirdly tame, partially the horns, but also the recording, lo-fi for sure, but not as scuzzy and BURNT sounding as old recordings, they sound more like a bar band (which granted, they sort of always were, albeit a seriously demented and damaged bar band), the sort of band you might stumble across on a regular Saturday night, in a regular bar. A bit subdued, still space-y and a bit freaky, but not nearly as far out. The B-side though does get a little wilder, the effects nearly taking over, finally melting into an oozing sprawl of lysergic sonic weirdness, easy to get gloriously lost in, until the last couple minutes, where the band slip back into a sort of woozy, last call blues jam, which has us thinking that maybe they're taking the piss, since seconds earlier they were soaring through scorched landscapes of psychedelic space guitar freakery.
It might be that we're a little hard on this record, it's only cuz the other records kicked out asses so utterly and completely, that said, this is still a cool record, and the majority of side 2 should definitely hit the spot for folks looking for some spaced out psychedelia, but it's no Fucks The Sky, but then that was probably too much to hope for. By the way, Julian Cope just picked this as his Record Of The Month, so that's somethin'!
We're constantly amazed how dubstep keeps getting tweaked and pushed outside its seemingly limited conventions. Individual touches and uniquely inventive flourishes, including nods to elements of dance music's recent past, keep getting added to the skeletal structure of cavernous bass and dark stripped down rhythms. Either by pushing the expansively deep dark edginess like Shackleton or Kode 9 or augmenting the rhythmic textures and movement for more dance floor-friendliness like Burial and Benga, we never get tired of it! Zomby was the last wunderkind we got excited over as he brought in a playful acid-house rave vibe to the standard skitters, creaks and froggy wubbles. Today, we're getting worked up over Dutch producer / DJ, Martyn, and his debut Great Lengths! Coming from the same fertile scene as 2562 (whose dark and amazing record, Aerial, we have yet to list!), Martyn has been at it since the genre's beginnings releasing a string of singles notable for their use of techno and drum and bass elements alongside and within dubstep's fledgling sounds. Great Lengths ups the ante even more by adding plenty of vibrant colors and textures: Warped hiphop, Detroit Techno, Chicago House, and hints of reggae pushing the rhythmic movement forward while the melodies retain dubstep's darker allure. This is a good crossover record for those new to the genre or for those looking for the next essential release in dubstep's expanding evolution! Definitely, one of our favorite records so far this year!
Sun City Girls fans! Drone-doom freaks! Here's your unlikely crossover dream come true, kind of. A psychedelically heavy (sometimes) and always eerily exotic new album on the Conspiracy label from this band with the wiseass faux-ethnic name (if you don't know what Bukkake is, don't ask, and definitely don't Google it - if you do, be aware it's NSFW). Now including members of Earth and Burning Witch amongst their ranks, and once again boasting cameo appearances from folks belonging to the Sun City Girls and Secret Chiefs 3, this is exactly (and excellently) what we might have expected from this project. Acoustic ethnic instrument buzz and drone meets guitars-leaning-on-amps buzz and drone. There's electronic FX and analog synths alongside field recordings, bells and chimes and gamelan percussion mixed with Tibetan monkish low-end drone-chant, and let's not forget the flute and Mellotron... The seven tracks of Totem One span a wild, wide range of (moody) moods, from the heavy throbbing maelstrom that is "Schism Prism / Adamatios" to the spacey, spooky folk ramble of "Cascade Cathedral". The most Sun City Girlish moment here is probably "People Of The Drifting Houses", not surprisingly the track which features guest vocals provided by Alan Bishop of SCGs and Sublime Frequencies fame.
"In The Lightness Of The Sonoran" could be the recently reviewed Harappian Night Recordings attempting to channel SUNNO))), whilst other tracks (simultaneously) bring to mind such not-entirely-disparate artists as Angus MacLise, Blood Of The Black Owl, Six Organs Of Admittance, Ghost, and Acid Mothers Temple. The latter especially, for instance on the most freaked out parts of the aforementioned "Schism Prism / Adamatios" or during the blissful ceremony of the album-ending nine minute long "Eaglewolf". Fantastic. We're now eagerly looking forward to further Totem installments! (Totem Two is due out later this year on the SCG-related Abduction label, that released MMOB's prior album as well.)
NB. The vinyl version of this comes with a coupon for free mp3 download of the whole album.
Not sure how many of you remember Last Of The Juanitas, but they were a super bad ass, noisy and sloppy, wild and heavy post rock / math rock band from San Diego, who were legendary for their raucous live shows, and who put out a handful of awesome records, with a sound falling somewhere between Don Caballero, Drive Like Jesu, the Champs, June Of 44, that sort of thing. they never really got their due, but those records are definitely worth tracking down.
Also notable was their bass player, Lana, who besides being a bass ass bassist, was also pretty much everybody's inde rock crush, ourselves included. But here we are years later, and Miss Lana Rebel is a genuine country music chanteuse. And we're not talking No Depression, or alt country, this is genuine, minor key, twangy, heartbreak country music and it's so good. If there's any justice, everyone who loves Jolie Holland and Patsy Cline and everyone in between, will discover Miss Rebel and shower her with the love and affection that was denied her in Last Of The Juanitas.
Her voice is sweet and soulful, but just appropriately rough and raw, plenty of slippery lap steel, dobro, upright bass, even musical saw, the songs simple and striking, melancholy melodies, plenty of twang, so so so gorgeous. Country music fans, new and old, should definitely check this out.
Beautiful chipboard, silkscreened sleeves, each one stamped, numbered (LIMITED TO 208 COPIES!!) and signed by Miss Rebel herself. Also included is a song book complete with liner notes, lyrics and chords so you can play along.
If we had to come up with a four-letter word for doom, that wasn't d-o-o-m, it would be m-o-s-s. MOSS! These UK sludgelords, whose previous full-length Sub Templum was a record of The Week last year, are about as heavy as it gets, Moss sinking to the bottom of the black tarpit of doom below almost all others. Of course, playing so slow, the mere three songs here manage to stretch this way beyond ordinary ep length, each of 'em upwards of ten minutes... and then there's a fourth, hidden bonus track that gets this up to about 40 minutes total, so it's actually almost a full album really. And it's the usual grief we get from Moss: these tracks all anguished and distorted, with distended guitar and bass strings hanging loose and low, vokillizations of sheer misery and madness torn from the singer's throat like a still beating bloody heart ripped from the sacrifice, and bits of bent and battered drum kit scattered across the rancid tundra that is Moss's metallic soundspace... sometimes it eventually all congeals into one massive, melancholic drone, a true thing of beauty, heard for instance towards the end of the title track, upon which Moss employ Hammond organ. What else would you expect from something titled Tombs Of The Blind Drugged?? Tombs to which Moss have the "Skeletal Keys" and plan an "Eternal Return"...
We mentioned a bonus track, it's the Discharge cover Moss did that originally appeared on their split 7" with Monarch. "Maimed And Slaughtered" is slowed from a 45rpm blitz to an unrecognizable 16rpm bludgeon... Here's what we said about it in our review of that now out-of-print 7": Moss transform Discharge's punky stomp into a barely moving morass of sludgy pound. Sounding very much like Eyehategod, with simple pummeling drums, howled vocals, and of course guitars tuned as low as they can go before the strings drop off like wet noodles. On top of all the murk, drift weird high end streaks of surprisingly melodic feedback, giving the whole track a haunting and ominous vibe.
FYI, Tomb Of The Blind Drugged is also coming out on vinyl, as a limited double 10" record, minus the Discharge cover we think. Also minus track three, "Eternal Return", which apparently appears on a separate 12" we've yet to track down. We DO have a bunch of the 10" preordered, but the ltd. digipack cd version got here first.
Hell YEAH! Chicago's reigning lords of spaced out, immensely psychedelic black metal return with this 4 song rager, and if for some reason you needed more proof that Nachtmystium was at the top of their game, look no further. Few metal bands, black or otherwise, could pull this kind of thing off without looking like the half assed amateurs they undoubtedly are. Nachtmystium, on the other hand, expertly utilize buzzing Moogs (and even piano!), tons of atmospheric FX, Blake Judd's throat-shredding vocals, and enough thrashy riffs to keep this thing going on repeat all night. It's not that any of these elements in themselves are so unique, but Nachtmystium's approach is just so classy, and while the results reveal plenty of impeccable influences throughout metal's long and glorious history, the only band they sound like at this point is Nachtmystium. They've got balls, and they aren't afraid to go against the accepted "rules" of a genre that, in its own way, is just as regimented as anything else. Unlike many metal bands, Nachtmystium possess a strong sense of actual songcraft, which ultimately makes them that much more potent, and in the end, it can't be denied that Nachtmystium are one hell of a rock n' roll band. There is just such a perfect understanding of how to groove. These riffs are going to stay in your head for days, while the outstanding production, courtesy of the band's new synth wrangler, Sanford Parker (Minsk, Buried At Sea) clearly put these dudes multiple steps beyond the competition - if there is any competition.
Finally, a full length (sort of) from Campbell Kneale's post Birchville Cat Motel outfit Our Love Will Destroy The World. Limited to 50 copies, exclusively available direct from Kneale, or right here at aQ.
A single 40 minute jam, it's been a bit hard to figure out just where Birchville ended and Our Love began, there was after all a kick as Birchville disc TITLED Our Love Will Destroy The World. The biggest difference seems to be rhythm, where as BCM was loose and free and amorphous, so far everything we've heard from Our Love, while still plenty free, has featured some sort of rhythm. Verging on the dance-able, but not regular old dance-able, we're talking twisted psychedelic alien disco sort of dance music, imagine only droning tones, undulating and pulsing and wrapped around strange motorik grooves and some fractured anti-funk, that's basically how this disc starts off, it's gorgeously blissed out and mesmerizing, but then right when you lock into the groove, losing yourself in Kneale's looped noisescape, the song explodes in a cacophony of ACTUAL explosions, breaking glass, barking dogs, total and utter chaos, it's like a field recording of the end of the world, but then you notice some tablas surfacing from beneath this crazy disasterscape, then some jagged shards of feedback, the whole sound growing more caustic and abrasive by the second, the tablas eventually buried beneath a million pounds of hiss and buzz and rumble and skree, a weirdly rhythmic slab of pink noise psychedelia, relentless and nearly overpowering.
As the track progresses though, the sound begins to smooth out, gradually, until all the noise drops out, leaving just the drums, surrounded by all sorts of haunting sounds, a bit like a more out-there Muslimgauze. Then things shift back to more familiar territory, roiling warm buzzing shimmer, over strange lopped and stuttering rhythms, barely audible through the woozy swirling heaviness, various buzzes and glitches coalescing into still more layers of sound, everything getting louder and heavier and more chaotic, a sort of Total / BCM / Skullflower mashup, soaring epic ur-drone majesty, before all the low end drops out suddenly, leaving just some brittle shimmer, some buried riffage, and some looped melody buried in the mix, a gorgeously hypnotic tangle that ends way too soon, even though it goes on for 5 minutes or so, wouldn't have minded an hour of just that one part, but then it finally fades out, and it's over.
Pretty intense, and epic, a multi movement soft noise symphony, which besides filling our ears with honey, has us hankering for more more MORE!
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES, we got 30, grab 'em while you can.
Evan Parker - the venerable saxophonist and avant-jazz icon of the UK, known for his mastery of circular breathing - and John Wiese - the Californian noisenik with a vast array of lo-fi meets hi-tech strategies in gnarled sound - set forth on a series of collaborative concerts in 2008 throughout the UK. On an off day from performing, the two found themselves in the studio where they recorded these real-time improvisations. Parker's looping glissandos and continuous streamed notes result from his circular breathing techniques; and Weise musters a static-laced cacophony, cable buzz splutter, and start-stop tape mechanications given over to MSP control systems. Wiese doesn't succumb to any ill-informed desire to dress-up his noise constructs, if anything his abrasions with all of their soft and loud dynamics are as guttural and gurgling as ever. Well, they never hit the full-on sustained explosion of some of Weise's Sissy Spacek recordings; but what good would that do for Parker? If anything, this is a solid redux of the British improv ethos that Parker helped pioneer in the '70s.
We could go on and on and on about our undying love for the first Crank movie, easily THE most deliriously over the top action movie EVER. Filmed super stylistically as well, so the high (low) concept is reflected by the film stock and speed and angles. For those living under a rock, the movie revolves around a hitman, who is drugged and left for dead, the drug slows down his heart, eventually causing his death, but hellbent on revenge, our 'hero' manages to finds unique and inventive ways of keeping his adrenaline up and thus stay alive, in order to exact his revenge. He does lots of drugs, risks life and limb, fucks with cops, picks fights with gangs, fucks his girlfriend in the middle of Chinatown, but eventually SPOILER WARNING! He falls from a helicopter calling his girlfriend on the way down.
Fast forward to Crank High Voltage, only to discover, somehow he did not die, instead, he was spirited off by Asian gangsters, who remove his heart, replacing it with an artificial heart hooked up to a battery, with an hour's worth of charge. The hook this time around is, he needs to continually charge himself up, while he tries to track down his heart and have it put back in. Far fetched? For sure. But that's the joy of these movies. And who better to score a movie like this than Mr. Mike Patton. But instead of doing crazy voices, and wild shrieking weirdness, Patton has crafted a super weird, ultra varied, practically perfect soundtrack, alternately heavy, freaky, skittery, metallic, jazzy, it is a soundtrack after all, so removed from the images, a little is lost, but this soundtrack stands up pretty well. In fact, besides being blown away by the movie, the first thing we all thought afterwards was "we need to get this soundtrack". So here it is.
The best part is our hero's theme, a simple 6 note melody, that resurfaces throughout the movie in different forms, it's catchy as all get out, appropriately ominous and minor key, and definitely suits the spirit of the character. Beyond that, Patton has cooked up a wild imaginative hodge podge of sonic cues, mini jams, micro epics, dark mood music, and everything in between. Which is important since in the film, the action is all over the place, flitting from extreme violence, to dying-heart stupor, beaten to a pulp wooziness, to recently recharged hyperactivity, and Patton comes whips up the perfect killer jams to accompany the various moods and scenes.
Skittery industrial weirdness wrapped around that main theme, and peppered with circusy synths and spacey effects giving way to pounding punk rock, a creeping moody crawl, chugging muted guitar, chiming melodies, interrupted by bursts of pounding drums, string swells, and thick metallic guitars, groovy sunshine-y almost jungle beneath twangy Summertime guitar and crooned female vox and handclaps, moody Morricone-ish twang and drift, funky retro porno grooves, mysterious Old West style flute flecked accordion weirdness that transforms into a creepy polka, grinding digital metal, with lots of stops and starts, warped and warbly sound effects draped over super haunting vocals whirs and whoops, Jew's harp jams and glitchy electronics, plenty of glitchy stuttery abstract hip hop, tolling bells over distant rumbles and on and on and on. Fans of Fantomas, especially the soundtrackier stuff will probably dig, and folks who are sometimes put off by Patton's wild vocalizing, might just dig this big time.
Needless to say, you should definitely buy this, but you should also see both movies, they're puerile, over the top, hyper violent, and funny as fuck. And they look AMAZING. Be warned though, the first film is much more 'cute', it definitely has a heart of (tarnished) gold, while the second one is much more meanspirited and harsh, but hell, as far as outrageous super stylized ridiculously impossible and hilariously brutal action movies go, you can't beat Crank. And Patton's soundtrack is pretty much the aural equivalent. Which means, ABSOLUTELY recommended.
Numero Group strikes again! Why Pisces never made it into the canon of classic American psychedelic groups of the sixties like Jefferson Airplane, The Doors and The Grateful Dead is not so much a mystery as it is a latent lament. It's pretty clear why, since none of their music ever got released during their lifetime, but hearing this now, and it sounding so much more fresh and relevant compared to the overrated dinosaurs mentioned above, we sometimes wish the past could get a do-over, or at the very least we wish nostalgia could get a better soundtrack. Pisces would be at the top of our Summer of Love facelift!
Not just a curio from what might have been, the songs that this Rockford, Illinois group conjured could have made a classic album, had the core members overcame the obstacles of being an unknown band in the Midwest, perhaps toured or promoted themselves better, or at least hired themselves a decent manager. Focused so much on their sound, they were tireless studio workhorses, constantly augmenting their pop songs with innovative studio effects: delay, phasing, and layers of overdubs. Working with such blinders on is always a difficult proposition to long term success, plus having a sexy female guest vocalist that was never quite a core member of the band, steal most of the spotlight, only to be whisked away to start a failed solo career doesn't bode well for a band in dire need of a solid foundation.
But we think if they managed their image better, they could have been as big as Jefferson Airplane. Their songs are definitely better. Pisces were perhaps more influenced by British psych than the stuff that was happening on the west coast, but their darkly tinged lyrics full of creepy wonder and kaleidoscopic imagery are more chilling and beautiful, yet evoking the male and female harmonies of that more famous group. At times, it also reminds us of other obscure weirdo sixties soft-psych groups like Fifty Foot Hose, Neighborhood Children, Peanut Butter Conspiracy and H.P. Lovecraft, yet with a consistent sonic vision unclouded by annoying record label interventions and dated cliches. A Lovely Sight indeed!
The return of Lithuanian black metallers Poccolus! Well, not so much a return, as these guys split up a while back, but we're super psyched to hear more from these guys. Their Supernal label full length was a huge hit with the metalheads around here, gloriously thrashy keyboard drenched, post rock flecked Pagan blackness, originally released in 1996, but reissued a couple years ago. The tracks on Ragana date even further back than that, 1993 and 1994, with a couple live tracks tacked on as a bonus, originally released as a super limited cassette in 1997.
Here, Poccolus sound even more raw, and strangely more melodic. The guitars offering up classic metal sounding harmonies, locked in with the drums, pounding way down in the mix. Shades of Iron Maiden, and at least one of the tracks musically is a dead ringer for Slough Feg, that is until it slips into grim blackness, the bellowy reverb drenched croon, switching to harsh hellish shriek, but even then, the music continues to lope along all mournful and minor key, with plenty of keyboards, although here they're buried under the buzz and lo fidelity hiss. The opening track is so melancholy and catchy it's almost not even black metal. More like some gloomy gothy slightly blackened hard rock, but whatever it is, it's pretty excellent.
In fact, as we dig deeper, all the tracks here are barely black metal, although they're buzzy and heavy enough to keep metalheads' attention, the sound is much more raw and old school and classic sounding, the vocals are the blackest element, but even those shrieks and howls just as often revert to clean-ish croons. And it sound like this was mastered from a cassette, so it's all a little warped and warbly, giving it a haunting woozy off kilter vibe, which only adds to the band's unique sound. One track does actually get super grim and blasty, but that's after about 6 minutes of super minimal rumbling drones. The record closes with another strange only sort of black metal jam, lurching, mid tempo, the guitars warbly and minor key, the keyboard drifting like a haze in the background, the melodies getting more and more grand and epic, the band whipping their lo-fi stumble and buzz into something truly majestic sounding.
The live tracks are way more raw and fierce, lo-fi, but still plenty blown out and brutal, but even then, the weird melodicism of the proper tracks still creeps into the bands grim buzz. The Pagan element is also more present on these later tracks, the overall sound sitting somewhere right between the more polished Pagan crush of the full length, and the warped lo-fi classic metal of the demo tracks included here.
Sophomore effort for Rusty Santos' expanding head band, The Present, and this one is even weirder and farther out then their first album, World I See. Constantly morphing textures and tempos radiate through each of the tracks so it's hard to tell where one piece begins and ends. Mechanized loops and repetitive whirrs, woozy tones, sparkly drones, watery robotic bleeps and bloops, cascading nebulas of metallic and magnetic drift, lots of dreamy floating and translucent shimmer, other times the sounds are dark, murky, wallowing and opaque. Murmurs of vocal melodies processed through multiple electronic filters and effects pedals can be heard buried under a doomy kaleidoscopic rainbow of pink and blue noise that swells from gorgeous to creepy and back again. Heady, alien and strange, this is like depressed robots taking a hit of acid with their prozac. Beautiful and deeply unsettling!
NOW ON VINYL! A few years ago, they surveyed a drowned, underwater village in a dammed up valley, and on the album before that, they lowered a microphone deep into a hole in the ground, making some unusual discoveries... well, not REALLY, but in their musical imaginations. Now, enter with Reigns into the 'house on the causeway'. That's right, it's the return of our favorite moody, mysteriously conceptual site-based post rockish indie gloom pop electronica act from England! Again they're exploring/evoking an imaginary locale, and what creepy things may or may not have happened there, through their mostly dreamy, little bit nightmarish music... They've got something in common with a lot of the artists on Miasmah and Type labels, though less soundscapey, more actually song oriented. They also are reminding us a lot of Tarwater this time around. Maybe that's accentuated by the inclusion of more in the way of vocals (usually quite processed, however) on some of the tracks here, while in the past they'd been primarily instrumental, with textual information (or disinformation) presented in the cd or 7" booklet...
The House On The Causeway seems to feature two (related) modes of song - the purely instrumental, slowly unfolding ones; and the slightly more uptempo ones with singing/rhyming and skittering drum beats... It's all quite lovely as always with Reigns, their looping piano notes and ambient electronics a blissful reverie, but also as always an eerily lurking menace persists, both sonically (minor key ominousness that emotionally suggests horrors but shocks only sparingly, as with the distorted noisy outburst at the end of "Crex, Crex, Crex") and intellectually via the accumulation of sinister signifiers in the cryptic lyrics, songtitles ("Everything Beyond These Walls Has Been Razed", "Mirrors At Night", "Your Tiny Hand Is Frozen") and artwork that the listener can't quite square with the seemingly sweet music, music that seems to conceal whispers and weepings.
Cosmic-kraut lost masterpiece! We knew we would get your attention with that, and for good reason because this is a record that any fan of spaced out kosmiche needs to own. Released in 1978, Wunderbar was the only solo album by Wolfgang Riechmann, as he was tragically murdered just a few weeks before this record originally came out.
Influenced by the sounds around him in Germany you can hear bits of Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Neu!, Kraftwerk, etc. The record has a fluidity to it that just soars and flows with such a shimmering grace. Makes a lot of sense that he was in a band in the early '70s with Michael Rother (Neu!, Harmonia) and Wolfgang Flur (Kraftwerk) called Spirits Of Sound. Recorded over thirty years ago, you can definitely hear Wunderbar's possible influence in the music of folks like Lindstrom, Prins Thomas, Arp, Jonas Reinhardt, Delia Gonzalez & Gavin Russom, Growing, Emeralds, etc. Riechmann would have sounded right at home on the Pilooski curated Dirty Space Disco compilation we love so much, which connected the dots between the spaced out electronic sounds of '70s Germany and cosmic disco dancefloors. We wouldn't be surprised if Matmos was listening to this as inspiration before they made Supreme Balloon. Wunderbar is that rare kind of album that allows you to get lost in space while never losing its keen melodic sense, a sound that is fresh and alive, never stagnant or pointlessly self absorbed. Mind boggling to think how his music would have evolved over the years if his life wasn't ended so abruptly, but here's hoping that Wunderbar finally gets the recognition and respect is so rightfully deserves! And you non vinyl inclined folks hold tight, a cd reissue is on its way in July.
It's so easy to hate on these guys (and gal), they went from indie darlings to next big thing, to actual big thing in the blink of an eye. Plus they sound dangerously and criminally like Smashing Pumpkins, but, and this is a very very big BUT, they actually kind of rule.
If you haven't heard their big first single "Lazy Eye", look it up on YouTube. It's like the best Smashing Pumpkins song Billy Corgan never wrote. Or more accurately, it's like THAT Smashing Pumpkins song, you know the one, the only really great late period SP song, but made heavier and blissier and a little noisier. That whole first record was packed with similar jams, My Bloody Valentine meets the Smashing Pumpkins is the most obvious (and oft mentioned comparison), but heck if it isn't sort of accurate. And for what they lacks in originality, they make up for in sheer rad rockingness, hooks everywhere, the singer's Corgan-esque croon, some kick ass drumming, and guitars everywhere, supecharged, distorted, heavy, buzzy, blown out, but still warm and thick and billowy.
We never reviewed the first record, but for some of us, it was definitely a (not so) guilty pleasure. While Swoon doesn't have a hit quite as unbeatable as "Lazy Eye", it does manage to be more lush and expansive, a bit heavier, and after a few listens, some of these songs will be lodged in your head FOREVER. And the sad thing is, this stuff sounds so much better than 90 percent of the rock happening these days, and it's sad to realize they just don't make music like this so much anymore, so when someone does, and does it so well, we just have to sit back and let ourselves be transported right back to the good old days, those days being the nineties, so c'mon, close your eyes, let your hair down, turn up the stereo and rock the fuck out. Pop fiends, especially ones who grew up in the nineties, will go nuts for this. And if you can ignore all the hype and the bullshit and just enjoy the music for what it is, even the most jaded of hipsters might just find themselves unable to resist the blissy crunchy pop spell of Silversun Pickups.
Nina Simone's vast and varied back catalog never ceases to thrill and amaze us. As we dig and dig into the deep vaults of her recorded material we keep running into records that demand full attention and grab us by our vitals and throw us right into the world she was inhabiting at that moment. This 1973 album, now reissued on vinyl, found Nina full of a crazy kind of energy, empowerment, rage, urgency and intensity. As the Vietnam War continued to linger, Emergency Ward! was Nina Simone's most pointed protest against the war, as well as one of her most fiery and commanding records, period. With arrangements by the great Weldon Irvine and a church junior choir from South Jamaica, New York backing her up, a strong foundation was laid for Nina to take those elements and bring them to life as only she could. Recorded live in a few different locations the record finds Simone at her most epic and emotionally charged. The first side is one long track that merges an adaptation of George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" with "Today Is A Killer", a poem by David Nelson, that Nina Simone transforms into an unforgettable gospel burner! The second side starts off with an irresistible version of "Poppies" and then the grand finale is an eleven minute emotionally poignant take on another George Harrison song, "Isn't It A Pity", that rings with so much truth and timeliness all these years later. Nina Simone fans, you must have this! Totally engaging and essential!
In the '90s, there were two bands on the Sub Pop roster that, to anyone looking for their grunge or indie fix, made absolutely zero sense. One of those bands was the mighty Earth, who in the past few years have thankfully been reevaluated and recognized as the pioneers they were and are. Then there was Six Finger Satellite, spoken of with godlike reverence by their small but rabid fanbase, but still unjustly neglected by the majority of the human population. The big question here: WHY?!?! Six Finger Satellite was one of the great nihilistic rock bands of the '90s, the strange and unholy union of the Stooges, the Birthday Party, and Kraftwerk that turned into something else entirely. Their sound was hateful, tense, and disturbingly druggy, but most of all, they fucking ROCKED. While the synthesizer at this point in indie history seemed relegated to making cute little bleeping noises, 6FS wielded their Moogs like weapons of mass chaos, releasing 4 ESSENTIAL full lengths and a slew of equally awesome eps and singles before vanishing. Their provocative themes included a sinister but smartass referencing of, shall we say, "recent" German history, primates, and a Kraftwerkian synthesis of man and machine tailored to better suit a bunch of guys from Rhode Island. Their history is long, confusing, and even tragic (original bassist Kurt Niemand died of a drug overdose), eventually culminating in the departure of guitarist John Maclean - along with the band's synth arsenal - and his transformation into electro-dance act the Juan Maclean. Though they apparently soldiered on after their final full length, Law Of Ruins, that was pretty much it for Six Finger Satellite...
UNTIL NOW!!!
While the band has reconvened on a few occasions and are currently active, Half Control actually dates back to 2001. Surprisingly, the band's unstoppable drummer Rick Pelletier switched to bass for the reformed 6FS (and now he's playing guitar!), while the rhythm section was reconstituted from members of fellow Rhode Island noise rockers Landed. The resultant sound emphasizes the group's more pissed off, punkish edge - try to imagine the four-headed bastard offspring of Black Flag and the Jesus Lizard beating the shit out of itself - while downplaying their more meditative (relatively speaking for this band, of course) electro-kraut influences. For this reason, the initial reaction of many aQ staffers was that Half Control doesn't really sound like the Six Finger Satellite we all knew - remember that part about John Maclean and the band's collection of vintage synthesizers? Closer inspection, however, reveals otherwise, at least to the nerds in possession of the band's entire discography. While synths were and continue to remain integral to the 6FS sound, many people tend to overlook how guitar-centric they always were. Slashing and densely hypnotic riffing, throbbing basslines, and ridiculously tight drumming were just as important as their quirky but ominous synthlines. Singer/Moogist J. Ryan's feral vocals are as mean-spirited and distorted as they always were and the band still throbs and pulsates like a merciless machine that refuses to shut down. 6FS's sound was frantic but controlled, often verging on complete chaos, yet they managed to keep things together in a way only they could. With that in mind, it's clear to see that things are really just as great as they always were. The reality is that little has changed, it's just pretty mindblowing to think that we are hearing new sounds from a band that sadly *seemed* to drop off the map.
It should go without saying for anyone familiar with this fantastic band, that Load Records (who released their obscure but awe inspiring Clone Theory ep waaaaay back), is a much better home for them. It's not coincidental that much of that label's lineup and a great deal of the current noise rock scene is heavily indebted to 6FS, and while some of today's indie rockers may have unknowingly tapped into what these guys were about in the form of other bands, Six Finger Satellite has yet to be surpassed in ferocity, dark humor, and overall rockingness. Longtime fans should find plenty of reasons to rejoice, while newbies will freak out and have to accept mp3 versions of their out of print Sub Pop albums. To the rest of the world: WAKE THE FUCK UP. Six Finger Satellite is immortal, and even if this is their final statement (we sure hope not), it's more than we could have ever hoped for.
Latest burst of glorious guitar noise from Matthew Bower and his ever evolving Skullflower, not sure who plays on this one, pretty sure they're back up to a full band, 3 piece? 4 piece? What we do know, is on Vile Veil, you can finally hear Bower's burgeoning interest in black metal seeping into the Skullflower sound. The title track sounds like it could have been listed from some lost nineties Nordic demo, all tinny buzzy riffage, buried howls, drums? Maybe, but if they're there, they're well buried under the muted murk and buzz drenched skree. Weirdly propulsive and frenetic, Bower and Co. kick out the grim frostbitten jam, infusing it with their own particular brand of blown out sheen, layered with sheets of feedback, and more noise than any self respecting black metal horde has ever had to contend with, the result though it pretty stellar, the sort of buzzing black noise that should hit the spot for metalheads and noiseniks alike.
The second track is more of the same, but a bit less brittle, subtly more melodic, with the vocals creeping up in the mix, but not sounding like vocals so much as like hissy bursts of white noise static, draped over the moaning deconstructed riffage and layered high end dronescape.
The final track, a side long crusher called "Vinum Sabbati", harkens back to Bower's noisier Total project, all high end and hiss and skree and screech, soaring upper register tones and loads of feedback, but the sound is sculpted into something almost orchestral sounding, strangely listenable (it's all relative!), even a bit melodic, but all wrapped in a constantly swirling cloud of caustic sonic abrasion, intense, and dense, thick and nearly overwhelming, fantastically and punishingly epic and brutal.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. We got a bunch, but odds are these will be gone before you know it.
Underground hometown heavy metal heroes Slough Feg, aka The Lord Weird Slough Feg are back on the attack with this new album, their seventh (not counting their most recent release, the demos/live collection The Slay Stack Grows, reviewed here not long ago). You may recall us raving about several (all!) of their previous efforts, though in our review of Slay Stack, we did say that one was pretty much intended for fans only, not the place to start if you were new to the band. But, if you're someone who still hasn't checked out a proper Slough Feg album, well THIS one would certainly be recommended. And Slough Feg fans who loved their last studio record, Hardworlder, will find Ape Uprising! takes that sound and, well, goes a bit ape with it. Some have called this their heaviest album yet. We'd say, yes, maybe, due to certain doom elements and the thick, '70s sounding production with prominent bass. But it's also perhaps their poppiest! At a tight 37 and a half minutes it brilliantly synthesizes all the best of the band's '70s and '80s classic metal and hard rock influences (Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden, Thin Lizzy, etc. - nothing past, say, 1982) whilst also sounding like something only THIS eccentric band of nerd barbarians could or would ever record. Utter heavy metal zeal unleashed via massively heavy, awesome riffage, triumphant vocals, memorable melodies, and twin guitar shred EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME. Yes! For an example of said awesome riffage, look no further than the start of the 10-minute-plus title track. And for an example of the latter, try the dazzling midpoint of "Ape Outro". Or just drop the needle (well, laser for now) on this anyplace! All that plus intelligent, ironic lyrics that make mention of opposable thumbs.
It's not exactly a Planet Of The Apes concept album, but it's close... half of the eight songs here have to do with the apes vs. humans theme (as ridiculously depicted in the wonderfully comic book-y cover art, that kinda makes this look like a punk rock album). And those four songs make it pretty clear that Slough Feg are on the side of the apes. Charleton Heston would not approve. In the progtastic "Simian Manifesto", a song full of over the top Queen-like drama, sudden stoner rock groove, and even some jangly placid pop parts, Mike says it best with the immortal lines: "Never coming down from the trees / Never bending down on my knees!"
So, we've made it pretty plain we dig Slough Feg and always do our utmost to spread the word - we even had 'em play and slay our SXSW showcase this year. It used to be that Allan here considered himself to be probably the world's #1 Slough Feg fan, but now that honor might go to the guy in Idaho who got a portrait of Mike Scalzi tattooed on his leg! (Seriously, we've seen a photo.) Yep, these days the band has made enough of a name for themselves, that it's not just Aquarius going apeshit for 'em anymore, when we used to be the only place that cared. On the internet, you'll find quite a few reviews of Ape Uprising! already out there in advance of ours, almost all of 'em insanely positive ('cause when you like this band, you really like this band). Even All Music Guide, not exactly a bastion of heavy metal fandom, beat us to it, giving Ape Uprising! a four-and-a-half out of 5 star rating.
So, while quite obviously we're always excited when Mike and the gang have a new album out, we're also always a bit apprehensive about being able to do their weird genius justice in our reviews. So this time around, we asked AQ customer Glenn Simpson, a known Slough Feg fan, and also the guy who first turned us on to those '70s heavies Jerusalem that we later made Record Of The Week when it was reissued, to shoulder a bit of the burden and write some more for us about Slough Feg's new album. He was nice enough to give it a shot, so let's turn this over to him:
"I want to start by saying that I'm not sure what this review can really accomplish. If you're a fan of Slough Feg, you automatically want their new album, right? If you're not a fan, I don't know what to say to change your mind that Aquarius hasn't already said in reviews of previous albums. But here goes. Ape Uprising! is more of everything that makes Slough Feg one of the best metal bands on the planet. At once familiar and fresh, this new album carries on musical and lyrical motifs that are distinctly Feg-ian, while simultaneously developing its own clear identity. This trait runs throughout the band's discography. There is an unmistakable Slough Feg sound, yet a song from one album would seem out of place on any other album. One of this album's compositional quirks: in the past, Slough Feg records have usually included a few instrumentals. This one doesn't, but several of the songs basically turn into instrumentals halfway through. Scalzi gets the singing out of the way, and then he and fellow guitarist Don Angelo Tringali go to town on their Les Pauls. Maybe that's by way of indicating that the (non-verbal) apes have taken over? Though it happens in several of the non-apey songs as well.
Some early reviews of Ape Uprising have deemed it one of the band's heavier albums. With the acknowledgment that "heavy" means different things to different people, I would say instead, I was struck by overall how energetic and frenetic much of this is, displaying attitude which maybe makes sense given the concept implied by the album's title. About half of the tracks on Ape Uprising! share a sort of punk aggressiveness. You'll hear a little more chug in the guitars, a little more gruffness in the singing, and a little more thud in the drums than on the band's galloping and epic sci-fi opus Traveller�(2003), for instance. While I would not come anywhere near calling this Slough Feg's "punk" album, I would say they've scaled back the Thin Lizzy a wee bit and inserted some Stiff Little Fingers - or at least some Motorhead. But maybe that's just me. Also, a few parts of Ape Uprising! expand on the near boogie rock element that cropped up first on Atavism (2005) and then on Hardworlder (2007). This album's "Frankfurt-Hahn Airport Blues" is I guess the NWOBHMish hot rocking ripper "Shakedown At The Six", complete with brief drum solo breakdown. However, Slough Feg also haven't lost their Celtic folk touch, which you'll most prominently in the majestically stirring "White Cousin", with lovely acoustic guitars woven in. Really, its mishmash of influences from the 1970s makes Ape Uprising! sound somewhat timeless.
I'll say a little bit about my two favorite songs. (So far.) The biggest surprise on the new album is the first track. Where the previous three Slough Feg albums began with short fast instrumentals, Ape Uprising! throws fans for a loop by opening with a straight-up old-school doom track, a blown out, slowed down, heavier-than-thou dirge entitled, either cleverly or not, "The Hunchback of Notre Doom"! It turns out Slough Feg does doom that is both traditional AND original as well as they do 'true metal' that is both of those things. It also turns out that Mike Scalzi's rich, expressive vocals are surprisingly well suited to doom. Stunning. (This track alone could account for the heaviness ascribed to the entire album by some reviewers.) Slough Feg have dabbled in doom before, in parts (such as Traveller's "Vargr Moon") but never taken it to this extreme. It sounds like Saint Vitus, if Vitus were more influenced by Dio-era than Ozzy-era Black Sabbath [although, we are reliably informed that the other, equally bad pun the band thought up to call this song was "Ozzymodo"]. Doom freaks would probably be happy if the whole album sounded like this, but Mike Scalzi (who admittedly suffers from attention deficit disorder) sure wouldn't. Thus the rest of Ape Uprising! surges with a variety of Slough Feg songwriting stratagems. For example, my other favorite song is the final track, the surprisingly poppy but also totally rockin' "Nasty Hero", which sounds so authentically traditional metal that I was certain it was a cover and spent more than a few minutes trying to figure out what brilliant, obscure '70s metal band wrote and recorded it. To my amazement, it's a Slough Feg original. If a young Iron Maiden jammed with a veteran UFO in 1979, they could not do better than this!
I wish I didn't have to wait two years between Slough Feg albums."
Us too!
By the way, this IS gonna be coming out on vinyl, there's an slightly-delayed, limited edition European import of which we'll be getting a just a few, so let us know if you want the wax and we'll try to reserve a copy for you.
THIS GREAT ALBUM FINALLY RE-PRESSED AND BACK IN STOCK!!
The ever-reliable Sublime Frequencies label opens our ears to new frontiers of amazing sounds, AGAIN. "World music" isn't just what Putumayo puts out, y'know. Any adventurous music-fan should by now know to pick up each and every Sublime Frequencies release as they appear, you won't be disappointed. This latest cd presents some "Folk And Pop Sounds Of Syria" in the form of a "best-of" collection of tunes by one Omar Souleyman, selected (and explicated in the liner notes) by AQ pal Mark Gergis (of Porest, Neung Phak, Mono Pause). Mark was the compiler of previous Sublime Freq faves like Choubi Choubi, Molam: Thai Country Groove, and Cambodian Cassette Archives. Already we hope you're eager to hear this disc, which features a variety of traditional folk forms from Souleyman's homeland and nearby countries supercharged with synth, the rapid fire results sounding something like a Middle Eastern version of Aavikko, almost. It'll make you sweat just listening to it. This stuff simply shreds. And when it's more mellowed-out, Souleyman's music is gorgeous too.
Now, we don't usually like to quote label press-releases whole-hog, but Sublime Frequencies has provided a lot of factual info on Souleyman and his music that any potential purchaser will find of interest, and so rather than paraphrase, here's what they said about this, it should certainly pique your curiosity all the more (though we'll tell you right now without further ado, GET THIS):
"Omar Souleyman is a Syrian musical legend. Since 1994, he and his musicians have emerged as a staple of folk-pop throughout Syria, but until now they have remained little known outside of the country. To date, they have issued more than five-hundred studio and live-recorded cassette albums which are easily spotted in the shops of any Syrian city. Born in rural northeastern Syria, he began his musical career in 1994 with a small group of local collaborators that remain with him today. The myriad musical traditions of the region are evident in their music. Here, classical Arabic mawal-style vocalization gives way to high-octane Syrian dabke (the regional folkloric dance and party music), Iraqi choubi and a host of Arabic, Kurdish and Turkish styles, among others. This amalgamation is truly the sound of Syria. The music often has an overdriven sound consisting of phase-shifted Arabic keyboard solos and frantic rhythms. At breakneck speeds, these shrill Syrian electronics play out like forbidden Morse-code, but the moods swing from coarse and urgent to dirgy and contemplative in the rugged anthems that comprise Souleyman's repertoire. Oud, reeds, baglama saz, accompanying vocals and percussion fill out the sound from track to track. Mahmoud Harbi is a long-time collaborator and the man responsible for much of the poetry sung by Souleyman. Together, they commonly perform the "Ataba," a traditional form of folk poetry used in Dabke. On stage, Harbi chain smokes cigarettes while standing shoulder to shoulder with Souleyman, periodically leaning over to whisper the material into his ear. Acting as a conduit, Souleyman struts into the audience with urgency, vocalizing the prose in song before returning for the next verse. Souleyman's first hit in Syria was "Jani" (1996) which gained cassette-kiosk infamy and brought him recognition throughout the country. Sublime Frequencies is honored to present the Western debut of Omar Souleyman with this retrospective disc of studio and live recordings spanning 12 years of his career, culled from cassettes recorded between 1994 and 2006. This collection offers a rare glimpse into Syrian street-level folk-pop and Dabke - a phenomena seldom heard in the West, not previously deemed serious enough for export by the Syrians and rarely, if ever, included on the import agenda of worldwide academic musical committees."
Got it? Get it. Recommended!
War Sucks is a four song ep from Sonic Boom's Spectrum, reliving more of the heyday of the hallowed Spacemen 3 project many moons ago, whose occasionally awesome hypno-space-rock psychedelia was equal parts druggy and punky. The title track is a cover of a Red Krayola tune, penned back in the day about Vietnam, although the sentiment rings as true today. The lyrical content of the song is a bit of an anomaly for Sonic Boom, who had previously pretty much sung of drugs if he weren't rehashing some old blues number; but this doesn't detract from the fuzzed-out buzz that harkens to that occasionally awesome period of Spacemen 3 (e.g. Taking Drugs To Make Music To Take Drugs To and Playing With Fire) in which the Stooges and 13th Floor Elevators were the godheads of the Spacemen 3 pantheon. And rightly so. Spectrum marches on with a Neu! inspired motorik tune in "Razzle Dazzle Mind" before offering another cover, Laurie Anderson's "Walking & Falling." The final track "Over and Over" is one of those Spectrum / Spacemen 3 tracks that could go on for 25 minutes, and it probably should given the brevity of this ep. Even so, this is pretty darn good, in fact.
We went pretty crazy for Stielas Storhett's Vandrer... record, reviewed way back in 2007, unabashedly proclaiming it BLACK METAL RECORD OF THE YEAR. We recently revisited it, and fuck, it still destroys, so much so that it's hard to imagine it wouldn't be black metal of the record of the year no matter what year it came out and no matter what records it was up against. We've been hankering for more ever since. And finally, the Dark Lord has answered out prayers.
Two tracks, both unreleased, both completely amazing and like the full length before, pretty fucked up and freaky. The weirdness here though is more the strange almost major key melodies that swirl around the loping blackened dirge. The guitars are angular, buzzy, the drums pounding, the vocals more a sort of drawled howl, but here they're set amidst some strangely poppy and melodic guitar leads, the two parts mesh seamlessly. but still it's hard to wrap our ears around it. Like a Stielas Storhett pop jam, a Khold like groove, still black, but damn is it catchy and poppy. Later the track gets a little darker, and chuggier, but still the sound is strangely epic and majestic, and black hearts be damned, weirdly happy sounding. Which in itself is bizarre, but beyond that, it's a pretty stellar slab of melodic blackness.
The other Stielas track is more buzzy and frenetic, but still strangely major key, even some bad ass almost Iron Maiden sounding guitar harmonies. The track veers back and forth between more traditionally grim blasts, and as if SS mainman Damian T.G. is struggling sonically, a musical battle between good and evil, pop and metal, depression and misery, effusive positivity and happiness, who knows, maybe he got a girlfriend since last time we heard from SS. Either way, it's a strange development but, man do we like it. Been listening to these two tracks nonstop!
While two new tracks from Stielas Storhett is more than enough reason to pick this up, this three way split does actually feature two other Russian bands we had never heard before. Liholesie, whose sound is a sort of Pagan folk, percussive and dramatic and a bit Renn Faire sounding, but pretty intense and emotional nonetheless, and Mor, whose sound is a strange blend of melodic post rock, and abstract black metal, leaning more toward the former most of the time, we hear bits of Katatonia's epic doom pop. maybe a little Lifelover (although nowhere near as strange), heavy, super well produced, darkly dramatic, even at it's blastiest and buzziest, their sound is still rife with pop and gloom and a gloriously dark tension, although their final track manages to be pretty black metal indeed.
A truly weird comp, but a winner for sure, more Stielas Storhett obviously, and two more cool obscure Russian bands to quite possibly obsess over....
What more can we say about Tasmanian black metal one man band Striborg that we haven't already? This is the 15th or 16th record we've reviewed by the mysterious and prolific Sin-Nanna, whose tortured doomic black buzz has remained relatively unchanged for the last 12 years. But hell why fix what ain't broke right? And nothing's broke here, or maybe EVERYTHING is broke, but that's precisely why we're still so smitten with Striborg's creepy underproduced outsider black metal. Guitars that seem to buzz, without ever actually coalescing into riffs, more often a sheet of white noise, a wall of hiss, the sound of a rainstorm or a thousand showers, the near constant buzz is one of the hallmarks of Striborg's sound, and it's what turns stumbling depressive black metal into tranced out almost blissy black dronemusic. Then there's the entropic, seemingly abstract drumming, the rhythms simply skeletal frameworks around which to erect huge undulating clouds of buzz, Sin-Nanna's beastly croak, adding a certain bit of pathos to the slow motion monochromatic crawl that is most Striborg.
This stuff is most definitely an acquired taste, but once it's acquired, it takes over, you find yourself needing more, wanting more, and wanting it to be more raw, more feral, more lo-fi, and Striborg is more than happy to oblige. Every record another fragmented yet strangely beautiful black missive, that in its own way does seem to evoke the rainforest he calls home, the sound is expansive and thick, humid even, the all encompassing buzz the sonic equivalent of unceasing rainfall, the sad organs and mournful synths like thick black clouds blotting out the sky, the tangled branches of the forest an abstract skeleton huddling beneath the whirling winds, but with every record, Sin-Nanna is still capable of surprising us, of taking his sound someplace new, but equally perplexing and fascinating. Here, it's "When The Moon And The Earth Collide Into The Sun", a caustic burst of corrosive blacknoise, blown out and abrasive, which is quickly followed by one of the prettiest and most mysterious Striborg tracks ever, the 10+ minute title track, whose background is a warm hissy bed of lo-fi buss and sizzling cymbals, the guitars mere hints of melodies, the drums, loping clumsily but dramatically though the hazy soundfield, the vocals metallic, as if sung from the bottom of a well, the music weirdly warm and melodic, sans vocals, it's almost like some insanely lo-fi slab of pop ambient short wave interference, or perhaps like listening to some moody doom pop, but with the radio station between stations. Strange, but truly wonderful, as only Striborg can be.
As we mentioned before, you either already love Striborg, in which case odds are you're probably a bit obsessed and will most definitely want this, or you can't stand it, and this will in no way change your mind, or this is your very first exposure to Striborg's mad musical genius, in which case, you might just have found lo-fi outsider black buzz nirvana. We're sort of jealous too, we can remember how exciting it is to discover something this fucked up, this gloriously idiosyncratic, this gorgeously damaged for the first time. You just might have to overhaul completely your understanding of black metal. Of metal. Of music. It's magical. And mysterious. And utterly confounding. Enjoy!
Housed in a DVD case, printed covers inside and out, with a nice oversized, full color insert filled with photos and drawings of the Tasmanian rainforest.
A split release between bad ass French microlabel Basses Frequencies, and Szczepanik's own Sentient Recognition Archive label, The Chiasmus is Szczepanik's latest collection of dronology, and the first proper cd we've had (quite possible his first proper cd release entirely). We've long been fans, being the dronelords and ladies we are around these parts, and past Szczepanik joints have demonstrated a mastery of the drone, creating surprisingly lush and lustrous expanses of low end minimalism. On The Chiasmus, Szczepanik continues to move ever deeper, ever darker, five long tracks, each a different variation of drone, drifting from minimal black shift, to near Pop Ambient bliss.
Record opener is cavernous, epic, Teutonic and slow shifting, peppered at the beginning with bits of glitch and hiss, the song soon settles into an uneasy sprawl, ominous and dangerously grim, but still somehow warm and expansive and enveloping. The second track shifts gears completely, unfurling a gauzy bit of chordal shimmer, all warm and sun dappled and delicate and gauzy, gentle tranquil melodies played out over minutes instead of seconds, a little Eno for sure, as the song drifts and flutters and hovers dreamily in midair. The final three tracks hover somewhere in between, deep moaning post industrial whirs laid over dense metallic buzz, the two layers slowly seeping into one another like some blackened sonic spill, deep bell like tones ring out, their tones frozen in time and stretched out into softly undulating sheets of sound, slightly reflective and iridescent and kaleidoscopic, glimmering and glistening underneath some alien black sun, and finally, a loooooooong stretch of grinding muted buzz, spreading out in slow motion, it's black shimmer infused with streaks of melody, as if some strange black seas was slowly growing warmer and coming to life before our ears.
Fantastic, gorgeous stuff. Essential listening for the drone obsessed...
Get to second base with these ladies if you dare, you might find yourself an appendage short!
After a killer split with UK based Leopard Leg, Second Base marks the full length debut of these local San Francisco spitfires. Huge mean walls of cavey no-wave pummel and monolithic molten guitar swells steep these doom-laden garage rock stompers in layers of simmering and pulsating sonics. While the vocals sung in group chant style highlight the buried melodies deep within. It's a bit easy to describe the vocals and overall sound of an all-girl experimental band, especially one that dwells toward the extreme side of the sonic spectrum, as "witchy", but there's no real other way to describe the vocals here. Although they're not shrieked or sung in a detuned arty sort of way, the flat but clear group-intoned vocal delivery heightens the spell-binding doomy power of the songs, reminding us of the modern-day women in George Romero's Season of the Witch, rather than the nature-worshiping fairytale kind.
We're still not sure what T.I.T.S. stands for. Their MySpace page suggests Technicolor Inner Troll Syndrome(?!). We've got a better one: This Is The Shit!!!!
Some folks try really hard to create pretty sounds, but there are those special folks who just naturally have some preternatural ability to create majestic beauty without it ever sounding forced or contrived. The Swedish trio Tape are shining examples of just such a group, able to make lush and textured sounds that are as engaging as they are pleasing. After a couple recent reissues of older Tape recordings, we were really excited to find what their new record would sound like. And with the opener "Beams" we were greeted with what might be a contender for our favorite song of the year! A song that invites you in with warm swirling analog synths and takes you on such a dreamy ride that it feels like being on a tranquil slide up in the clouds as it takes delicious soft turns and dips through the sky. Luckily the rest of the record follows and flows with equal beauty and such a delicate touch. Tape really put to shame just about everyone else who try their hand at dreamy instrumental post-rock. Their songs aren't as simple as just being moody or melancholic instead they truly create their own world, one that glows with a cascading and illuminating vision. Highly recommended!
We're pretty picky when it comes to garage rock/punk, it's really got to be raw, impassioned and at least a little fucked to truly catch our full attention. Traditional Fools blast out the kind of reckless garage rock jams we can totally get behind. Should be no surprise as one of the members of the band is Ty Segall whose solo debut last year was one of our favorite records of the year! Traditional Fools are a bit more on the traditional side of punk/garage rock, but still way blown out, lo-fi and way fun. They cover Red Kross and Billy Childish which gives you a pretty good idea where they're coming from, and this full length really is full of drunken garage rock delights that could have been at home on Crypt or Rip-Off Records back in the hey day of classic garage. Fun and irreverent and totally raw and rocked out.
A co-release by two great San Francisco labels Make A Mess (home to Nodzz, Brilliant Colors) and Wizard Mountain who put out Ty Segall's first cassette. Comes on nice white vinyl and for so cheap. It's a no brainer!
Here's a surprise from the Siltbreeze camp. Not that Siltbreeze hasn't dabbled in pop in the past, but it's been a while since they've released something this catchy. Lo-fi, but not like the current crop of shit gazers, punk rock, but not like PUNK, and pop, but not sugary sweet, Tyvek are twisted, slightly damaged, off kilter, fractured punk pop. Or something like that. The label name drops Mekons, Urinals, Feelies, Velvet Underground, and yeah, those bands are obviously influences, we also hear some Strapping Fieldhands (also once on Siltbreeze) as well as various New Zealand combos. For all it's fucked up weirdness, and willful stumble, these are some incredibly catchy songs, simple spare drumming, guitars that clang and chime and crunch, and vocals that strain to hit the high notes, sounding earnest and emotional, and fuck, hooks galore, some of these songs will stick in your head like CRAZY.
And even though it's not quite the same sort of thing, all of you into Blank Dogs, Psychedelic Horseshit, Times New Viking, The Intelligence, Gary War and all that garage-y shit-fi might just dig this too...
This time out the mighty Eccentric Soul series focuses on the dingy and delightful venue Smart's Palace, located in Witchita, Kansas which during the years of 1963-1975 was ground zero for all the best sweaty, sensual and romping soul being played around that town. While the club did get a few big names in their time, both James Brown and Aretha Franklin once played there, its bread and butter were the nationally unknown but completely talented soul artists located in the tragically underrated scene going on down in Kansas.
The man behind Smart's Palace was Dick Smart who not only ran the club but also played music himself, promoted most of the shows AND ran his own label. In true DIY fashion he helped cultivate one of the richest soul scenes around, totally overflowing with true but untapped talent. This has got to be the sexiest, sweatiest, most romantic, sultry and sexual set of songs that has come out of the Eccentric Soul series yet. So many amazing voices on here, some as smooth as butter, others as commanding as a drill sergeant of love. Fans of folks like Eddie Kendricks, Al Green, and Curtis Mayfield will find so much to dig as as the new to us artists here like Baby Neal, Fred Williams and Kenneth Car offer up songs that we could listen to over and over and still get down and dirty with their raw yet flawless true soul grooves.
Soon after heaping tons of praise on the mighty Enter The Dragon Soundtrack, we're thrilled to also see this killer compilation of unreleased De Wolfe library tracks drawn from the legendary Shaw Brothers martial arts films circa 1976-1984. If you've seen a Hong Kong Ku Fu flick of that vintage, chances are good you've seen a Shaw Bros. movie. Influencing everyone from The Wu-Tang Clan to Quentin Tarantino, these low-budget "bashers" with insanely impossible story lines have fed the fertile imaginations of midnight movie geeks for years. These 43 movie cues hand-picked by Gareth "Cherrystones" Goddard, Joel Martin and Jon Jigoku, display quite a sweeping emotional range of sounds: moody spy themes, old west-style standoffs, funky Moog passages, ritual drums, suspicious flutes and percussion, tense orchestrations, haunting siren song. The best part is the names the De Wolfe library gave the cues: "Electro Beat 5", "Nerve Stretch 2", "Tension Trip", "Moonbird", "Bitter Lemons", "Dogarnit". For the library music fan or martial arts geek in your life!
The first volume of Milky Disco came out a couple years ago, right when disco was really getting discovered by a whole new generation of electronic music makers, using cosmic disco as the launching point for their soaring, silky slow burning sound odysseys. That record proved be a serious grower as we still listen to it a LOT, and the sequencing from start to finish really makes for a great coherent late night album.
Round two finds Milky Disco upping the ante even more, with a really impressive collection of sound makers, both folks we already dig a lot and new names that we'll for sure be on the lookout for in the future. Hatchback (one half of Windsurf) start things off so nicely with a rolling jam that would be right at home on the new Lindstrom & Prins Thomas record. Soft Circle show off their new focus on dance floor delights, Glass Candy sound as cold and sultry as ever, Nite Jewel have a track from their Italians Do It Better 12" that we could listen to on repeat for ever, Expanded Head Band make their recorded debut (it's a new project featuring Alexis from Arp and The Alps) and it's so good! Other stand out tracks come from CFCF, Black Devil Disco Club and Secret Circuit. But what makes the Milky Disco comps so pleasing is how they really do flow as a proper record, one you would actually want to listen to from start to finish. And there isn't just one reference point for all these tracks, we hear the influence of not only early disco's cosmic voyages but also early '90s house, ambient techno, and a healthy dose of prog(!). Long drives, blurry late nights, foggy morning afters, slightly buzzed and cloudy dance floor moments... this is your perfect soundtrack!
Pretty soon it won't be so skweeeasy to come up with good skweee-puns... As you may know, we definitely do have a sweet tooth (or, rather, ear) for skweee and thus are super stoked about this new compilation, which is totally in the tradition of the Museum Of Future Sound Vol. 1 and 2 comps we freaked out about last year and the year before... in fact, this may as well be Museum Of Future Sound Volume 3 (Volume Skweee?), 'cause the same Skweeedish, we mean Swedish label that brought us those, Flogsta Danshall, teamed up with the UK's Ramp Recordings to release this new collection, featuring tracks selected by Flogsta boss and skweee artist Pavan.
The vitality and variety of the cheeky skweee scene is certainly on display here. Some tracks are more dancey, some more minimal, some more chaotic. But it's all within the skweee realm of (mostly) instrumental, wacked out, synth damaged, chiptune-y, sometimes silly, glitchy grooves inspired by '80s electro, hiphop and video games. There's 13 cuts of that special Scandinavian DIY retrofuturefunk here, quite a few by names we already knew (Mesak, Liminous, Daniel Savio, Rigas Den Andre, Joraxen, Spartan Lover, Wankers United, Mrs. Queda) plus a few others we didn't (Beatbully, V.C., Easy & Center Of The Universe, Melkevlen, Slow Hand Motem). These skweee-boys bring it. Squelchy sizzly synths, 8-bit action, plenty of distortion, and fractured funk beats. It's the playfulness and fuckedupedness of skweee that made us love it so (plus that fact that the shit's so darn catchy), and you get plenty of all that on Skweee Tooth.
The compilation gets off to a surefire start with Easy & Center Of The Universe's cleverly titled "Legend Of Selda". Geddit, computer game geeks? That's right, the track takes the melody from a song we know we've heard before by '70s Turkish folkpsych singer Selda, one of the AQ crew's faves, and turns into skweee! ALL the tracks here are cool, though, ranging from the shuffle of "Frisco Bum" by Liminous, to the very video-gamey "Liikutuksla" by Mrs.Queda, to "Distordelle", a thick, woozy one from Rigas Den Andre. One of the more manic, glitched out grooves is "Sex With A Woman" by Spartan Lover, with Joraxen's frantic "Fel I Facit" running a close second. Much moodier (skweee can be that too, actually) and more abstract is "Melkevlen" by Melkevlen Ft. Sagtann. And then at the very end of the disc, the crackly "Idea" by Slow Hand Motem surprises by including some mellow male vocals, alongside a synth lick that echoes the Middle Eastern psych element of Skweee Tooth's opening track. Heck we could go on about 'em all. There's never a dull moment, it's always wonderfully off-kilter, definitely fun stuff.
In a world where electronic music can sometimes take itself too seriously, all academic and IDM and Ars Electronica and everything, the unpretentious pun-loving skweee is a breath of fresh air, just what was skweeeded. More, please!
(And we promise, no puns next time, we couldn't possibly think of too many others anyway....ok one more: if one of these artists came over and did a tour of the States, we could say they were cross-country skweeeing!).
It's back to the Electric Asylum for more of their specialized shock (and schlock?) treatment! A follow up to the excellent first volume, compiling more "bubblegum Black Sabbath" (our term) songs, a lot of 'em one-off singles, examples of obscure psychedelic-pop-prog from England, circa 1969-1974. We knew this one would be good just from the tracklist. Not that we'd heard of most of the bands, they just had cool names, evocative of the sort of eccentric, druggy, creepy-kitsch we loved about volume one: Wolfrilla! Humbug! Iron Cross! Lost Dog! Cats Eyes! Buster Jangles Flying Mattress! (Ok, so maybe that last one's not cool, but it's funny.) The bands we HAD heard of include Steamhammer, whose recently reissued album Speech is an AQ fave. And there's not one, but another two cuts by the female-fronted (Janis-ish) J.C. Heavy who appeared on the first Electric Asylum. Choc's here again too. Furthermore this includes the excellent Wishbone Ash-alike "Falling" by Iron Maiden - not THE Iron Maiden, but an earlier band of the same name, who also appeared with this same track on the proto-metal comp Downer Rock Genocide we listed last year.
There's 20 tracks here, lots of fuzzed out "freakrock" to pick favorites from. Humbug's track "Ebeneezer" (natch) is a good heavy groover. J.C. Heavy's "Mr. Deal" is all about their "pusher man". Steamhammer's "Windmill" is super flute-y, with a bit of a Doors vibe too. Gentry's "Attempted Contact" is a fine one for freaky swirling organ and occult seance themes. We could go on... but you'll find your own wilted flower power faves amongst the many charming efforts of hippie-glam "heaviness" committed to this asylum, bands who thought themselves possible alternate universe versions of the likes of Cream, Iron Butterfly, The Who, Steppenwolf, and/or the aforementioned Black Sabbath...
The illustrated cd booklet includes, extensive notes on each band/track, except for the most mysterious ones, often explaining the whys and wherefores of how each group of hopefuls never quite "made it" in the end, though some individuals from among these promising and/or peculiar acts went on to success in other outfits.
Yay! It's been awhile since we've had a new Finder's Keepers release, and this one is amazing!
By now we're all too familiar with the Eastern cinematic pop splendor and sitar funk of Bollywood. But what about Lollywood? Yes, just to the north in Pakistan, the city of Lahore had their own cottage film industry. Perhaps not as well known outside Pakistan, Lollywood was highly profitable in the seventies and eighties, housing a unique music division with its own equivalent of Bollywood's R.D. Burman and Asha Bhole in M. Ashraf and his female collaborator, Nahid Akhtar. With the help of EMI, Pakistani musicians were able to create ambitious music in a world class studio, using far-out instrumentation like Moogs and other synthesizers, accordions, surf-guitars, and tons of traditional hand percussion instruments instead of a proper drum set. It's definitely a far more electric and electronic pop sound , than what we're used to hearing in classic Bollywood music. Having an almost retro-futurist bent in its explosive collision of Eastern and Western musical touchstones: Freak-Beat and Surf Rock meets Space-Age Moog Pop and Urdu Groove! Originally released on 7" mini-lps (a curious marketing scheme was to release one soundtrack on 3 separate 7"s!), this is the first time these wild and delightful cinematic obscurities have been collected. Let's hope more get discovered. This IS the Sound of Wonder!
We've been meaning to list this one for a while now, not sure if it had to do with the glut of purposefully lo-fi garage rock that's making the rounds these days, but it just sort of slipped under the radar. Too bad for us, because once we got around to actually listening to Constant Hitmaker, it became quite clear that not only is Kurt Vile NOT about half-assed garage rock, but he is in fact a very skilled and sincere songwriter whose talents will hopefully outlive the frenzied hype surrounding the genre he seems to have been lumped into.
Perhaps the best thing about this album is how effortless but totally genuine it all feels. Sure, "lo-fi" is an appropriate descriptor for the music within, but this should not be equated with "sounds like shit". On the contrary, Kurt has taken his decidedly non-professional recording situation and produced a set of songs that are lush, shimmering, and densely layered. At the heart of it all is a classy style of songwriting that appears, to us anyway, to have more to do with rootsy mid-'80s bands like the Embarrassment or even the Replacements, than it does with the Nuggets boxset or snotty '70s punk. With a primitive drum machine providing most of the rhythm, these songs come across as delightfully off kilter and less straightforward than they really are (this is not meant as a slight, by the way), and will probably be one of the reasons Kurt's records will not be filed in the Americana bin. There is also plenty of murky ambience and spaced out synths to add a slightly exotic touch, but never at the expense of the songs themselves. An air of experimentation permeates Constant Hitmaker, but only out of a love for pure sound, not as some stale academic bullshit. Kurt's vocals are delivered in a cool, slow drawl with a Dylan-esque cadence, and he's also a pretty damn fine guitarist, as evidenced on "Slow Talkers". Elsewhere on the record, slightly pastoral acoustic guitars and layered vocals create a nice ethereal mood, while other songs follow a more bouncing groove. The lyrics are cool and often quite endearing, like on "Classic Rock In Spring", where Kurt talks about ditching class to listen to Bob Seger and take acid. How can you argue with that? And if everything else on the album has not convinced you of this guy's natural talent, then the beautiful acoustic reprise of "Freeway" certainly should do the trick. Even the skeptics had to admit that it's pretty fucking great, perfectly exhibiting Kurt's natural melodic sense and the excellent transitions within his songs. It just can't be denied, this guy is good.
After a whole mess of crazy limited cd-r releases, this is only the 2nd proper, actual cd release from these East Coast blown out garage psych space rockers. Avid readers of the list will no doubt by now, be hip to these guys, their wall of guitar, Hawkwind meets the Stooges meets Monster Magnet meets the Heads is tough to beat, every song drenched in wild outer space FX, the drums pounding beneath an avalanche of psychedelic guitar, the vocals, shadows flitting across the molten surface of these tracks, barely audible just another layer of dense fuzz.
So how does this record stack up to the rest? We mentioned that the last release, the tour only Abstractions And Mutations, was the band's fiercest yet, but Heads On Fire might have us reassessing. Cuz this has to be exactly what it would sound like if your head was indeed on fire.
The opener is a heavy as fuck space rock romp, right out of the gate, a wall of buzzing wah wah guitar is loosed, and all you can do is hang on for the ride, it's like Spacemen 3 on speed, that same sort of billowy tripped out warm guitar buzz, but souped WAY up, supercharged, a blinding supernova of freaked out garage rock psychedelia. But the track right after that is way riffier, a serious Stooges-y stomp, plenty of guitar crunch and psychedelic squalls, but the vocals are more present, a sort of Wyndorf style lord mother fucker drawl, wrapped in reverb and draped over the jagged riffing and pounding drums.
Then there's "Don't Be Afraid", which begins with whipping wind and distant foghorns, ominous and mysterious, a phone being dialed, ringing and ringing, the band gradually coming in, a slow lope, simple tribal drums, a laid back guitar line, soft fuzzy swells of sound in the background, a lugubrious slow build, the vocals howled and spacey, reverbed and dripping with delay, the guitar getting gradually more and more jagged and distorted, until everything drops out, just wind, and muted electronics, muffled FX, the bass line creeping along steadily, bits of melody drifting by, the vocals come back in and BAM the band takes off, the guitar spitting flames, the drums falling down a mineshaft, a huge tangle of psychedelic space rock chaos, and then nothing, a weird, barely there, 5 minute outro, bits of guitar, creaking and buzzing, more wind, and finally silence.
And in case that last 30 minutes, and those last 5 in particular, had you forgetting just where you were, the band shuts things down with 4+ minutes of furious fuzz and pummeling pound, thick and corrosive, and so distorted the riffs seem to melt into each other, the vocals sung from the bottom of a well, a bit of start stop dynamics, replete with creepy giggling children, and then the perfect send off, a sky full of psychedelic fireworks, multicolored streaks of white hot guitar, a blinding ear full of sonic pyrotechnics like staring straight into the sun.
Brand new slab of extreme ultra low end slow motion doom-ed brutality from this NY outfit, whose last few records have left us beaten and bloodied and jonesing for more.
These guys have been around for a while apparently, but we only discovered their beautifully caustic downtuned din last year, with two records, their s/t debut (re-listed elsewhere on this week's update) and their second record Flydust. Both pushed all the right buttons, SUNNO))), Skullflower, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, Khanate, Bunkur, Moss, just unbelievable heavy and sludgy, blackened and glacial, dripping and oozing with atmosphere, textures and drones, not just run of the mill sludge, or boring, lean-the-guitar-against-the-amp guitardrones, no, this was a band, rocking out full force, albeit insanely slow, and crushingly intense. So here comes record number three, another super limited lp only release, two sidelong tracks, and hell, if it doesn't leave the other two in the dust.
We're listening to it at 33, which sounds perfect, but it sounds pretty bad ass at 45 too, and still slow and sludgey, EVEN at 45, but slower is better, and this is slow and thick and viscous and so so so heavy. All built on a super stripped down bass riff, the bass super distorted and crumbling, unfurling an impossibly slow doom-ic anti-groove, over and over and over, cyclical and hypnotic and trance like, ultra minimal, but in no way boring or simple, just mesmerizing, while all around that riff, the rest of the band fills up whatever empty space is left with, massive sheets of buzz and whir, distorted effects everywhere, layers upon layers, drones and textures, feedback and incidental melodies, all being dragged along in the wake of that main bass riff behemoth. Not sure how they do it, but the sound, beyond heavy, and drone-y, is super musical, and while not quite melodic, there is some melody buried under all that murk and grime, it's like super blown out space rock, slowed down to 3 or 4 rpm, still retaining some of it's blissed out spaciness, but setting it amidst a roiling sea of black sonic tar and creeping, lurching, lumbering heaviness.
The flipside, another side long black drone sludge doom epic, seems to have been birthed out of the same grim black sound hole that produced the first side, the same lugubrious creep, the same grim blackened atmosphere, but here that riff has been pulled apart, whatever black beasts lurk in the shadows has torn it to pieces, leaving just shards and fragments, a swirling churning chaos of dense processed low end, crumbling distortion, deep fractured drones, more atmospheric and ambient than the first side, but just as harsh and hellish and heavy. Imagine building a massive roaring fire, then taking a load of guitars and amps, all plugged in, cranked, and howling and moaning and feeding back, and tossing them into the fire, letting them twist and ooze and smoke, recording the sound of the guitars and amps dying, melting, slowly fusing into one charred blackened heap of blistered and blown out buzz. It's kind of like that.
Awesome packaging too, thick clear plastic sleeves, silkscreened in white, over a red slab of vinyl with no labels, and a printed single panel insert, with three tiny Dore woodcut cards bearing the band's initials. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!
So Windy and Carl just rolled through our neck of the woods (we had the pleasure of sponsoring their show here in SF!!) and aside from unleashing an absolutely gorgeous set of dreamy pop-ambience, they dropped off a few hand painted, special edition tour lps for our lucky aQ W&C worshipers. This cool little lp comes complete with unreleased instrumental versions of songs from their latest Kranky full length, Songs For the Broken Hearted. There's even one track we've never heard or seen before called "I Won't", that could be one of our favorite instrumental tracks from this Michigan husband and wife dream duo.
These tracks are so spacious and beautiful in the usual Windy and Carl way, it's easy to tell they've been perfecting their dreamy sound long before the drone was even in style. Daydream inducing and wondrous, the album immediately provides a distant, cloudy headspace to get lost in. Housed in hand-painted, hand-stenciled, hand-numbered recycled LP sleeves, each with it's own unique design and look, these will be gone super super quick, so act fast if you want one. Limited to an edition of 500 on translucent green vinyl, so nice and so essential!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The first sighting on anything Wooden Shjips related is usually all it takes to induce mass hysteria around these parts. Apparently, you, our loyal customers, feel the same, because man, we have sold a fuckload of Shjips records. We just can't get enough, and these guys deliver without fail every time. And now, right after their amazing Dos record, comes yet another offering, a two song 12" single featuring a Serge Gainsbourg composition, originally written for and performed by Brigitte Bardot, and a new version of "I Hear The Vibrations", which first appeared on the group's insanely limited Vampire Blues tour 7".
It's doubtful that anyone expected Wooden Shjips to go all French pop on us here. They don't. Instead, "Contact" sounds like the Wooden Shjips we all know and love, with warm bass grooves holding the foundation over a cool, midtempo drum beat with a nice tambourine accent. Bursts of filtered fuzz and wah guitar bubble and whoosh about as the organ pulses rhythmically, and the vocals, sung in French, add the perfect amount of mystery to this hazy rocker.
As awesome as "Contact" is, it's the flipside that really has everyone here going crazy. Why? Because "I Hear The Vibrations" is simply one of the coolest Wooden Ships songs to date, that's why. The song somehow manages to be both mellow and cosmically heavy, not in a typical "heavy" way, just... huge. It's a lumbering behemoth of hazed out stoner majesty that would go on forever if we had our way. To anyone - "anyone" being pretty much the majority of the human race - who hasn't heard this one yet, you'll just have to trust us. It's fucking essential. The few of you who actually got a hold of the 7" will also find a reason to snap up this son-a-bitch, because the version presented here (the "E-Z Version" according to the credits) is definitely the way to go. To quote the Mexican Summer website, it is " slower, grander, heavier, and dreamier, and takes full advantage of the 12" format for better fidelity and a truly blissful listening experience." Yep, pretty much. It's everything that was great about the song to begin with, but MORE of it in every conceivable way. Sooooooooooo so awesome.
But, like most things of this nature, and like everything on Mexican Summer, this is super limited, with only a scant 550 copies to be distributed throughout the globe (though we're told there will be second, equally limited pressing done soon). It also comes with a download card, but really, the best way to listen to this is stoned in your room with the lights on low and the stereo cranked all the way, not on your iPod on a crowded bus. The record itself, pressed on asskicking white vinyl, comes housed in a cool disco sleeve that was printed on a variety of colors. We just hope everybody likes green.
Once again, we can't recommend this band highly enough. When you listen, you'll realize that Wooden Shjips have done all the thinking for you and given you exactly what you wanted. Did we mention this was limited? Ready. Set. GO!!!!
It doesn't really get any more METAL than this. Wormsblood. Killer name. Wicked illegible logo, the band name written out in the black roots of some hellish plant. Over a black and white photocopied canyonscape. Epic and windswept, snow covered and GRIM. The man behind Wormsblood is Wyrdskull, and to the black cause he contributes "common ritual tools, heavy-handed electro-overblood, vibrations of the unsilent dark tomes and the crossing of song and siege." Guests include Crimson Maaritkitaka who delivers "cryptwyrm bloodlet and akashic magnet", Vragknacht The Two-Handed, who offers up "battle-ready bloodsong", then the song titles: "Thundercall", "The First Dim Shinings (Of Those About To Awaken", "Ritual Of Bone And Horn", "Tolling Beyond Our Lunar Trance", plus they do a Manilla Road cover, "Street Jammer" and they even offer up a hearty "Hails to the fucking Mad Street Hammers".
But for all the pure troo metal action, the sound is anything but, which is most likely due to the fact that Wormsblood is very likely made up of folks from the free noise / freak folk scene, who in Wormsblood finally get the opportunity to indulge in their darker musical side, to touch that blackened part of their music soul, to unleash all those pent up demonic forces, and the result is a dizzying confusional blast of chaotic, lo-fi, muddled and muddy, freaked out and blown out, damaged what-the-fuck blackened METAL.
The closest comparison we could come up with is probably a black metal Faxed Head, which is pretty much all we'd need to hear. The vibe is definitely similar, the riffs a garbled buzzing mess, thick swaths of weird keyboard, the drums splattery and stumbling and blasting, the tape hiss, and random instrument buzz as much a part of the sound as the bands damaged black roar, then there are the vocals, hysterical shrieks, rumbling grunting moans, haunted howling, the tracks often crumbling into utter disarray, or coalescing into epic doomy pound, everything drenched in malfunctioning electronics and fried FX.
An absolutely dementedly genius fucked up black metal noiserock melt down. Packaged in a super strange fold over plastic sleeve, with multiple printed inserts, and most likely crazy limited...
We almost sold out of these after only a few days, without even reviewing / listing it, but then it IS a new Xasthur record, and it IS a super limited (500 copies) cassette version, and cassette means cult, in a cool oversized clamshell case, with original artwork by Hildolf from Draugar, and inside, it also contains a photocopied booklet, 3 pins and a patch! So yeah, no real surprise that those flew out of here. We did manage to get a handful more of these, but seeing as how these have been selling pretty much nonstop, who knows how long they'll last.
Beyond all that stuff, we're pretty psyched for sure. Finally, a new record from Xasthur, aka Malefic, a one man doom-ed depressive black metal machine, whose last release, Defective Epitaph was a huge hit around these parts, due in no small part to the shift from drum machine to actual drums, no programmed beats, actual kit bashing rhythms courtesy of Malefic himself, and the result was pretty stellar, creating a sound even more raw and murky and lo-fi than past efforts, but no less bleak or introspective or amazing. So now comes All Reflections Drained, soon to come on double lp, and we would assume cd, but for now available only in the very old school, very metal, and very kult kassette format. And it's very much a continuation of Defective Epitaph, from moment one, the sound boomy and reverb drenched, echoey and WAY lo-fi, loping doomy guitars, stumbling midtempo drums, and then WOAH, the sound shifts, and the drums double time it under a layer of thick low end dramatic piano, creating some strange Skepticismy drift, over the relentlessly buzzing blackness below. The mix is REALLY weird, fractured and gloriously fucked up, the sounds shifting and merging into one another, the songs too, woozy and warped and seasick sounding and a bit waltzy, the drum sound super raw and distant and for the most part buried in the mix, minus some flurries of kick drum that practically explode. The guitars are washed out and melancholic, lumbering doomily through hazy clouds of muted buzz and soft focus hiss, lots of creeped out ambience, and dark soundscaping, way less of a focus on vocals, in fact several songs in, and we barely noticed any, minus some far off clean crooning and some rumbled mutterings, the usual blackened harsh rasps seemingly lost in the swirling off kilter mix.
If anything this record is a logical extension of the direction Malefic had been taking the sound of Xasthur, like a Defective Epitaph part two maybe, but somehow quite a bit doomier, and WAY weirder, more spaced out and experimental, with a serious focus on dark brooding non-metal parts, hints of slowcore and drone abound, some parts are downright orchestral, and the sound is definitely even murkier and mysterious than ever, dripping with buzz and tape hiss, blown out low end (that sounds like a tuba or something similar) and thick crumbling distortion, but fear not troo grim hordes, it's still plenty depressive and dolorous, minor key and epic, miserable and moody, gorgeously buzzy and bafflingly brilliant.
Again, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!! And these will probably disappear FAST... To be sure, there will be a vinyl and perhaps cd version coming out eventually, but they won't be as kvlt as this! ----* ----* Selected New Arrivals : ----*
Like an eclipse, or that comet that only passes by the Earth every eon or so, the long awaited arrival of the latest issue of the the kick ass music and arts magazine Yeti. Number seven for those keeping track. And as always, it's massive, packed with all sorts of good stuff, and it comes with a cd filled with rare and exclusive tracks from all sorts of bad ass bands.
In the magazine this time around there's new artwork from Mingering Mike (get his book, he designed his own record covers and sleeves for his imaginary bands, it's pretty fantastic), Grouper interviews Ilyas Ahmed, an interview with artist Jim Woodring, a rare manuscript from Abner Jay, an interview with author Lynne Tillman, noise poppers The Nodzzz, an interview with writer Rudy Wurlitzer, a selection of book covers from the '60s and '70s by Joe Brainard, a feature on artist/teacher/activist Nancy Dupree, awesme comics by developmentally disabled adults in the Full Life program in Portland Oregon, a feature on Jack Rose and The Black Twig Pickers, drawings by artist Bradley Earl (who also plays in Woods!), a conversation with Ripley from SF's own Wooden Shjips and loads of illustrations, photos, artwork, some fiction, and as always all the ads are crammed together in the back.
And as if that weren't twelve bucks worth already, there's that accompanying cd, with rare and exclusive tracks from Abner Jay, Dum Dum Girls, The Dutchess And The Duke, Eternal Tapestry, Crystal Stilts, Grouper, Woods, Fresh & Onlys, WOODEN SHJIPS and more!! ----* ----* Selected New Arrivals : ----*
Back print on vinyl!! Now all heavy duty 180 gram. Here's what we had to say the first time around..
Yo La Tengo put a lot of lovin' into each of their albums and over the years have moved further and further away from the raw electric guitar feedback outbursts of their early songs in favor of warm, pretty organ drone lines -- leaning towards a more overall mellow grooviness. But they've done so without sacrificing any of their ultra catchy pop hooks, and for that we are ever so happy and grateful!
