It can get a bit frustrating when bands play the "don't categorize us" game, especially when they very easily fall under well defined reference points on the sonic spectrum, but Mourning Dawn go at it with a bit more sincerity, aiming simply, in the words of their label, "to play their music and to play it in the most depressive way". Fortunately, these blackened Parisian doomsters pass this self-imposed challenge with flying colors, churning out 8 weighty songs at a mostly midtempo lurch with a heavy dose of glacial atmosphere. The album title, not to mention songs like "In Flanders Fields" and "Dead Youth", and the booklet featuring variations of a the same image of a war torn no man's land, help set the, um, depressive nature of the album that seems to have some sort of WWI theme. Of course, that's great for all us history majors (speaking), but the band certainly has the goods to deliver on such bleak themes, with super slow, ultra melancholy melodies, tortured vocals, and weird crystalline guitars that make their way into the chaotic, overloaded doomscapes. Moments of post-rock grandeur surface occasionally, but most of For The Fallen... is like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket of suicidal doom metal. Just how we like it.
Latest bit of obscure musical alchemism from the mysterious cave dwelling horde known simply as Mrtyu, but around here, also known as Antony Milton, head honcho of the Pseudo Arcana label, and the man behind numerous musical endeavors we dig BIG time: Street, Nether Dawn, Claypipe, With Throats As Fine As Needles, The Stumps, we could go on and on...
Mrtyu was always Milton's outlet for his darker side, a sort of blackened drone metal behemoth, never full committing the the black buzz, always sort of skirting the grim true BM sound, taking elements of that sound and fusing it to his more abstract, folky dronemusic, the results invariably kick ass. On this latest slab, the Mrtyu sound is markedly different, for all the noise and skree and buzz and general heaviness, it's also probably the prettiest Mrtyu yet. As if the ever raging battle between his folkier dronier 'good' side and his buzzier sludgier 'bad' side, has finally tipped to the side of good. But not too good, fear not.
Unlike some of the more grim noise drenched rituals of the past, the first side could almost be one of Milton's other projects. Sure there's plenty of guitar skree, sheets of feedback, and dense layers of soft chaos, but beneath it all lurk gorgeous lilting melodies, each avalanche of crumbling distortion can barely disguise the weirdly pretty, woozy, spidery, dreamy melodies within. Swirled smears of muted buzz wrap around delicate jangle and simple strum, dense cacophonous walls of sound tumble beneath crystalline chordal streaks.
It's not until the B side that things get seriously heavy. A gorgeous little Middle Eastern sounding tangle of melodies drifts over a soft layer of muted feedback, the strings sawed intensely, then suddenly, a buzzy blown out riff comes in, locked and looped, a mesmerizing lurching groove beneath the ever intensifying tangle of melodies, a twisted metallic Easter drone raga (or something) that could have taken up the whole record and we would have been psyched. Thankfully it takes up half of the second side.
The record finishes off with more abstract blackened folkiness, vocals enter the fray, a weird effected mewl, over rumbling distortion and shards of feedback, more squiggly little melodies, and some warm almost tranquil sounding guitar shimmer underneath.
Perhaps not so much for the weirdo metal obsessives anymore, this Mrtyu record will probably find a home with the more avant folk / abstract drone / free noise freaks, although truly adventurous metalheads should definitely not be dissuaded.
LIMITED TO 350 COPIES. Pressed on 180 gram vinyl. Housed in hand screened linen paper sleeves. NICE!
As we've mentioned in past reviews, it gets harder and harder to know what to say about Nadja and Aidan Baker records. Not just because there are so many of them, but because they all mine similar sonic territory, and heck, they all sound fantastic. This latest limited lp release is no different.
Baker, half of the duo that is Nadja (but you knew that), also has a strange habit of re-recording old songs, which drives completists and obsessive fans up the wall. Such is the case with Belles Betes, 4 solo Aidan Baker tracks, here reimagined and performed by Nadja, which basically means tracks that tended toward the minimal and drifty, get some crunch and buzz, pretty shimmer transformed into blessed out crush. And like we mentioned above, these tracks are fantastic, different enough from the originals that they're well worth owning. Probably most of you know what to expect from Nadja at this point, but just in case, the sound here is dripping with thick crumbling distortion, washed out weary vocals, muted machinelike percussion, a pounding Godfleshian post industrial metallic shoegaze, falling somewhere between M83 and Jesu, warm, thick, lustrous, epic, but somehow simultaneously melancholy and mournful.
The standout track might be "Green And Cold", the title track from a Baker disc we sold tons of, here the song becomes a bit of marginally new wave-y slowcore, spare and spacious, moody and haunting, and maybe the creepiest and mysteriously lovely Nadja jam yet.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Pressed on 180 gram vinyl, packaged in a super thick book bound lp sleeve.
The return of Nightbringer! One of the best USBM bands going, hailing from the frosty, wintry climes of Colorado, whose last release (or at least the last one we got) was an insanely kick ass split with Temple Of Not (a sort of drone-y Nightbringer side project), a record that most of the black metal folks we know consider a masterpiece. Ourselves included. So there were seriously high expectations for this, their first full length. We can safely say, even after only a few listens, this will WAY surpass expectations and will likely be topping a lot of year end lists, a total contender for black metal record of the year.
There is a cd version that we'll be getting eventually, but this vinyl version is SO much cooler. First off, it comes in a killer box, but more importantly, it contains nearly 30 minutes more music! So odds are the troo grim black metalheads are gonna want one of these super limited boxes. The rest of you can wait a couple weeks for the cd.
Nightbringer's sounds is a dense swirling blackness, spaced out and subtly psychedelic, incredibly thick and textured, a bizarre hybrid of Darkspace and Deathspell Omega, but also plenty of old school raw black metal, long stretches of lurching doom, the sounds are not necessarily unfamiliar, but it's how they're employed. The guitars are the strangest of all, slipping from classic buzzing riffage, to sweeping majestic epic chords, to super strange ultra fast trills, almost like a tremolo, something we've heard very few BM bands do, it's really haunting and otherworldly, and adds to the sort of blackness of space vibe, and offers a cool counterpoint, the main riff lumbering along, the drums a chaotic slowed down plod, but then that strange guitar part unfurling these rapid fires runs, that almost sound like drones, long drawn out tones, making the whole thing so haunting and tense, in fact for a black metal record, much of Death And The Black Work is spent not playing fast at all (minus that awesome weird guitar part), the band is almost more like some alien blackened doom, that occasionally erupts into a thunderous blast, before slipping back into their buzzing black sprawl. But when they do get fast, it's fucking manic, frenzied, gloriously fucked up and feral, a buzzing blurred onslaught, that has few equals. We could go on and on but fuck it, this is IT. This is black metal supremacy. Mysterious and otherworldly, furious and blackly epic, total grim and frostbitten outer space brilliance. And yeah, this just might be black metal record of the year after all.
LIMITED of course. And fair warning, ALL the boxes have some sort of very light cosmetic damage, actually damage might be too dramatic, they all have light scuffs on the edges, or seem a bit worn in places, but that just make them seem even more like some lost sacred scroll, some ancient book of the dead, discovered beneath the ruins of a church, and minus those slight imperfections, these boxes are precious black jewels, emanating a timeless malevolence, that will no doubt feel right at home on that candle lit skull laden black altar you keep all your records on at home.
Oh yeah! It doesn't get more sultry, more sizzling, or more charming then Nite Jewel. Ever since we heard her 12" on Italians Do It Better we've been entranced by this Los Angelas based artist's take on slowed down, slow burning, bedroom dancefloor jams, which sound like some kind of amazing mix of space disco and '80s soul and funk, with a healthy serving of valium in thrown in the mix. Good Evening contains those two great tracks from the Italians Do It Better 12", and thankfully, all the other songs here are just as satisfying as those tracks that reeled us in the first time around. There is something really unique about Nite Jewel's sound, drawing on '80s and '90s soul but infusing those sound with such a nice shoegaze and atmospheric feel, these wonderfully homecrafted tracks really do feel like that kind of D.I.Y. late night dance-in-the-clouds soundtrack we always longed for. While there has definitely been a renaissance in recent years of groups influenced by cosmic disco, Nite Jewel manages to stand out, conjuring and channeling sounds from the hazy and dreamy side of things like Elizabeth Fraser (Cocteau Twins) to dance floor divas like Debby Deb. Who knew someone would ever find a way to bring the spirit of 4AD and mix it with RnB and have it sound so damn fine. We could see Nite Jewel appealing to anyone, from fans of Grouper to Goldfrapp, there's so much to love on this record. Feel the slow burn!
Finally, after several releases of noise drenched metallic blackness, the Lord Nordvargr returns to the foul black sonic pit from which he was born. Evolution in some ways could be read devolution, as Nordvargr seems to have shed the buzz and the riff and the noize, and indeed returned to a sound much more minimal and abstract, the master of the black drone thus easily reclaims the throne that had sat empty during his grim blacknoize crusades.
The sound here is so sweet, if something this noxious and abject and menacing could be considered sweet, but it is most definitely a return to his Swedish industrial ambient roots, with long stretches of whirring low end rumbles, haunting cinematic ambience, disembodied voices drift like spirits lost in the abyss, the sound is cavernous, the mood is mournful, a few tracks feature the clang and crunch of some beastly industrial machinery, pounding out an infernal rhythm, behind it a demonic voice intones some blasphemous vitriolic filth, but just as quickly, the tone shifts to something dark and whispered, harrowing and hushed. The tones deep and dense and thick, the sound of black holes, of bottomless pits, of empty space, of the unholy nether regions, rendered in bleak blackened sound.
The second disc is mostly made up of a 9 part song suite, similar in tone and timbre to the first disc, but even more minimal and mysterious, more organic sounds interspersed with the darker sonic emanations. The last segment is even stranger, with some skittery electronic elements infused into the buzz and glitch, some Ryoji Ikeda style clinical clikery, and a final track that's like some weird sort of sinister minimal housemusick.
Recommended of course, as are all of Lord Nordvargr's unholy sonic gospels. Packaged in a super striking 8 panel double digipak.
There have been a couple of different versions of Alice The Goon which have been floating: two singled-sided 12"s (one with an etching, one without) and a cdep that had an extra track with recordings dating to the mid-'90s.
The Jnana version contains all three tracks, clocking in at around 30 minutes, running the gamut of where NWW has been and where they continue to go in their quizzical, dark, maddening, and comedic collages. The first track "(I Don't Want To Have) Easy Listening Nightmares" is suitably titled, with a jaunty mambo groove of horns and congo drums setting the rhythm throughout the piece, recalling any number of Perez Prado inspired tracks from NWW. On top of this infectious rhythm, NWW splutters with a hot-wired guitar solo that harkens back to the Chance Meeting On An Operating Table delirium through spiky guitar noise. "Prelude To Alice The Goon" finds creaky noises, muted trumpets blaring in the distant, a loping bassline and a PVC pipe percussion coming together in a mutant prog-ish mantra with Diana Rogerson offering occasional vocals. The untitled coda to the album could very well be an extract from the Tibet / Stapleton masterpiece The Sadness Of Things, with spectral vocals cast in heavy, yet glistening robes of reverberation.
Like many of the Nurse With Wound albums, this has been out of print for quite some time now. Originally, Man With The Woman Face came out through World Serpent back in 2002, only to disappear when World Serpent came to an end. Now the album has been reissued, with new artwork and a limited edition bonus disc. Here's what we had to say about the album way back when:
Having retreated from London to an Irish farm many moons ago, Steve Stapleton has kept the personnel on his recent Nurse With Wound recordings down to just a few other people, with only David Tibet, Colin Potter, and Aranos appearing with any regularity. The Man With The Woman Face, Nurse With Wound's first album since 2000 finds Stapleton working exclusively with Ora's Colin Potter, who has recently been working with Monos and Jonathan Coleclough. Regardless of who's working with Stapleton, Nurse With Wound actively pursues (or stimulates?) bizarre psychological states, often via obtuse free-associations and recontextualized leitmotifs. While many Nurse With Wound recordings have recycled various elements from other albums into new operating theaters, the only recurring theme that Man With The Woman Face shares with previous albums is Stapleton's gentle use of feedback generated by chains of effects boxes looped back upon themselves to generate buzzing electric tones to be manipulated how he sees fit. Here, Stapleton and Potter flutter warm pulses of feedback to undergrid Spartan loops and skittering samples of little toy piano plucks, whirring motors, really angry bees, and something that sounds like an electronic varmint scurrying past its metallic cage into a pile of woodchips. Such strange whirring electronic sounds creak and moan until NWW bursts out of these oddly calming drones into a couple of minutes of nervous psychedelic grooviness that reminds us of the Sun City Girls (330,003 Crossdressers era), before collapsing back into whirring abstractions and murmuring vocal fragments. Nice.
Recorded in Nigeria in 1973, the members of Ofege were only in high school when they made this album, but damn! In any battle of the bands competition our money would for sure be on these guys! Infused with a really keen sense of melody as well as nice fuzzy guitar sounds, great drumming and catchy vocals, this is truly a lost Afro-rock gem! We first heard Ofege on the African volume of the Love Peace & Poetry series and then on the great Sound Way compilation Nigeria Rock Special, and if you are like us and can't get enough of those special sounds that were pouring out of Nigeria in the '70s, Ofege will surely hit the spot! We're reminded a bit of that great Chrissy Zebby Tembo reissue we freaked out about last year. Heavily influenced by Western rock of the time, lots of great wah wah jams and that fuzzy guitar sound we never get tired of. Pretty amazing that these guys ranged in age from 15-17 when they made this as it sounds so confident and accomplished.
The second of two new releases from the always kick ass UK label Paradigms. Elsewhere on this list you'll find the debut from black doom crust heavies Bosnia, and here we have the debut from UK doomsludge duo Old Mayor, just guitar and drums, these two whip up a fierce frenzy, that the label compares to both Burning Witch and Slint, which makes sense, the band slips easily from moody post rockisms, into full on blackened metal meltdowns, the vocals, howled and harsh and hateful, the guitars unfurling soaring mournful melodies, and thick corrosive chords, the band lurching through reverb drenched fields of downtuned chug, gorgeous crystalline harmonics, pounding drummage, before turning on a dime and stretching out into some long languid shimmer, that actually reminds us more of Engine Kid than Slint, before exploding again into a pounding minor key dirge metal blowout.
Here and there things slooooow waaaay doooown and the band do get all Khanate, the guitars ringing out, the drums a sporadic plod, but those stretches of slow motion heaviness are perfectly balanced by the hushed post rockisms, and the sheer epic melodiousness of even the most crushing brutal parts. The recording is really strange too, turning the stripped down minimal instrumentation into something almost orchestral, the guitars are thick, massive, dense, the drums LOUD and way up in the mix, both alternatingly wound tight, or sparring dizzily. And when the band lock in tight, the song is transformed into something else entirely, woozy waltzy post doom math sludge bliss.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
Certainly one of the best things about working at a record store is coming across new bands that give you that undefinable, but very real feeling in your stomach where you can't imagine having ever gone on without THIS band. Even better is discovering something from the distant past (not too distant in this case), something whose existence could have eluded you forever had good fortune not smiled down in the form of a reissue.
Onna were the Japanese duo of Keizou Miyanishi and Mafuyu Hiroki, whose 1983 7" has thankfully been rescued from obscurity by the mighty Holy Mountain label, and has been blowing minds left and right here at aQ. One of the coolest things about this record is just how surprising and unexpected it all was, the whole "1983" part in particular. With a nod to the past but no doubt out of place in the early 80s, Onna were without question inhabiting a world of their own. The most obvious point of reference soundwise would be legendary psych/noise enigma Les Rallizes Denudes, especially in the vocal department. This is a very good thing for anyone who loves those somewhat lazy, partially detached, Japanese sung vocals of groups like LRD and LSD-March.
The use of a drum machine keeps these two songs pulsing like a mechanical heartbeat, which when combined with the fairly free form guitars, definitely gives this record its own vibe. Side 1 begins with a meditative two chord lament before noisy, white hot guitar squalls begin creeping about in the distance as simple and repetitive bass lines keep the foundation strong and focused. The second track introduces catchy psych guitar chords with a machine modified quasi-girl group drumbeat, the bass again holding things down nice and steady. The heavily reverberated strummed guitars bubble about as fake cymbal explosions recede and return over and over again, until a prolonged fadeout is replaced by a locked groove note that keeps this record spinning endlessly, just as it should.
The lack of information on Onna only adds to the mystery (and just a note, they are not affiliated with those other Japanese psych monsters Christine 23 Onna). PSF has issued an album by the group called Katawa, which we will definitely be paying close attention to after this 7". Until then, the only things we have to judge the duo by are the perplexing ugly/beautiful cover featuring an androgynous female figure lying naked on a bed (is she sick and decaying? is she just hanging out in bed? waiting for a lover?), and more importantly, their music, which we cannot recommend highly enough. Seriously, how many 7" singles would receive this much of a write up? You know this one is a winner.
PS for the non-turntable-havin' folks, apparently these tracks are also to appear on an upcoming cd collection Holy Mountain's putting out with other Onna stuff...
The second of two new releases from Mr. Campbell Kneale, formerly aka Birchville Cat Motel, now aka Our Love Will Destroy The World. And with more letters and words in the band name, comes more elements and instruments in the sounds, or so it sounds.
Two live sets, one from New Zealand, one From Australia, both finding Kneale and his love in full frontal assault mode. Endless drones cobbled together from multiple layers of buzz and skree and shriek and grind, the sounds flutter and flicker and skitter and stutter, and howl and moan and whir and even shimmer here and there, but for the most part this is OLWDTW at it's most dense and most aggressive. The sounds are thick and dense, effects all over the place, melodies, they're there somewhere, usually wrapped around some other sound, the various elements twisting and thrashing and transforming, but these are no mere noise jams, these are jams constructed from noises sure, but beyond that those noises are sculpted into nuanced shapes, into mesmerizing textures, into Kneale's peculiar idea of songsmithery, blown out noise drenched dronescapes, and damn if our favorite part of the first set isn't cribbed from Bastro's "Shoot Me A Deer"!
Needles to say, WAY recommended, whether noise is your thing or not. And equally needless to say, this is LIMITED!
One of two new mini-missives from Our Love Will Destroy The World, the project of ex-Birchville Cat Motel kingpin Campbell Kneale, who it seems might be positioning his OLWDTW project to eventually be as prolific as the sadly defunct BCM. Elsewhere on this list you'll find a new tape from Our Love, but this 7" matches up Kneale with Bark Haze, the duo of Gown's Andrew McGregor and Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth.
The Bark Haze side is pretty fantastic, noisy, but soft noise, and more drone-y than anything, warm processed guitars, looped and layered, thick and textured, wrapped in warped and warbly effects, pretty mesmerizing and dreamlike, at least until the very end, where the duo shut it down with a bit of high end tangled psych guitar skree.
Our Love Will Destroy The World have crafted a sound, that takes the divine ur-drone of Birchville, and tosses in more of everything, a maximal swirling assemblage of sound upon sound upon sound, drone-y and noisy, but also space-y and groovy, and tripped out and psychedelic. The track begins with buzzing backwards sitars, stuttering acoustic guitars, keening high end riffage, plenty of muted crunch, a super spare abstract 'beat', definitely employing OLWDTW's more is more compositional strategy, adding layer after layer, which in other hands might end up being too much, but the cacophony is softened by Kneale's deft arrangement. The result is like sticking your hand in a sonic supercollider, your ears being bombarded by a million musical particles, an atomic shower of shards and fragments of amps and guitars and samples and synths and effects. So good!
By the time we reached Pavement's Brighten The Corners, the band had ceased being a fucked up lo-fi noise drenched fractured pop underground phenom, and had transformed into something much more respectable. They embodied nineties college rock, they were most definitely indie rock darlings big time. But to be fair, with what sounded like a bid for commercial success, the band did manage to retain plenty of their snarky humor, and the hooks and catchiness that used to be buried under sheets of white noise or recorded from within a tin can on a dictaphone, are now on display for all to see, the sound lush and thick and polished and rocking and heck, it suits them. The opening one two punch of "Stereo" and "Shady Lane" is pretty tough to beat. "Stereo" with it's crunchy guitar, and goofy lyrics about Geddy Lee, and Shady Lane, with it's lilting sing songy main melody, and that super simple guitar line that is more catchy than you might thing at first. And a gorgeously, slightly atonal chorus seals the deal. Fuck it, by this time, we had made peace with the fact that the band would never make another Westing or Slanted, and all that was left to do was to luxuriate in Pavement's twisted crafty pop genius, and so we did. And so we are again. Pop music has definitely changed a lot in the last decade, so it's refreshing to hear this stuff again, and it's comforting to realize just how great it still sounds. The record proper is peppered with some weirdness, some fractured production, some strange druggy jams, some sung spoken Velvets style jams, but those are all part and parcel of Pavement's weird lovable pop universe.
As with past deluxe reissues. Brighten gets all the bells and whistles, a gorgeous digipak, housed in a fancy diecut slipcover, a HUGE booklet with essays and liner notes and track info and tons of photos, and of course, a shitload of B-sides and unreleased tracks, a whole extra disc in fact, including some BBC sessions, a Clean cover (!), some live tracks, live on the radio performances, the aforementioned multitude of B-sides and two versions of the Space Ghost Theme!!!
Killer ep from this one man US funeral avant doom outfit. The sound here veers wildly from tripped out doom-ed psychedelic experiments to moody post rocky instrumentalism to bizarre drum machine flecked drone plod, and yeah, finally to some buzz drenched bizarre doom. And bizarre it is. Of the four tracks here, only one is actually doom metal all the way through, and even then, it's fractured and fucked up and freaky as all get out. Makes sense that this was released on the same label that gave us a recent Gnaw Their Tongues release, as PiM are definitely another obtuse doom metal variant, and we LOVE it.
The opening track begins with some classical guitar, draped over distant cacophonies, and fluttery flute, glitched out electronic buzz, clouds of swirling effects, strange detuned melodies, thick slabs of corrosive buzz, anguished wails, before the second track kicks in and the band pound out a slow motion doom crawl, the distortion brittle and crumbling, the vocals in the red and hyper distorted, in fact, all the sounds are super blown out, and then near the end, some weird way up in the mix acoustic guitars drift in, as the doom pounds on beneath. Then comes a brief instrumental interlude, all gentle piano, simple guitar strum, and some obtuse, slightly out of tune slow motion leads, until the doom drops, and the song lurches woozily toward the final track, a warped dronescape, all whirring electronic low end, distorted voices transmitted beneath some rubbery bass, so detuned you can hear the strings rattling against the frets, and then out of nowhere, some super primitive drum machine surfaces, its stilted machinelike skitter, draped over the throbbing buzzing electronics below, so bizarre, and so brilliant.
We tried to order a bunch of these, but only managed to get a handful, limited to 100 copies, packaged in cool mini dvd sleeves, with full color artwork, each one hand numbered, last copies ever.
You probably already heard a lot of the hype surrounding this record, and you know what? It's all totally true! Phoenix have created one of the best and most infectious pop records to come around in a very long time. We're talking start to finish every single song having hooks and melodies that sound so fucking great and are both breezy and catchy as well as so totally immaculately crafted.
This is one of those rare pop records that is both so smart and so fun. Imagine Saturdays=Youth era M83 covering the Strokes!!! Although comparisons seem a bit silly here as Phoenix have really made a super unique record, that kind of perfect summer pop jam that most bands only dream of and often spend their whole lives trying to make, only to fall flat over and over again. No matter where you are or what you're doing, when you listen to this record you're totally transported, it's a refreshing rush, the world seems sunshinier, the skies bluer, everything just sparkles and glistens. So cool and suave and slick in the best way, it's impossible to not fall in love with Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. So many folks we know, who are into experimental music or electronica or other branches of more esoteric minded sounds, have just fallen head over heels for this new Phoenix record which is truly a testament to its undeniable universal appeal.
While past Phoenix records always had at least a few totally standout tracks, none of those records can possibly compare. Some of us here, pop fanatics for sure, were pretty skeptical, having not been that impressed with past record, and not believing the hype, but after hearing just the opening track, naysayers were silenced, and almost immediately transformed into rabid fans, playing this to death, in the store AND at home. Sparkling, hook laden, well produced power pop bliss. This one's gonna be a bigtime contender for pop record of the year!
What might you expect from a band called Pig Heart Transplant? With a record called Hope You Enjoy Heaven? And song titles like "Prison / Fortress", "Crawling Through Hell", "Abject. Debased. Diseased" and "I Video Tape Your Diet"? What if the band featured members of Spazz, Silentist, Iron Lung, Despise You, Artimus Pyle, Gob, Brainoil and more? What if we told you they shared some splits with dirgedoomnoise duo Blue Sabbath Black Cheer? Yeah, you'd probably come up with something like THIS.
A punishing slab of slow motion power violence, crushing downtuned guitars, pounding drums, harsh hellish vokills, everything dripping with filth and murk, total Man Is The Bastard worship for sure. Low end all over the place. Some tracks the guitars are burning hot, the production way in the red, others are super creeped out murkscapes of industrial pound and processed vox, while still others are sludge-doom trawls through all manner of crusty low slung dirgemetal, and a couple are long buzzing drones, with howled vocals over the top, sounding a bit like a low end deathmetal Whitehouse. Maybe our favorite track though, is "Feeding From Your Trough", reminding us a bit of Geronimo, a fucked up mechanical sprawl of pounding crunch and hissing static, dripping with distortion and noise, locked into a stumbling lurching rhythm, with some chunks of grinding heaviness that sound like they could blow out your speakers, slipping from clipped robotic trudge, to hateful blacknoise dirge and back again. Some seriously harrowing shit for sure. Which as you probably know by now, means WAY recommended. At least for those in the mood for some murky and menacing musical punishment.
It's a piece of history that none of the current staff were old enough to remember, yet nostalgic fragments about the initial arrival of "Nevermind The Bollocks" at Aquarius Records back in 1977 occasionally emerge from conversations with our old school customers. By now it's probably as factual as any urban mythology; but as it makes for such a great story, I'm much more inclined to believe it than what may have really happened. With record distribution back in 1977 even less streamlined than it is today, Aquarius resorted to using an importer to ship copies of "Nevermind The Bollocks" from England. The import company in question did not have a direct route into San Francisco from London, and thus had to drive the boxes up from Los Angeles. This shipping detour gave Aquarius the opportunity to throw a big party in anticipation of the album's arrival, with attendants rumored to include Crime and the Residents (in full Eyeball costumes squeezing within the confines of Aquarius' then Castro Street location). To heighten the suspense, Aquarius had arranged with the driver of the truck to call up the store every 30 minutes or so to let everybody know his progress up the I-5: "Just passed Bakersfield." "Made it through Coalinga." "Yup, I'm in Tracy."
Yet, I feel the story could end with the truck crashing somewhere near Pleasanton, as I've never felt that The Sex Pistols' music lived up to their massive cultural cache and spectacular publicity stunts. John Lydon's uncomfortable fixed stare, sneered cultural heresies, and theatrical madness (which, in fact, was lifted from Richard Burton's performances as King Lear) always appeared to be destined for greater things than the Pistol's musically thuggish simplicity. Within The Sex Pistols, John Lydon had control over the Pistol's syntax, spewing threats against royalty and decent society at large; but there was little room (and even less ability) to explore the far more challenging proposition of igniting the sound of Lee Perry and Can with the powderkeg of punk. Internal politics and Malcolm McLaren aside, Rotten needed to form Public Image Limited.
Flanked by Keith Levene on guitar and Jah Wobble on bass, Lydon began PiL with two perfectly complementary musicians to pursue his aesthetic goals, as Levene's spindly shards of metallic guitar splatter acted as the textural counterpoint to the rhythmic centrality of Wobble's low-slung dub basslines. While this line-up inevitably imploded (and with it the success of Public Image Limited), the Lydon / Levene / Wobble core for PiL reached its creative apex during their second album, originally released back in 1979 as a 3LP housed in a metal film container. PiL's second, more economical pressing of the self-evidently titled "Metal Box" garnered an equally self-evident title "Second Edition." As a whole, this album hasn't easily been upstaged in its synthesis of dub production techniques, stealthy disco grooves, and punk antagonism bathed in Situationist critique. "Second Edition" opens with Wobble's huge rolling bass in "Albatross" which finds Lydon straining to sing with a swooping baritone to match the song's unwavering plod. Yet Lydon's viperous snarl returns for the rest of the album, which picks up the pace considerably in building their signature 'death disco' sound. All around "Second Edition" is an unnerving, complex album that was never the cultural force "Nevermind The Bollocks" was but is clearly the artistic masterpiece in Lydon's career and one of the quintessential post-punk albums.
As an aside, it was a huge curatorial mistake for Soul Jazz to leave Public Image Limited off of their "In The Beginning There Was Rhythm" compilation, as PiL fits into Soul Jazz's ideology for the project better than anybody else on the record. Thus, "Second Edition" is highly recommended (if not required) for anyone who was into that compilation.
We got a handful of these when the band were in town, but they disappeared before we could even hear it. We managed to get more finally, and HOLY SHIT, it's not hard to hear why we couldn't keep these in stock, some seriously fuzzy, Sabbathy, mystical metal garage rock, or something. The women from Portland, kicking out the jams, warm, languid, buzzy, doomy jams, super psychedelic, the guitars muddy and fuzzed out, the bass deep and throbbing, the drums pounding and a bit chaotic, the vocals wild and emotional and intense, reminding us quite a bit of Christina Billotte, in fact Purple Rhinestone Eagle sounds a bit like some weird mix of Quix*O*Tic and Pentagram. Which is a very very good thing. The vocals go from woozy deepish croon to wild punkish wail, perfectly balancing the warbly wandering mesmerizing basslines and the warped minor key leads. The sound is sometimes epic and frenzied and very metal, sometimes brooding and murky and garage-y, often the two elements blurring into something else entirely.
Anyone who has been digging Jex Thoth or The Devil's Blood will definitely dig this, and White Magic fans who might enjoy a more mystical and metal Ms. Billotte, might just dig this as well.
Eye popping hand silkscreened sleeves, full color insert with lyrics and lots of rad psychedelic photos, pressed on opaque green vinyl, and yeah, probably pretty limited.
Besides having an awesome logo, and killer creepy elephant cover art, these filthy Swedes have conjured up a seriously brutal, and weirdly groovy slab of sludge-y doom. Exploding out of a swirling storm of whipping winds that open the disc, these guys waste no time in getting down to it. IT being some gut punching, ear destroying heaviness. We were actually expecting something much less musical, much more abstract and slooooow, Moss, Bunkur, Khanate, that sort of thing, and while it does get downright glacial now and again, Pyramido mostly traffic in something much more groovy and stonery, think Electric Wizard, Church Of Misery, Cough, Eyehategod, Bongzilla, Green Machine...
In fact, Pyramido totally sound like they came straight out of New Orleans, that distinctly NOLA groove, but here that sounds is twisted up a bit, given a little blackness, a little crustiness, the songs stretched out a bit more, the groove not so much the focus as simply part of the sound, a sound that is a HUGE, churning, pounding, downtuned beastly thing. The guitars thick and corrosive, the drums a Cro-Magnon pound, vocals buried in the mix, always on the verge of cracking, a throat shredding howl, and within these blackly groovy, crust laden jams, lurk not only some serious hooks, but some fucking KILLER riffs, and although it doesn't make sense, music like this is often bereft of actual great riffage.
Slow, low, sludgy and brutal as fuck, by now it should be obvious if this is your cup of muck, it most definitely is ours...
Jeepers it's been a while since we've reviewed an album by these heavynoisyspasticartpunkrock dudes from Nebraska, and we almost neglected to list this new one, but thought we should since there's bound to be a few AQ customers who groove to Racebannon's weird brand of manic, maybe-metallic mayhem, one part Melvins, one part Dillinger Escape Plan, one part anything on Skin Graft or Toyo (RIP).
Sounds like: screaming sneering vox, jagged guitar distortion, wiseass brutality... When you're in the mood for it, great! When yr not, well, the 22 separate, entirely silent 7 second tracks that come between track 10 and 33 will be among your faves here.
If on the other had you want even more of Racebannon's earhole abuse, keep an eye out for their next release, a 12" entitled Merzbannon, which is apparently one of their previous albums "remixed" by you-know-who.
Field recordings and the sounds of activated environments (e.g. the crunching of leaves, the tactility of sand, the resonance of an abandoned warehouse, etc.) are the building blocks for the compositions of many a musician championed here at aQuarius. You could look no further than the Jewelled Antler bunch, who marched out in the woods to craft much of their rustic psychedelia crowned with lichen, twigs, birdsong, and rocks. This Revenant project may share the spirited tromps out in the forest and even the revolving door approach found in Jewelled Antler; the but the results end up being quite different. The members of Revenant for this recording were Patrick McGinley (aka Murmer), John Grzinich, Hitoshi Kojo (aka Spiracle), Yannich Dauby, and Olivier Fernaud, all gathered together on the Slovenia-Italy border surrounded by an old growth forest and a few confounded birds. The idea behind Revenant is site-specific acoustic actions, or activated environments with each action being a document of a specific moment in time in a specific location. The five brought minimal equipment, just a few violin bows and a couple of digital recorders, and scrounged around the woods for the rest of their soundmaking devices: leaves, blades of grass, seedpods, heavy stones, etc. The violin bows were employed to atonal use on the first track as these five each took up a particular branch on a particular tree to scrape rasping tones that would even give Tony Conrad the shivers. The following explorations of tactile abrasions, weird gurgles, and gentle swoops enjoy a deliberate pacing; and the concluding track features what must be Hitoshi Kojo chanting in Japanese amidst a chorus of mouth organ drones, which ends up more like an Akio Suzuki meditation.
Finland. Fonal. Two words that begin with F that tend to indicate music we might be interested in!
In our review of singer and keyboardist Risto Yliharsila and his namesake band's previous album for the Fonal label, Aurinko Aurniko Plaa Plaa Plaa, we mentioned how it was hard to figure 'em out, 'cause they veered song-to-song from, like, uptempo frantic psychobilly rockin' to lush lullaby-like pop... we basically said "crazy Finns, but we like it", natch! This new album is no less confusional, and also no less enjoyable. Of course, not knowing the language makes this seem all that more odd to us. Yet it's still something that we feel could end up being your favorite new (Finnish indie) pop album despite having no idea what the catchy song now stuck in your head is about.
A lot of the time this may give you the vague idea you're listening to some familiar classic rock album from the '70s, but translated into Finnish. Or, actually, more like selections from several albums, since it's all so eclectic and all over the place. There's burning blasts of guitar distortion, groovy organ, cinematic synths, sad piano ballads, garagey stomp... 10 songs in 33 minutes, that we'd imagine would appeal to fans of Sweden's Dungen, who also maybe like weirder Finnish stuff like Aavikko and Ratto Ja Lehtisalo.
There's some awesome old school metal anthems here, though we'd never heard of this band before... how's that? Well, the brilliant thing about Germany's Roxxcalibur is that it's like these guys realized, hey why should they knock themselves out trying to write brand new heavy metal songs when there's so many forgotten gems from the NWOBHM era, killer cuts that only appeared on 7" singles or compilations (like 1980's seminal Metal For Muthas) that they could simply learn and play instead?? All properly credited of course, to the extent of getting the go-ahead - and liner notes - from the original artists.
We jump at any chance we get to use the term "NWOBHM" in a review, or any variant thereof (like NWOFHM). We love the NWOBHM, and heck we love -saying- NWOBHM (pronounced nuh-wobbum). So this is for us. But if we have to explain that NWOBHM stands for the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal (a late '70s/early '80s phenomenon of major world historical import!) then well maybe this album by Germany's Roxxcalibur isn't for you. Or then again, maybe it is, if you want an unusual introduction to the NWOBHM.
At first when we heard about this, we were a little skeptical... we're not that into tribute bands normally, and that's what Roxxcalibur are, a very respectful NWOBHM tribute. Roxxcalibur themselves agree, admitting in the cd booklet that they don't much care for tribute bands either. But then, they're not a typical tribute band doing hits by U2 or AC/DC or The Doors or whatever. Nope, how can you argue with this? Thirteen hand picked NWOBHM gems, most of 'em really REALLY obscure, dug up and dusted off by these NWOBHM mega-fans (dudes from a couple German power metal bands that you, and we, have never heard of). Classic tracks brought back to life, to be heard and headbanged to once again. Obviously, seeing this band play live would be a blast (sadly, that's not gonna happen unless we plan a trip to Germany) but this album of theirs is (for us) pretty hard to resist.
You won't find anything by biggies Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, Diamond Head, or Saxon here. Though apparently Roxxcalibur do some songs by better-known bands like those live, they wanted to keep their album pretty much a lesson in obscure classics. The most famous names covered here would be Grim Reaper, Savage, and Witchfinder General. We also were familiar with Chateaux, Jaguar, Dark Star, and Cloven Hoof. But we actually hadn't ever heard of the rest of the bands covered before, we don't think. Jameson Raid, Bleak House, Trident, ARC, Radium, J.J.'s Powerhouse?? Nope. Now we'll have to look out for those on comps and reissues...
They also didn't need to put any Iron Maiden on here for the simple reason that most of this sounds like it could be by Iron Maiden anyway, what with all the galloping guitars, soaring vox, fantasy tropes, and rough n' ready rockin'!
A lot of this wouldn't matter either way if Roxxcalibur weren't, y'know, good, but we're glad to say they seem more than competent. They've got the right spirit -and- the chops to pull this off. We haven't compared any of these tracks back to back with the originals, but the ones we were already really familiar with, like "See You In Hell" and "Let It Loose", sounded pretty much dead-on. The singer's German accent isn't particularly noticeable, and he certainly can hit the high notes.
It's a classy effort all around, from the aforementioned track-by-track commentary from members of the -original- bands included in the thick cd booklet, to the painting on the cover by authentic NWOBHM associated artist Rodney Matthews, to the way the album starts off with the chimes of London's Big Ben! All that going a long way to making this more worthwhile than the "tribute" tag usually suggests.
Heck if this was an album of originals by an all-new metal band, we'd be hailing it as a remarkable retro metal masterpiece. As it is, it's still probably the best album ever released by Limb! (Though, we'll always have a soft spot for Luca Turilli's King Of The Nordic Twilight.) Unlike the generic modern day Euro power metal that label mostly traffics in, this actually rocks. And also displays much more in the way of stylistic quirks, imagination, or basically what you could call originality (ironically enough) if you didn't know this was all a tribute.
If people get into Roxxcalibur, rest assured, they'll have a long career. After all, this album already only reflects a portion of their set list, and there's plenty more ol' NWOBHM nuggets for them to attempt. Maybe next time they'll do some Rogue Male. Or Quartz. Or Tysondog. Or Tokyo Blade. Or Sledgehammer. Or...
A very prescient, and very good, record by the sound-artist / field recordist Matt Shoemaker, Erosion Of The Analogous Eye pushes his work of tonal exploration and exaggerated found sounds into the neighborhood of many of the post-noise cosmic explorers who have been blossoming in every corner of the US it seems. At the same time, this is very much a Matt Shoemaker record, following a trajectory set forth through his acclaimed work on the once-mighty Trente Oiseaux label.
An ur-drone of analog synthesis opens the album, obviously harkening to '70s kosmische activities certainly a muscular revisitation of Schulze or even an extraction from Richard Pinhas. Such a lazerbeam of a drone has a lysergic sunrise feel to it, with the light and shadow brought into sharp relief, the colors shifted and separating into spectral bursts of yellow, red, pink, and orange. Yet, slowly, Shoemaker introduces atonal drones which clash with that introductory suspension. At first, the metallic slashes have almost an Andrew Chalk and Jonathan Coleclough feel, but Shoemaker quickly dispels those notions with a layer of field recordings of insects ravenously scurrying about. That introductory tone, which still continues through this first track, bends like a divebombing plane with Doppler tones trailing behind, descending in a series of bell tones. All of this in a seamless 17 minutes. A steady rhythm of gamelan bell tones opens the second track with accumulated complimentary drones shimmering and vibrating while harmonic dissonance abounds, collapsing into a quiet stream of percolating textures. Spread across 24 minutes, this track seems ancient and sounds beguilingly beautiful. Bellowing rumbles amplify out of recordings of rain, mud, and water and steadily arching through a metallic rattling of various pipes and gongs for the final track, which eventually gives way to an uneasy set of recordings of birds in a rainforest whose calls echo through the trees.
As with all Helen Scarsdale releases the packaging is stellar. Letterpressed text with hand-dyed paper. Each are different, each are quite special. Oh yeah, limited to a mere 300 copies!
Now in stock on vinyl... and it's a beautiful picture disc to boot!
It's been over three years since we made Shogun Kunitoki's debut our Record Of The Week, which was just about the same time we fell deeply in love with this Finnish group's unique approach to songcraft, most noticeably using analog electronics to create dizzying and melodic songs that ensorcell and enthrall as they burst with color and dynamic flair.
This follow up picks right up where that amazing debut left off. So full of urgency and melody. Taking cues from minimalists like Reich and Glass and infusing a catchy intensity, reminiscent of M83's Dead Cities Read Seas & Lost Ghosts. There is a bombastic overload that grabs a hold of your imagination and lets it run wild amidst its bold and immaculately crafted popscapes. Songs that demand, command and pleasure all of your sensations. Shogun Kunitoki are able to make organs, ring modulators, and oscillators sound both classic and futuristic. Imagine a huge church with a high ceiling and stained glass windows, jammed with massive and ornate organs, while members of Broadcast, Stereolab and Black Moth Super Rainbow rock out on a grandiose Rick Wakeman like setup blasting out sounds that bring joy and ecstasy to all in the congregation.
Shogun Kunitoki are one of those rare bands that you can really get anyone into. Prog freaks, electro heads, pop lovers, psych fanatics, 20th century composer aficionados, experimental music fans, there's something for just about everyone in the dense and dizzying sounds that they create. Simply stunning!
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.
What more needs to be said about this stoner doom classic from 1992? Heavy, hooky, groovy, Sabbathy, a classic slab of metallic drugginess that launched a million pale imitators (not that Sleep were all-original either, being Sabbathy as we said!). Reissued now with, natch, a bonus Black Sabbath cover ("Snowblind" from the Masters Of Misery tribute comp) and the video for "Dragonaut", so completists might just have to buy it again, but even without those extras, anyone who somehow managed make it this far without hearing Sleep's Holy Mountain, well, now's the time to remedy that for sure...
Needless to say, this shit is HEAVY! Dirge-y, cannabis fueled excursions into the dark realm, swinging Sabbathy riffs, pounding devil drum percussion, and a wailing howl over it all. Fans of Corrupted, Boris, stoner rock, sludge, doom, and all that sort of stuff, catch the hell up!! Sleep's Holy Mountain was this so-Sabbathy bands MOST Sabbath-like release, almost too close for comfort - we're not convinced that Tony and Geezer didn't actually write this stuff!! Which in it's own twisted way is a very very good thing indeed. Wow. ESSENTIAL!
San Francisco psych lords (and lady) Sleepy Sun have been making quite a name for themselves as of late, and with the long waited arrival of their debut full length it's easy to understand why: Sleepy Sun simply rock. There is enough of what everyone loves about psychedelia - swirling guitars, melodic wandering basslines, all kinds of cool percussion, and vocals that seem to float hazily in the atmosphere - but there's just something about these guys that seems so natural and sincere, so much so that they are pretty much able to transcend the trappings of a genre that is overloaded with stale wannabes. Sleepy Sun recall everyone from Dead Meadow (in fact, we're pretty positive the song "Sleepy Son" features a riff Dead Meadow made use of a while back, not that we're complaining, it's a killer riff!) to Neil Young to Bardo Pond, without coming off as anything other than themselves. There's plenty of acoustic instrumentation, giving the album a nice folky vibe at times, rendered all the more powerful when the band launches into their fuzzed out stoner jams, and it's not unthinkable to assume that SLEEPy Sun may also be indebted to stoner gods Sleep, as the heavier excursions have no difficulty making their way to the riff filled land. That said, things never get to the point of discomfort for people who aren't into that kind of thing.
Embrace features 8 tracks, including the song "White Dove" from the 7" of the same name, as well as the two songs from the New Age/Lord 10" reviewed recently. The other songs follow a similarly stoned path, and the album flows really well with its clear production and celestial spaciousness. And it just SOUNDS so damn good - there's soaring dual guitars played by dudes who know how to expertly wrangle a wah wah pedal, the drums pound sufficiently but know just when to lay low, and then there's the beautiful, spectral harmonies, which lead to some of the strongest moments on Embrace. All the while, there is a serious understanding of how to groove, and the warm, super catchy basslines keep things moving perfectly.
It's interesting to see the reactions people have when we put this on. The sounds created by Sleepy Sun sound so familiar in some ways, but this album is like a breath of fresh air, and will no doubt win over all types of music fans with its dreaminess, its heaviness, and its classic sense of songcraft. If you've been digging Wooden Shjips, White Hills, or any other of today's best and brightest psych groups, then you have to check this out. With its mid-June arrival, Embrace makes for perfect summertime listening, especially here in San Francisco. Take that as you will...
The Eternal is pretty much a perfect title for a Sonic Youth album. There is something so eternal about their presence in our cultural landscape that it's kind of impossible to think about living in a world without them. Since their last album, the rather great Rather Ripped, their contract with Geffen finally expired which thus finds this new album on indie Matador, but truth be told Sonic Youth were the rare band who really seemed to be able to make any kind of record they wanted while on a major anyway, and just used their own SYR imprint as the outlet for their more experimental and improv based leanings.
The Eternal is very similar in scope and feel to their last few outings, but even a bit more rocking and immediate. Almost sounds like they took the blueprints for Sonic Nurse and Rather Ripped and just pushed a big 'turbo' button. The true stars of the album are Lee Ranaldo and Kim Gordon, whose songs are the ones we find ourselves getting truly attached to. We really wish Ranaldo would make a song based solo album one of these days, as his contributions to Sonic Youth, especially in the more recent years, feel so urgent and insightful. We do wish The Eternal allowed itself to get a little more sprawled out and dreamy but still, as we listen to this album more and more the music and songs and sounds keep sinking deeper and deeper into our psyches, no surprise as one of the trademarks of Sonic Youth's legacy is how they make records that really do reveal themselves with repeated listens.
While people seem to always be so nostalgic when they think of Sonic Youth, it's important to remember that this is still very a much a band who is in the present and continuing to make great and moving music.
Very few bands benefit from a list of their instrumentation, but a group like the Spiral Joy Band, that list has much to say about the sounds to be found within: fiddles, gongs, bowls, harmonium, srutis, spiral cymbal, crash cymbal, crank whistle, flute, bells, banjosticks. Even more telling are these words from the liner notes: "no overdubs, no amplification, no effect".
Spiral Joy Band are drone explorers, purists who spend their time rubbing and bowing and striking various objects to conjure up elements they can weave into their hauntingly mysterious organic drone music. While we're typically partial to the low end of the sonic spectrum, upper register tones have a magic all their own, and create an entirely different world of sound.
Henry Flynt is definitely a good reference point for the Spiral Joy Band, notice that fiddles (plural!) were the first instrument listed, and the root of these sounds is definitely slow bowed fiddles, the sound is keening and moaning. and when all the fiddles get going together, it's like an acoustic version of Sunroof!, total glorious high end ur-drone nirvana. There's an element of twang to the sound, the sawed strings, it's unavoidable, the cymbals add another layer of shimmer, at it's most transcendent, it's like staring at the sun, glimmering, glistening, sparkling effulgence, the various overtones taking on a life of their own, at its most subtle, it's like some late afternoon country hoedown, but all slowed down, and all high end. So nice. This one is definitely not for drone dabblers, this one is for the true drone elite, looking to escape the sonic confines of this terrestrial world, to find musical salvation in the astral plane.
Though some have accused her of getting by on cuteness alone (this being St Vincent's second record and the second to feature Annie Clark's face on the cover), Ms. Clark really is a damn good songwriter. Actor features more lush layers than Marry Me (St. Vincent's first record) and also a few heavier moments (just a few, though). If listening to this record on headphones, be prepared to close your eyes and float away.
The Weirdos are back with a brand new release, this time on London's Bo Weavil, and these Arcata mystics are hungrier then ever. Into An Energy is a slow brooding coastal spell of swirling, cascading drones laced with primal percussion and their signature junkyard ambiance. We heard the Weirdos came home from their European tour loaded with tons of ideas and were eager to lay it all down to tape. And we're very pleased they did, as Into An Energy is quite the psych noise masterpiece, even trekking into some unexpected dark industrial territory. One part ritual trance ceremony, one part noise rock opus, the album starts with a super grim, sinister glimpse into the hazy nightmares of a decrepit sea captain as he watches the bones of his crew be picked over by sea birds. Field recordings of waves layered under creepy whispering, wild flutes and metal clanging. Things start getting tribal with "Pagan Unity Ritual", plodding drum hits circle round and round as distant flutes and synths float into the sky. The album plays on with the faint sound of rising saxophone loops and far off chimes, all melting together into some dreamy bad trip bliss out. Every track is constantly changing, each sound shifting around and evolving into another, quiet drones lingering in the background, voices calling from beneath the ground, a truly intense experience impossible to soak up in just one listen. A perfect addition to the extensive Starving Weirdos discography and a must have for any fans of this free psych collective.
Jeez, guitarist Cameron Stallones has been on a roll lately with his solo endeavor Sun Araw. His third lp on the hugely prolific Not Not Fun label, Heavy Deeds picks up where the Phynx left off, more slow grooving jammers that fall somewhere between psych soul and pop-hop. Wailing delayed-out guitar, tons of wah and tons of soul, catchy vocal passages call out over and over as a leisurely turning lumber plods on with a hypnotic groove. Kinda like listening to a Suicide song on half speed while starring at the sun on a warm beach in Florida, whip out the hula shirts and Robitussin, it's going to be a trippy afternoon. All five tracks are so densely layered with all kinds of organ flutters, ripping solos, mumbling vocals its easy to get lost in Sun Araw's psychotic world of ultra catchy, mind melting blues. There's no doubt this kid has loads of talent, and is super productive, and we have to say we really dig Sun Araw's ability to balance pop sensibility with over the top psychedelic melt-down. There's enough here to get a song or two stuck in your head, without the music being at all straight forward or simple, pretty rad. Oh and by the way, the cd version comes with a killer bonus track titled "Hey Mandala"!
Vieux Farka Toure's music resonates with a strength, power and wisdom well beyond his years. While the shoes he's had to fill being the son of the late great Ali Farka Toure are quite enormous he's done so with an equally gifted ability to create songs that ring with a universal truth and strength that anyone can understand no matter what language you speak. We were instant believers in after hearing his debut a couple years ago and our appreciation of him grew when we saw him live opening for Tinariwen at the Palace Of Fine Arts shortly after that record came out. There was no doubt that this was a man filled with passion, remarkable guitar playing skills and a voice that is both peaceful and commanding of attention. Fondo is further proof that we will be hearing great music from Vieux for many years to come. While continuing the great tradition of Mali music that his dad helped bring to the ears of many across the globe, he is carrying on that legacy with a richness all his own.
In all of its shapes, forms and incarnations we do love dub! Whether it's vintage dub from Jamaica, or more contemporary sounds channeling dub through electronics like the Basic Channel camp and the new wave of dub-steppers. There is just something so intoxicating about the reverb, the echo, that seductive pulse that pulls you in and makes you never want to leave. Soul Jazz has struck gold once again with a two disc collection that brings together the best sounds of dub in many of its incarnations from the past and the present. In lesser hands this could come off as some haphazard hit and miss intersection of music spanning several decades, but what has made Soul Jazz a label to trust so much when it comes to reissues and compilations is what great taste and understanding they have of making records that flow and make sense as a whole.
A record like this is perfect, combining the world of dub's pioneers and those who are now carrying the torch into the future. Dub was always such a futuristic and forward thinking movement as artists like King Tubby, Bunny Lee, Prince Jammy and Lee Perry found ways to turn the studio into a full on sonic time machine, a musical instrument unto itself. So along with tracks from those pioneers there are also folks like Kode 9, Harmonic 313, Roots Manuva and Disrupt, who have taken from the blueprints of that holy grail of dub and found new ways to make those echoes reverberate with such sizzling delight. Highly Recommended!
PS there's a Soul Jazz Films dvd also entitled Dub Echoes that came out when this did, we have it in stock too but haven't had a chance to view it yet, should review it soon...
Having travelled to Indonesia in 2008, the sound artist Jesse Paul Miller (who also does time as a member of the Factums and has dabbled on the recordings of A Frames, Climax Golden Twins, and the Sun City Girls) collected a wealth of amazing recordings of the various street musicians throughout Java. Given his proximity to Sublime Frequencies, we can't help wonder why this didn't get released through that increasingly venerable label. No matter, Miller offers a great mix of folk musics that express the vast cultural patchwork of Javanese music beyond the principle exports of gamelan and dangdut. That said, one of the first tracks that Miller presents is from a trio of street musicians on a homemade gamelan offering a spirited rhythmic backdrop for a trained monkey who was delighting a group of squealing children. Another track features a krontjong troupe serenading passengers at the train station with a double timed acoustic guitar strum set to a rather maudlin croon. One of the highlights of the album comes from another island Lompok, which is home to an ensemble called Sakhabad, who present an urgent folk number that could easily be one of those acoustic guitar tracks that the Sun City Girls would have appropriated on 330,003 Crossdressers From Beyond The Rig Veda. The vocalist even sounds a lot like Alan Bishop crossed with Jello Biafra (this is meant in the best possible way, mind you!). Miller concludes the album with a lengthy series of Islamic calls to worship, one from the break of dawn and another from the end of the day. There's only 50 of these in circulation, and they certainly won't last long.
Another amazing archival release from the seemingly infallible Honest Jon's, the fourth in their series of compilations collecting early 78s held in the EMI archives.
Open Strings, is as the title suggests, a collection of songs by virtuoso stringed instrument players, hailing from Iran, Iraq, Egypt and Turkey, all recorded in the 1920s, an incredible selection of tracks, almost entirely unheard since they were first released. And wow. Every single track here is fantastic. Folks who have been obsessing over the Sublime Frequencies series best start paying attention to Honest Jon's as well, absolutely riveting, emotional, idiosyncratic, passionate, from wild musical flights of fancy, flurries of notes, tangled melodies, to warm whirring droning ragas, to playful folky lullabies, to wild, almost psychedelic workouts, to frenzied freakouts, to dark contemplative ballads, all warm and crackly and gorgeously aged, but at the same time absolutely timeless, this is some seriously magical music, lost treasures for sure.
And although it's really unnecessary, considering how sublime the first disc is on its own, the bonus material, featuring contemporary raga / drone string players responding to the originals (without which there music would not exist, or if it did, it would be in an extremely different form) is also pretty fantastic. And no doubt, folks with very little interest in Middle Eastern string music from the 20s will probably pick this up anyway for the folks doing modern versions of said music, just check out the lineup: SIR RICHARD BISHOP, SIX ORGANS OF ADMITTANCE, STEFFEN BASHO-JUGHANS, MICHAEL FLOWER, CHARLIE PARR, BRUCE LICHER, PAUL METZGER, RICK TOMLINSON, MV & EE AND MICAH BLUE SMALLDONE. Not bad. And their interpretations/versions are quite varied and all quite cool, from dark hushed whispers, to effects laden psychedelic blowouts to longform raga buzz to delicate folky flutter. Hopefully folks who pick this up for the modern stuff, will dig deeper and discover a whole new world of sound.
The cd comes in a gorgeous printed gatefold jacket, with thick printed inner sleeves, and the vinyl, WOW. Super extravagant printed box, 4 lps in printed inner sleeves, heavy and deluxe and thus, a bit expensive, but for vinyl obsessives, probably well worth it.
All June long we've been having a "graycation" here in foggy San Francisco, but yesterday the clouds lifted and it finally feels like summer!! Just in time for weekend barbecues comes this sizzling hottie of a compilation of Cumbia, Salsa and Calypso Funk from the Southern most country of North America, Panama! This is the second volume of sixties and seventies jams from this tiny nation that sees plenty of cross-pollination from many musical forms to the North, South and East. Northern Soul and Salsa influences, Afro-Caribbean calypso, Cubano percussion, Columbian Cumbia and Panama's own Musica Tipica, a black and mestizo rural country form notable for its wide array of rustic percussion as well as its use of multiple violins and accordian-led arrangements. The beauty of these compilations is their flow; traditonal cumbia is followed by sweaty salsa into Latin funk and back like it was tailor made for dance party listening. There's some amazing psychedelic soul funk numbers in here too from The Duncan Brother's "Dreams", The Soul Fantastic's awesome version of Bill Wither's "Ain't No Sunshine", and Lord Cobra's "Love Letters". Summer starts right here!!!
One of the most kick ass comps we've heard in a while! And there's been some good ones lately, of Nigerian '70s disco funk and French '80s electro punk, among others. But how can you beat funked up, progged out psych rock from Communist Hungary?? This comp resoundingly answers that question: you can't.
While this disc's title might be in poor taste this comp's curators exhibit EXCELLENT taste in groovy Hungarian psych/prog rarities from the sixties and seventies!!! Which is as you might expect, since these are the djs/diggers also responsible for such top notch sets as Welsh Rare Beat, Vertigo Mixed, and Prog Is Not A Four Letter Word. If you like those, you'll like this. (And, like us, will be eagerly anticipating volume 2, to be titled Hung Over, of course).
A couple of the bands here we know, only really 'cause of another B-Music related release, the disc by swingin' Hungarian sex symbol Sarolta Zalatnay, which featured her work with bands such as Locomotiv GT and Skorpios, both of which appear here along with a track by Zalatnay. In fact, the Hungarian scene was highly intertwined, as diagrammed by the handy "Well Hung Family Tree" that compiler Andy Votel has provided in the cd booklet... a cd booklet that by the way is super thick, packed with all the detailed liner notes from the knowledgeable Votel you could desire, color photos of the artists, album and singles covers, and a forward by none other than "Cini" herself, Sarolta Zalatnay! All the tracks are licensed from the source, Hungaroton Records, the whole thing sounds and looks great, it's an obvious labor of love. And what's not to love, 'cause all 20 tracks here are awesome. Tons of FUZZ guitar, swirling organ jamming, flutes going off, crazy instrumental breaks, wailing vocals, dancefloor filling beats galore. High energy stuff, man. Makes it seem like living under the heel of the Soviet boot of oppression wasn't all bad, at least these folks found the freedom of getting funky and freaky...
So, here's who's on here: Anna Adamis & Gabor Presser (the latter of whom has a big presence in many of these groups), Omega Redstar, Omega (2 cuts), Metro, Hungaria, Kati Kovacs (who sounds like Janis Joplin fronting Hard Stuff!), Katie Kovacs and Gemini, Corvina, Neoton, Tamas Somlo & Omega, Meteor & Demjen Ferenc, Illes (2 cuts from them too), Sarolta Zalatnay, Locomotiv GT, Nemenyi Bela and Atlantis, Piramis, Skorpio, and Bergendy.
From the fuzzy Bo Diddley shake of Omega Redstar, to the badass organ excess of Locomotiv GT, to the frantic funky synth sizzle of Illes (a band whom we recall from Prog Is Not A Four Letter Word as well)... well it's hard to pick highlights, they're all mega. Maybe Omega (sans Redstar) gets the nod for their epic 8 minute groover "Kergeskeziu Favagok", a full 3 minutes of which at least is occupied by a killer drum solo laced with field recordings of bird twitter! They also contribute a fuzzed out stomper a little later in the disc.
Ah, but it's all so good, Well Hung bringing together an amazing Eastern European melange of hard edged acid rock funk freakbeat that's part Chains And Black Exhaust, part wah wah '70s cop show kitsch, part Iron Curtain exotica... fun times in other words! Recommended.
Yet another amazing power-packed issue featuring extensive articles on electro-funk pioneer Roger "Zapp" Troutman (especially notable is the difficulty and dangers of using a Talk Box) and Memphis Soul organ legend, Booker T. Jones. Dust Brother, E.Z. Mike Simpson, talks old skool funk. El Michels Affair enter the Wu-Tang Clan's 37th Chamber, while The Mahavishnu Orchestra meditate on beginnings and endings. Plus Ralph McDonald, Byron Lee, Def Jef, Broken Keys, Lord Finesse, STS9, and Glass Candy!
It's been ages since we've reviewed anything from aQ beloved soundmaker Simon Wickham-Smith, but A Seventh Persimmon is the perfect way to get reacquainted. Three long tracks, totalling over 60 minutes, all three minimal and delicate, the first mostly piano, gently and barely effected, the notes allowed plenty of time to drift and hover and decay, very Eno-esque for sure, but filtered through that distinctly DIY, underground cd-r filter, adding grit and texture, some lo-fi whir and hiss, to an otherwise gorgeously ephemeral drift. The second track is even more minimal, a symphony of barely there buzz, processed and sculpted into strange abstract shapes, as if W-S composed the track using just the buzz of various household appliances, the fridge, the computer, the heater, all emanating that whispery hiss, but then, strange glitchy almost-vocals surface, burbling up from below, peppering the otherwise microscopic landscape of muted buzz.
The closing track is epic, a tumbling multicolored array of warm glowing tones, underwater textures, tangled dizzying melodies, like a symphony of calliopes playing on the ocean floor, or that first track looped and layered over and over and over, skittery, warped, warbly, woozy, streaks and blurs and smears, processed and looped, shimmering and swooping backwards and forwards, soft focus, a meticulously jumbled bit of underwater psychedelica, nods to Oval for sure, rendered in a slow sifting stasis, a waking dreamstate, where sounds and colors and shapes merge into sweet sweet music.
It's about time that stoner rock guitar god Scott Weinrich, better known by his nickname Wino, former vocalist for Saint Vitus, just up and called his band "Wino". After all, The Obsessed, Shine, Spirit Caravan, Hidden Hand, they were all Wino projects with drawing card, Wino. So, at last, here's the man's "solo" album. Unlike at this year's Southern Lord SXSW showcase, where he did indeed play an entirely solo (and acoustic!) set, Wino is in fact a band on Punctuated Equilibrium, a power trio that also features the talents of Jean Paul Gaster (of Clutch) on drums and Jon Blank on bass.
And guess what? Wino sounds pretty much like Wino's other bands! Which is exactly what we hoped for. A mix of '70s style heavy rock, aggro punkishness, and technically badass instrumental interplay, with of course political-mystical-conspiracy lyrics delivered in Wino's trademark gravelly croon. Wino's other trademark, his distinctive fat guitar tone, is also present and accounted for.
Loping, bellbottomed opener "Release Me" sounds a bit like Captain Beyond, born too late. Then things get a bit frashter for the next tune, the title track. And the album rolls on, an eclectic, electric trip through, well, what Wino is all about. Making music that's part Mountain, part Mahavishnu... doomy, psychedelic, often esoteric and instrumental (among the latter, there's a song called "The Women In The Orange Pants" that almost could be Stinking Lizaveta...and considering the title, it's probably just as well there's no lyrics).
Speaking of track titles, who else but Wino would call a song "Gods, Frauds, Neo-Cons and Demagogues"?
Any magazine that puts the names of both Pierre Henry and Ramleh on the cover is all right with us. Which of course this long-running must-read music magazine from the UK is, obviously, since we happily sell a big stack of 'em ever month.
The Wire catches up with what French musique concrete pioneer is doing these days, and talks with underground '80s noiserockers Ramleh who are also back on the scene, and also delves into all sorts of other interesting stuff this ish. The actual cover star is techno / dub maven Moritz Von Oswald, and in addition there's pieces on Jacob Kirkegaard, Guiseppe Ielasi, Lucas Abela, and more, including all the usual Wire goodies like pages and pages of reviews, an "Invisible Jukebox" session (this issue's participant is Ariel Pink), a scene report (Berlin), etc. etc. ----* ----* Compilations : ----*
When we reviewed the first record from these French black metal freeks, easily one of our favorite weirdo black metal records ever, we reprinted their particularly twisted manifesto, just to help shed some light on what these guys were all about. No manifesto tucked away in record number two, but the line-up and instrumentation is somewhat revealing:
E: Abnormal guitars, odd bass, weird sounds abuse, mortuum tunes
L: Eerie and bizarre vomit parts, vaporous incantations
C: Ethereal drums, wraithlike mix tasks, noise suffocation
And the rest of the liner notes go one to describe most everyone and everything involved as repugnant. So yeah, think repugnant, abnormal, odd, weird, eerie, bizarre, ethereal, wraithlike, noisy and suffocating, and you'd definitely be close to understanding the sort of gloriously sick blackened metal damage Wolok produce.
Caput Mortuum is tighter and more well produced that the first record, while simultaneously being somehow more fucked up and warped. All it takes is a listen through the first song, and you'll know if you've got the kind of fractured and freaky constitution to withstand this sort of aural punishment. Skittery effected chants give way to woozy tangled riffage, chaotic relentless blast beats, raw sick processed vokills, the whole thing convoluted and impossibly gnarled, with lurching start stop arrangements, a moody melodic breakdown, that gives way to a chugging churning drone drenched anti-groove, which in turn gives way to a lumbering, stuttering fucked up, almost industrial sounding bit of buzzy stumbling blackness, alternatingly pounding and blasting. ALL the sounds wreathed in strange effects. Think Blut Aus Nord or Spektr's fucked up inbred offspring. It all makes a little more sense when you realize one of the three responsible for this unholy damage is also responsible for the raw primitive filth that is Zarach'Baal'Tharagh.
But Wolok, like their elder statesmen in Spektr and Blut Aus Nord, are mired in black metal, but obviously are giving it all they've got to transform regular old buzz and blast into something else entirely, and fuck if it didn't work. Warped and woozy minor key dirges give way to impossibly frenzied freakouts, noise drenched doom is gradually transformed into strangely melodic avant doom pop, before exploding into some seriously Naked City worthy stop start whatthefuck, like listening to a Lifelover record melt, while someone spins a Deathspell Omega record manually with their finger. In fact, much of this record sounds a bit warped and warbly, as if while the band was recording, someone, a band member or otherwise was constantly fiddling with the tape speed, and various other things in the control room, adding all manner of indescribable weirdness to the proceedings, but all that strange shit wouldn't mean much if the band couldn't play, and songs and riffs weren't amazing, it would be just a cool sounding mess, instead, this is in fact a cool sounding mess, but a dense, super technical, gloriously freaked out and frenzied, moody, otherworldly, twisted and seriously, geniusly fucked up mess. And while we hate to say it, this definitely joins the new Katharsis in the running for black metal record of the year!
By now, Wolves in the Throne Room have established themselves as one of America's most gifted and awesomely dependable black metal bands, and their third long player, Black Cascade, picks up right where their recent Malevolent Grain ep left off. All the elements of their expansive, blackened psychedelic approach are here: sprawling songs with a methodical attention to song structure, relentless drumming, perfectly interlocking dual guitars, tortured raspy vocals, and an ability to seamlessly merge synthy ambience with a furious but often very melancholy black metal onslaught. There seems to be a legion of haters out there, ready to label the band as a bunch of PC hippies who aren't adhering to whatever rules they assume apply to a style of music that is pretty nihilistic and iconoclastic by nature. But fuck those people. This band is great and truly deserves whatever accolades come its way.
The ever-present density of WITTR's sound is further heightened on Black Cascade, their bio proudly emphasizing the old school analog sound they have achieved through vintage recording gear and classic tube amps. While we don't want to ramble on about various pieces of musical equipment, it should be noted that these devices have certainly helped the band to capture a sound music nerds might refer to as "organic". Sure, we at aQuarius love all the homemade bedroom black metal that sounds as if it was recorded in a blender during a tornado... The sound on Black Cascade, however, is clear and upfront, though hardly refined or polished. It is quite rock n' roll in a classic sense, which works great when the band breaks out some Thin Lizzy-esque guitar harmonies on the first track "Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog". Mossy, ultra distorted guitars hang like a thick black cloud (or a sea of fog, if you will) in the atmosphere as the drums create the necessary propulsion that make a Wolves in the Throne Room song sound like it could, and should, carry on FOREVER. Song #2, "Ahrimanic Trance" is, true to its title, a hypnotic, trancelike black metal trip into some long forgotten wilderness. The song gives one a feeling of being transported at high speeds across the landscape while watching from the back of some primitive vehicle, a sense that is carried on in the next track, "Ex Cathedra". The final song, "Crystal Ammunition", starts life as a dizzying, hyperspeed slab of pure black metal before morphing into a beautiful lament that may (or may not) reference the melody from Malevolent Grain's "A Looming Resonance". It's seems like things will culminate in the ultimate fadeout. But, uh, what happens after the fade out? As everything gallops off into the distance, otherworldly guitar chords and tambourine are the only sounds evident. Eventually these too recede as they are overtaken by a phased out synthscape. Fucking awesome.
While this album was great from the moment we first put it on, repeated listens have been revealing more and more. To say this is a huge departure from what Wolves in the Throne Room have accomplished in the past would be inaccurate. It is, instead, the sound of a group who, with each record, becomes a more realized version of itself.
We haven't heard from New Zealand dronescaper Peter Wright in about a year. Well, it's been at least that long since we've reviewed one of his discs. Somehow two other Wright discs slipped through the cracks in that time though, which is a shame, since pretty much everything we've heard from Wright is fantastic. This latest double disc is no different.
Nine looooooong tracks spread out over two discs, most in the 15-20 minute range, which is ideal for Wright's slow building, slow burning drone-epics, allowing for plenty of time to drift and shimmer and buzz and whir and rumble.
The first disc opens as disembodied voices float above and within thick swells of grinding melodic buzz, smoothed out into undulating sonic sheets, feedback is dulled and blunted and transformed into warm ambience, the raga-like buzz sprawls out seemingly endlessly, this is Wright at his heaviest and most aggressive, the tones taking on a timbre not that far removed from Nadja's doomic crush, but Wright approaches that sound from another direction entirely.
The rest of disc one is much more serene, minimal and hushed, a slow swirling ambient shimmer, delicate and crystalline, which over the course of two tracks and nearly 40 minutes manages to slip from hushed whisper to smoldering whir, glowing hotter and hotter but never letting loose, until the 6 minute closer gets all riffy, the guitars blindingly distorted, but remaining soft and warm and hauntingly melancholic.
The second disc is the perfect second movement, shifting from warm effects drenched drifts to deep subterranean rumbles, from sun dappled cinematic ambience to reverbed minimal mood music and finally to full on crumbling corrosive blown out crunch, with weirdly decaying distortion, strange strangled guitars, thick swaths of blurred buzz, and gorgeous chiming tones ringing out in the background.
Yet another collection of divine drones and sublime minimal soundscaping from the inimitable Peter Wright. Needless to say, absolutely gorgeous, and for the droneminded among you, most likely essential.
Been trying to track these down for ages, and finally managed to get a handful. Two new tracks from longtime aQ fave Xasthur, and one from Swedish one man black metal horde Black Circle.
The Black Circle track is super simple, raw, old school, primitive depressive black metal, midtempo, murky muddy riffage, growled guttural vocals, simple drum plod, definitely a bit grim and frosty, but more sort miserable and moody.
The Xasthur tracks, both sound like fragments, maybe parts of a bigger, never realized epic, but they're pretty kick ass parts, if you've been digging the direction Malefic's been taking the sound of Xasthur lately. Washed out guitars in the background, everything woozy and warped, depressive and abstract, definitely less metal and more atmospheric, tangled atonal guitars, warm muted synths, soaring strings, croaked barely-there vocals (courtesy of new Xasthur member M.H.), everything ULTRA lo-fi, plenty of buzz and hiss, but that only adds to the atmosphere. The second Xasthur is actually a cover or interpretation of a song by Tiamat, but we couldn't tell, still sounded like a Xasthur jam to us.
Limited to 888 copies, each one hand numbered, they come from far far away, so when we do run out, we may not be able to get more, and even if we can, it might takes us a while to restock.
