Also available on vinyl... Following up their glorious, but sadly very limited edition 78rpm 10" record Foni Tu Argile, A Hawk And A Hacksaw present their latest full length via more modern technological means. As always, the band remain deeply reverent and faithful to the traditional Eastern European gypsy folk styles that they hold near and dear. Their songs rush by at a frenzied pace. It's almost faster than your toe can tap, but the music does spur your limbs into action. We found ourselves moving a bit quicker around the store while it played. Even without our morning coffee fix! So if you've been trying to kick caffeine, maybe consider this a healthy substitute... no, seriously! Check out the wild piano action on "Kertesz" and the twisting horns on "Turkiye". Amazing musicianship! Stunning stuff! They do slow things down briefly for numbers such as the mesmerizing "Raggle Taggle" (though it ends with an unexpected lively clip!) and "I Am Not A Gambling Man", only to start back up again at an even more frantic tempo! If you've dug their previous recordings, this will surely please you a-plenty! Also recommended for fans of Beirut and Gogol Bordello!
Oohh la la! Hunx made his first colorful and sassy splash as a member of ultra fun Kill Rock Stars outfit Gravy Train, but in fact he's been contributing to D.I.Y culture ever since he was a young teenager making some of the most amusing and amazing zines we've ever read (if you are ever lucky enough to find his zine about Applebees by all means grab it!).
While it seems that Gravy Train have gone on hiatus, that break has spawned two awesome offshoots as Chunx (Brontez) started his own scrappy garage pop project The Younger Lovers and Hunx has been blasting out saucy, catchy and irresistible bedroom garage pop gems of his own with his new project Hunx And His Punx. Taking inspiration from girl groups, John Waters films and a hot vintage queer aesthetic complete with unzipped black leather jackets and lots of skin, Hunx is truly one of the few out and proud folks making waves in what was until recently a really stale garage pop scene. But wow has that changed in the last year or two as folks like Brilliant Colors, Wavves, Ty Segall, Dum Dum Girls, and more have injected much needed heaps of fresh energy and wild vibes into the scene. Hunx And His Punx lean much more towards the bubble gum side of garage pop in the best way. Kind of like if a young Fred Schneider jammed out Ronettes covers. "Teardrops On My Telephone" could have been the perfect soundtrack to one of those early Kenneth Anger short films. While others who try to inject humor and sass into their pop usually fall so flat, Hunx has the ability to make songs that are as charmingly goofy as they are catchy.
We slept on the now way out of print and wonderfully scandalous scratch and sniff 7" so grab one of these before they too are gone for good.
Detroit's Small Stone label is the one of the most reliable "stoner rock" standard bearers these days. While we don't necessarily like everything they put out, you can bet your bong it's ALL stoner rock. And they do have some great bands on their roster, a few that really push the stoner rock thing into interesting psychedelic directions, including recently reviewed discs from AQ faves Los Natas (El Nuevo Orden De La Libertad) and Sons Of Otis (Exiled), both highlights on our last couple lists. So we figure its worth checking out other stuff on the label, and guess what? Here's one from last year that we had overlooked when it came out, but just one listen and we knew we should get some copies in and review it!
Basically, we could describe Salt Lake City's Iota as being a mixture of trippy Hawkwindiness and more aggressive blues based hard rockin', sorta like (early) Soundgarden or Skin Yard meets the heavier, more spaced out sounds of Sons Of Otis or UFOmammut. One reason we mention Soundgarden and Skin Yard is 'cause of the grungy melodic vocals, which bear a certain resemblance to that of those bands, but otherwise this is HEAVIER and SPACIER than any Seattle grunge for sure. And it's not like the singing is the focus of any of this, whereas interstellar jamming IS. However, it's easy shorthand to say Soundgarden + Sons Of Otis, when you hear this you know what we mean.
The five tracks on this 50 minute disc are programed so you get the two stormers out of the gate, tracks 1 and 2 being the throbbing metallic riff attacks of "New Mantis" and "We Are The Yithians", respectively. Then, it's time to blast off and bliss out, as tracks 3 and 4 are extended trips into the alien drug fantasies depicted in the disc's cool cover art. Those two cuts, "The Sleeping Heathen" (10:42) and the even more massive, nearly 23 minute "Dimensional Orbiter", are equally as heavy as the disc's first two tracks, but just a lot more spaced out. Then there's the fifth and final track, Tales closing with the 8+ minute bluesy nod scene that is the harmonica-laced "Opiate Blues", though it still seems it's a transmission from outer space, despite the earthier overt blues element.
Like we said, one listen and we were bowing down, Iota's Tales pushing all our psychedelic stoner rock buttons, with killer guitar soloing, scifi freakiness, sheer heaviosity, and surprisingly excellent vocals. Very, very cool.
Wait, what? Are we having a collective ultra-doom induced dream? A NEW Khanate record?? We'd practically been ready to slit our wrists (or should that be, ready to *stop* slitting our wrists?) when we heard that this sludgey supergroup (featuring members of SUNNO))) and Old) had split up a while back. But here's Hydra Head with a new, vinyl-only (for now, see below) Khanate release! Turns out, it's music they recorded back in 2005-2006 by James Ploktin, Stephen O'Malley and Tim Wyskida, with vocals apparently added later on by the inimitable Alan Dubin. And it's a pretty killer Khanate set, a fitting finale really, taking things to an extreme, emotional, and artistic level that they'd perhaps never reached before - or ever will again, seeing as how this is indeed their last album.
There's four tracks, "Wings From Spine", "Clean My Heart", "In That Corner", and "Every God Damn Thing". All of 'em claustrophobic and chaotic, but it's doomic slow-motion chaos, a ballet of percussive skitter, sculpted feedback, washes of grim drone, and crucially, insane wailing vokillz. Of course, with Khanate (and Dubin's new project Gnaw) a lot depends on how into his vocals you can get - and maybe you should be worried about your mental health if you get really into 'em! His misanthropic throat-peeling rants about, well, every Dubin-damned thing are perhaps an acquired taste, or affliction. We're fans though, yikes...
Musically, on Clean Hands we were struck by the lengthy semi-ambient stretches, seemingly improvised, that provide a disturbingly quiet yet creepy backdrop for Dubin's bloodcurdling extemporizations. The restrained rumble and clatter of these segments certainly build the tension, for the release that comes when the really heavy parts kick in, as of course they ultimately do. The thirty-plus minute "Every God Damn Thing", which takes up all of the B side, is especially hushed and ambient sounding, humming and hissing with fractured bits of amp buzz and jack/cord glitch, it's Khanate at their most Sinistri/Starfuckers-ish. Experimental, more than metal.
So, this here is the assuredly limited, swank domestic vinyl edition. Real nice O'Malley design, colored vinyl (the one we're looking at now is "caramel vanilla swirl", yum). Apparently, someday there's gonna be a domestic cd version too, with a bonus dvd, but on that "Every God Damn Thing" is given a major edit, shortened to, like, 8 minutes. Also rumored, a picture disc vinyl version (dunno if we'll see that) and a Japanese cd edition on Daymare which we think will include the full half-hour version of "EGDT" heard here... not sure when/if we'll ever have that though, either. Just fyi.
Of all the Finnish bands we love, and all the bands on Finnish label Fonal, Kiila might just be the most traditionally indie rock. But then that's really relative, since we're talking about Finland, and the fact that Kiila is made up of members of other, much more far out bands like Es, Kemialliset Ystavat, Avarus, Anaksimadros. So you can figure that even though Kiila traffic in indie rock, it's unlike most indie rock you know.
Right off the bat the first track reminds us of a much more blissed out folkier Animal Collective, chiming guitars, delicate fingerpicking, softly tangled harmonies, reverbed abstract vocals, sunshine-y and dreamy, really quite lovely. The rest of the record is not so blissed out though, the second track is a fiddle laced bit of indie rocking, jangly guitars, propulsive drumming, lots of swirling drone-y organs, and much more traditional sounding vocals, in fact it almost reminds us a little of Wilco, albeit filtered through the cracked Finnish pop sensibility. The rest of the record continues in a simialr direction, channeling much of what we love about indie rock, but infusing it with plenty of twang, Finnish forest folkiness, and plenty of off kilter weirdness, whether it's thick sheets of undulating buzz, fluries of birdsong, streaks of tripped out effects or thick swells of rumbling low end crunch, those various elements are deftly woven into more traditional pop smithery.
A few tracks revisit the dreamy folkiness of the record opener, stripped down to just acoustic guitar, fiddle and voice, while others are almost entirely vocal harmony drive, and at least one is a gorgeous droned out synthscape, and another is a ramshackle horn flecked, chaotically percussive tripped out free jam.
The sounds are lush and beautiful, jangly and poppy, and just a little bit twisted and fractured, they may be the most 'traditional' sounding of all our Finnish faves, but that still means this is weirder and more awesomely abstract thatn 90 percent of music out there.
Gorgeous Fonal packaging as always, the cd in a full color 6 panel cardboard gatefold jacket, with a printed inner sleeve which includes liner notes and lyrics and cool printed Japanese style obi, the vinyl in a normal but quite colorful sleeve.
Some of our favorite tracks on the most recent Ed Banger compilation of tripped out psychedelic dancefloor electro synth weirdness came from the awesomely monicker'd Krazy Baldhead, a Frenchman who just might give Justice and the like a run for their francs.
The B-Suite is in fact a nearly 50 minute continuous jam/mix, that takes everything we like about Justice, Ed Banger, the current breed of weirdo electro synth shit, and stirs it up into a massive outer space dance party.
Synths everywhere, that's a give, they buzz and how, and rumble, they get chopped up into throbs and pulses, the get layered into dense walls of sound, they get wrapped around beats, BIG block rockin' beats, skittery laid back beats, housey beats, hip hoppy beats... It's all about the beats and the synths, and they get all tangled up and mashed up and smeared and blurred into pounding late night grooves, druggy sci-fi cinematic slow jams, stuttery chunks of hiccupping hip hop, thumping space aged electro house, whatever the fuck Baldhead can come up with, he's called Krazy for a reason.
Rappers pop up here and there, flowing over stripped down abstract hip hop or woozy groovy future funk, but those brief bits are surrounded on all sides by the aforementioned array of constantly colliding and swerving and shimmering synths, and the non stop avalanche of unlikely beatsmithery.
Insane and insanely catchy robotic electro from another planet, beamed down here in order to melt down dancefloors, soak the populace with sweat, and generally get the party started, even if said party is some next level, futuristic, intergalactic, alien synth shit. Awesome.
Anyone into Justice, Ed Banger records, metal house, and all that sort of far out dancefloor synth damage, this is for YOU.
We've been trying to get our hands on enough of these to list for ages, a killer 3 way split of obscure strangely melodic blackness, released on Hungarian label Turanian Honour, featuring long time aQ faves Marblebog, Bay Area depressive black metal duo Lascowiec and Verzivatar, another Hungarian horde we had never heard until now.
Lascowiec, whose killer demo compilation we raved about a while back (which we still have a small handful left), returns with four more tracks of washed out black beauty, darkly depressive and beautifully buzzy, the music of Lascowiec is a blurred and smeared minor key mystery, remove the distorted vokill croak, and you'd be left with a deep swirling shoegazey bit of soft focus buzz. The riffs are muted and muddy, lo-fi but still lush, locked into trancelike loops, woozy and warbly and hypnotic, about as pretty as black metal can sound without ceasing to be black or metal. Spidery tangled little melodies, wreathed in otherworldly effects, distorted but not harsh or jagged, more smoothed out and blissy, the vocals the grimmest element, but for the most part, it's the music that carries Lascowiec, gorgeously mournful, and hauntingly lovely buzzy blackness.
Marblebog offer up two songs, epic and majestic, melodic too, but with some super twisted way UP in the mix vocals, that transform an otherwise loping mysterious minor key dirge into something creeped out and harrowing. The main melody is gorgeous, almost power metal sounding, albeit slowed down and draped over a monotonous doomy drum plod, but those vocals, the perfect blend of harsh and hellish, brooding and pretty. Their second track is another strange blend, this time the guitars and drums are buried beneath thick swirling keyboards, and some fucked up demonic gurgled croaking vocals. Again, the effect is the same, a sort of woozy softly buzzing prettiness transformed into a fractured, Burzumic, off kilter depressive black dirge.
Finally Verzivatar deliver two tracks of fierce and frantic blasting blackness, but like the other two bands on the split, their sound is marked by an unlikely melodiousness, the riffs, frenetic and buzzy are also soaring and majestic, the vocals here too are weird, but less black metal, or really metal at all, more like a raspy punkish howl, or a strangled mewl. Gives Verzivatar a sort of crusty punkish vibe, reminding us a bit of French faerical black metal punks Nuit Noire. Definitely need to hear more from these guys.
All three bands offer up some seriously gorgeous melodic grimness, some surprisingly blissed out black metal buzz, unfortunately this is LIMITED TO 666 COPIES, and has been out for a while, so not sure we can get more. Each one is hand numbered, with a big full color booklet, liner notes, lyrics and the works.
Our musical hearts can't help but be warmed by a new Lemonheads record. Sure the last few were pretty meh, And for the last decade Lemonheads frontman Evan Dando has been more well known for drug problems and celebrity dalliances that the punk rock and later indie rock that made the Lemonheads so awesome. And hell, even the last few records, while not even approaching the greatness that was Shame About Ray or Lick or Creator, still had a few killer tracks.
Varshons is the long rumored Lemonheads cover record, and if one can overlook the two unlikely celebrity guest spots, which would be Kate Moss and Liv Tyler, then probably the biggest surprise here is the song selection. Probably most well known to most folks for their cover of Simon And Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson", the Lemonheads always had kick ass and often unlikely covers in their repertoire, Suzanne Vega's "My Name Is Luka", Kiss's "Plaster Caster", Charles Manson's "Home Is Where You're Happy", the Misfits' "Skulls", New Kids On The Block's "Step By Step", the Stone Poney's "Different Drum", Gram Parsons' "Brass Buttons", and this new all covers record continues Dando's eclectic choice of covers, including tracks by GG Allin, Townes Van Zandt, Sam Gopal (Lemmy's pre-Hawkwind outfit), legendary garage rockers Green Fuz, Wire, UK psych rockers July, punk rock legends Fuckemos, Leonard Cohen, and even pop songwriter for hire and former 4 Non Blonde Linda Perry among others. The story is that Dando and Gibby from the Butthole Surfers (who produced the record) became pals and Gibby started making Dando mixtapes like crazy, from which most of these tracks were culled, which helps explain the unlikely inclusion of Texas punk rockers Fuckemos. But how cool is that, we sure wouldn't mind a monthly mixtape from the man responsible for Hairway To Steven and Locust Abortion Technician!
For the most part, none of these tracks is super radical sounding, beyond the fact that the more rocking originals sound a bit stripped down, and the fact that you might not have ever expected to hear the Lemonheads covering GG Allin of Fuckemos, Dando deftly transforms each song, no matter how UN-Lemonheads, into a song that sounds like it could have actually been a Dando original.
Dando's voice is much deeper these days, a bit more raw, so the country-ish tunes here sound great, Gram Parson's "I Just Can't Take It Anymore", Townes Van Zandt's classic "Waiting Around To Die", even GG Allin's expletive laced "Layin' Up With Linda" becomes a David Allan Coe-worthy twangy outlaw country hoedown. The Sam Gopal cover is laced with buzzing sitars and skittery tablas, the July jam is all wah guitars and shuffling percussion, tripped out and psychedelic. Wire's "Fragile" sounds awesome all stripped down and acoustic. The Green Fuz track is slithery and slow burning, with warm guitar buzz and muted rhythms, swirling effects and a druggy swirl of backwards guitars. The Leonard Cohen cover, "Hey That's No Way To Say Goodbye" is appropriately dark and moody and torch songy, Liv Tyler offering up some breathy hushed vocals that sound great next to Dando's. But then there's the record's one weak spot, a cover of Arling & Cameron's "Dirty Robot", that either sounds like a favor, or a ploy to get in Kate Moss' panties, she being the one contributing the sung/spoken cold Euro new wave vocals over some crunchy guitars, weird vocoders, and some seriously dated nineties sounding electro. We'll just skip that one and hope it worked.
Minus that one track, we're pretty into all the versions here, or Varshons, we've missed Dando, his voice and that particular Lemonheads sound, let's hope these covers have gotten him all revved up to make a new proper Lemonheads full length. It's about time!
Seems like rumors regarding the end of Leviathan were greatly exaggerated. Not only is Leviathan still a going concern, but then out of nowhere pops this brand new, bad ass split, with a Greek band called Achernotas, who we knew by name but had never heard until now.
Needless to say, most aQ metalheads won't need much more prodding than the words "new Leviathan record", then there's the fact that the cd AND vinyl version of this split are both insanely limited, which means once we sell out of these, odds are we won't be able to get more, which is a huge bummer, because not only are the Leviathan tracks awesome (obviously), but we're pretty psyched on Acherontas as well.
The Leviathan tracks sound like maybe they're a bit older, perhaps before the shift from electronic drums to acoustic drums, the sound is murky, but still gnarled and chaotic and dense, the arrangements furious and frenzied, the drumming insane, and that unmistakable demonic croak. Lots of glitch and buzz, tangled atonal melodies, a heaving wall of blackened chaos, but it is Leviathan, so there's plenty of dark brooding ambience, some classic metal sounding chug, some spaced out almost doomy sounding blackness, the sound here falls somewhere right between classic Leviathan and the more twisted sonic soundscapes of Lurker Of Chalice.
The Acherontas tracks start off with haunting reverb drenched piano, creating a creepy otherworldly vibe, before the band launches into some super grim sounding black pound, the drums simple but intense, the guitars super distorted, the riffs woozy and minor key, the sound slipping easily from loping Burzumic plod, to proggy almost folky swirl, with clean guitars and strangely complex drumming, smothered in ethereal effects, the vocals especially harsh, dripping with demonic intensity, then suddenly transforming into deep haunting croon, the guitars following suit, growing more and more melodic and lovely, still all wrapped in a haze of distorted buzz, eventually fading out in a blur of minor key miserablism. Really awesome stuff. Definitely need to hear more from these guys.
But for now, if you do want one of these, cd OR lp, act fast, these have been selling like crazy and we're down to about half of what we started with. The cds come in a nice digipak (although be warned, some of the edges are a little worn in shipping, nothing we can do about it, these are probably all we're gonna get), and the lp is a super striking pictured disc, that comes in a heavy sleeve with a printed 12" x 12" insert.
Super limited tour only 7", we got the very last handful. Unlike the blackened drones on Locrian's full length, this is way more in the realm of guitar heaviness, not quite black metal, but there is definitely some shades of black happening. A killer riff fragment, looped over and over, hypnotic and trancelike, slowly evolving in tone and timbre, getting higher and more jagged, while all around it, the ambient sounds build to a thunderous almost industrial cacophony.
The B side is a billowy bit of spaced out drift, trippy synth shimmer, another looped bit of abstract guitar, swirling effects, layered textures, erupting into a stretch of slow motion doominess right at the end. More dark heavy beauty from this Chicago duo.
All white cover, white labels, very little info, a Xeroxed insert with liner notes. 300 copies, these are the last ones ever.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Ultra crazy limited tour only 3"cd-r from these Chicago blackened dronelords, we tried to order a ton of these, but managed to get less than a dozen. Considering it was limited to 93 copies, and most of those went on tour with the band, these are most likely the last and only copies we'll ever get.
Which is a bummer cuz this is really great. Two tracks, both the same length, the second is the exact reverse of track one - which makes this a musical palindrome. Prettier than most of the other Locrian stuff, delicate and drifty, washed out and woozy, long fuzzy layered drones, a little bit space-y, very hypnotic and trancelike, the end of the first track (and thus the beginning of the second) builds to a buzzing blown out looped sounding coda, which then follows the reverse path through the length of the second track eventually settling back down into some soft sun dappled dronebliss, before finally fading out completely. Quite lovely, even the heavy parts are more pretty than heavy. Only 10 or so of these in stock. Be quick, or be without...
LIMITED TO 93 COPIES. Housed in a mini plastic sleeve, with a cool black on black fold out insert.
Finally a new issue of this dandy New York zine! Neil Michael Hagerty (y'know, of Royal Trux, Howling Hex, etc.) is still the "writer at large" for this wry, wit filled tome, and this time he's joined in Lowbrow Reader land by David and Shelley Berman (aka Silver Jews) among a dozen or so other contributors. This issue features editorials on comedians Don Rickles and John Mulaney, articles about novelist Gilbert Rogin, overlooked comedy flicks circa 1968 through 1983. Always a good, entertaining read and re-read! 32 pages.
We love dancehall, the beat, the rhythms, the toasting especially, the lurching hypnotic groove of it, but what we, and lots of other folks have always had trouble with, was the lyrical content, the whole scene in fact, rife with violence, and homophobia and misogyny, much like American hip hop, but even more fucked up and seriously unpalatable.
So much so that plenty of folks around aQ land who might otherwise dig dancehall big time, have sworn off it completely. UNTIL NOW.
Diplo and Switch, bring their twisted and tweaked approach to beats and grooves, and whip up one the wildest, craziest dancehall records EVER. And what better way to thumb their noses at traditional dancehall than by getting a whole gaggle of female rappers and toasters to team up with the more well know male Jamaican dancehall vocalists, often verbally sparring back and forth in the same song. The sound is supercharged, electrifying, the beats banging, the samples bizarre but perfect, a tangled technicolor musical backdrop over which the vocalists do their THANG.
Morricone-esque guitars, the clip clop of horse hooves, ringing cell phones, horse whinnies, dizzying looped rhythms, a killer stuttery beat, tons of woozy low end, everything chopped and hiccuppy, an awesome deep growly bit of toasting, and some cool looped Santogold vox, before she gets to spit her own bad ass verse, and that's just the first song.
The whole disc destroys though, relentless non stop hip shaking head bobbing sweaty sexy speaker destroying musical magic, some tracks bliss out into some sunshiney reggae grooviness, all laid back, infused with some awesome smoky sultry vox, other tracks get raw and rough, with buzzing guitars and fuzzed out bass lines, plenty of clatter and crunch, others are fizzly and festive, with vocodered vocals and skittery beats, and still others are dense tightly wound jams, drenched in effects and tangled up with rollicking block rocking beats and squiggly melodies. Even as an instrumental record, this would kill, but the vocalists push it over the top, tongue twisting flows all over the place, lightning fast sputters, growly drawls, head spinning back and forth and of course plenty of whoops and whooooooos...
Summer dancehall party record of the year for sure, with awesome Major Lazer cartoon cover art, very reminiscent of the classic old Scientist albums!! So recommended. Every time we play this in the store, someone comes up to see what the heck it is!
The Long Hair label digs up another kool krautrock obscurity for reissue here, one that Andee and Allan both happened to have heard already via a previous cd edition. It's an album that we're now glad to be able to get to list (with a bonus track!). Originally released on LP in 1971 (natch) on a tiny label with the wonderful name of Mouse Trick Track Music, this one-off rarity is a bit of a trippy gem, groovy and flutey and fuzzy. And plenty weird too, as is evidenced by the album's odd song titles, each with the word "Mammut" in them:
"Bird Mammut" (indeed featuring birds twittering, and birdsong like flute flutter, amidst propulsively grooving drumming), "Classical Mammut" (a brief interlude of whooshing wind, crying baby, placid piano), "Mammut Ecstasy" (hippy chant, fuzzed out guitar heaviness), "Footmachine Mammut" (laidback groove, what sounds like a lively dinner party in the background, with clinking percussion/wine glasses, more guitar soloing), "Short Mammut" (kinda like "Mammut Ecstacy", but shorter), "Shizoyd Mammut" (shrieking vocals, organ jamming)... and that's just side 1. Side 2 actually consists of just two songs, longer, more lyrical ones, including the 13+ minute psychedelic tour de force "Mammut Opera", that's both dramatic and rather lovely.
The whole thing, the way it combines the acid rock guitar action with Hammond organ, flute, and even field recordings (both outdoor and indoor it would seem), sorta sounds like a demented Deep Purple dosed on drugs, jazzily jamming away at some hippy party place in the Black Forest (where the were, recording in the studios of jazz label MPS). It's more groovy than heavy, but they let loose with some wild guitar riffery now and then, as well as dabbling in some (Beatles inspired?) songiness, particularly on the second half of the record. Krautrock aficionados should definitely investigate! And, especially as we know they overlap, Acid Mothers Temple fans too! There's definitely a precursor to AMT's funny freeform freakout vibe going on here. Specific krautrock comparisons could be to some of the previous Long Hair reissues like Et Cetera, Kollektiv and Wolfgang Dauner's The Oimels.
This official reissue has been digitally remastered, and comes with a thick, textually informative cd booklet, and the aforementioned 5 minute bonus track ("Da Du Da", recorded by these musicians in '69 for a compilation album, leading to the formation of the Mammut band/album project).
This latest release from modern prog heroes Mars Volta finds them at their orchestrated and organized best. Omar Rodriguez Lopez lays on the guitar effects while Cedric Bixler Zavala's vocals soar above and beyond into the stratosphere. There's a lot of extended build ups (as one has grown to expect) and some really crazy drum work on this record (especially on "Cotopaxi"). Though most of the eight tracks rock almost beyond belief, there are a couple sloooow, dreamy jams that almost require closed eyes and a doobie to fully appreciate.
What do you get when you put Modeselktor and Apparat together....Moderat! The debut collaboration between these German electronic heavyweights finds them joining forces to create some heavy duty electronic pleasures. Pulling from so many different elements of electronic music for their own special form of German techno that satisfies so nicely. There are a couple tracks with guest vocalists that we weren't digging too much, as they come off a bit forced and slick, but the majority of this record is chock full of sounds and beats for electronic heads to get down with.
Some of us were ready to concede the fact that Mos Def may have evolved into a much more important and amazing actor than rapper, but with The Ecstatic he grabs us forcefully and reminds us that he is most definitely still a potent musical force to be reckoned with! Any record that opens with a Malcolm X soundclip and goes right into a song that samples the music of Turkish psych singer Selda is setting the bar pretty high, and Mos Def just keeps pushing that bar higher and higher, as The Ecstatic is his most intense, immediate and powerful record in a long time.
The Ecstatic features some of the best hip-hop producers around (Madlib, Oh No, Georgia Ann Muldrow, Mr. Flash and even the late great J Dilla). While those producers help flesh out the strong beats and slightly Eastern vibe, the strength of the album is all about the presence of a rejuvenated Mos Def who sounds so commanding, in control and at ease on the mic. His flow and intensity on the record reminds us of classic Eric B. & Rakim, the kind of hip-hop that hits you hard on first listen but keeps unveiling more of its potency on repeated listens. Can't imagine a better hip-hop record coming out this year. So great!
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.
Mount Vicious certainly have a lot of fun. Their live shows feature (count 'em) three guitar players, one of whom (Conan) usually rips his shirt off and throws his guitar down to more easily interact with the crowd. The other two often play back to back, axe necks bobbing in unison. Really, with song titles like "Steroid Unicorn," "Wherewolf," and "We Enjoy Fucking (To This Music)" how can YOU not have fun listening (or maybe fucking?) to this music? Mount Vicious features Conan Neutron and Chris Bolig of local loudnicks Replicator and Alli Pheteplace of The Holy Kiss, both of which are now, sadly, defunct. Mount Vicious plays a more straightforward (a.k.a. fistpumping) brand of hard rock than either of those two outfits, well utilizing the technique of the harmonized guitar solo. Conan sounds surprisingly like a Misfits-era Glenn Danzig, with a little Mike Patton thrown in for good measure. Listen to this record at high volume.
One of two mailorder only / tour discs from Nurse With Wound that hadn't been available through any typical distribution channels, May The Fleas Of A Thousand Camels stitches together the minimal moments from two Nurse With Wound shows here in San Francisco back in 2006. Those shows marked the return of Nurse as a stage production after some two decades of refusing to perform live. Since then, Nurse has appeared on various stages in various countries in various guises. There's been a pretty steady touring core which has appeared alongside Steven Stapleton; those being Colin Potter, Andrew Liles, and Matt Waldron. Yup, that ensemble is present for these live sessions along with appearances from Stan Reed (Blue Sabbath Black Cheer), Moe! Staino, Richard Faulhaber, and a few others. Despite the large orchestra of sound-making potential, this album concentrates on the more minimal elements from those performances. Cyclical loops from the Nurse With Wound opus Salt Marie Celeste pop up throughout the set, although much less so than from what we can remember from the live shows themselves. Nevertheless, Stapleton and company were setting out to make dark music; and dark, shadowy, Dada-industrial sounds are what you will find here! Horror soundtrack slashes from atonal drone swell and collapse amidst hand-stewn squiggles, electronic errata, bizarre pig-like grunts, unsettled gasps for air, and the unexpected sounds that we have all come to expect from Nurse With Wound. The amount of space and those cyclical loops which return throughout the album certainly align this with the aforementioned Salt Marie Celeste, but also with some of the earlier masterpieces of unsettled Nurse With Wound minimalism - Homotopy To Marie, Soliloquy For Lilith, and A Missing Sense.
The title pretty much says it all, if you were to pronounce it "odd lot." That should go without saying for any given Nurse With Wound record, and this one certainly qualifies, even though technically Od Lot shouldn't be considered a proper Nurse With Wound record. Rather, this is a four-way split between the four touring members of Nurse -- Steven Stapleton, Colin Potter, Andrew Liles, and Matt Waldron - each offering a set of solo tracks. Colin Potter's pieces are worth the price of admission alone, with the first being a creepy, creepy horrordrone that ranks as some of the finest that we've heard from Colin. Hissing pulses swell into an undergirding rhythm that guides a series of undulating, arching tones. Much closer to a really dark Biosphere or maybe even some of the later digitally sculpted Zoviet France pieces. His second piece plods with a mechanoid plod culminating in a huge guitar crescendo. It's surprisingly straight forward for a Nurse With Wound project; but it's actually pretty damn amazing, more like a brighty rendered Troum or Nadja piece. Mr. Liles offers a series of dada-exotica following his contributions to The Bacteria Magnet with some fucked-up skronk laced around slinky disco cuts with funky wah-wah guitars and freakish whisperings upfront in the mix. The Stapleton track features a vulgar rant by Hazel Two-Twigs against an unknown Texan hipster, who probably had "it" coming to him; and Stapleton's backing noise is a signature, wild collage of splutter, squiggle, low-slung prog basslines clinging to a breakcore rhythm (remember his long-promised hip-hop album?). Waldron's solo track is a splattered semi-improv number for bass, guitar, and drums, more in keeping with what's been found on his Perekluchenie album and some of the proggy live material he's done as irr. app. (ext.) in recent years.
Like May The Fleas Of A Thousand Camels Infest Your Armpits, Od Lot was to be a tour / mail order only release, but aQuarius was lucky enough to get a handful of these. Don't expect either to last long!
Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall cover each other on this brand new smokin' seven inch. We really don't need to say anything more. Anyone who's been listening to the current wave of charged, blown out garage pop these days knows that these are two of the most potent forces in the game. Thee Oh Sees are coming off what we think may be one of the best records of the year, Help, and Ty Segall's debut was one of our favorites of '08. So rad to hear them tackle each other's songs. Thee Oh Sees do "The Drag" with a deep-in-the-void reverb filled flair that suits the song so well. Ty does "Maria Stacks" from The Master's Bedroom Is Worth Spending A Night In, a song which might just be Andee's favorite Oh Sees jam, not just cuz it's hooky and catchy, but it also immortalizes AQ pal and amazing artist/zine-maker Maria Forde. Ty finds a way to make the song a bit more lo-fi and fucked up sounding while still holding on to the great melody that makes the original stick like it does. Pretty much a no-brainer, best grab one of these while you can!
This thing is SO cool, but super limited and insanely expensive, so we only got THREE copies. Thus, we shall be brief. By now most of you should know what to expect from Campbell Kneale's new project, like a trippier more blessed out noise drenched less drone-y Birchville Cat Motel or something? Whatever it is, it's awesome. This two sided monster features epic slabs of fragmented jangle, symphonies of transistor radios, looped whirs and liquid low end, thick drones and glistening shimmer, looped minimal rhythms and wheezing heaving ragas laced with delicate melodies, all woven into a dizzying expanse of tripped out sound.
It's a custom made lathe cut picture disc, insanely thick (3 mm, like three records stacked on top of each other and glued together, cut one at a time by Peter King in New Zealand, which means they are each subtly unique, they wear down the more you play them, eventually sounding WAY different, they smell amazing, it's more than a record, it's an item, an artifact, a piece of soundart. Kneale freaks will definitely need these. We only have three, we might be able to get more, but since they only made 80 these puppies are scarce, so grab one while you can.
One man black metal bands are a dime a dozen these days. Heck we review one or two every list, and that's only a fraction of the one man bedroom grimnity going on in the world at any one time. Anyone with a 4 track, a black heart, and a rudimentary grasp of riffs and programming a busted up old drum machine, through the magic of the internet, can become a mysterious kvlt BM figure overnight. That said, there are plenty of one man black metal bands who transcend, some of our favorites in fact, Leviathan, Draugar, Xasthur, I Shalt Become, Striborg, Nekrasov, AmocomA, Moloch, Paysage D'Hiver we could go on and on. But the thing is, none of those 'groups' are truly one man bands. They are one man, and they are technically bands, but none are proper one man bands, you know, like the old timey sort of one man band, bass drum on the back, harmonica on a rack around the neck, tiny cymbals on the knees, squeezebox in front, ONE MAN BAND.
So as far as we know, there has never been an ACTUAL one man black metal band. UNTIL NOW. Pandiscordian Necrogeneis is the project of Lord Ephemeral Domignostika, also known as Mastery, the man behind the SF black metal monster of the same name (who have a double cd coming out soon on tUMULt) and who is also the vocalist and bass player for Horn Of Dagoth.
But in Pandiscordian Necrogenesis, Lord plays all the instruments himself, AT THE SAME TIME. Right foot plays the kick drum, left foot plays the snare, while he sings and plays guitar simultaneously. As if that weren't enough, all the songs and sounds here are totally improvised on the spot. WTF?? This shit is insane, and ridiculous, and incredible. Imagine a spike laden corpsepainted dude, sitting in the forest on an old rotted log, his feet pounding away on a kick drum and a weirdly rigged snare, his hands a blur on the guitar as he howls and shrieks into a microphone dangling from the branches above. Well, that's at least how we imagine it. But seriously, this shit is amazing. Frenzied and furious, the drums, a relentless D-beat pound, a sort of almost blast beat, the vocals sometimes a hellish croak, other times a demonic shriek, the guitar though, the riffs are incredible, tangled and gnarled, slipping from garbled chug, to insectoid buzz, sometimes soaring and majestic, other times murky and atonal, the songs shifting from stumbling blast to Burzumic plod, pretty hard to believe that one guy is playing all the instruments at once, AND that he's making up this shit off the top of his head. Most actual black metal bands recording one track at a time, couldn't come up with something this heavy and buzzy and grim and black.
Essential listening for the true black metal hordes, a brief, but gloriously blasting slab of outsider blackness, indeed performed by the only ACTUAL one man black metal horde in the world...
LIMITED TO 88 COPIES. Each one hand numbered with a printed insert, with liner notes / lyrics / packaged in dvd cases, the cover a cool tangled snake on a smeared blood red backdrop that actually IS BLOOD. The whole cover is in fact soaked / painted in actual blood! The effect is pretty cool an creepy, every one different, all with a strangely coppery scent, that will most likely drive your pets insane if you leave it out.
We got about half the pressing, but these will be gone before you know it...
So lovely, and soft as pussywillows! Jason Quever's back with his fourth Papercuts full length! His indie psych-tinged pop calls to mind a more cryptic and loosely woven Camera Obscura or Magnetic Fields (when Claudia is singing, mind you!). Everything about You Can Have What You Want is warm and fuzzy and inviting. Generous applications of reverb melt and blur the pop song structures into ear-hugging blankets that glisten and glow. Quever's wheezy '60s vibe vintage organs cozy up to the ultra pretty string arrangements of Beach House's Alex Scally who contributed a good deal to this album. Wistful and slightly melancholic, this really is a terrific end of summer album. So maybe nab it now, and tuck it away for when you really need it come late August? Some might find it to be a gradual grow-on-you kind of album (as we admittedly sort of did!), so the timing might actually work out perfectly that it'll have completely sunken its dreary lil' hooks into your heart by Labor Day! Recommended if you like the abovementioned bands as well as Caribou, Loney, Dear, and/or fellow Bay Area popsters Grand Lake who also have a terrific new album out now.
Ephemeral is the first new music from instrumental post rockers Pelican since they switched from Hydrahead to Southern Lord. Definitely an interesting development, as Pelican was definitely one of the bands that defined the Hydra Head sound. But heck, listening to these three tracks it's obvious they sound right at home on SL.
The side long first track is immediately recognizably Pelican, if anything the sound is a bit heavier, a little meaner sounding, there's definitely a Champs vibe, with lots of guitar trills and plenty of low slung chug, the weird thing is that unlike past Pelican efforts, this one in particular really does seem to scream out for some vocals. Any minute we expect some voice to just start howling or bellowing. We're imagining Wino, but there is that feel, a weird bit of tension, which works instrumentally for sure, but still had us hankering. But it's a killer jam, the drums especially, dense and wild, some intricate of kilter double kick action, plenty of mathy pound, and when the band lock into that main groove, it's like a massive black bulldozer made out of drums and amps and guitars.
The title track on the flipside is anything BUT ephemeral, sounding like an extension of the A side, but with even MORE chug, and a distinctly doomy vibe, even a bit of grunge. We could totally picture Mark Arm swooping in to sing a verse. And the record finishes off with a bad ass Earth cover, the band joined by Earth mainman Dylan Carlson, and while not too far removed from the original, it's definitely heavier, and darker, a little noisier, with seriously beefed up guitars, and a much more muscled rhythm, but retaining the same gorgeous, and ominous windswept vibe conjured up by Earth on the original.
Super thick sleeves, fancy Stephen O'Malley cover art. And probably wicked limited.
'70s semi-survivors Pentagram, one of the only truly O.G. doom metal outfits still somewhat extant, their legend only growing in recent years, more people getting into them, hordes of Witchcraft fans prominent among 'em. When Review Your Choices first came out in 1999, Pentagram were not quite as "hip" a band as they are now. So lots of folks who missed out before should be happy it's been reissued, along with its 2001 follow-up Sub-Basement, together the one-two-punch of a (temporarily) revitalized, turn-of-the-century Pentagram. Both albums now come in styley digipacks, with 2 bonus tracks each.
Here's our original review of Review Your Choices: The long-awaited new album from doom metal legend Bobby Liebling and his cult band Pentagram, one of the most ancient bands in the genre (not much younger than their lords Black Sabbath themselves). Indeed, about half of the tunes on this album were originally recorded as demo tracks back in the mid-'70s when Gene Simmons and KISS took an interest in the Pentagram boys and were trying, unsuccessfully, to get them signed to their Casablanca label. Both the old stuff (recently rerecorded of course) and the newly-written stuff on here resound with an authentic '70s/Sabbath vibe (right down to Bobby's vocals, which sound like Ozzy at his most demented and troglodytic!). Imagine taking records by the heavy likes of Saint Vitus, Trouble, and Blue Cheer and mixing them in a bowl with several boxes of Count Chocula (the cereal paid homage to in the booklet photo spread!) and a quart of way-past-its-expiration-date milk. That's the curdled, dark and soggy breakfast of champions served up by Pentagram on Review Your Choices. What a way to start your day, or perhaps to end it all.
Not much more to say other than, a classic, full of Pentagram necessities old and new. The killer, slide-y main riff on "Megalania". The cheerful insanity of "Gilla?". The old, old utter classic "Forever My Queen".... all of it, really! The bonus tracks are alternative takes of album tracks, and their production or lack thereof is pretty raw, but then again the album proper has its own "gluey" production eccentricities... either way these tracks sound plenty doomy!
Now, since the release of these two albums, Pentagram fans have been exposed to more of the band's original '70s recordings via the two First Daze Here comps that Relapse put out. If you have those, you'll certainly recognize many of the songs on Review Your Choices and Sub-Basement. But not only are these recordings of 'em quite worthy in their own right (some of these versions being our preferred ones for sure), these albums also contain plenty of circa-Y2K penned Pentagram material that's equally worthy.
There's been a lot of activity lately from these semi-legendary lords of doom, surprising coming from a band that's been around for about thirty years and has dwindled down to only two members! But (thankfully for all fans of dark, doomy heavy metal)
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!
And you thought other Psychedelic Horseshit records were lo-fi, whoooeee, then this collection of out of print cd-rs and tapes, from way back in the band's early days must be NO-fi, or shit-fi, or whatever the next step down is. But damn if this stuff doesn't sound just as good, short sharp bursts of punked up garage pop and indie jangle, caked in filth and hiss and crackle and buzz.
Tin can and twine vocals, garbage can lid drums, fuzzy transistor radio bass, warped Casio organ warble and crappy practice amp guitar crunch, all woven into some seriously classic sounding fractured pop, thing Guided By Voices if instead of being raised on British Invasion bands, it was Pavement and Sebadoh and all that killer nineties lo-fi indie rock.
Catchy and quirky and surprisingly lush here and there, and not surprisingly UN-lush everywhere else. Some of their best songs for sure, the grit and grime only adding to the magic of these lo-fi noise pop miscreants. Total proto-shitgaze genius!
It's funny when we discover an old aQ favorite that somehow never got a review. We scratch our heads and wonder how the heck that happened... and we get a bittersweet pang of guilt and warm fuzzies - partly because we're a bit ashamed that we never put our affection in print and partly because when we notice it, we are compelled to revisit the record again. Inevitably we end up falling right back under its spell. Trust us, it's not from a lack of love that something might not have a review on our website. There's a seemingly endless torrent of music coming at us at all times, but there's only so many hours... sigh! Anyhoo, that's a long-winded way to announce that longtime aQ fave Mark Kozelek's old band Red House Painters' fifth album has been reissued on vinyl! We shamefully never wrote a review about the original cd version, but that might've been because it came out back in 1996 (i.e, pre-aQ website and email newsletter!). The album is as beautiful and potently melancholic today as it was thirteen years ago. Lovely burnished golden twang! What else would you expect from Kozelek and RHP?! Songs For A Blue Guitar was, for all intents and purposes, Kozelek's first solo album (no other band members are listed in the credits), and in addition to it being the most guitar driven, country rock-ish RHP album up to that point, it also revealed his soon to be notorious penchant for covering seemingly incongruous songs and making them his own. Here he tackles McCartney & Wings' "Silly Love Songs", The Cars' "All Shook Up" and Yes' "Long Distance Runaround"!
Sometime labelmates Jack Rose and the Black Twig Pickers finally team up for a record together. Unlike most Rose records, which while delicate and dark and beautiful, are also showcases for one of the most incredible guitar virtuosos playing these days, this collaboration is way more of a team effort. There are definitely moments where you can hear Rose doing his thing, but for the most part, he's part of the band here, and the rest of the Twig Pickers are pretty serious players themselves.
Guitar, banjo, fiddle, bass drum, harmonica, vocals and bones (!), the tracks here veer from wild campfire old school blue grass hoedowns to more darkly contemplative folk explorations, and pretty much every stop in between. Tone of intricate fingerpicking, the stringed instruments getting tangled up in flurries of rapid fire notes, the vocals wild and loose, in fact the whole recording is pretty loose, like they just got together and jammed, which who knows, could be just how this happened.
Folks looking for pure solo guitar Appalachia probably won't find what they're looking for, although elements surface throughout, but for folks into old timey blues, classic bluegrass, those Mississippi blues reissue lps, and the more rollicking tracks on past Rose records, this will totally hit the spot.
What would you think if someone described a band to you, as sounding like a mix of Butthole Surfers, Black Flag, the Brainbombs and black metal? Want if they went on to describe the band's sound in more detail, and they came up with something like "thick oozing ultra distorted, totally chaotic, drone drenched, drugged out, noisy as fuck, weirdly hypnotic, punishing and pulverizing, scuzz drenched doomic plod"? Well your first thought, if you were anything like us, would be "could such a band actually exist?" It does sound too good to be true. Your next thought might be "well okay, if a band like that did exist, not only would they be scary as shit, they'd also probably be my favorite band EVER."
Thus we have Rusted Shut. Going on 20 years now, these Texan noisemakers have somehow only managed two proper records and a single or two, each one of those jammed to overflowing with the abovementioned thick oozing ultra distorted, totally chaotic, pulverizing scuzz drenched plod. When we reviewed their Hot Sex ep, we alluded to the fact that if said ep wasn't an ep, wasn't vinyl only, wasn't over a decade old, and wasn't WAY too fucked up for most normal ears, it would have not only been out Record Of The Week, but our Record Of The YEAR. Of our EVER! Well, it's as if whatever God enjoys inflicting sonic torture on his children heard our prayers and conjured up this festering bit of blackened noise punk brilliance from whatever pit these guys call home.
It's rare that a band 20+ years old makes a record on the tail end of 20 years even half as good as the record that started it all, but we're tempted to say, this just might be the heaviest, freakiest, most brutally brilliant thing we've heard from these guys so far. Which is indeed saying a whole hell of a lot.
The opener "Home", is 5 minutes of blown out punk-drone, the guitars unwinding in thick gnarled tangles, moaning and rumbling and howling, a dense undulating layered swell of roiling sonic filth, fragmented riffs, squiggly downtuned Greg Ginn-ish guitar scrabble, the drums skittery and abstract clouds of cymbal sizzle, bursts of free rock splatter, while over the top, some sort of harsh, whiskey soaked punk rock testifying, spouting all sorts of misanthropic misinformation, like a post punk noise rock gutter scum Whitehouse. The music grows more and more frantic, faster, more freaked out, the various streaks of sound coalescing into riffs, that blur into still more smears of sound, the song an exercise in droned out filth caked tension.
Then there's "Heart Of Hell", total old school punk rock, but filtered through a sort of washed out lo-fi Brainbombs dirginess, the main riff, total classic punk rock, but locked and looped, and played over and over and over and over, totally trancelike, the vocals just as sneeringly scowly as on the first track, but once they drop out, the song locks into a total droned out punked up krautrock groove, that sounds a bit like Circle covering the Brainbombs, albeit doused in crumbling distortion and blurred reverb and delay.
Then comes "Intellect", 15 minutes of total blown out garage dirge bliss, the sound so in the red, that every time a cymbal hits, it swallows up the rest of the sound, the vocals so loud it sounds like the singer grabbed you by the head and locked his lips around your ears, you can feel his hot hellish breath and the spray of spittle. But all the while the music underneath, grows more and more distorted and somehow more and more hypnotic, so damaged and fractured that it sounds like the song might crumble into pieces at any moment. But that's just the first few minutes. Soon the band switch gear and the bass EXPLODES, like suddenly while the band was playing, the bass player went out to his truck and got 3 or 4 more amps and just let fucking loose, low end overload, everything acid drenched and psychedelic, the sound of speakers frying, of headphones melting, the vocals garbled like speaking in tongues, the bass unleashing a sludgey doomy groove, the song an endless noise rock blown out druggy musical brawl that makes the Butthole Surfers at their fiercest sound practically tame.
This song more than anything here reminds us of our first live run in with these weirdos. At SXSW this year, they played an instore, everyone was waiting to see the Mayyors, but Rusted Shut were just destroying the place, super noisy and scuzzy and awesome, and they just NEVER STOPPED PLAYING. The homeless-looking singer/guitarist guy kept getting shocked by the mic, so eventually he simply walked outside, after leaning his guitar up against his amp... some punk dude in the audience then picked up the mic, and freestyled some "I hate SXSW" lyrics... when he was done and threw the mic down, it seemed like the drummer and bassist would wrap it up, but instead they kept on jamming... and jamming... and jamming� then the guitarist came back in after being outside for what felt like (and pretty much WAS) ages, picked up his guitar, and then it seemed like, OK, this must be the grande finale... but that was only the beginning!! They literally kept on playing for another half hour at least. After a while, most of the crowd had gone outside to wait for the Mayyors, driven away by the bands wall of harsh vibes and skull stomping crush, and someone even joked that they should shut the doors of the shop and lock Rusted Shut inside...
These guys are lifers, they're insane, a total mess, which is the only way a piece of glorious sonic filth like this could ever happen. This is not music made by nice guys slumming it, by punk rockers getting their hands dirty, no, this is the sound of old guys pissed and insane, hell bent on punishing the rest of the world, a furious plod and pound fueled by hate, and misery, and drugs. Lots and lots and LOTS of drugs. And that instore, for all of it's confusional chaos, is pretty much the exact same vibe captured here. That is what this band is all about. About relentless endless riffing, hypnotic crustpunk dirges, wild damaged Neanderthal noise rock. The sick sick energy of Rusted Shut is an anomaly. This is not music, this is the sound these guys conjure up from their dead souls and black hearts, a fucked up noise drenched hardcore psychedelic space sludge whathtefuck that's just about the greatest thing we've ever heard.
Everything we've heard from Secret Abuse, aka one man noise making machine Jeffrey Witscher, has been pretty harsh, heavy, noisy, brutal. A certain element of washed out drone, but for the most part, some serious speaker destroying chaos.
But on this latest lp, The Immeasurable Gift, Witscher expands his palette, keeping much of the grit and brutality intact, but wrapping it around warm glowing orbs of glistening melodic shimmer, and long drawn out streaks of kaleidoscopic blur. Anyone into Tim Hecker and Nadja and Fennesz and all those other musical obfuscationists, will definitely dig this big time.
The A side is a three part epic, made up of warm swirling swells, pulsing beneath a gauzy layer of crunch and hiss and whir, everything noisy and melodic, the tracks constantly teetering between the two, the end result is a totally fantastical sun dappled soft focus noisescape, light on the noise, and heavy on the warm warped shimmer. Beneath the constantly churning layers of grit and grim and crumbling buzz, a soaring epic, throbs and glows, brooding, slow building, languorous and lustrous, visible only as streaks and fragments visible through the whirling sonic clouds all around it.
The flipside is a bit more caustic, the melodies buried WAY further down, the main element a stuttery, skittery looped crunch, like someone playing a helicopter rotor, a whirring, flickering low end that creates deep slow burning melodies and barely discernible rhythmic pulses. The sounds build to a full on rrrrooooaaar before settling back down, the noise element gradually blunted and muted, revealing tantalizing glimpses of what lurks beneath the surface, some gorgeous gauzy mysterious soundworld, intercepted radio broadcasts, lilting melodies, pop song fragments, all drifting in the shadows, but it's only moments before the noise erupts once more and swallows it whole. So good.
LIMITED TO 425 COPIES, housed in super fancy full color jackets, with a Xeroxed insert.
Good time to love the damaged and super charged garage prowess of Ty Segall as he's got great songs just gushing forth with a whole slew of new releases, most of which are of course crazy limited. There's his split with Thee Oh Sees, two new 7"s of his own, a split 12" with Black Time and a brand new full length coming soon on Goner. We were slow on the draw on the last round of TS 7"s which are sadly already out of print, so we're happy we were able to grab some of these before they disappeared too.
"Cents" is one of Segall's best songs yet and it'll probably be on his forthcoming full length too. Packed with infectious raw and dirty guitar and those slightly distorted yet crisp vocals, all coming together to make your body do the herky jerky. The 'b' side has two great fast and furious pop nuggets that are as timeless and potent as perfectly crafted garage rock gets. The kid is on fire!
Good time to love the damaged and super charged garage prowess of Ty Segall as he's got great songs just gushing forth with a whole slew of new releases, most of which are of course crazy limited. There's his split with Thee Oh Sees, two new 7"s of his own, a split 12" with Black Time and a brand new full length coming soon on Goner. We were slow on the draw on the last round of TS 7"s which are sadly already out of print, so we're happy we were able to grab some of these before they disappeared too.
"Universal Momma" finds Ty exploring a more slowed down and drugged out vibe with a Roky Erikson sound heavy in its grooves and the title isn't just some rock talk, his mama Cherrie Segal actually co-wrote the song with him. The flip side "86'd" is also a bit more on the midtempo side proving Segall's far from a one trick pony, instead he's a seriously immediate and satisfying garage rock songwriter and is one of the folks helping the current scene sound so vibrant and alive. Limited to 500 of which we only have a handful.
UK '60s / '70s retro rock (garage, folk, psych, beat, soul...) magazine Shindig is back with another ish, this time Kippington Lodge and Brinsley Schwarz on the cover (not too familiar with them, perhaps? well then read up on 'em here). Also: Rodriguez, H.P. Lovecraft (the band, not the man), Sandy Salisbury of The Millennium, The Poets, articles on The Prisoner TV series and hippy lit, plus the usual ton o' reviews... and more. Including some stuff on new bands that are carrying on the spirit of the '60s...
Live in '95. Hmm, I think maybe that was right about when some of us here at AQ saw this Japanese psych band, they came to SF and played an amazing show at the Kilowatt, back when they had shows there. Tokyo's Shizuka, with their haunting female vocals drifting ahead of an inevitable onslaught of noisy, billowing, distorto-delic electric guitar murk, were one of the '90s precursors to such current bands as LSD-march, Suishou No Fune, and Up-Tight. At the time, we compared 'em to Angel 'In Heavy Syrup and Slapp Happy Humphrey, the latter especially 'cause of Shizuka's extreme mix of delicacy and destructiveness, of melancholic melody and sheer, feedback-laden guitar/amp/earhole abuse. Not abuse, though, not really... it's loud, sculpted sound that's actually quite beautiful. As with so many Japanese bands from the PSF/Tokyo Flashback scene, it's like a cotton candy dream of the most out there Neil Young & Crazy Horse amplifier meltdowns (a la Arc). This raw (but not to Rallizes-like levels of low fidelity) 52 minute live set is Shizuka in their element, and even if you've never heard 'em before wouldn't be a bad place to start, at all. The first song alone should make you a believer if you're at all open to this sort of thing (i.e. maybe already a fan of some of the other bands mentioned above). And it is 26 and a half minutes long! That's the biggest blow-out on the disc, the other three tracks trafficking more in the tranquil side of Shizuka, with long slow-moving stretches of sweet vocals backed by echo and hum and hiss as the shoegazing guitar bides its time before finally erupting into full flight.
And of course, those already into Shizuka know they're one of the best, unique within the pantheon, and should be pleased have another rare document of their sad dark mystery.
Matthew Bower's growing obsession with black metal has gradually infiltrated the blown out guitar skree of his earlier recordings and continues to push the sound of modern Skullflower into realms blacker and more grim and gristly than ever. Much like the recently reviewed (but sadly now out of print) Vile Veil lp, word on the street was that Malediction was to be the "Skullflower black metal" record, which it could very well be, but you have to realize that no matter how much Darkthrone or Pyha or Old Wainds or Arckanum Bower listens too, those sounds get filtered through that mysterious mind, eventually coming out via his guitar as a sound not terribly removed from something recognizably Skullflower, but with enough blackness, enough buzzing riffage, enough cello (here transformed into howling moans and caustic shards of scrape and skree) and enough chaotic drum splatter, courtesy of original Skullflower drummer Stuart Dennison, to make this more than just another Skullflower record, and more than just another guitarnoise record, it transforms this wild cacophony into some transcendent blacknoise hybrid, equal parts ur-drone and black buzz, psychedelic freakout and free-noise experiment, a pulsing, throbbing swirl of abstract heaviness and in-the-red speaker damaging crunch, a sound that slips fluidly from total abstract atom scatter to lurching almost riffy mesmer, remaining always wreathed in a thick, corrosive field of upper register sonic static, only the drums, ever really leaping from the fray, to hurl some thunderous beats before being quickly sucked back under.
Not sure if it was that brief foray into almost seventies sounding riffiness, back circa the records Exquisite Fucking Boredom and Orange Canyon Mind, but ever since then, Bower and company have been making noise with a vengeance, the sound of Skullflower and fierce and fucked up and heavy and noisy as it's ever been, Bower's black metal interests only adding to the bands hellish sonic trajectory. That's not all to say black metallers would dig this, cuz odds are, only the most extreme music obsessives among the black legions would find this particular brand of psych-skree to their liking, but heck, those of you who do fit that profile, go for it, immerse yourself, and discover just what it is about Skullflower, just what sort of black ritualistic magic lurks within the caustic black sonic sun that is Malediction.
Noiseniks will no doubt flip their lids, appropriately so, but there's so much more to this 'noise', what seems like a wall of sound, crumbles into pieces revealing so much texture within, every heaving wave of punishing crunch, gradually parts revealing a delicate network of strange melodies, the sounds while on the surface seem easily defined, are in fact more complex then they might appear, guitars and drums and voices and cellos all careening chaotically into a roiling churning black sea, a bottomless sonic expanse that takes metal and sludge and doom and noise and punk rock and minimal drone music and melts it down, shaping it into something new and mysterious, a baffling, deafening sound that defies any sort of classification, as the title of an old SF record so boldly proclaimed. This is Skullflower. And THIS, is Skullflower NOW.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. Packaged in a six panel full color digipak with cool tripped out watercolor artwork by Bower himself.
What more to say? A new Spoon record! Sure it may only be 4 songs (not 3 like it says on the sleeve), but heck, how long has it been since we've had some new Spoon? Far too long. And "Got Nuffin" is just what we've all been hankering for, nothing super new, no sonic reinvention, but then who wants that, it's just another killer brooding, chugging chunk of moody indie rock, a sound that few other modern rock bands can even come close to. Lots of fuzzy bass, minimal piano plink, some cool effected guitar, and Britt Daniel's unmistakable croon. Catchy and kick ass, sounds like it could have come right off any of their last few full lengths.
The other three tracks are all over the map. "Tweakers" is some cool abstract piano and drum experiment. Just a looping drum jam, super muddy and muted, with the occasional bit of electronic crunch, or atonal piano pound, even a little bit of drone-y high end, but it's mostly just the drums, and it's kinda cool. Leads right into "Stroke Their Brains", a shuffling slow burner, all fuzzy jangle and skittery rhythm, minor key melodies, strange effected vocals, an awesome Daniel vocal part, and lots of woozy twang.
Then after a few minutes of silence is the "Tweakers" remix, which sounds almost exactly the same, slightly altered, the beat subtly effected, the song a bit chopped up and stuttery, really cool, but then for a brief moment, there's some rapping, yep, rapping, really goofy dorky distorted rapping. It's only for 30 seconds or so, and it somehow works, sort of, but we imagine there's a reason it's tucked away after the silence and is unlisted on the sleeve. Maybe that track's for Spoon freeks only, but the rest of this way too brief ep definitely has us chomping at the bit for a new full length!
What is it about Kinshasa? The capitol city of the Democratic Republic Of The Congo first brought us the mind blowing Konono No.1, who fashioned PA's and amps out of old car parts, and rigged up thumb pianos with home built pick ups, crafting one of the most unique and fascinating and exuberant sounds we had ever heard. Now, also from Kinshasa, comes Staff Benda Bilili, an even more unique musical combo (as if that were even possible). A group of senior paraplegic street musicians, who live in and around the grounds of the zoo, who travel in cool custom built wheelchairs that look more like motorcycles, they sing and play guitar, and are backed up by a young all acoustic rhythm section, featuring a 17 year old prodigy, who plays wild psychedelic leads on a one string 'guitar' made from a tin can. There are pictures in the booklet, it's hard to believe anyone could conjure such amazing sounds from this little bit of scrap and string, but the proof is right here.
The music itself is not as far out as Konono No.1, it has much more of a traditionally folky feel, a distinctly highlife vibe, the vocal harmonies form the core of the sound, lush and laid back, stunningly intricate and gorgeous, the various stringed instruments buzz and twang, simple drumming holds it all together, and the occasional wild tangled squiggly solos on the tin can lute, sounding slippery and super high, the songs build to festive codas, and just as often slip back into something much more contemplative.
Feel good, sunshiney sounds that make you want to dance or drift off, you can almost imagine these guys all parked in their motorcycle wheelchairs, rocking late into the night around the campfire or under the streetlights. But you don't have to imagine, there are a handful of live videos too, so you can watch these guys create these amazing sounds live, sitting on the grass in the park, under the trees, hanging out in after dark lit only by firelight, and seeing that little kid rock out on the tin can lute, WOW. Also includes a really cool trailer, for what could either be a documentary about the band, or it could just be a short film / trailer for the record.
Needless to say, but we will anyway, TOTALLY recommended, especially for anyone who loves Konono No.1!!
The main problem with unearthed supposed 'proto-metal' rarities or 'holy grail' psychedelic artifacts, is that after hearing for years and years how amazing and heavy and fuzzed out they are, often when we finally get to hear them, they so often sound a lot more like ordinary bar rock, or blues rock, the hype far exceeding the sound.
No such problem with South African heavies Suck. This, their only record has been circulating for years as a bootleg, and the first time we saw it, we knew it had to be good. The cover was a cool black and white photo of a little long haired hippy kid sitting in the grass next to a kick drum, the band was called Suck (rumored to have almost been called FUCK), and the record was called Time To Suck, they covered Sabbath and King Crimson and Deep Purple, they're from South Africa and the record originally came out in 1970. It HAD to be good. But we were cautious, we had most definitely been burned before, but thankfully there was no need for caution cuz holy shit is this stuff amazing. Hard and heavy, super rocking, wildly psychedelic, the fact that if you weren't familiar with the covers here you'd be hard pressed to pick out the one original says a lot about these guys.
Apparently Suck were infamous in South Africa for raucous, sometimes violent, always chaotic live shows, they were only a band for 8 months, and in that time only ever recorded ONE original track, and released one proper album, Time To Suck.
Two Grand Funk Railroad tunes, "Aimless Lady" and "Sin's A Good Man's Brother", King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man", "Season Of The Witch" by Donovan, Free's "I'll Be Creeping", Deep Purple's "Into The Fire", "Elegy" by Colosseum and finally Black Sabbath's "War Pigs". That's a serious selection of songs. Then there's the one original, "The Whip", a killer chunk of Zeppeliny slither and Sabbathy crunch, some wildly proggy arrangements, frenzied guitar leads, incredible drumming, and lead vocalist Andrew Ionnides' Robert Plant like wail. A churning heavy metallic rock jam that sounds right at home amongst all those better known tunes.
Their version of "21st Century Schizoid Man" is fierce and super distorted and as heavy if not more so than the original. "Season Of The Witch" burns slowly, peppered with cool fluttering flutes and all sorts of subtle guitar filigree, and of course "War Pigs", that takes balls to tackle that one, especially in 1970, but these guys definitely make it their own, staying pretty true to the original, minus an even more blown out intro, and the addition of some weird percussive string plucks or maybe bongos, way up in the mix, but makes it even more dizzyingly psychedelic, and if anything, their version as a whole is just a bit more chaotic and off kilter, an definitely faster, more like the German TV version of the Sabs you can find on YouTube.
Needless to say, this is an essential proto-metal document, one that is actually pretty metal, fuzzed out, super heavy, intensely rocking, psychedelic and druggy, plenty proggy, and well, the song selection can't be beat!
Killer collaboration, another one of those team ups you might not have ever necessarily imagined happening, and even if you did, you probably didn't think it would sound this good. The core SUNNO))) duo do their thing, thick roiling riffage, warm and lush, surprisingly propulsive, and weirdly catchy, Steve Moore from Earth contributes some gorgeous gauzy organ drones and Joe Preston handles the vocals, deep growl, part intoned, part almost crooned, and of course Mika Vainio of Pan Sonic, offering up little flurries of industrial hiss, and bits of subtle glitch, taking voices and sounds and lopping them back on themselves, Vainio's contribution subtle, but practically perfect. Easily one of the coolest SUNNO))) tracks ever, maybe better than anything on the recent Monoliths And Dimensions.
The flipside features a live jam from Suicide mainman Alan Vega, recorded last year, live and lo-fi, lots of glitch and skitter, a sort of fractured electronica, Vega's vocals super effected, looped and chopped, dense and stuttery and seriously tripped out.
And the closing track on the B side is a stripped down, very Angels Of Light sounding acoustic number from Stephen Burroughs, former frontman for industrial icons Head Of David, his first recording in a decade, his voice rough and raw and simple, the guitar playing fantastic, the song dark and mysterious and haunting.
LIMITED TO 3000 COPIES, half on white vinyl, half on clear, we have the clear, housed in plain white hand stamped covers, but open the cover up (you might have to tear it open) and inside is some gorgeous original artwork.
With a huge clamorous slash of metal grinding against metal, Eamon Sprod (aka Tarab) introduces the aptly titled album Take All The Ships From The Harbour, And Sail Them Straight Into Hell. This Australian sound artist has in the past already deeply impressed us with his incredible albums of field recordings interspliced with found object manipulation. In previous recordings, Tarab has exhibited sleights of hand in turning the sounds of the dry scrub lands outside of Melbourne into watery, sinewy compositions with haunted ambience lurking throughout. Here, Tarab activates the resonance of abandoned spaces (including a handful of recordings made at Angel Island with all of its crumbling beauty housed here in the San Francisco Bay); and the watery details, which emerged as illusion before, are pronounced in an ominous rumble of surf, rain, and wind rattling the undercarriage of this album. An album of extreme dynamics, Take All The Ships evolves quite effortlessly from that opening metallic klang through a series of softened white noises culled from oceanic sources and cutting into a quiet passage of vacant spaces with sand and pebbles pushed slowly across the stereo's surface. Through these events, Tarab presents his album with a cinematic grandeur and an orchestral pacing, despite the fact that all of the sounds are derived from those field recordings and found objects. Aside from a few choice backwards masked tracks and the timbral emphasis of EQ, there's no apparent electronic manipulation in his sympathetic layering of sound. The details have all of the presence of the best sound ecologists (e.g. Chris Watson, Douglas Quin, Eric La Casa, etc.), and have been enhanced through the unveiling drama of Tarab's compositions. This is best noted in the album's concluding 15 minutes which gradually build out of a concoction of insect chorales, piles of tumbling sand, and corroded metal handrail being coaxed to emit a gong-like resonant drone. A series of ramped accumulations of sound are cut away to reveal a thicker set of reverberant drones and humid ambience which swell and grow more in keeping with those minimalists we love so much (Chalk, Coleclough, Svarte Greiner, Xela, Peter Wright, etc.). As infernal as the opening of the album is and as prophetic as the title is, this coda to Take All The Ships is uncannily beautiful, almost hallowed, and certainly imbued with melancholy. A damn great record!
We've been getting all riled up over some hot Afro-rock releases lately, first from those killer Nigerian comps put out by the Strut and Soundway labels and then The Peace's Black Power reissue. But the lo-fi fuzz that's really rocking our world is this gem from Chrissy Zebby Tembo & Ngozi family, 1974's My Ancestors. Though included on the Love Peace and Poetry African psych compilation, Chrissy Zebby Tembo may not be so memorable from that because their track was the one instrumental track from My Ancestors, and though it's great, it's not as good as the tracks where Tembo sings. Like an odd hybrid of Malcolm Mooney from Can and Sabbath-era Ozzy Osbourne, Tembo's English delivery over these fuzzed-out groovers is the reason to take notice. Hailing from Zambia, same as The Peace and The Witch (another Afro-rock group we'd like to see get more affordably reissued), Tembo wails over these rhythmically charged but largely western-style rock structures. The best being the Sabbath gone to South Africa "Trouble Maker". In constant rotation, since this first arrived a few weeks ago, we've finally managed to get enough to share with our customers. Don't hesitate, this whole record kills!
We unintentionally skipped over listing a couple issues of this essential 'extreme' metal mag (but still have a few of 'em in stock - #182 w/ Mastodon on the cover and #183, their UK Death Metal special). So, getting back on track, here's #184, bagged with the usual free cover mounted cd sampler. On the cover this time, er, Slipknot, but also there's features on Funeral Mist (that's more like it!), Heaven & Hell, Gojira, Municipal Waste, Isis, Destroyer 666, Devin Townsend, and more... all the usual columns and reviews and whatnot too of course.
And of special note, in the "Morbid Visions" art column, this month's subject none other than our friend Justin Bartlett, who did the first (and so far, only) in our limited artist edition t-shirt series! He's done a Terrorizer shirt now too.
(Also in this issue's news section, we learned that 3 Inches Of Blood has had their own signature running shoe released by Nike!)
It's been almost 5 years since we last heard from Greek duo THE ONE, who back then, were maybe not a duo, and who were most definitely in our pantheon of weirdo black metal, along with Necrofrost, Abruptum and Vondur, vying for the top spot with their heavily reverbed blackness and insane vocals.
But here we are years later, and The One are not nearly as weird as they once were. Like Necrofrost, who have also resurfaced and whose new record is reviewed elsewhere on this list, it might not be that they are less weird, but that the weirdness is better integrated into their sound.
Before, the music was a stumbling chaotic blur, everything tangled up with everything else, the mix super erratic, with various elements exploding out of the mix, the drumming wild and off kilter, lots of grunts and some of the growliest monster vocals ever, and we'd be lying if we didn't say we weren't initially disappointed that this record was so GOOD. And tight. And solid. Cuz it is. Good. Really good. Heavy and black, the guitars intense and thick and full, some awesome riffing, the drums hard hitting and audible in the mix, the mix itself lush and LOUD, plenty of groove and hooks hidden here and there, but not damaged or demented or fucked up. At least at first. No one can make music that weird and then suddenly ditch all the various elements that made that music so strange. So here, on I, Master, the weird shit is subtle, and generally tucked away amidst thrashing blasting blackness and chugging riffage, whether it's an impossibly long and harsh hissy howl, or some weird dubbed out cymbal shimmer, or even a creepy circusy interlude with a looped music box groove and whispered vocals, the weird stuff is definitely there, but that's no longer why we're here, this is some heavy Ravenstormy Blizzard Beastly blown out buzz drenched heaviness, with just the right amount of crooning chanted vocals and midtempo doominess to keep it interesting, but they have definitely ditched their fucked up fractured past in favor of something ultimately way more pleasing, a super epic, ultra heavy, dense and destructive, blasting and buzzing black metal, and so far today, we've listened to the whole record all the way through THREE times, and the night is still young...
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Tomutonttu is Jan Anderzen, member of Kemialliset Ystavat, Avarus, Anaksimandros, and who knows how many other Finnish free folk outfits. He's one of the kings of that scene. His hand (and gnarled guitar, and wheezing keyboard...) have been in tons of our favorite records and projects. This however is the first chance we've had to hear Anderzen on his own as Tomutonttu, seeing as the first Tomutonttu was so limited it disappeared before we were able to get even a single copy.
Needless to say, fans of all things folky and Finnish will love this, it fits perfectly amidst the Avarus and Kemialliset releases, but it stands on it's own too, strange in its own right, personal, and lovely, but also spacey and kind of freaked out. But then why would we expect anything else?
The record begins with the calls of whippoorwills, soon joined by the calls of yet more birds, all whipping wildly above a thrumming drone made up of buzzing kazoo vocals, moaning muted strings, and some mysterious pulsing minimal throb. Sounding almost like a super lo-fi "Symphony Of The Birds" all tangled up with some chunk of freaky forest folk. Ends up those aren't real birds, as their calls slow down and get all twisted up, it becomes evident it's a record of birds being slowly manipulated, becoming more and more abstract, the bird calls transforming into weird rumbles and flurries of high pitched squiggles, all over the growing buzz of a shimmery space guitar and more of that strange buzzy kazoo like moaning, peppered with deep rich sonic swells, very dreamy and alien, like some sort of otherworldly nature recording.
The next track hews closer to the Finnish folk sound, sort of medieval sounding with drifting high end keyboard melodies draped over muted rhythmic clang and sweet swoonsome swirls of soft sound. The last track on side A sounds like some strange Bollywood Western, minor key and very Eastern sounding, processed guitar and blown out keyboards all tangled up into a gorgeously lilting melody, dreamy and sparkly and super playful.
Side B begins with more playfulness, this time the percussion, all drenched in reverb and echo, like some sort of wind chime garden, muted into strange melodies, droning keyboards beneath, very haunting and otherworldly, it almost sounds African, like likembes, sometimes there are hints of gamelan too, at least in the timbre and the melodies, but all warm and distorted and dreamily blown out. The next track is a brief snatch of what sounds like some unearthed old time recording, all fuzzy warble and a softly keening melancholy melody. And finally, the lengthy final track is a reprise of the opener, all tinkling chimes, distant moaned vocals, and soft clouds of constantly shifting and swirling bird calls, dizzying but also strangely soothing. Definitely one of the nicest records we've heard from the Avarus/Anaksimandros/Kemialliset Finnish freakfolk axis...
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!! Pressed on 220 gram vinyl, packaged in amazing jackets with eye popping artwork and printed full color inner sleeves. These are gonna go fast and once these are gone they are GONE.
Now this is indeed a pleasant surprise. The return of Tortoise. A band we were OBSESSED with in the beginning, whose first few records are classics, undefinable masterpieces that managed to totally transcend their classification as mere post rock. Tortoise's self titled debut still sounds classic and timeless, a loping hypnotic blend of math rock and krautrock and jazz. Their Millions Now Living, which was released in the very early days of the aQ list, so it only has a barely descriptive two sentence review, was a mind blowing meld of Oval like electronics and abstract jazziness, of brooding post rock and almost orchestral arrangements. The remix record, which found the band being reimagined by Steve Albini, Brad Wood, Bundy Brown, Jim O'Rourke, John McEntire and others, still ranks as one of the few examples of how a collection of remixes, in some ways can even transcend the originals. But from that point on, the band seemed to lose their way, it's hard to explain just how, but their record, often literally years in the making, surprisingly enough didn't sound fresh anymore, the sounds tired and played out, maybe meant to be 'mature' or 'academic' but instead mostly sounded boring, and in some cases bad.
There was always a spark, and every record had brief flashes, little musical moments that reminded us what they were once capable of.
Which brings us to the awkwardly titled Beacons Of Ancestorship, which while not a total mind blowing complete return to form, is pretty dang good. A handful of the tracks ranking up there with some of their classic jams from years back.
Most folks have been focusing on record opener "High Class Slim Came Floatin' In", and rightfully so, the band definitely had something to prove, some lost ground to make up, and some fans to win over again, and hell, "High Class Slim" is just the song to do it. It still sounds like Tortoise, but it's all revved up, skittery jazzy drums wrapped around deep woozy bass and reedy synth buzz, before in swoops some tripped out Stereolab / Tangerine Dream keyboard swirl, and then some super out of place buzzy keyboard groove, but it somehow works, the track gets more intense, the sounds smolder and throb, blissy and subtly psychedelic, a little bit funky, a lot bit space-y, even a breakdown that gets all cybotronic robot funk, washed over by some new age shimmer, and sparkely space-y effects... it was almost too much to hope for that the whole record would sound like that the whole way through, but then it wouldn't really be Tortoise, for these guys it's just a launching point for their latest exploration of sounds both simple and sinister, serene and cinematic, jazzy and funky.
There are definitely a few moments where things lag, where it definitely sounds like they're back to doing Tortoise by numbers, some Morricone-ish guitar, that while we usually love, here doesn't do much, some of the stretched out jams bog down more than bliss out, but those moments are few and far between, the rest of their time is spent weaving pretty fantastic flights of instrumental fancy, mathy jams rife with melodic curlicues and warm whirls of warble and whir, cool skittery almost dancehall sounding bits of buzz and blurt, wrapped around some truly funky rhythms, long stretches of stuttering almost African sounding grooves, laced with sitar like buzz, and cool psychedelic flourishes, and at least one track that starts off with some looped Afterschool Special music that is transformed into what sounds like the perfect backing track for a Kanye West song. And then there's the unpronounceable "Yinxianghechengqi" which finds Tortoise getting their Trans Am on, fuzzed out, snarling guitars wrapped in crumbling distortion, pulsing bass, John McEntire pummeling his kit like he probably hasn't since his Bastro Days, but then this IS Tortoise, so over the top they drape some atonal modal Return To Forever sort of buzz drenched melodic weirdness which ends up turning the song into something else entirely. And minus those few aforementioned lulls, the rest of the record continues on, and manages to hold our attention, and definitely has had us returning again and again.
So while it's not quite Millions, Beacons is definitely the best Tortoise record since the mid nineties, and once distanced from the legacy and the expectations and all the non musical bullshit, on it's own as simply a record by a band, a collection of songs and sounds, Beacons is really pretty fantastic.
