The early nineties saw the big Krautrock revival, while more recently we've seen waves of interest in Swedish psychedelic folk reissues and Latin American garage rock of the sixties. But maybe now the next big old thing is '60s-'70s Middle Eastern psychedelic pop music. Really, soon we're gonna have to dedicate a bin here in the store for all the great (and popular) reissues that have been coming out lately, from the "Turkish Delights" and "Hava Narghile" compilations to albums by The Devil's Anvil and John Berberian's Rock East Ensemble, and most recently Erkin Koray's "Elektronik Turkuler".
Now, here's another one for that bin! It's apparently the second album from the three Hur-el brothers (Feridun, Onur, and Haldun), recorded between 1970 and 1975. A rare LP indeed, the original Diskotur pressing worth $1000+ today we're told. Dunno about that, but it's definitely worth eighteen bucks if you're into the undeniably kick-ass combination of traditional Turkish folk styles with the rock n' roll licks of the West. Middle Easternized rollicking pop rock with acid fuzz guitar and electric piano, plus Eastern ethnic percussion and stringed instruments, and emotive vocals in Turkish. Yup, 3 Hur-el play music that's been called "ethno-psychedelic" and "the heavy hashish sound"...real nice. One of the tracks here also appeared on the "Love Peace & Poetry: Asian Psychedelia" compilation. They also have a track on that "Hava Narghile" comp, but that was from an early single, not this album.
A Broken Consort is only one of the monickers under which UK sound artist Richard Skelton performs, and this, Box Of Birch, only one of many releases under various guises, but the first to receive any sort of widespread release.
Skelton started a private press after the passing of his wife, who was a visual artist. She left him all sorts of unfinished works, drawings and sketches, and the purpose of the press was to release her artwork posthumously, collaborating together, her art, his music, a tribute to her memory.
But it's not just the source of this music and the story behind it that makes Box Of Birch so dark and heartfelt and bittersweet, the music itself is a gorgeous tribute to a lost love, to sorrow and remembrance, moving forward but also to never forgetting.
Haunting and lush, the 4 long tracks here are epic and orchestral, long tones, layered drones, darkly minor key melodies, a muted blissed out sort of cosmic space drift. Dark dreamlike ragas constructed from softly strummed guitars, wheezing accordions, tinkling percussion, all manner of buzzing strings woven into deep gentle sonic swells, it's at once abstract and ethereal, but also subtly song based, the tracks feel composed, as much as they feel free. Strings saw out intensely emotional melodies over having soundscapes of dark dark shimmer. The music here is not at all tranquil, not new age-y or easy listening, no these are complex, emotionally charged sounds, these songs, or pieces, throb with passion and energy, they ooze sadness and misery, but also mange to evoke hope, the long slow burning drones seems to constantly drift heavenward, glowing and glistening, a timeless expanse of rumble and whir and buzz, effulgent and everbright, shrouded in darkness for now, but the warm heart within seems to grow with every listen, in every song, an organic living progression, as the record plays, it seems inevitable that the mysterious warmth, will undoubtedly overpower the dark.
Absolutely gorgeous. Lovely artwork too. Recommended for folks into blissed out drones, deep buzzing ragas and minimal abstract space rock: Lamp Of The Universe, Sunroof!, Expo '70, Emeralds, Astral Social Club, Golden Sores, Barn Owl, etc...
We know you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but c'mon!!! When that book is a cd by a couple of Finnish primitive black metal weirdos called Aanal Beehemoth and said cover features one of the members getting all Nosferatu in shades of green and white under a scrawled metal logo, with a little circle in the corner that reads "In Nekro Satanik Stereo Paranoia Sound"!! And on the other side you'll see both band members in ultra creepy clown-like corpsepaint, tongues out, shooting up, next to some ransom letter text that reads "100% Ultra Misery Blackout Metal Nekropunk Psykosound", and then let's not forget the inside cover, that features again both band members, in crazy corpsepaint, their names now revealed to be Deathly Fightar and Crazy Bomber (umlauts over the vowels of course) who play respectively: Deathbeat, OD guitar, bass and BG vox (that's Deathly) and Exorcism, bass, fuzz guitar and organ (!) (that's Crazy)...
You see what we're getting at, we knew this would rule before we even threw it on, it was just a matter of HOW it would rule, and just how much. The answer of how much is easier to address, cuz it's a WHOLE FREAKING SHIT TON, that's how much it rules, but exactly how might be a bit harder to explain. Needless to say, these guys are fucked up and freaky, their blackness not so much of the blasting buzzy variety and the pounding punkish lo-fi raw and primitive variety, think Akitsa, Malveillance, Ash Pool. Ancestors, but even more punk rock, and weirdly poppy. Just check out the kick ass opener (after the ubiquitous creepy intro) "Dirty Soul", it almost sounds more like Turbonegro or Brainbombs, bounding punk rock rhythms, looped stripped down riffage, but then they paint it black and wrap it all up in tangled squiggly leads, the vocalist delivering his hellish sermons in an awesome croak / bark vokill, totally wrapped in reverb and seriously unhinged. The reverb sometimes going haywire making the vocals sound all dubbed out.
As the record goes on, the blackness recedes and these guys sound more and more punk rock, which is not a bad thing at all, the sound is maybe like Darkthrone at their punkest, but this is Finnish after all, and these guys are nuts, so tracks slip into washed out woozy ambience, guitars explode into squalls of atonal Greg Ginn-ish freakouts, fuzzy organs drift in and out giving some of the tracks a weird underground garage psych vibe (check out "Witch Hunt"), that said, there are definitely some moments of full on frenzied classic sounding blackness, it's just that more often than not those parts lead directly into something much more fucked up and off kilter and WAY bizarre.
This got released as a free download a while back, but it's way cooler to actually finally have the cd, with all its garish freaky green tinted artwork and weird scrawled lyrics, and of course with the download you would never have know that this was "recorded in stinky misery cubic helvete during period of total black morkness, mental distortion & painful agony of ghouls with the helping hands of Satan (naturally) $ Ass Lipstick, Pelvis, Onslow, under the influence of HELL!!!!".
Yup. A Frames and Climax Golden Twins are AFCGT, get it? And they do play out quite a bit, but rarely outside the confines of the Pacific Northwest. The five dudes of AFCGT did make an excursion down to San Francisco for a one-night only show at the lovely El Rio a few weeks back; and as great as they are on record, they kick ass live. The performance confirms a lot of things we figured about the band, that the members of A Frames set up the taut grooves on bass, guitar, and drums for the Twins to splinter away from in their dueling mutations of psychedelia, post-hardcore sludge, spy thriller licks, and punk intensity. For those not fortunate enough to have caught them at the El Rio, this live cd-r should do quite nicely; and even as an AFCGT record - live or otherwise - it's pretty damn great. Well, considering that the band probably just sets up a single mic in a room anyway to record, the presence of a live audience doesn't detract from the sound. AFCGT offers two cuts from their Dirty Knobby 10" and a track from their self-titled debut, plus two previously unreleased tracks. Hopefully, there will be more of this cd-r than the 20 copies of which we are currently aware.
Oh, shit. Here's one of those discs that we just know we don't have enough copies of. AFCGT is an acronym for A Frames + Climax Golden Twins, a project that fortunately didn't just disappear as a one-off collaboration. The five-piece, instrumental ensemble for three guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer had knocked our socks off with a couple of awesome recordings in 2008, most notably their eponymous debut of noir-tinged noise rock girded by uncanny, propulsive grooves; and they're still doing it in 2009. The Square Microphone Tapes are cracked sessions of mutant psychedelia transposed through damaged punk-post-punk slabs of sludge, woozy noise, and art-damaged riffage. The opening cut "Strike 9" is a barnstormed of a scuzzed garage rock track with allusions to the days when Sub Pop and grunge meant something that was crafted on a shitty 4-track in some Northwest warehouse. Well, that's exactly where this was recorded! AFCGT unravels the recordings through a divergent set of x-ray guitar licks breaking off low-slung backbeats, some slo-mo tape exercises that come across as Stooges outtake played back at the wrong speed a la Neu! 2, and lots of heavy-tracks that could be the improbable sound of the Sun City Girls recording an album for AmRep. In other words, it's pretty fucking awesome. Hopefully, there will be more than the 20 copies we know exist...
First single off the latest Animal Collective release, Merriweather Post Pavillion. Features remixes by Dam-Funk, Leon Day aka L.D., and Zomby!
MISSISSIPPI ALERT!!!!MISSISSIPPI ALERT!!!!MISSISSIPPI ALERT!!!!MISSISSIPPI ALERT!!!!
Ok, we aren't sure if this is the best blues album ever or the most bizarre, it just depends on who you ask. When we first played it, some of us thought it couldn't be real, it had to be a parody. Perhaps someone making fun of how anyone can play the blues, because the singing sounds like complete mushmouth gibberish! Seriously, you and your pals can have a fun drinking game trying to figure out what the hell he's saying! But it's really no joke, Cecil Barfield (aka William Robertson, more on that in a minute...), one of the last surviving Southern Georgian bluesmen (according to the liner notes) was discovered in 1976 by George Mitchell, who was touring the state for field research in hopes of finding unknown ol' traditional rural bluesmen for a planned festival. One of the scant few left was Barfield, who to Mitchell's delight was previously unrecorded, living outside a tiny farm town on a meager disability check (in fact, the original lp was released under the name William Robertson, because Barfield was scared that he would lose his disability benefits if he released the record under his own name).
Born in 1922, he first started playing when he was just five years old, making his own instruments by attaching a neck to a cooking oil can and tying a string to it. Learning music from what he could hear off records at parties, Barfield's style comes from what he calls "rag pieces", bits of popular tunes picked up from round dances and parties and often individually reworked according to the player. His moaning, wrenching vocal style lends a definite outsider quality to the performance, but supports the superstitious nature of some of the tunes, where he's singing about evil spells called "roots". He even refused to be photographed, because he feared anyone could turn the photo face down and kill him. But of course it's this oddball quality that we love in these records, and of course what makes them totally recommended in our book!
Brand new record from dronelord / guitar deconstructionist Bass Communion, aka Steven Wilson, whose day job is playing with prog superstars Porcupine Tree, but who spends the rest of his time, crafting gorgeous sprawling guitardrones and minimal psychedelic landscapes. The latest of which is captured here, Chiaroscuro is a document of the very first live Bass Communion performance, which took place at the Frenzy Of The Absolute festival curated by Fear Falls Burning. And we're happy to report that BC live is something to behold, a buzzing shimmering cloud of washed out psyche guitar drift, dense blackened billows, floating heavenward, while deep downtuned tones keep the proceedings grounded, amidst the swirl and drift, little shards of melody, and high end fragments surface now and again, only to sink back into the glorious druggy haze. The track shifts gears a few times, an acid fried slow burn blow out gives way to soft focus chiming ambience which slips slowly into a deep meditative rumble, finally drifting off in a hushed whir.
The second track was originally released on a split 7" with Fear Falls Burning, available exclusively to attendees of the concert, and finds Wilson with his guitar plugged into his laptop, and again conjuring up some haunting otherworldly minimalism, delicate and abstract, before exploding into a wall of crumbling blown out droneblissdoom heaviness, a wild squall of frenzied psych guitar practically melts the speakers. Wow. Would have liked to hear him do that live.
Once again, gorgeous stuff, dark and droney and blissed out and occasionally heavy as all get out, essential listening for the guitardoomdronedirge obsessed among you...
Packaged in a super fancy, full color mini gatefold lp style cd sleeve.
What a long strange trip it was for Dave Bixby, from a young man playing covers in a folk pop band in the sixties, to spending a year high on LSD, to discovering God, to then becoming disillusioned with God, to contemplating suicide, to finally speaking to God (or having God speak to him) and thus recording both Ode To Quetzalcoatl and most of its follow up, Second Coming, eventually released under the name Harbinger, both records chronicling Bixby's life and struggles with spirituality and drugs.
Ode To Quetzalcoatl, originally a super rare private press release, that regularly fetched thousands of dollars, was and maybe still is one of the most legendary/infamous downer/loner folk records ever, the recording sparse and mournful, mostly just acoustic guitar, reverb laden vocals, occasional harmonica or flute, but mostly just guitar and vocals, but it was enough, so haunting and heartwrenching, the lyrics twisted and depressive, so miserable and dark and anguished, the reverb only adding to the otherwordliness, the guitar lazy and languorous, the melodies minor key and melancholy, a little like Jandek if he could actually sing and play guitar. And was a recovered drug addict, born again Christian.
A simply gorgeous slab of super personal doomfolk from before there even was doomfolk, for fans of Nick Drake, Bill Fay, Roy Harper, Charles Manson and all dark mysterious folkmusic...
Birchville Cat Motel may be dead, only to be replaced by the quite similar sounding, but much more massive and electronic flecked Our Love Will Destroy The World. But thankfully, Black Boned Angel, the other long running musical project of Campbell Kneale, lives on, with not one, but TWO new releases this list. The other, a second collaboration with like-minded musical heavies Nadja, and this, the latest full length after last year's devastating The Endless Coming Into Life.
Verdun, named for the legendary battle presumably, is almost like an Endless Coming part two, dialing back the sheer heaviness and exploring space and dynamics, but in the process, somehow sounding so much heavier. Three long songs, all tracked as a single 52 minute epic, takes ages to get going, which is just fine, in doom as in life, it's not about the destination it's about the journey, and BBA's journey is a death march through burning fields and soot filled skies, but that's a few minutes away. A slow slow slow build, all barely there ambience, before some massive drums kick in, and then it's JUST drums, pounding away, in a spaced out vacuum, spare but punishing, and then THE RIFF, a massive one, the sort of riff, that once written, becomes a part of the writer, and soon after the listener. Sleep has a few, Sabbath has lots, now BBA has one, a slow, slithery crawl, a handful of notes spread way out into a dark descending minor key melody, the drums, just there to drive it home, as this is the sort of riff that needs nothing else, the sort of riff any metalhead could listen to looped over and over and over forever. About 12 minutes in, the tone changes, some high end shimmer sneaks in, sheets of feedback, the riff is pulled apart, various notes left to ring out, the drums a little more active, before everything drops out completely, leaving just a distant keening riff, left to moan and groan, to ring out, mournful and so so doomy, at about the half hour mark, the main riff returns, but this time it's been transformed into something strangely melodic, almost like power metal played at 16rpm, epic, but still so slooooooow, building ever building, eventually crumbling into a swirling bit of noise and crumbled buzz, and a gorgeous classical chorus, a choir of voices just below the churning distorted surface, totally epic and weirdly haunting, the sounds of warfare, guns and planes and explosions, surfacing from below the sprawling low end rumble, eventually taking over completely, the last few minutes a harrowing collage of death and destruction, of bombs and the cries of the dying.
Definitely a different beast than many of the older BBA records, which blended the kitchen sink drones of Birchville Cat Motel with a sort of abstract black doom element, Verdun is more of a proper metal record, although to be sure 'proper metal record' is really relative, since as metal as this is, it's also just as much an experimental doomdronedirge record, regardless, it is maybe the most fully realized Black Boned Angel record yet, not sure if it's THAT RIFF, or because Kneale just keeps getting better and better, or because it's a concept record, so it's essentially a suite of interconnected songs. It's actually probably a little of all three, although as you might have guessed, we're definitely leaning toward THAT RIFF.
NOW ON VINYL!! (Includes free cd of the album too!)
So on his last album, Blackshaw stepped into new territory with some orchestral instrumentation, even laying down a few piano tracks. And even though we didn't think it was possible, he just might have outdone himself, yet again, with his most dynamic album to date, The Glass Bead Game, released on the infamous Young God Records. Most aQ costumers are well aware of the talent and mystery that surrounds Mr. Blackshaw and his twelve-string mastery. And while we've really dug all of his numerous past albums, it seems like Blackshaw has never sounded so confident in his mantra-like finger picking and ornate compositions. With the freedom to compose works for piano, strings, flute, clarinet and a choir, Blackshaw's vision has grown from a small sprout into a sea of blooming vines.
It baffles us how cinematic this stuff is. These tracks all tell epic tales of being lost at sea, nighttime woodland campfires, sad goodbyes and lonely mornings, all without any lyrics. Sometimes there are these moments where Blackshaw will simply change chords and suddenly the piece takes on a whole new feel, a whole new sound, and you can't help but feel emotionally struck. His playing is so recognizable and distinguished from his solo-guitar peers, a perfect marriage of patients and skill, droning and droning on one chord only to build suspense and anticipation before suddenly revealing the next movement, so good! And there's something about his playing that is so European, so different from the Americana-type sound of other finger pickin' contemporaries. Blackshaw's pieces seem to shimmer with an ethereal haze that faintly glows like an old lantern in the woods, casting flickering light on faces of spirits in the night.
The Glass Bead Games starts things off running with a lush harmonium drone and Blackshaw's quick, raga-esque finger picking soaring above. Gradually female vocals and strings creep in to blanket Blackshaw's guitar in a silky ambience, creating an almost dreamlike experience. We really love how the vocals have this Philip Glass or Steve Reich orchestral kind of vibe. Instead of long swells the voices are short, repetitive wordless ohs and ahs, kind of like some carousel organ or angelic harp. "Cross" builds and retreats in some cosmic ebb and flow, continually swirling with deep, melodic range and heartfelt emotion, all with the twelve string at its glowing core. "Bled", the second track, begins with a slow, contemplative mood. Notes plucked then left to dissipate into thin air. Somber and desolate, the piece only grows into a dark journey through Eastern ragas and into celestial radiance, only to return in the 9th minute to the opening, contemplative passage. ��
The album comes to a gorgeous close with the 18 minute "Arc". With James on the piano, he builds from quiet contemplative drops of rain into huge waves of quickly flourishing arpeggios, not all that different sounding from his guitar picking. We totally love how his style and aesthetic remains intact, whether he's sitting at the piano or with a guitar on his knee, his close attention to detail and use of hypnotic, emotionally captivating melodies shines throughout. Notes flickering and shimmering about as overtones soar above like clouds. There's so much about this record that you can get fully wrapped up in, so much detail it would be impossible to absorb it all in just one listen. We've already been listening to Glass Bead Game for over a week, and still new details keep popping out of the woodwork. And to top it off, beautifully fitting, earth-toned artwork of various birds of prey perfectly adorns the album with some magical visual hex. By far our favorite Blackshaw album to date and quite possibly his best, highly and fully recommended!
We'll keep this short, since we wanted to get 20 or 30 of these, ended up getting 10, and by the time this hits the list, we'll probably have less than that. We have way more copies of the forthcoming BSBC already reserved, but for this one, only the first lucky handful of you will likely score one of these.
Blue Sabbath Black Cheer teams up with a band called Penetration Camp for two sides of crushing abstract low end heaviness (as if you were expecting something else?). The BSBC side is 33rpm, for maximum sloooooooowness, a whirring crackling hissing rumbling drift, like the wash of helicopter rotors, the crackle of burning torches, this almost sounds like some strange field recording, and is definitely the prettiest thing we've heard from these guys. At least at first. Deep swells, warm and weirdly melodic, building to a coda of abrasive crashing chaos, thick and prickly and crunchy, before settling back down into a second movement, which sounds like the first, only the sounds have been doused in extra treble and skree, everything sharper and more jagged, laced with inhuman screams and the hellish sounds of dying electronics.
The flipside is at 45, and no matter what the title or the bastardized insert artwork might lead you to believe, sadly this is NOT a cover of Black Sabbath's "Mob Rules", or if it is, kudos to Penetration Camp for rendering it 100 percent unrecognizable. The perfect match for BSBC, a bleak bit of creeped out black ambient crawl, fucked up stretched out heavily effected vocals wrapped around bit bursts of industrial crunch, thick swaths of sinister buzz, the grinding scrape and crumbling crunch eventually overtaking the deep rumbling drones.
SUPER LIMITED, already out of print, we have less than 10 copies, cool silkscreened paste on covers, two printed inserts, sorry we couldn't get more.
The puzzlingly (and pleasantly) abstract New York duo known as Blues Control is back, making the jump to Siltbreeze with this new record, a spacey hybrid of Suicide/Velvet Underground droned out rock with more dreamy moments along the lines of Windy & Carl. They weave a lush tapestry of meditative sound collages warped with wavering piano flutters and beaming drones, all rising steadily toward the hazy sky. It's four songs, but almost 35 minutes, so dunno if this is a long ep or a short album. In any case, we'll take what we can get from Blues Control, and what we get here is quite nice indeed, a fine addition to their brief discography that includes the AQ recommended releases Puff on Fusetron and the eponymous one on Holy Mountain.
"Good Morning" (as in, little school girl?) opens up the disc with what must be the most actually blues-like thing that these guys have ever controlled. Kicking off with a single piano note (a la "I Wanna Be Your Dog"), they really shake it here, the track turning into a driving instrumental onslaught of gorgeously distorted guitar/bass fuzz, with honky tonk piano skittering o'er pounding drum beats... and then, horns! And electronic effects echoing the 13th Floor Elevators' famous jug. Badass. In part 'cause apparently garage-rock fiend Kurt Vile helps out.
The piano takes the fore on the next cut, the ambient jazz flecked loveliness of "Rest On Water". More a hazy soundscape than an actual song, it's like a lost transmission of a loose piano melody, with slow strings fading in alongside some acoustic strumming. More rhythmic is "Tangier", and more and more distorted and dubbed-out it also gets, as its eight mesmeric minutes proceed. It opens with a cool, lo-fi Casio kalimba sound, soon building upon itself before a huge wave of cloudy ambience comes in, along with a simple, steady rhythm with a dreamy keyboard melody floating on top. A thing of throbbing beauty. And then "On Through The Night" (which we don't think is meant to be a Def Leppard reference, though that would have been cool) takes up pretty much the entire second half of the disc, a 16:50 trip deep into Blues Control land, a realm of rumbling echo-effected dubbiness, woozy hints of string orchestration, creepy carnival organ, droned out drama, and pulsating mystery, their music looping like the multiple hoop earrings piercing the ear of the "primitive" person depicted on the cover, caressing YOUR ears though, rather than piercing them. The melody is murky, yet easy to detect, BC taking a thankfully melodic approach that many experimental bands ignore entirely.
Even at their most aggressive ("Good Morning") there's something gentle about Blues Control. That first track we'd especially recommend to the Wooden Shjips fans, and then elsewhere on here there's stuff to offer folks into the likes of everyone/thing from Eno to Sun Araw to Alice Coltrane Moolah to Expo '70. Elements of all of which combine uniquely within Blues Control's cracked and krautrockish DIY avant-blues experiments. A nice blend of pop catchiness and free-psych trippyness, the perfect record for a summer walk around town or a sunny BBQ burn out, this one is recommended!
Once again, Finnish 'black metal' weirdos distance themselves even further from what most of us would consider to be black metal. This compiles two 'sides' originally recorded for 2 planned split lps with another bunch of outsider black metallers, Urfaust. For whatever reason, said splits failed to materialize, thus we have this, two part bit of oddness called Old Ghosts, not a new album technically (part 3 of the Shores - Stream - Islands trilogy is coming out soon) but heck, new album or not, this is in fact a new full length from our of our favorite purveyors of damaged, off kilter blackness.
And as we mentioned above, CoO were never really the black and buzzy type, instead they took those elements and fused them with their more sort of abstract folk flecked, Jandekian stumble, the result something we found genius, but a fair amount of TROO black metal warriors found to be hard to handle. Moody, noodily slow motion almost new wave sounding guitars, reminding us quite a bit of some lost Cure demo, dark and spidery and creepy, the vocals sort of sung/spoken, often slipping into weird out of tune crooning, it's easy to see how these jams were intended to be on a split with Urfaust, the same sort of dramatic poppiness, a lurching, bizarrely rendered bit of not very metal blackness.
After the first track, the drums kick in, there's then a bit more buzz, but other than that, the sound remains essentially the same, dour and depressive, stripped down, almost jangly, more a sort of lo-fi doom-pop than black metal, very much along the same lines as the last few Hypothermia records, or maybe Dead Reptile Shrine at their most folky and poppy.
For being two different records, the two sides flow together fairly seamlessly, a sprawling collection of lumbering, loping, downtuned depressive, jangle flecked, blackened, gothic new wave pop weirdness. Further cementing these guys' position as one of our favorite groups around. Both sides finish off with short bursts of urgently strummed atonal acoustic folk, that sounds a bit like a more fucked up blackened Mountain Goats?! So cool.
Comes with a printed insert, with liner notes and lyrics, and features one of the best covers we've EVER seen on a 'metal' record for sure.
Don't confuse THIS Cloaks with the other Cloaks we've reviewed in the past, or you're in for a rude awakening. Whereas that Cloaks was a Starving Weirdos related bit of tripped out dronemusic, THIS Cloaks is a crushing, super distorted beat heavy juggernaut. They're described as Burial meets Einsturzende Neubauten, which is not that far off the mark. It IS sort of dubstep, the rhythms, the beats, but the fact that many of the beats are constructed from experiments in damage and destruction, treated recordings of pieces of metal being pounded, glass shattering, well that's where the Neubaten comes in.
Apparently these guys rarely play live, as their performances typically leave tons of equipment damaged and / or destroyed, and crowds (be they metal or dancefloor) confused and a little bit freaked out.
We, however, are psyched, this is so right up our alley, and presumably some of yours, easily the heaviest, crunchiest, ultra distorted-est dance music EVER. Heck, even calling it dance music makes this stuff sound not nearly as caustic and abrasive as it is. Not sure how many folks remember the Fever record on DHR from years back, a crazy noisy distorted hiphop record, well this sounds a bit like an instrumental version of that record, but even noisier and more chaotic. The beats grind and throb, pulse and pound, set amidst a churning sea of malfunctioning electronics, thick feedback, buzzing synths, and all sorts of other processed noises, the beats stutter and skitter, it's definitely groovy, but at the same time just SO mean sounding. This is the direction we wish industrial music had taken. From murky muddy throbbing minimal shuffles to full on pipe fight pound, to blown out buzz drenched dirge, these jams are ear candy for folks like us into decay and destruction. It almost sounds like some dubstep record remixed by Tim Hecker or Fennesz or Merzbow, or heck more like all three! The beats seeming to rust and crumble before our very ears, the surrounding sounds gritty and grimey and filthy, the vocals sung into a broken transistor radio broadcast through a short circuiting bullhorn, all that stuff, dipped in distortion, wreathed in damaged FX, wrapped up into some lurching, lumbering post industrial dubstep pound, capable of destroying any dancefloor that crosses its path!
So totally recommended.
Who would have thought we'd ever see a new Coalesce album, ever again? After a spate of unbelievable records, and a fairly acrimonious breakup, we figured we'd have to make do with Give Them Rope and Revolution In Just Listening and Functioning on Impatience, which hell, is the sort of 'making do' most bands would kill to be able to offer their faithful. But this new Coalesce pretty much picks up right where the last one left off, after a 10 year break, the sound is immediately recognizable, churning chugging super complex mathy post hardcore metal fury, stop start arrangements, lurching mosh worthy blowouts, the guitars massive, the drumming relentless, and the vocals, how can Sean Ingram still sound like this ten years later? Actually how can he even speak after a decade of vitriolic bellowing. But for all that stayed the same, a lot has changed in the decade since Revolution. On "The Comedian In Question", the band break down into a sort of droned out lope, and the vocals slip into some clear crooning, the sound is definitely sort of Alice In Chains, but on Coalesce it sounds so good. Great in fact.
Then there's the beginning of "Wild Ox Moan", a total lo-fi distorted blues jam, again with clean vox, the guitar clangy and clean, some slippery slide slipped in as well, before the band erupts into another furious pounding anvil to the skull. Long stretches of reverbed nylon string guitar butt up against some of the heaviest punishment these guys have ever doled out, which is saying something considering they're old enough to be the parents of most of the kids in the crowd (not counting us old guys), cool angular Drive Like Jehu high end guitar melodies wind around bizarre vocals and spill over into a weirdly groovy churn that sounds as much like Pantera as it does Coalesce, some stripped down jazzy moodiness, and at least one track that is so awesomely off kilter and slippery and dizzy, the whirling woozy guitars constantly causing the listener's head to spin, and while all the weird shit sticks out the most, it's really not the most prevalent stuff going on here, although the weirdness does seep into most of the more classic Coalesce sounding riffage, even so, the majority of this record IS in fact classic sounding Coalesce, just a bit more twisted, still heavy as fuck, and still weirdly catchy, maybe more so then ever, the weird stuff only makes it cooler and more fun.
Killer packaging too, beautiful silver and black-on-black digipak, with one of the most elaborate die cut booklets we've ever seen.
As if fronting super hyped garage rockers the Fresh & Onlys wasn't enough, or being the one man in one man weirdo black metal horde AmocomA, or playing in Black Fiction and Three Leafs or any of a number of other local bands, or even being the back up band for psych rock legend Rodriguez, well, apparently none of that is enough, as here's a brand new full length from Mr. Tim Cohen, he of all the above mentioned rockness.
The Two Sides seems to focus on another side of Cohen we've only gotten little glimpses of, and that's the classic popsmith. And yeah, classic pop sounds infuse pretty much everything he does (heck, even AmocomA has a distinctly pop vibe), but this is definitely his 'pop' record, a sort of lo-fi, ramshackle, home brewed psychedelic Pet Sounds for the current landscape of FM radio revivalists, a la Ariel Pink, Ty Segall, etc. But where Pink is truly drug addled and twisted, and Segall tends towards the slightly more rocking, Cohen here is emotional and sincere, the lyrics plenty twisted and bizarre, the music fractured and freaky, but it's all wound into something definitely classic sounding, Beach Boys, Beatles, of course, but more than the sound it's the vibe and the feel, as folky as it is classic rock, poppy all over, slipping effortlessly from moody and brooding almost Nick Drake sounding intimacy, to surprisingly lush almost radio ready old school FM pop. The vocals drift from softly sung spoken to soaring falsetto, wrapping themselves up in sweet harmonies, the musical backdrop more subtle than one might expect, intricate acoustic guitars, muted percussion, everything stripped down and wreathed in reverb and delay, a low key fuzzy psych pop, that will definitely appeal to the current crop of retro lo-fi drug poppers, but is way less willfully obscure, tapping into something a bit more classic, a bit more timeless.
Super nice packaging, thick eye popping sleeve, inside a printed lyric sheet, as well as an insert, with the code so you can download the whole record, as well as a bunch of digital only bonus tracks!
Pure 12" perfection! Originally released back in 2003 we're super happy this has been finally repressed! Carl Craig had just the right touch on these edits of tracks from the amazing Congos album Heart Of The Congos. This is exactly what you want in a 12", jams to be played over and over and over, Craig piecing together the already potent elements from those amazing originals into a more minimal yet totally sizzling new sound. If you don't have that Congos record yet, this could be the perfect gateway to an amazing album and if you already love that record like we do, this manages to be respectful to the originals, while taking them in totally new directions. Carl Craig proves once again that when it comes to edits and remixes, no one does it better!
One of our favorite monthly metal reads, the glossy (but "extremely exteme") magazine Decibel is a worthy American rival to the UK's Terrorizer. And they definitely have some good writers, the sort who manage to entertain and amuse even when, sometimes, you didn't think you cared about the band being covered. This issue, though, there's definitely bands you care about. On the cover, good ol' Slayer. Inside: 1349, Anaal Nathrakh, Amesoeurs, Slough Feg, Goatwhore, Velnias, and plenty more. Plus reviews and news and columns (including as always John "Mountain Goats" Darnielle's back page bit of humor) and all that good stuff. And a special report on the resurgence of old school death metal.
About the only thing this ish we thought we didn't really care about is the Hall of Fame feature on NYHC straight edge band Judge's 1989 album Bringin' It Down... but we still read it, and now might give that album a spin if we run across a copy.
Everything Johnny Jewel touches these days turns to sultry dancefloor gold. Whether it's Glass Candy, the Chromatics, or a handful of other groups on Italians Do It Better that have felt Jewel's magic touch, he has really been largely responsible for making IDIB a label to trust when it comes to sizzling, late night spaced out disco!
What sets Desire a little apart from other acts on Italians Do It Better is that it's much more of a full band effort, with an affection for analog synthesizers as well as strings, percussion, piano, and it's got an overall delivery that is much more warm and rich than some of the other similar sounding outfits on the label. Desire still have that icy-detached aesthetic that can be found in the sounds of Chromatics, but there is something a bit more personal sounding in the songs here. While most records in this genre tend to be filled with super immediate hooks that sometimes lose their staying power on repeated listens, this record is a serious grower. In fact on first listen we thought maybe this was going to be a bit of a let down, but we're so happy we gave it a few more spins, cuz we were eventually totally sucked into the moody, sultry stylings that Desire conjure up. Between this and the Nite Jewel record we gushed about recently, our late night coming down soundtrack is sounding better then ever. Feel the slow burn!
Out of all the classic New Age artists, the one that gets a definite pass around here is Deuter. Though many of his later records (Nada Himalaya excluded) venture into the cheesier areas of the new age genre, his early records are great examples of German kosmiche music and are just as good as Popol Vuh, Cluster and Agitation Free. For instance, Aum, which we just got in to list for the first time (though it's not a new reissue). Aum was recorded in 1972 and released a year after his debut record, D. While D was more about tape effects and studio experiments, Aum is his first obvious venture into a more spiritually based musical practice. Sounds of storms and birds, guitars and flutes open up the disc in what could be a track by South American psych-folk groups Satwa or Congregacion (or even Citay or The Alps!). But the following tracks venture into a quiet but pensive meditation of tablas, and warbling bass, simmering sitar drones and subtle chanting. The track "Sattwa" is a sitar and piano interaction while "Surat Shabda" is a trance-y exploration using ethnic percussion instruments. But the longest and prettiest track is "Susani", an eight minute delayed electric guitar excursion around a few rhythmically repeating chords over low minor key vocal drones and far off ocean swells that burn off into a fading hum. It's definitely one of those limbo records, mining a deeper territory of minimalist composition with psychedelic effects that would eventually be marketed as New Age. But this is long before that genre got ruined, and any fan of the bands mentioned above should check this out for sure!
It seems like many of the figurative walls that used to keep musical scenes and and record collections segregated are finally crumbling to the ground. In recent years indie rockers have embraced pop and the dance floor while lots of pop, hip-hop and R&B artists have latched on to the always evolving world of electronica. Discovery are kind of like the perfect poster boys for this evolution.
While best known for their more indie rock minded bands (one of those bands being quite the buzz band from a couple years ago) these two soundmakers have taken the opportunity to fully embrace their love of un-ironic pure dance pop delight. Much like the way Hot Chip brought the sound of Prince to a more indie sensibility, Discovery have crafted totally irresistible modern pop gems that kind of sound like the newest Phoenix record mixed with Kanye West. There is something so bright, colorful and refreshing about the sounds on LP. A bit more bouncy and playful then the Junior Boys while still using a bit of the same sonic template that they and Hot Chip helped create a few years back. The beats and electronics on LP are executed so flawlessly, if tweaked just a bit more they would sound right at home on a skweee record, but even so, this record is all about full on shiny pop perfection. Imagine the sound in the mall as we all roller-skated down the escalators after hours, in some teen movie with an Orange Julius in our hands, the food court behind us and a Forever 21 on the horizon. So yummy!
So when the Eternal Tapestry guys ripped through town last month, they dropped off a few cdrs, needless to say, they were gone in no time. We even had to keep bugging them to send more down to the shop because so many of you loyal psych heads couldn't get enough of ETAP's cosmic fury!! Well, we are pleased to present the latest full length lp from Portland's heaviest psych sludge trio, Palace of The Night Skies! The good people at Three Lobed bring us this tripped out, fuzzed out psychedelic masterpiece, golden shimmering riffs plodding on into infinity, wailing fuzz from the depths of a swirling acid trip, all anchored to Earth by Jed Bindeman's (Heavy Winged) in the pocket, solid as rock drumming. Prism Light Traveler, Side A, kicks things off with a krauty, stoned-out riff, repetitive and hypnotic, Nick Bindeman (JOMF, Tunnels) and Dewey Mahood sacrifice their guitars at the psychedelic altar of kraut riffage. Layers of wailing feedback, endless washes of blaring tones burn a hole right through the speakers, the gates of infinity are opened and all trippers are welcome inside. Side B, titled The Hidden Void, begins with the slowest riff we've heard these guys unleash. Soooo slooow and trudging, like someone falling asleep while playing, kinda reminds us of listening to a Les Rallizes Denudes lp at half speed. Other layers of wailing guitar and distant drones slowly creep into the mix as the slow paced, stonerific trudge plods on. We love how heeeeavy and loud the record sounds, so raw and fucked up, just they type of low-fi warmth we love with our psych. Palace of The Night Skies is essential, especially for fans of Bong, Wooden Shjips, Parson Sound, Loop or anything remotely psychedelic. Limited to 730 copies, each lp comes with a cd (cd also includes one bonus track!) and is housed in a beautifully prinited, cosmic cover. Don't be left in the dust on this heavy-kraut gem!!
Anthony Di Franco is probably best known as a member of British noise rockers Ramleh, as well as the legendary Skullflower, playing on that band's seminal, industrial sludge records including Obsidian Shaking Codex, a bunch of impossible to find singles, and the universally revered IIIrd Gatekeeper. Di Franco also had a couple of other solo projects in Ax and Novatron, the latter has proven to be an awesome, if rarely heard slab of headrinsing, low-end noise, and Ax, holy shit, so punishingly good, c'mon someone, reissue those NOW!!!
Di Franco was also the man responsible for the power electronics noise project Ethnic Acid, which existed for a short two year period from 1986 to 1988 but managed eight cassettes during that time period. A couple of those tapes were self-released through Di Franco's own JFK imprint; and most importantly as a historical note, one of those cassettes was released by Broken Flag. It's most likely due to Di Franco's working relationship with Broken Flag's Gary Mundy, that he become one of the revolving members of Mundy's Ramleh. Outside of his better known bands, Di Franco's solo work has always been very worthwhile, and these early recordings of tape splatter and electronic bloodletting do not disappoint! Managing to be heavy and noisy and caustic, but also surprisingly listenable. As we've mentioned before in the past, we're not always that into full on noise / power electronics, we're way more into texture and timbre and dynamics, and thankfully, for every spurt of face melting crush found on Power-Works, there's a long stretch of rumbling drone, or strange stuttering collaged heaviness.
Di Franco's pedigree should probably be enough to get most folks on board, and noiseniks were probably already anxiously awaiting this collection, but for the rest of you, definitely check this out, if you're not into noisemusic AT ALL, this might not be your thing, but anyone into dronemusic and dark ambience, and experimental tape music, this is some seriously powerful and varied stuff. From heaving digital crunch, to stuttering almost metallic sounding loops, to murky stumble and blackened rumble, to spaced out soundscapes of sine waves and looped classical music, to wild squalls of distorted sort-of-riffage, to whispered industrial whir, to smeared and blurred dronescapes, it's all pretty fantastic and heady stuff, especially for being 20 years old. And anyone who's been digging Skullflower's recent return to noisiness (Vile Veil, Malediction, The Paris Working, Desire For A Holy Warm, Pure Imperial Reform) will most likely find lots to love here, although in comparison to those discs, lots of this stuff is downright pretty!
What else to say really about Expo 70 that we haven't already? Every new release is another gorgeous, softly psychedelic transmission from soft distant corner of the universe. Stray broadcasts traveling across the expanses of space, a sort of timeless music that sounds more like it just IS, and always WAS, more than it sounds created. Justin Wright who is Expo 70, seems to dismantle his guitar at the molecular level, once cracked open, his now rended axe emits a stream of notes and melodies, opens a portal, unleashing a slow burning black fog of sound and texture, through which one can observe and experience other worlds and alternate dimensions.
Heavy crumbling blackness settles atop hushed drifts of crystalline melodic shimmer, eventually transforming into something much more songy, a super druggy spaced out psych jam of the highest order, sounding a bit like Santana fronting SUNNO))), dense rumbling buzz drenched swells beneath super emotional almost wailing leads.
The flipside is another otherworldly songsuite, this one divided into three parts, slipping from minimal and looped to crushing and doomy to hushed and murky and space-y. The opener is a gorgeous spaced out bit of repetitive, stripped down new age kraut rock, a main pulse throbs beneath swirls of warm keyboards, simple chordal strum and muted electronics, super hypnotic and mesmerizing and quite possibly one of our favorite Expo jams yet.
The second track is a thick roiling swirl of crumbling distorted heaviness, slow sprawling chords overlapping into a doomy textured expanse of tarpit riff fueled ambience, before dissipating into part three, a murmured post industrial soundscape that sounds like a field recording of some derelict space station set to music. Creepy and haunting and also quite lovely.
Killer packaging, thick full color sleeve, with a printed full color Japanese style obi, inside, a 12"x24" silk screened poster! [The first bunch came with a bonus cd-r, featuring a live set, recorded on KFJC back in 2008, but those are gone, this is JUST the lp, but heck, that should be more than enough!]
Woah. This is a weird one.�A home-recorded psychedelic one-man-band "rock opera" from 1972, originally a rare privately pressed LP, now reissued on cd. Super freaky and moody and fuzzed out, with a messed-up "my woman done me wrong" vibe to it all. One JW Farquhar of Philadelphia sang and played all the instruments, though there are some other, presumably non-existent musicians credited on the sleeve... get a load of his supposed band, some of the best fake names ever: "Riffery Lowknut" on fender bass, "Slash Mullethead" on percussion, and "Callust Likfinker" on lead guitar! Steel Mammoth wishes they'd thought of those.
In the liner notes JW says that many of these songs "were written as an outcry against the materialistic nature of the woman during that time period". Maybe a little bit misogynistic? Well, apparently JW had just recently gone through a difficult divorce after having been married for 10 years, and was pretty down on women in general. Regardless of the merits of his bitter outlook, the bummed-out emotions expressed are certainly real. And feed into some genuinely twisted, trippy music.
The first two tracks, "The Formal Female" and "The Want Machine", are both multi-part suites, 11-12 minutes each. Groovy, laid back, lonely stuff, rife with FX and heavy doses of fuzz guitar (at one point, JW does to the traditional wedding march what Hendrix did to the "Star Spangled Banner"). "The Want Machine", with its funky guitar and guttural dialogue, almost sounds like the freakin' Jimmy Castor Bunch circa It's Just Begun, jivin' and acid-dosed (here, downer-dosed).
On "My Bundle Of Joy", JW's sad, melodic vocals are accompanied by what sounds like a primitive drum machine ticking away. It's really weird and lovely. Not sure what it reminds us of, maybe Vincent Gallo? Also, there's a good deal of woozy harmonica, or what could be Augustus Pablo style reggae melodica, all throughout the album. "Where Have You Been" and "Mansions" are equally odd and entrancing. Spacey, echoey, outsider rad dudeness! JW Farquhar is part George Brigman, part Dreamies, part Bobb Trimble, part Perry Leopold... like we said, a weird one. Not every Shadoks reissue is amazing, but sometimes when they find an obscure gem, like this, they really hit it out of the park, we're telling you. And as break-up records go, this one's unique.
Not to be confused with the legendary krautrock band (notice the spelling, and the punctuation), Foust! is in fact Scott Foust, member of experimental soundmaking combo Idea Fire Company, who share a label and an aesthetic to a certain degree with the Shadow Ring.
For Foust's first solo record, he's conjured up a nearly 80 minute soundscape of lo-fi loped rhythms and drones. The first 35+ minutes are slowly shifting, barely changing bit of stutter and thump, wreathed in hiss and set atop a soft bed of static, super mesmerizing and hypnotic, while the rhythm remains virtually unchanged, the sounds around it, softly and slowly shift, growing more and more murky, the tone and timbre gradually transforming until finally the rhythms drops out, leaving long shimmering tones, stretched out over what sounds like field recordings, the various tones are layered into almost-harmonies, the low tones thick and undulating in slow motion way up in the mix, higher tones way off in the distance, a soft tangle of warm languid dronemusic, until with about twenty minutes left, the drones fade out leaving mostly just ambient sounds, birdcalls, rainfall, running water, the crackle of leaves and branches, while way off in the distance, remnants of the first half of the record hang on until they too finally disappear, the sound building to a hiss until the track ends with the storm disappearing in a little swirl of effects.
So nice. An awesome combination of soundscaping, dronemusic and field recordings, definitely for fans of all three!
Boy howdy, it's another enormous, fully freaked out issue of the psychedelic rock / folk magazine edited by artist, musician, and megafan Plastic Crimewave. As always, it's all hand-written, and full of PCW's underground comix style artwork, including random portraits of such bands as Suicide and Kaleidoscope UK. Textwise, this time we get interviews with Ya Ho Wha 13, Vashti Bunyan, Peter Walker, Guru Guru, MV and EE, and "light show pioneer" Bill Ham. Plus features on Hoyt Axton, Eddie Hazel of Funkadelic, Brian Wilson, The George-Edwards Group, The Gods, The Zombies, and much more!! Including a lot of cool stuff about superhero comic book art.
And then there's the bonus compilation "head-melting cd of mega-rarities" also found here, with tracks from, among others: Vashti Bunyan, Simply Saucer, Ruthann Friedmann, Peter Walker, Ya Ho Wha, Samara Lubelski, George-Edwards, La Otracina, Christina Carter, Plastic Crimewave Sound (natch) and freakin' Monster Magnet (an unreleased '86 demo track)!
And of course, this is also bagged with more of GZD's trademark Plastic Crimewave illustrated TRADING CARDS. Several sheets of 'em, again divided between "Damaged Guitar Gods" (set four) and "Astral Folk Godesses" (set two). The DGG's range from Alessandro Alessandroni who played on many of Ennio Morricone's Spaghetti Western soundtracks to Takashi Mizutani of Japan's Les Ralllizes Denudes to Ygarr of Zolar X from outer space. AFG's include the lovely likes of Sibylle Baier, Dorothy Moskowitz of United States Of America, and avant-prog chanteuse Dagmar Krause.
Each issue of GZD is a wonderful opportunity to revel in your musical obsessions (those that intersect with PCW's that is, which we bet they do) as well as probably learn about a few other obscure soon-to-be obsessions. Way cool.
Though it's been surprisingly cold here in San Francisco as of late, things are starting to warm up nicely, and if we needed any reminder that summertime is IN EFFECT, Ganglians' Monster Head Room does just the trick. This Sacramento group's lo-fi but somewhat orchestral approach to making bouncy, feel good pop is perfect for this weather, with a playful experimental side (check out the cool sound collage of "The Void" and the field recordings used in "To June") and breezy Beach Boys-esque harmonies blending expertly into the mix almost like another instrument altogether. Even at their more "out there" moments, Ganglians' songs are firmly in the pop realm and will no doubt appeal to fans of Animal Collective, good old '90s indie rock, and even the current crop of Shitgazers. There are plenty of mellow folky moments, but the band is not afraid to rock out either, like on the pounding, white hot "100 Years". Throughout it all, Ganglians have created a shimmering set of densely layered pop gems that we can't get enough of. Recommended!
Despite the over saturation of lounge and exotica reissues (especially the glut that surfaced a few years back), we never tire of those stereophonic space age bachelor pad sounds, especially of course when they are all about outer space: Frank Comstock's Music From Outer Space, Ferrante and Teicher's Sound Blast!, John Hill's 6 Moons of Jupiter, Esquivel's Other Worlds, Other Sounds, and now added to the list is Russ Garcia's 1958 sci-fi epic, Fantastica: Music From Outer Space. First time reissued on cd, the music takes on a fantastic rocket journey and imagines what the planets as well as their inhabitants would sound like through tracks such as "The Lost Souls of Saturn", "The Monsters of Jupiter", and "Water Creatures of Astra". Using a full orchestra with some specially designed electronic effects, the most amazing sounds come from the experimental analog recording techniques and mundane objects used as instruments: a vibrating knife blade off the edge of a table, blowing a straw into gelatin water, moving a microphone around a gong etc., and then speeding up, reversing or slowing down those recorded sounds, so they sound like rippling lava, magnetic fields, or an army of blobular menacing creatures! Why this wasn't reissued during the lounge exotica resurgence is a mystery because it's totally amazing and beautiful and at times dark and mysterious. A masterpiece of the genre that is well worth the trip!
Dronesculptor extraordinaire Brendan Murray should need no introduction, after his slew of stunning releases through Students Of Decay, 23five, and Intransitive; but this collaboration gives us some insight into the work of NYC based composer / painter / photographer Richard Garet. The two began collaborating back in 2004 and worked throughout the intervening years on the two sprawling compositions that make up Of Distance, heavily processed out of field recordings, textured improvisation, occluded dronescaping, and shortwave radio.
Given the presence of shortwave radio static and detuned transmissions rippling through this fine exercise in tense minimalism, there is an obvious parallel between this album and the work of John Duncan. But it's not just those grey smears of disembodied voice and cracked ether that provide such a reference. Garet and Murray have built an album with its crucible of noise that vulcanizes sound into harmonically vibrant if psychologically dark accretions of fluctuating drone.
Broken into two long-form pieces, the album opens with slashes of metallic timbres that gradually give into a series of tactile cracklings, whereby the shortwave radio static and broadcast detritus filter through the mix. A low growling rumble intercedes as a structural girder, only to cast an ominous hue across the piece, which intensifies in its pierced tones, industrial grade electrical fields, and radioluminous hum. This is probably not a track for headphones given some of the upper registered frequencies, and they certainly cut through the ambient din of Valencia Street here at aQuarius quite easily! The second piece follows suit with an initial thrust of aerated white noise pocked with utility signal bleeps (these again are shortwave transmissions, nothing as overtly creepy as numbers stations, but far more common). As this chunk of sound collapses into a slow build of rarefied drones, Murray and Garet offer another evolving composition of tonal intensity, smeared with aggregate textures and extended harmonic exercises. Murray has never let us down before, and his work with Richard Garet does not disappoint!
Who would've though this would ever come to pass?! Those of you who love things slow and sludgy and heavy, should be on your knees, thanking whatever god you pray to, for allowing this divine musical covenant to be placed in your dirty, filthy unworthy hands!
Harvey Milk were Atlanta's answer to the Melvins, but slowed waaaaaaaay down and spaced waaaaaay out. Songs so spare but somehow so impossibly heavy, riffs so thick that they threaten to clog your speakers and rhythms so stretched out that they can barely be called rhythms. Add in a serious free jazz + ZZ Top obsession and you've got the recipe for one of the greatest, heaviest bands EVER. They recorded two brilliant full lengths (with their original lineup), one of which was re-issued on Andee's tUMULt label a couple years ago. And we thought then, sadly that we had heard the end of HM forever. But along comes Relapse to save the day, collecting all of Harvey Milk's impossibly rare 7"s and compilation tracks onto one black-hole-heavy chunk of aluminum. Most singles collections allow you to trace the development of a band, watching them slowly turn into the band you already know and love, but this collection proves that HM spontaneously combusted, emerging from their tarpit womb a fully formed, lumbering, molten, sludge rock colossus. From plodding, 3 mph sludgy, dirgy Melvins's worship, to chaotic noisy caveman thud, to Codeine-ish slow motion mood rock, to spare, rhythmic bass and drums space-scapes with demonic, anguished howls and Hendrix like riffs dipped in tar and sprinkled with wild peals of head-shearing feedback, to semi-acoustic tear jerkers, with warbly barely-in-key vocals, I mean, they even do a fucking Peter Criss solo song! How brilliant is that! Harvey Milk confounds as much as they just flat out destroy. How the fuck does a three piece rock band actually sound like they're playing on the wrong speed?! It's as if the entire band had a pitch control knob, and they keep turning it down and down and dooooown. And playing drums for this band must be utter hell. Massive expanses of space, demarcated by pounding beats, spread so far apart they just barely make up a rhythm, with enough space between beats for the drummer to get up, go to the bar, have a cigarette, and make it back in plenty of time for the next beat. So minimal and hypnotic and difficult and heavy, it just blows all other sludge rock hopefuls back to the stoneage. And even in the context of a 'singles collection', songs that were never meant to be together on a record, this stuff falls so perfectlyinto place, you would never know this wasn't conceived as a proper record. Yet another testimony to the under-appreciated genius of the mighty Harvey Milk. Liner notes from AQ pal and Chunklet head honcho Henry Owings. Essential for those of you who love Boris, Corrupted, Earth, Sunn 0))) and the like, as well as their massively head crushing opus Courtesy And Goodwill Towards Men!
We listed this recently as a double disc limited edition, unfortunately that is now out of print, but the single disc is well worth the price of admission. Here's our review attesting to that...
Much like his art, the music of Jim Haynes is based on, and is a continual exploration of the act of decay, an imagining of natural (and un-natural) processes rendered into sound, a world of crumbling landscapes and of microscopic worlds collapsing. While he has yet to figure out a way to actually record the process of metal rusting, Haynes has managed to create a soundworld that sounds precisely how he, and perhaps we, might imagine it.
The process of decay, and erosion, found on and in Sever, is some sort of sprawling sonic time lapse, each track as much about the sounds as the sources, as much about the arrangements as the process of listening, as much about texture as timbre, as much about the tiny details, and the expansive whole, the opening track for instance, is all clatter and crunch, chiming and tinkling, to these ears it sounds like wandering through a ruined world, a dead planet, the sun drying every living thing to husks, these sounds are the dried carapaces, hung from rotted fence posts, rubbing against one another in what little breeze is left under a harsh midday sun. The sound of footsteps, the crunch and scrape of a despondent trudge, a death march, but all of this is carefully blurred and smeared, the obvious references are blunted, so the sound evokes all of the above, yet as if it were a dream, the edges a bit fuzzy, the sounds slightly gauzy, the colors hazy, the sound almost underwater sounding at times, a feverdream in sound.
The rest of the tracks explore a different world altogether. A world of darkness and blight, of grim emptiness and eternal blackness, three variations on the darkness beyond, varying shades of grey and black, ominous, haunting, threatening, abject, deep and so very dark. Almost as if the listener from the first track, stumbled into the cool darkness of a cave, sheltered through the sun, only to find his or herself wandering through an endless labyrinth of tunnels and caverns, the sound massive and bottomless, but simultaneously hushed and intimate, the blackness rife with buried melodies, with warm whirring textures, the haunting clang and clatter of bells? Some sort of metal on metal. Crunch and crackle adds grit to Haynes' subterranean drift, the sound growing ever more ominous, the low end shimmer transformed into a grinding hiss, a black hum, wreathed in clouds of effervescent static, beneath it all, an unlikely pulse, a barely audible throb, a machinelike anti-groove buried beneath, a slow swirling noxious obsidian haze.
The final track explodes with what sounds like the grind of stone against stone, whirring processed textures, that slowly shift and are pulled apart into strands of greyed melody, a whirring, gritty expanse of softly intertwined layers, that seem to extend forever, the various bits of grit and grime worn away as the track progresses, the sounds getting smoother as they grow darker, as if the sounds are dragging the listener further down into the dark, the light from above fading, becoming a warm orange glow, then a smudge of red, before any and all color is swallowed up, leaving just the echoes to ring out before they too disappear.
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This is not the first time we've heard from these Portuguese heavy metallers, but might be the best time! Either this band has gotten better over the years, or our ears have gotten more and more leathery (possibly both). This is their first release since the NWOBHM covers split 7" they did with Slough Feg back in 2005, and it's been worth the wait, that is if you're into epick swords and sorcery metal '80s style. Overlords Of Chaos is escapist metal manna to sate the bloodthirsty appetites of true metal warriors, the lyrics based on works of Robert E. Howard (just like their doomier brothers-in-arms The Gates Of Slumber). Underground, only-for-the-true stuff, very much in the vein of Ironsword's big heroes Manilla Road. So much so, that they actually got Manilla Road's Mark "The Shark" Shelton to sing backup on a few of the tracks here. Boy, the Ironsword dudes must have been excited about that! We're almost surprised that Shelton wasn't too busy signing each band member's entire Manilla Road collection to actually have time to get behind the microphone.
Ironsword's regular vocalist also sounds a lot like Shelton, delivering these barbaric battle hymns in a manner both gruff and triumphant. That well matches the music, seriously pounding and powerful. We say seriously, and if you can't take these Conan-inspired tracks ("Wrath Of Crom", "Cimmeria", "Dark Shadows Of Stygia", etc.) in that spirit, well... either this isn't for you, or at least you'll get some laughs out of it! If the latter is the case, fine, but you'll be missing the gist of something that really means a lot to these guys... they're not doing this for laughs at all. R.E. Howard and Manilla Road speak to their hearts, and maybe Ironsword can speak to yours if you let them.
All thirteen tracks here, from the uber-majestic opening sweep of "Death Of The Gods" to the glorious "Hyperborean Hordes" to the ripping "Fear The Night" to the semi-acoustic requiem of "The Pyre Of Kings" are Howardian headbangers par excellence. But it's the rockin' "Road Warriors" with its monomaniacal, repetitive riff break that starts at about the 3 minute mark that is the highlight for us, though. Suddenly they're Pharaoh Overlord, for about 45 seconds at least! Otherwise, it's all about good stuff like Cirith Ungol, Omen, Manowar, Sacred Steel, Doomsword, The Gates Of Slumber, and of course Manilla Road.
There's another retro-'80s "true metal" album reviewed this list, the self-titled one by Portrait. Comparing the two, well, they're both gonna be cult items. But Ironsword seems to be the geekier gang, yet their music is heavier and rawer as well. If you had to choose between Portrait and Ironsword (we like 'em both), it's a basically a choice between Mercyful Fate and Manilla Road... and if you aren't into either of *those* bands, then we imagine that both Portrait and Ironsword would want no part of you anyway.
The whole No Depression movement spawned so many great bands, Uncle Tupelo of course, and post UT acts Wilco and Son Volt, Blue Mountain, Whiskeytown, Freakwater, Old 97's, Scud Mountain Boys, Robbie Fulks, Tarnation, Split Lip Rayfield, and on and on. Very few of those bands, no matter how good or how much we dig 'em, come close to the sheer song writing genius and kick ass rocking of genre namesakes Uncle Tupelo, except for one. The Jayhawks, a consistently amazing band. Every record jam packed with incredible timeless songsmithery. The two vocalists, Gary Louris and Mark Olson, had voices like angels, crafting perfect soaring harmonies, and both were incredible songwriters, one of those partnerships that comes along once in a blue moon. And the band, a crack collection of amazing players, they had EVERYTHING going for them. Yet for their whole career, success eluded them. While other, lesser bands went on to become critical darlings, or to make shit tons of money, the Jayhawks toiled in relative obscurity. So legendary was their bad luck that they were the subject of an extensive article in a national magazine (Newsweek, Business Day?) all about how to survive as a band, or not, as was the case with the Jayhawks. And their bad luck extended beyond the music business, as Mark Olson left at the height of the band's popularity to care for his wife, Victoria Williams, who was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
And listening to these songs again, it is criminal, and tragic, and simply hard to believe that a band this good, and songs this amazing, managed to remain so under the radar for so long. But there's something to be said for a cult following, and the Jayhawks have that in spades, fans are generally obsessed, and fans FOR LIFE. With Wilco or Ryan Adams, ask fans of those bands, and you'll probably get a "yeah, they're cool", or "sure I totally dig them, the new record is killer", but talk to ANY Jayhawks fan (Andee for instance) and you'll get an explosion of superlatives, a rant about how much better the Jayhawks are than ANY of their contemporaries, and how fucked it is that they were never huge, and since it's Andee who is writing this, well, needless to say, the Jayhawks ARE better than all of their contemporaries, and yeah, we're including Wilco and whoever else you want to stack up against these guys. It's a little country, a little rock, a little folk, a lot of pop, but they've created a sound and a style so immediately recognizable, and those voices, you'll never mistake these guys for anyone else. Easily some of the best music of the last 20 years, country, No Depression or otherwise.
Listen to the sound samples, that should really be all it takes, totally perfect, twang flecked, utterly timeless pop music of the highest order, or maybe it IS country music, but whatever you want to call it, to these ears it sounds heavenly, and like the Jayhawks and no one else.
For diehards, and anyone who is totally blown away by the sound samples below, there's also a super deluxe version with a second disc of rarities and unreleased tracks, as well as a DVD featuring all the bands videos, $33, needless to say WELL worth it. If you want that one, it's on the aQ site, search for it and add it to your cart. Otherwise, this single disc version is the perfect introduction to a group that could be your new favorite band.
Founding member of the Kitchen Motors arts organization in Reykjavik, Johann Johannsson has been at the forefront of adventurous music in Iceland, performing with the Apparat Organ Ensemble and working with some of the more acclaimed Icelandic exports (i.e. members of Sigur Ros, Mum, Stilluppsteypa, Halfer Trio, etc.). "Englaborn" is the first album for Johannsson, who reconstructed this album from the score he wrote for the stage play by Havar Sigurjonsson. Johannsson stated that "The play is extremely violent and disturbing; and basically, when faced with the script, I decided to work against it as much as possible and just try to write the most beautiful music I could." While we do not have the benefit of witnessing the play itself or any images for that matter (beautiful Jon Wozencroft photographs of the sea grace the cover of this album), Johannsson invokes a profound sadness through his descending chord progressions for the Epos Spring Quartet which he augments with spartan use of percussion, electronics, piano, computerized voices, and harmonium. Where Sigur Ros has crafted grandiose operas of Icelandic melancholia, Johann Johannsson simplifies his scores into poignant short stories that nevertheless resonate with those emotions.
Sombre and strange record of post-classical miniatures originally recorded to accompany various ballet and dance pieces. Sparse piano, Eastern-European strings, field recordings, eerie found sounds and electric-acoustic chamber drones with dark and haunting textures reference a kind of surrealist narrative that wouldn't be out of place in a film by Luis Bunuel. Perhaps not as somnolent as past Miasmah recordings from Elegi and Jacaszek, as the dynamics of the score can veer into some occasional, theatrical dramatics. Best not let it lull you into sleep, for fear of unsettling dreams or being abruptly jarred awake. Recommended nonetheless!
Sombre and strange record of post-classical miniatures originally recorded to accompany various ballet and dance pieces. Sparse piano, Eastern-European strings, field recordings, eerie found sounds and electric-acoustic chamber drones with dark and haunting textures reference a kind of surrealist narrative that wouldn't be out of place in a film by Luis Bunuel. Perhaps not as somnolent as past Miasmah recordings from Elegi and Jacaszek, as the dynamics of the score can veer into some occasional, theatrical dramatics. Best not let it lull you into sleep, for fear of unsettling dreams or being abruptly jarred awake. Recommended nonetheless!
Of all the 'electronica' labels out there, we're beginning to think Planet Mu might be our favorite, certain the most relevant. For a while Warp were unbeatable, Aphex Twin, Boards Of Canada, Squarepusher, Plaid, Autechre, and while that stuff still rules, Warp definitely seems like old guard, whereas Planet Mu has been moving forward, pushing boundaries, even the old school artists on Planet Mu seem to be similarly progressive. So compare the Planet Mu roster to the above Warp one: Venetian Snares, Shitmat, Distance, Vex'd, Pinch, Boxcutter, Neil Landstrumm, Eero Johannes, Milanese, Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble... Planet Mu is always on the cusp of whatever new sound surfaces, the home to most of the kick ass dubstep released in the US, but still supporting it's older artists, who in turn support the label by changing and transforming and progressing. All that said, we still were totally blindsided by Legion Of Two.
With a record title like Riffs, we were already prepared for something different, and a record called Riffs on Planet Mu definitely had us intrigued, but still we would have never expected this. Imagine Neurosis doing dubstep, or some ambient doom band dabbling in electronica, or a heavier, more modern and avant Tortoise, thick sheets of distorted buzz, plenty of bleeps and bloops, that awesome hoovery dubstep bass buzz, but with REAL drums, big drums, pounding and punishing and massive, just take the opening one two punch. The first track, a sort of intro, is a swirling cloud of hiss and whir, streaks of feedback, layer upon layer of gauzy distorted thrum, peppered with bursts of big booming drums, until the song finally kicks in, and it's like Black Boned Angel or something, but a bit stripped down, and instead of downtuned riffage, it's a sea of undulating synths, and rumbling low end, and shards of melody and feedback swirling all around the pounding lumbering doomic crush. We almost wish that track was the whole of the record, but then we would have missed out on the second track, which is where we got the dubstep Neurosis thing, that's not quite accurate, but for an 'electronic' record it definitely doesn't get heavier than this, a loping drum part, over deep throbbing low end, laced with little space-y squelches, and some woodpecker clicks, as well as intense bursts of in-the-red bass fuzz, and finally some techno synths laced over the top, the sound getting thicker and thicker and heavier and heavier, eventually building to a full on glitched out effects drenched psychedelic electronic freakout, the rhythm never faltering, finishing off with a fierce almost metallic dirge. Holy shit. How did these guys end up on Planet Mu, and how the hell did they come up with this bizarre sonic hybrid?
The whole record is sort of a series of rhythmic workouts, from crushing metallic dubstep, to blissed out post rock, to mathy techno jams, to deep listening laid back grooves, but all anchored by the incredible drumming, and the sound of real drums, which is probably what makes this stuff sound so fresh and organic, live drums and electronics end up creating something dense and blown out, heavy and 'live' sounding.
"Palace (Dub)" isn't so much dub, as a tangled bit of complex looped drumming, beneath a repetitive synth line and some buzzing bass squelches, and diaphanous sheets of high end shimmer in the background, tense and dramatic and cinematic, almost like a more twisted avant mathy electronic Goblin or Zombi. "Legion Of Two", is a loping almost eighties sounding groove, with some of the buzziest heaviest synth sounds ever, and plenty of tweaked effects, and soaring faux strings, and tinkling late night glimmer. Much of the second half of the record is more laid back, soporific, almost jazzy, hence the Tortoise comparison, looped and hypnotic, the drums and bass locked into totally mesmerizing jams, while all around keyboards chime and ring out, the melodies haunting and minor key, occasionally slipping into jagged bursts of stuttery noise drenched stop start riff heavy math rock, before slipping back into the groove. The lengthy "Handling Noise" finds the band doing so just fine, crafting a long slow burning creepfest, all otherworldly swells, strange electronic sounds, creepy ambience, jazzy drum skitter, all wreathed in static and crackle and hiss, exploding in the last few minutes in a full on Nadja style shoegaze, noise rock psychdrone blow out. "It Really Does Take Time" is the most electronic of the bunch, a bit house-y, with dubbed out effects, weird loops of children's voices, haunting and trippy, but this track too finally exploding in a frenzy of tribal rhythms and wild psychedelic synths.
The record finishes off with the 10+ minute "Cast Out Your Demons", which is like a dubby space rock jam, big loping drums, sizzling space-y synths, whirling effects, but within all the blissedout stargazing mesmer, subtle bits of dubby guitar, the drums really driving the track, to a gorgeous hazy drone drenched outro, definitely reminds us of White Hills or one of those modern psych combos, but infused with some weirdly abstract space dub.
Really cool stuff, and even with the preceding lengthy review, hard to describe, or at least hard to do justice to. This record has been on repeat play since the day it showed up, in the store, at home, on the headphones, at once groovy and dark, hazy and heavy, druggy and psychedelic, electronic and metallic, a gorgeous confusional chunk of psych-dub space doom free jazz noise rock. Or something. Whatever you call it, most definitely one of our new favorites...
One of two new releases from newly launched boutique label/press Black Tent, the other being the long circulating but never released until now Pajo disc of Misfits covers also reviewed this list, and this, the first solo release from Paz Lenchatin, who some of you might know as a member of Tool side project A Perfect Circle, and, more recently, and perhaps relevantly, of The Entrance Band.
We weren't sure what to expect, but it's actually quite lovely. Acoustic guitar, violin, ethereal vocals, a sort of folky chamber country, singing strings, all moody and cinematic, a little sun dappled and washed out, the arrangements spare and minor key, the guitars delicate and crystalline, sometimes almost bluegrass sounding, sometimes seriously old timey sounding, the vocals are what set it apart, when Lenchatin isn't doing her best Patsy Cline, her voice is a breathless angelic croon, that sounds like it would be more at home on a Grouper record than here, but it transforms these simple stripped down folk songs into something a bit more transcendent. So so lovely.
And the packaging, WOW. 130 gram vinyl, housed in a thick sleeve with a 2 color serigraph on French Paper, comes with a cd (not a cd-r) featuring all the music on the lp. LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES!
For a band that counts among its lineup, members of suicidal black metallers Hypothermia, satanic black blasters Ondskapt, weirdo blackened doomsters Dimhymn, and buzzing black and rollers IXXI,
Lifelover still manage to confound, somehow creating music at once the sum of all those parts, and at the same time a sound completely cracked, totally damaged, and gleefully bizarre, to the point of seemingly alienating all but the most broadminded of listeners. But if you're like us, and were crazy obsessed with Lifelover's last two discs, Pulver and Erotik, both confusional mixes of downtuned depressive black buzz, haunting epic minor key sadcore, and a plenty of sonic whatthefuck, then Konkurs should hit the spot big time. But even if you've yet to hear Lifelover before now, you still might fight yourself ensorcelled, as have many of the less metal minded folks around here. Lifelover occupy some strange space, not quite pop, not quite black metal. The guitars are distorted, but they don't quite buzz, the melodies are grim and depressive, but more gloomy and melancholic than hateful and harsh. Fans of groups like Alcest, Amesoeurs and especially Katatonia, at least those who aren't averse to some serious weirdness, could very well discover a whole new, darker and more demented side to their musical taste, courtesy of these freaked out Swedes.
Konkurs manages to expand on the sonic universe explored over the course of the two prior discs, while taking the sound even further, better production, more diverse and expansive instrumentation, better songs, and while bizarre, not nearly as schizophrenic, with a much better flow, like a proper album, as opposed to a collection of strange songs, but it's all still laced with plenty of gorgeously gloomy melodies, awesome metallic crunch, all sorts of tortured maniacal vocals, the tracks are peppered with skittery drum machines, bizarre feedbacked melodies, plaintive piano, swoonsome crooned vocals, all wrapped around gloriously miserable and epic minor key dirges, and super catchy twisted blackened doom pop.
From the very first moment, a strange echo drenched metallic clang, the band swoops in cloaked in a warm haze of black buzz, draped over a time keeping trash can lid cymbal, the vocals anguished and tortured, the guitars woven into soaring majestic melodies, while a piano plinks out its own sad melody right alongside. It really does sound like some Katatonia B-side, but filtered through some sort of cracked black lens. And from there, the record swoons and swirls, the tracks unfurling woozily, the second track has a killer main hook, a murky piano / fuzzy guitar harmony, blurred and smeared beneath simple motorik drumming, while the track after that borrows a little groove from Norwegian Nirvana worshipping black metallers Khold, but add a whole 'nother dimension of soft focus miserablism. Every track, no matter how normal, or how fucked up, is impossibly catchy, hooks galore, but also rife with elements that in any other band would stick out like a blackened and bloodied sore thumb. Whether it's some grinding muted chunk chunk chunk guitar, a recording of some polka-like accordion music, or a shimmery stretch of detuned piano, or perhaps some ominous spoken word, a bit of folky guitar strum, recordings of waves lapping on the shore, Sunn 0)))-like slow motion black guitar buzz, or lots of piano, almost always wreathed in tons of effects making it ethereal and shimmery, those elements seem to melt into the sounds around them, and after a few listens it's almost impossible to imagine the songs without them.
Not really heavy, not really all that black, but then that doesn't seem to be at all the point when it comes to Lifelover. Instead, the sounds here are a mysterious strain of outsider pop music, infused with elements of black metal and doom and slowcore and all sorts of other things, but those remain just elements, and become harder and harder to discern within the swirling jangly grinding blasting buzzing droney drifty twisted catchy and creepy whole that is Konkurs. Brilliant. And baffling. And beautiful. And absolutely recommended.
SF locals Limosine offer up their debut, a 5-song cd-r about 36 minutes long featuring much in the way of rumbling repetitive percussion, blown-out distortion, ceremonial atmospheres, squealing tape manipulations, droning doomic vocal chant, mad scientist bloops and bleeps, and indie-angsty vox... Limosine's layers of lo-fi loops are a sort of psychedelic DIY industrial musick that we imagine could appeal to fans of such disparate acts as Pain Teens, the Dead C, Sunburned Hand Of The Man, and Wildildlife. Weird stuff, we can say that! And we like it.
Track one, "Only Poise, Only Prizes" is the heaviest, most claustrophobic cut, with the next two "Stillborn" and "Lo And Behold" being much airier and (relatively) blissful, though then the final two songs here, "Weird Waver" and "Alrosa Villa" bring back more of the distortion and shambolic mayhem of the first track. Not that the spacious "Stillborn", in the course of its nearly 12 minute running time, doesn't get into some intense areas too.
The band is a trio, with Sarah Bernat on guitar and vocals, Grant Valley on vocals and acoustic guitar, and Bert Bergen on drums, electronics, and cassette tape loops. The one we know among 'em is Bert, and you can definitely hear him loud and clear here. He's also a visual artist, his work usual featuring fantastical crystalline patterns, bearded gurus, and innocent marine mammals, you've probably seen it around town on wheatpasted posters advertising rock shows and art gallery events. And he was the drummer (as well as what you might call artistic director) for the now-disbanded new age space rock outfit Ascended Master, which also featured former AQ staffer Lauren, as well as members of Crime In Choir. While we're sorry Ascended Master is no more, we're digging Bert's new ride, Limosine.
The way this is packaged, you could easily mistake it for a 7", but like we said it's actually a cd-r with a folded-up 21"x18" poster, a numbered, signed print featuring freaky art by Bert and Grant. Limited to only 59 copies!!
Somehow this is exactly what we've been hankering for. A sprawling blackened songsuite, equal parts, dark ambience, dense drones, heavy electronics, buzzy lo-fi almost new wave sounding keyboards, spidery post rock guitars and soft noise. Even writing it, that seems like a pretty unworkable, or unrealistic combination, but somehow these Midwesterners make it work. Big time.
They definitely could be considered sonic brethren of bands like SUNNO))), Pussygutt, MZ412, Troum, To Blacken The Pages, Wolf Eyes, Vulture Club and the like. However, Locrian take that sound someplace all their own, creating actual SONGS, as opposed to just soundscapes or drones. And there's a definitely black metal component for sure, no matter how abstract. Guitars are everywhere, seemingly the foundation for Locrian's sound, although as often as the guitars are unfurling spidery post rocky melodies, or distant reverbed riffs, they are also smeared into warm whirling clouds, left to drift and gradually change shape, or pulled apart and allowed to crumble into jagged little shards. Noise in a big component too, often the prettiest parts are treated with a patina of grinding soft focus electronics, or groaning downtuned tones.
The record opens with a gorgeous, elegiac guitar part, simple and stripped down, like it could be a black metal intro, until the organ comes in, wheezy and warbly, giving the track a weirdly lo-fi almost industrial vibe, definitely had us wishing it was in fact more than just a two minute intro.
That is until track two, "Ghost Repeater" takes over. An epic slow motion drift, strange echoey sounds floating in a warm muted sea of buzz and drone, glitched out bits of electronics, and eventually, a very epic black metal riff, that remains off in the distance, repeated and repeated until it too simply becomes another layer of sound.
"Barren Temple Obscured By Contaminated Fogs" (another great title), begins again with some creepy spindly guitar, draped over a deep pulsing low end, before transforming into some seriously abject and WAY abstract blacknoise. Shrieked distorted vokills over that same spidery guitar, Abruptum like ambience meets warped Goblinesque synth drones, the whole track twisted and warbly, eventually the vocals dropping out, leaving the buzzing guitars and wheezing keyboards to play out a super haunting horrorscape. "Epicedium" is delicate and crystalline, noodly guitar lines looped beneath a glimmering softly throbbing drone, peppered with fragmented strums, soon the track begins to grow gradually more and more distorted, the guitars more tense and frantic, the mood so haunting and weirdly beautiful and so subtly dramatic, reminding us of a super twisted soundtrack to some lost Giallo.
The record proper ends with another awesomely titled jam: "Obsolete Elegy In Cast Concrete", tolling bells, space kraut drones, all washed out and shimmery, the bed for some seriously corrosive guitar buzz and grind, adding layer after layer of crunch and rumble, but also slipping to some seriously black chug, joined by still more harsh hellish vox, a strange combination for sure but manages to be both beautiful and brutal, until the very end, where the track shifts gears and becomes all dramatic and melodic and weirdly majestic.
The cd features a bonus track called "Greyfield Shrines", which is nearly as long as all of the other tracks combined, a sprawling slow building blackened world of sound that slithers from hushed drift, to fractured buzz, to woozy moody ambience to blown out speaker shredding crunch, absolutely epic, super cinematic, mysterious, and even at it's noisiest, still quite melodic and blackly beautiful. Most definitely a track that could have been (and we think maybe was) a record all on its own.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. Cool fold over arigato-pack style sleeve, with a full color printed booklet. And for anyone going to the Matchitehew metal/noise festival in Chicago in a few weeks, you'll be able to catch these guys live.
Sun City Girls fans! Drone-doom freaks! Here's your unlikely crossover dream come true, kind of. A psychedelically heavy (sometimes) and always eerily exotic new album on the Conspiracy label from this band with the wiseass faux-ethnic name (if you don't know what Bukkake is, don't ask, and definitely don't Google it - if you do, be aware it's NSFW). Now including members of Earth and Burning Witch amongst their ranks, and once again boasting cameo appearances from folks belonging to the Sun City Girls and Secret Chiefs 3, this is exactly (and excellently) what we might have expected from this project. Acoustic ethnic instrument buzz and drone meets guitars-leaning-on-amps buzz and drone. There's electronic FX and analog synths alongside field recordings, bells and chimes and gamelan percussion mixed with Tibetan monkish low-end drone-chant, and let's not forget the flute and Mellotron... The seven tracks of Totem One span a wild, wide range of (moody) moods, from the heavy throbbing maelstrom that is "Schism Prism / Adamatios" to the spacey, spooky folk ramble of "Cascade Cathedral". The most Sun City Girlish moment here is probably "People Of The Drifting Houses", not surprisingly the track which features guest vocals provided by Alan Bishop of SCGs and Sublime Frequencies fame.
"In The Lightness Of The Sonoran" could be the recently reviewed Harappian Night Recordings attempting to channel SUNNO))), whilst other tracks (simultaneously) bring to mind such not-entirely-disparate artists as Angus MacLise, Blood Of The Black Owl, Six Organs Of Admittance, Ghost, and Acid Mothers Temple. The latter especially, for instance on the most freaked out parts of the aforementioned "Schism Prism / Adamatios" or during the blissful ceremony of the album-ending nine minute long "Eaglewolf". Fantastic. We're now eagerly looking forward to further Totem installments! (Totem Two is due out later this year on the SCG-related Abduction label, that released MMOB's prior album as well.)
NB. The vinyl version of this comes with a coupon for free mp3 download of the whole album.
Hoss is a newish label that are working with eclectic minded bands (Excepter, Lichens, WZT Hearts, Ecstatic Sunshine, Jason Forest, etc.) for limited edition vinyl releases where the artists are encouraged to really push and expand a side of their musical DNA in a way that they haven't before. So it makes perfect sense that they reeled in San Francisco's Mi Ami to launch their new "techno" series, which allows Mi Ami the opportunity to fully indulge in their love of techno and craft some serious dance floor burners. We hope Mi Ami keep exploring this side as they really understand how to weave an array of dance/electronic influences into such a fresh and eclectic sound. This is not the screamy/punky side of Mi Ami, instead Towers Fall finds the boys crafting a truly unique slice of electronica that somehow fuses the Berlin school, Chicago and Detroit house and even dubstep, without sounding stale, retro or rehashed. Each side of this 12" is about 10 minutes long, giving the tracks space to breathe and sprawl so nicely. Recommended.
Milanese's Extend record from back in 2006 instantly became an all time aQ favorite. A total headspinning mix of old school jungle, hip hop, ragga, grime and who knows what else. A massive block rocking, dancefloor destroying, speaker shaking dancemusic freakout. We still throw that one on all the time. Then came Adapt, which was remixes, and took Extend and twisted it up and freaked it out evern MORE. And now we have Lockout, which seems like a proper new full length, although it's jam packed with remixes and guests and multiple versions, but right out of the gate, we're totally sold. Big phat buzz synth basslines, swooping space FX, and some super tweaked helium vocals, until part way through when everything shifts, the beats flip backwards, the tempo drops to half time, and a new vocalist joins the fray, his lazy flow perfectly matching the woozy buzzy lope. The second track is more of the same, a sort of supercharged junly techno, with a dash of dubstep, and some tongu twisting rapping over the top, the whole thing peppered with weird distorted tracheaotomy croaks and warped computer vox. And it just gets weirder and weirder and better and better.
Skittery hiccupping beats wrapped around creepy looped little girl voices, huge chopped jagged shards of low end, warped stumbling big beats, some twisted Tracy Morgan like flows, clipped sirens, clouds of squelch and glitch, a bunch of awesome samples and fractured melodies, a definite Sensational / Dr. Octagon vibe all over the place, as well as a gritty sheen of buzzy grime, a couple tracks dip their toes into diva / radio hip-pop, but even those jams are plenty tweaked.
Another winner for sure, and another record from Milanese that manages to go way beyond dubstep or grime or techno or hip hop or whatever other label you can come up with that barely begins to cover whatever the fuck is going on here. Awesome.
We'll just spare the long-winded build up and get straight to the point: Moon Duo is the new side project from Ripley, guitarist for San Francisco's psychedelic heroes Wooden Shjips, and it kicks plenty of ass. This lengthy two song ep rocks in a similar, albeit slightly more stripped down way, and like the Shjips, Moon Duo is all about super hypnotic, highly rhythmic repetition with plenty of awesome fuzz guitars and simple but powerful drumming. And like all vinyl only offerings from Ripley's main gig, this is also coming to you in highly limited numbers, so act now or suffer later.
The first track, "Love On The Sea," previously appeared in edited form on a recent Yeti magazine compilation. But really, why would anyone want something coming from a Wooden Shjips dude to be slimmed down to fit on a cd with other groups? Thankfully, the version here uses an entire side to help you get even further lost in its endless melodic grooves. The song comes off as the perfect mix of krauty propulsion with fuzzed out, druggy American garage rock from the '60s, and the lo-fi recording works really well to get you nice and disoriented. Murky vocals, swirling organs and bright guitar accents give you the impression of what it would be like to relax in a room full of strobe lights going full blast, and after a while you can't tell whether the drums are a thumping backbeat or a straightforward groove. Whatever the case, it's sounding damn good to our ears.
On side 2 we have "E-Z Street Ext," which actually sounds a bit like an instrumental minor key version of the song "Down By The Sea" from the Shjips' recent Dos record. There's a nice dose of wild fuzz guitar action, but here the organ takes center stage with its awesome underwater sound. The drums are a steady pound, and as the guitar begins to decay into crumpling waves of distortion, things seem to speed up and build in intensity before arriving at a prolonged cymbal loop which itself appropriately ends in a locked groove.
Again, this is super limited, and if you couldn't already tell, it is absolutely required listening for those who can't get enough Wooden Shjips.
Psychedelic percussion, field recordings, long never ending beards, a Viking helmet, homemade instruments, a warped sense of humor, playing music, writing poems and making art on dirty street corners. Sounds like the ingredients for someone in today's experimental music scene, but Luis Hardin (aka Moondog) was doing it all and more back in 1957! Holy shit, we love Moondog so much even we forget sometimes that he was making these totally left-field yet completely entrancing and musically visionary sounds over fifty years ago!
Listening to The Story Of Moondog is like a crazy collaged snapshot of all the sounds that we love at AQ. He truly created music from another world, as these songs would sound perfect on any of the amazing Nonesuch Explorer Series or Sublime Frequencies releases, that is if they had installments for music from other worlds! The songs and sound here are like the blueprints for everyone from The Boredoms to Philip Jeck To Ricardo Villalobos. Without a doubt Moondog is one of the most innovative, creative and genre defying composers and music makers of all time. The instruments he invented and played on this recording leave us in awe, and the rhythms, moods and melodies that come leaping out of these grooves definitely transport us to that fantastical otherworld that Moondog created with his music. Until now the only way to track down this record was on the cd issue of More Moondog/The Story of Moondog so it's so great to finally have these songs on vinyl!
A match made in dreamdrone heaven, one that has now spawned a second collaboration, between two of the most prolific in their field. Swapping files back and forth to create a devastatingly potent sonic brew, Nadja and Black Boned Angel have delivered two crushing epics, heavy and blackened, a sonic representation of their combined might.
Unlike the surprisingly poppiness of their first match up, this is a much grimmer beast. Starting with an almost Xasthur-esque opening, rife with slightly sour funereal guitars, a creeping wave of distortion slowly moves in like a persistent rainstorm. After about 6 minutes, the drums kick in like the beginning of a forced march towards a very bleak end. Soon a cloak of industrial strength feedback takes over everything else with occasional pounds of a drum popping up here and there. The results are somewhat like Skullflower's recent work with pulverizing feedback and a harsh grinding feel. Eventually, the blankets of distortion subside and the song ends with a low rumbling sound and a sustained burst of high pitched skree. The second number here opens with a low hum that constantly turns on itself before a sloooooooooooow dirgey beat comes in, taking the on its strange circular path. Some heavy subsonic riffs enter the picture at the 13 minute mark, merging with the rest of the fuzzed out drones, and the song becomes so heavy that it seems like at any moment it might collapse on itself due to the sheer density of it all. Still, a discernible melody cuts through to bring the piece to its SUNNO)))-styled conclusion, 26 minutes later. Whew.
Perfect listening for anyone looking to get lost in the epic sonic sludge of these two masters.
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With a title like Dark Fog Hovers Near The Wooden Caves Of Aldrakkiian Bloodforest, it's gotta be Necrofrost, easily one of our favorite fucked up outsider black metal hordes. Quite possibly THE favorite. They might just be one of the most referenced bands on the aQ site, since whenever we need to describe a band that is warped and confusional and baffling and freaky and fucked up and damaged and retarded, well, Necrofrost is pretty much the gold standard.
Dark Fog Hovens Near The Wooden Caves Of Aldrakkiian Bloodforest is Necrofrost's legendary 1998 demo, so limited we had never even heard of it until we heard about this reissue, available on vinyl for the first time ever, and of course crazy limited. And while most of the songs here were re-recorded later for the albums proper, here, they are, and we never thought it could be possible, EVEN MORE fucked up and amazing.
Beginning with some strange synth and strings and tympanis sort of classical intro, the band launch into some of the sickest, most frenzied and furious black buzz EVER. Super blown out and in the red, the guitars so distorted they threaten to crumble into pieces, the drums a relentless pound, and the vocals, you thought they were sick before, here they're super high in the mix, LOUD, and inhuman, and super effected, the howls and screams nearly swallowing up the rest of the music. And that music, weirdly melodic, but plenty buzzy and black, with woozy super alien sounding tinny leads all over the place, the overall sound so distorted and weirdly recorded that it almost sounds avant, especially when the guitars and vocals lock into weirdly convoluted lurching bursts of fragmented buzz. So goddamn good. Anyone who owns the other Necrofrost records NEEDS this, and if you've never heard these guys before, then this will either blow your mind completely, or send you running off in terror. Either way, this fucking RULES.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, each one hand numbered.
