Here 'tis, the long awaited (with our review longer awaited still, perhaps) fourth full-length opus from a veteran Maryland doom metal band who have finally gone a bit beyond the obvious Black Sabbath emulation that their name suggests. Ok, they still DO sound a lot like Black Sabbath: current vocalist Joe Donelley was frontman for a Sabbath tribute band (and looks a fair bit like Ozzy, in one of his more bloated phases), and of course guitarist Al Morris III is an accomplished riffmeister who's known as "the African-American Tony Iommi" not just 'cause he's a black man who plays an SG and wears fringed leather jackets.
We've previously reviewed a reissue of this band's 1994 album The Passage, and if you liked that one, you'll probably like this, despite the, uh, passage of so many years since that one. The vocalist on that record had more of a Dio thing going on, though, but as we said the singer in their lineup these days is definitely an Ozzy disciple, without doing an outright impersonation all the time, so he's kinda in the mode of Wino.
This new album definitely -sounds- good (and HEAVY), with nice thick, almost slick production, the guitars full and fuzzy. As doom goes, this is on the uptempo side, and it's darn catchy too! Too bad Ozzy didn't simply hire these guys to write/record his last few albums for him (including the vocals!), the title track here for instance would easily be a radio hit, if only it had Ozzy's name on it, far superior to whatever computer-generated product the Oz-man has crapped out lately. Ah well, Ozzy's not doin' it, so Iron Man has to, even without hope of hits.
Sabbath/Ozzy fans open to a modern take on that trad sound, and heck grunge fans looking for something a bit more metal, should welcome the return of Iron Man.
Any record that starts with a solid 30 seconds of feedback is definitely gonna be good, and then when it explodes into a frenzy of melodic crusty metal, with super distorted howled vocals (and some competing black metal shrieks), spidery harmonized guitar melodies and thick swells of stonery sludge, it pretty much seals the deal. Which is precisely the case with Beasts Among Sheep, the latest from Philly's Javelina, named for a tusked swine that terrorizes the Southwest, killing small animals and destroying gardens, but this Javelina is something way more imposing and terrifying, a lurching, ultra distorted sludge metal juggernaut, that takes what could be a head spinning kitchen sink approach to their craft and instead fuses all sorts of disparate elements into something super heavy, groovy, melodic and rocking, definite references would include NOLA bands like Kylesa, Baroness, Down, Eyehategod, Crowbar, that same sort of swampy groovy and downtuned sludge, but the guitars are straight up NWOBHM, often busting out incredible harmonized leads right in the midst of a plodding tarpit sludge workout. And the vocals, flip from cookie monster growl to demonic shriek, giving the record a totally different vibe, the bass driving everything, especially when they slow it down and get all brooding and doomy, but shit, the riffs, some of the most kick ass riffing we've heard in ages. Fans of Mastodon and High On Fire will probably dig the shit out of this too, but it's away weirder and rawer and so much more catchy and fucked up and original as far as we're concerned. Be sure and stick around after the records' doomcrustprog blowout closer "Beware The Wrath Of The Patient Man", for the frenzied crust sludge secret track tucked away at the end.
Absolutely essential heaviness for sure...
We haven't heard from these guys in a while. Which more than likely just means we somehow missed out on about a million super limited cd-r's and cassettes and wax cylinders. But we weren't about to miss out on this one. Another in alt.vinyl's series of ultra limited 8" lathe cuts (the Prurient one is featured elsewhere on this list).
As always, the boys are in fine form, offering up confounding and confusional loveliness and sometimes not so loveliness.
Side one sounds like Nurse With Wound doing the soundtrack for an afternoon soap opera, with a melodramatic organ wheezing and whirring in a sea of partially plucked guitars and dense clouds of shimmering feedback, metallic clang and all sorts of grind and crackle and crunch and glitch and buzz. All deftly woven into something surprisingly listenable, almost like some super lo-fi dada-ist Pop Ambient jam.
The B side is a gorgeous minimal, lazy and languid, slowly unfurling Taj Mahal Travellers like organic drone, all drawn out billowy buzz, drifting over a spare stretch of low end shimmer, very meditative and serene. Occasionally over the top drift little flurries of percussion, bells and shakers, very tribal and ritualistic. Both sides are pretty dang awesome.
And like all the releases in the series, this is a custom hand cut, Peter King lathe cut, 8", and it's SQUARE!!! Packaged in gorgeous square and triangular die cut sleeves, super fancy textured paper, with a paste on front cover and a printed insert, each insert hand numbered, each release LIMITED TO 150 COPIES!!
It's unlikely that Michael Anacker (aka Kallabris) had much if anything to do with the once prolific, post-industrial outfit Cranioclast; but Kallabris did release a couple of magnificent pieces of submariner drone records in the late '80s through the Jazztone imprint which had some sort of cohabitation with the Cranioclast in-house label CoC. In many ways, those early Kallabris records were an obvious precursor to what Leyland Kirby has done recently with his Caretaker project in conjuring the mood of a Victorian ship slowly sinking out at sea. Haunted melodies, incidental creaks of distressed metal, and maudlin ambience are found in both sets of recordings. Jump ahead a decade or two, and Kallabris has buried some of the emotional sentiment found in his earlier work, moving more towards a sense of dislocation and unease through electro-acoustic means. Indebted to the German cut-n-paste work of P16.D.4 and G*Park, Music For Very Simple Objects may have begun humbly (e.g. field recordings and found objects), but results in two highly refined collages. The first side is filled with empty holes, bracketed by small events which get treated with all sorts of oblique effects, ending up sounding stoic and black in nature. The flip is more of the 'drone' side recalling the early Kallabris sounds (after-all this is released by Troum's Drone Records!), with slippery sustained tones oozing out of a musique concrete introduction of gossamer metallic klanks and clicks.
With a name like Lazarus Blackstar, we were sort of expecting something a bit more polished, it definitely has a nu-metal or modern rock ring to it, but holy shit, nothing could be further from the truth. LB are purveyors of some of the crustiest, filthiest, heaviest sludge doom we've heard in ages. Featuring a who's who of British sludge / punk / crust / metal royalty (including at least one member of the legendary Sore Throat) these guys are broooootal. Massive, thick downtuned chug, crushing drum pound, a vocalist who sounds like he's spitting out vital organs with every anguished guttural roar, definitely hearing some Eyehategod, Grief, Bongzilla and that sort of thing, but the band bring some weirdness, like in the opening track, when after trudging through some seriously glacial black tar buzz, a guitar line soars from beneath the murk, tracing out a weirdly warm and buzzy and almost major key melody over the lurching lumber below. "Son Of Sorrow" slows it down even more, veering into some serious Bunkur / Moss / Monarch territory, before launching into an Electric Wizardly, almost stonery groove. The closer "Victim Of The Clergy", superimposes some demonic growling over a haunting hymn, the hammer falls and the song erupts in a slow negative trudge, the vocals this time punkish and yelped. There are some fucked up samples, some weird ambient percussion, like the sound of water dripping, or echoey footsteps, but the riff and the drums pound away, relentlessly, as various voices hover over the top, finally dropping out and finishing with a priest offering absolution. Heavy as fuck. Definitely need to track down the full lengths....
Ultra sick gore grind from Japan via aQ faves Bathtub Shitter. Ahh, the magic words for folks around here. Lord knows we love any and all Bathtub Shitter, so we were super excited when we heard about the band Maggut featuing folks from the 'Shitter. Total old school, nineties, downtuned, cookie monster vocals, death gore grind. We love it! Sometimes nothing hits the spot quite like 16 tracks, each averaging about 90 second, of bowel eviscerating, throat shredding, scalp peeling hypergrind, song titles like "Circle Of Maggots", "Frozen Gut", "Cannibal Carnival", "Vicious Vivit Vomit", and a vocalist who sounds like a rabid dog about to tear your throat out. Maggut are ultra tight and super heavy, with massively thick riffs, a killer production, and an appropriate taste for gore, from the lyrics right down to the Carcass homage cover art!
This is the first we've heard from the brilliantly named Manbeard, the fucked up freak folk cabaret offshoot of old aQ faves Urdog. Here they share a cd-r with furry Finnish folk combo Avarus, originally a tour only release, and while it might not seem like it, weirdly it's kind of a good match. Manbeard are tough to explain. Very jaunty and sing songy, almost like sea shanties, big drums, dramatic WAY over the top vocals, angular riffing, a little bit gloomy and dark, gothic even, with squiggly synths, damaged percussion, and really twisted songs. And really bizarre overdubs, strange characters making announcements, speaking to the listener, adding their 2 cents to various songs. Definitely an acquired taste, but if you're into the same weird stuff we are, then acquiring it might not be that difficult. The weird thing is, this disc is jam packed with short-ish Manbeard songs, then right in the middle, tack 5 in fact, is the ONE Avarus song, a massive half hour jam, recorded live, all ramshackle rhythms, and detuned guitars, chanted vocals, fluttering woodwinds, raga like buzzing, stumbling druggy far out freaked out damaged outsider genius for sure. It sounds like a blast, like they just set up on the street in the middle of rush hour, and their merrymaking just sucked in a massive crowd, dancing and howling and whooping and wildly frolicking through the streets of Helsinki. At least that's what it sounds like.�
Then it's time again for more Manbeard weirdness, fragmented song experiments, fucked up drones, lo-fi off kilter bedroom folk, fractured dada-ist pop and whatever else crossed their twisted musical minds.�
In cool hand screened color sleeves, with printed inserts. We got these direct from The Manbeard when he was in town, and he mentioned these might be the last copies, so if we run out that might be it.
MPEG Stream: MANBEARD "Original Performance Of The Manbeard Denizens Folk Classic, Manbearde Folk Classic, Manbeard Factory" [/audio/manbeardoriginal.m3u]
The first Bronx record had us at first sight, it's rad blood dripping fangs front cover, and then we threw it on and were blown away, the perfect blend of punk rock and pop, not pop punk, but a gnarled heaviness that had hooks galore with out sacrificing any of its ferocity. We described their sound as being a bit like a metalcore Strokes, or a poppier Coalesce, or the bastard offspring of Rocket From The Crypt, Quicksand, and the Hives. Sounds killer? It is. Err.. was. Three records, all of them heavy and catchy and punky and poppy. We were super psyched to discover a brand new Bronx record, but weirdly enough, the name on the record was Mariachi El Bronx, and there was a big crab on the cover, with the bands name on it in big gold letters, we sort of just assumed that the band were taking the piss, but lo and behold, we threw it on, and whattayaknow, no punk rock, none at all, straight up, real mariachi music.
The band live in L.A. and grew up around Mexican culture and mariachi music, and found some of those sounds sneaking into their music, so apparently they decided to go for it and bam, Mariachi El Bronx was born. At first we were definitely a bit put off, and weren't sure what to make of it, but the first two tracks stuck in our heads immediately, and we found ourselves returning to this record over and over again, and listening to more of it and constantly, and it's sort of become one of our new favorites. And this is not like a punk mariachi record, or dudes messing around, this is serious mariachi music, from the instrumentation, to the vocal harmonies, it's pretty amazing that a punk band could pull something like this off, but they do, big time. Just listen to the samples, odds are you'll be as smitten as we were.
And again, be warned, there is nothing weird or freaky or far out about this record, other than it's being played by a bunch of punk rockers, this is just a gorgeous collection of super catchy mariachi music, and we dig it big time!
Long overdue reissue of this lost psychedelic Indian funk gem from one of Iran's top sitarists, his only record, recorded sometime in the seventies, and a holy grail ever since. The liner notes claim this is one of the rarest and most in demand albums from Iran, and it's easy to hear why. Imagine your favorite jams from the Ethiopiques series, WITH SITAR and FLUTE, and we're talking total psych funk groove nirvana.
Heavy and fuzzy and druggy and a little bit space-y these mostly untitled jams totally destroy, we can only imagine the sort of joyous meltdown any crate digger lucky enough to snag one of these must have experienced, the drums are fierce, powerful, organs swirl, flutes soar and flutter, and all over the tracks that sitar buzzes gloriously. Some of the songs are a bit folkier and more pastoral, sounding like some seventies acid folk record only with sitar and haunting Eastern melodies. But it's the stomping funk workouts that seal the deal, especially the 11 minute funk rock epic "African Jumbo" (one of only two songs here with titles), that sounds straight out of some seventies sitcom, or like it was purloined by Tarantino for one of his soundtracks, looped and hypnotic, super melodic and catchy as all get out. A few of the tracks feature vocals, deep and dramatic, and those songs slip into Bollywood love scene territory for sure, mysterious and moody, in fact the last few songs tend toward ballad territory, until the record closer, a bonus track taken from a super rare tape, that is murky and heavy with strings and wah guitar, total Indian blaxploitation soundtrack groove, that slips from sexy strut, to dreamy croon, to cinematic soar and back again. Amazing stuff. Fans of the Ethiopiques series and the funkier Sublime Frequencies releases will definitely dig...
We haven't heard from MHFS for years now, not since their now long out of print cd-r on Celebrate Psi Phenomenon. That release found these NZ noise makers kicking up a serious freerock fuss, with wild spacey synthesizer, crashing chaotic freakout and a bunch of whirring and bleeping and screeching. That very same record though finished up with a stretch of strummy soft shimmer, and that's pretty much where this 3" finds them again. Taking up right where they left off. They incidentally is in fact a he, one Mark Sadgrove, who is quite a fixture in the NZ music underground. In MHFS, Sadgrove utilizes homemade electronics, found sounds, field recordings, his own software, as well as the more traditional voice and guitar to create, subtle soundscapes, from very very minimal happenings a la Francisco Lopez, where we found ourselves reaching for the volume knob just to get a fleeting glimpse of the fuzzy details and barely these smears of soft sound, to rough crackly drones, waves of crumbling guitar distortion and buried in the haze mumbly vocals, all very sleepily sun drenched and beautifully blown out.
Mist is the Ohio-centric retro-grade electronics duo featuring John Elliott of Emeralds and Sam Goldberg, who runs the Pizza Night tape label. This is actually the third outing for Mist, as the two have mustered a couple of other cassettes, released earlier this year which disappeared before we even had the chance to grab any. Fortunately, we did manage to snag some of this LP on Amethyst Sunset, which will most likely be around for at least a little while, although it is limited to 500 copies. The Elliott / Goldberg authored electronics here don't veer too much from the Emeralds spaced-out electronics that reflect the best in the realm of late '70s / early '80s progressive electronics (e.g. the more abstracted moments from Kraftwerk and the Eno collaborations with Fripp and Cluster). It's not quite as dark or as melancholy as Emeralds and thus sounds like those sci-fi percolations that fellow knob-twiddler Oneohtrix Point Never and Pulse Emitter have rejuvinated in recent years. Certainly, these are elegant passages of arppegiating analogue electronics and heavily sequenced patterns that intertwine nicely into chiming, sparkling, bubbling zone-tripping.
Latest bit of obscure musical alchemism from the mysterious cave dwelling horde known simply as Mrtyu, but around here, also known as Antony Milton, head honcho of the Pseudo Arcana label, and the man behind numerous musical endeavors we dig BIG time: Street, Nether Dawn, Claypipe, With Throats As Fine As Needles, The Stumps, we could go on and on...
Mrtyu was always Milton's outlet for his darker side, a sort of blackened drone metal behemoth, never full committing the the black buzz, always sort of skirting the grim true BM sound, taking elements of that sound and fusing it to his more abstract, folky dronemusic, the results invariably kick ass. On this latest slab, the Mrtyu sound is markedly different, for all the noise and skree and buzz and general heaviness, it's also probably the prettiest Mrtyu yet. As if the ever raging battle between his folkier dronier 'good' side and his buzzier sludgier 'bad' side, has finally tipped to the side of good. But not too good, fear not.
Unlike some of the more grim noise drenched rituals of the past, the first side could almost be one of Milton's other projects. Sure there's plenty of guitar skree, sheets of feedback, and dense layers of soft chaos, but beneath it all lurk gorgeous lilting melodies, each avalanche of crumbling distortion can barely disguise the weirdly pretty, woozy, spidery, dreamy melodies within. Swirled smears of muted buzz wrap around delicate jangle and simple strum, dense cacophonous walls of sound tumble beneath crystalline chordal streaks.
It's not until the B side that things get seriously heavy. A gorgeous little Middle Eastern sounding tangle of melodies drifts over a soft layer of muted feedback, the strings sawed intensely, then suddenly, a buzzy blown out riff comes in, locked and looped, a mesmerizing lurching groove beneath the ever intensifying tangle of melodies, a twisted metallic Easter drone raga (or something) that could have taken up the whole record and we would have been psyched. Thankfully it takes up half of the second side.
The record finishes off with more abstract blackened folkiness, vocals enter the fray, a weird effected mewl, over rumbling distortion and shards of feedback, more squiggly little melodies, and some warm almost tranquil sounding guitar shimmer underneath.
Perhaps not so much for the weirdo metal obsessives anymore, this Mrtyu record will probably find a home with the more avant folk / abstract drone / free noise freaks, although truly adventurous metalheads should definitely not be dissuaded.
LIMITED TO 350 COPIES. Pressed on 180 gram vinyl. Housed in hand screened linen paper sleeves. NICE!
These two tapes, housed in a soft-plastic case a la RRRecords, offer documentation of four live, and very nice electronic sets from one evening at the Glasslands Gallery in Brooklyn, featuring the 2009 darling of outro-electronics Oneohtrix Point Never, the ever impressive Keith Fullerton Whitman, No Fun Acid (aka Carlos Giffoni in his 'acid' guise), and Prehistoric Blackout (aka Taylor Richardson of Infinity Window).
Oneohtrix Point Never begins his set with a lugubrious plodding synth melody before nestling into those stratospheric arcs of Juno-synth tones found on his recent Russian Mind LP. Keith Fullerton Whitman kicks out squiggles and step-patterned melodic phrases via a C64 emulator on his iPhone (no shit!) which gradually explode into a kaleidoscopic supernova after lifting out of a thick set of modulated tones 'n' drones. Giffoni has been talking up his love of acid techno with No Fun Acid being the project to act upon that infatuation. He sets down a simple breakbeat and begins a set that would make Phuture proud, in a pretty straight forward, but wholly effective techno workout. Prehistoric Blackout offers a four-note synth melody that drifts with counterpointed arpeggiations, tremolo lazer beams of sound, and tripped out, looping electronics. It should be noted that this is a room recording, and not a board mix. But as a result, there is some very amusing banter that Whitman provides at the end of his set with two enthusiastic women describing his set as a being akin to achieving multiple orgasms. Ahem. Throughout most of the sets, the audience politely stays quiet with the exception for the beginning of the Prehistoric Blackout set. Super limited, we've got less than a dozen of these.
We made The Puritan our Record Of The Week a couple lists back, the twisted ultra doom project of Reverend Bizarre's S.A. Hynninen, aka Albert Witchfinder, and that record was indeed twisted and doomy, crushing and slow, warped and mysterious, a little bit gothy and dramatic, a lot bit pummeling downtuned crush. So now we have Opium Warlords, Hynninen's most recent project, which we would have made our record of the week as well if it was a bit easier to get, cuz holy shit, it's like an even more fucked up Puritan, the slow parts are slower, the croony gothy parts, are, well, MORE. It's a creepy crawly burning, sprawling avant doom juggernaut, equal parts classic doom a la My Dying Bride and Paradise Lost, Japanese sludge a la Corrupted, Boris, Solar Anus, and strange minimal prog, but it's WAY poppier too, and pretty, so much so, that we often forget what we're listening to, seventies British prog? Peter Hammill? Sounds strange, and it definitely is, but even in true doom outfit Reverend Bizarre, Hynninen and his crew were way weirder than your average doom band. And the thing with Opium Warlords, is at first it just seemed slow and weird, but it totally blossoms, the more melodic songs revealing themselves as epic and catchy, well crafted avant prog. Or something.
The record opens in full on doom mode, big crashing chords ring out, lots of space, the vocals a mewling croon that goes from growl to falsetto, as the track plods along for 8+ minutes, lurching along doomily, yet melodically, before slipping into the second track, a super spacious skeletal drift, that sounds more like Bohren than Boris, before finally stumbling into full on doomsludge, harsh howled vocals, and strange twisted melodies, until the record shifts gears entirely.
The next two songs, nearly 22 minutes, is a smoldering dark cabaret, guitars distorted and spidery, with Hynninen really singing, dramatic and emotional, it almost sounds like some long lost dark krautrock ballad, no drums, minus the occasional rumbling percussion off in the distance, just a warm drift of lush chords, and minor key melodies, really gorgeous, and timeless sounding.
Which gives way to another bout of doomic pummel, but again surprisingly melodic, all instrumental this time, just the guitars churning, the drums pounding, all wound into a tense chunk of doom pop heaviness.
The next track gets all Eastern with some layered guitars, and abstract percussion, heavy for sure, but also a bit raga like, with a strange mix, big bass thrums way up in the mix, the song eventually transforming into a convoluted math metal workout, which gives way to yet another chunk of more classic sounding doom. Slooooow, and spare, harsh growled almost falsetto vocals, over the pounding drums and big distorted chords left to ring out, heavy and slow, but still really pretty...
The final proper track, is all muted bass strum, jangly clean guitar, total dreamy pop vocals over the top, eventually growing more and more rocking, before finishing off in a tangle of almost Champs sounding guitar harmonies and then 30 seconds of feedback and amp buzz.
The whole thing put to bed by the 5 second closing track, a brief burst of pounding grunted furious grind metal. Phew.
Baffling. Brilliant. Even the booklet is utterly confusional. Packed with random text, strange doodles, diagrams, there's even a fragment of one of his papers from grade school, plus the record is NOT live, and it's unclear if this is a band, or if Hynninen plays everything himself, the artwork is super striking, very pink, and on the back, Hynninen offers up this description of Opium Warlords' self described "Black Gobi Desert Rock", which just may render the above review moot:
"A ritual of jet-black sonic occultism inside an imaginary subterranean temple. A mental trip to the minimalist galaxies of suffocatingly slow and heavy nekroambiences. A ground-breaking bi-polar exploration. A droner's delight and headbanger's holiday. A rave of deranged militarist dance beats. A celebration of psychosexual isolation. Essential and easy-to-listen-to fear music for unbalanced and self-hating youth. Kutu-vibrations for sweatshirt-sporting rillirillos. A message "from beyond". Uncontrolled emotional outbursts to cheer up those with the long faces. Something just for you, who "have heard it all" and "really could not care less". Quality time for a suicidal inner-space astrodoomonaut."
What is it about Nova Scotia and pop music? Has one place produced so much great indie pop music in the last 20+ years? Ever? We don't think so. Sloan, Eric's Trip, Hardship Post, Super Friendz, The Inbreds, Thrush Hermit, Jale, The Memories Attack... And that Halifax sound, while hard to describe exactly, is immediately recognizable by the pop savvy, but even if you've never heard any of those bands (and if you haven't, well hell, get on it!), if you love the rocking jangle of nineties indie pop, if you grew up listening to records on Sub Pop, and K, and Kill Rock Stars, and love big crunchy riffs, even bigger hooks, gloriously lo-fi production, keening sad boy vox, lyrics about love and girls and heartbreak, then you need to do some digging, and why not start here, with this collection of tracks from long defunct indie rockers Orange Glass.
Now we consider ourselves pretty big fans of all those bands, Andee even released the most recent record by The Memories Attack, which happens to feature a member of Eric's Trip AND Mr. Ron Bates, a longtime aQ customer, and frontman for the late great Orange Glass. How did we not know about OG. Everything about them screams BAND WE WOULD HAVE LOVED AND OBSESSED OVER AND PUT ON EVERY MIXTAPE!! But better late than never.
None of the Orange Glass records are available anymore, but Bates recently decided to put together a compilation, of album tracks, singles, compilation tracks, unreleased recordings, to pass out to his friends, we convinced him to let us have 20 of the 50 he made, so odds are once these are gone, they are gone for good. So don't miss out, you'll be sorry.
There's a definite sonic link to Eric's Trip, and of course the Memories Attack, from hissy lo-fi 4 track bedroom folk, to rambunctious crashing power pop, fuzzy guitars, wild drumming, and of course hooks hooks hooks, another one of those bands that should have been huge, or if not huge, at least as popular as all the above mentioned outfits. The sound quality varies greatly from super raw demo rehearsal space sound, to full on studio shine, but nothing can disguise how fun and catchy and amazing these songs are, and Orange Glass were, and for those with an indie rock heart, you may have just discovered a new favorite that by all rights should have been an old favorite too.
Super nice silver metallic covers, inside liner notes on where all the tracks comes from, each one hand numbered, LIMITED TO 50 COPIES!!!
Brand new 7" of grim buzz from two mysterious Swiss black metal bands, neither of which had we ever heard of, and neither of which feature members of any other notable bands. Switzerland is of course the home of Paysage D'Hiver and Darkspace and Enoid among others, so we had high hopes for these two hordes.
Wacht begin the proceedings with what almost sounds like a metal Star Spangled Banner, a sort of twisted guitar intro that soon gives way to a furious murky raw buzz, the drums and bass (if there is any) lost in a storm of relentless riffing and howled anguished vokills. Some killer riffs lurking in that roiling blackness, and the drums do leap out here and there, but for the most part it's like a heaving black cloud of sound, dense and hypnotic.
The much less simply monickered Ordo Infandorum Rituum Occultus (or OIRO for short), offer up their own bit of frosty grimness, a much more stripped down buzzing blast, pounding almost D-beat style rhythm, grunted vocals, raw and old school, but with some strange stuff lurking in the details, maniacal screams, some cool gnarled riffage, layered guitars, that seem to drop in and out, giving the track a sort of dizzying vibe, at times almost like a more stripped down straight ahead Deathspell Omega.
Definitely laves us dying for more from both bands, and as is always a good sing with a single, we've found ourselves flipping this over constantly and listening to both sides over and over again...
We just got a batch of new cd-r's from a new label called Seedy R!, a sub label of the already kick ass PsuedoArcana label run by Antony Milton. The Van The Van, reviewed elsewhere on this list, and this curiously titled disc.
Organorganorganorgan is exactly what you might imagine, 4 organs. Played by Sam Hamilton, Stefan Neville, Campbell Kneale and Antony Milton. Recorded live at a NZ art gallery, these chaps plugged in their fan driven chord organs, and proceeded to unfurl an expansive tapestry of whirs and warbles and wheezes, rich and dense. Slow shifting layers of epic warm sound. A half hour of thick slithery shimmery drone, wreathed in a cloud of subtle overtones and muted melody. So nice. Palestine, Sunroof!, Nitsch, Gurdjieff, and other masters of the extended organ drone... you get the idea.
Packaged in a brown paper sleeve, with a hand stamped 'R' on one side, and a killer psychedelic illustration of four madmen wildly abusing their .. ahem.. organs, on the other.
As much as we all dig Volcano The Bear, we've actually been loving VtB member Daniel Padden's One Ensemble project even more. While Volcano are more of a surreal dada-ist experimental sound outfit, for the One Ensemble, Padden takes those same Dadaist tendencies but tempers them a bit, wrapping them around pretty pop or lilting folk and creating some truly alien sounding prettiness.
But on this ultra limited lp, Padden takes his One Ensemble and wanders back into some serious Volcano The Bear territory. Demented music box melodies drift amidst soaring strings, clinking clanking percussion, deep moaning cellos, bursts of staticky field recordings and manipulated field recordings, while over the top float haunting mysterious melodies. Sounds a bit like a more druggy demented Tom Waits.
Elsewhere, thick washes of fuzzed out ambient whir wrap themselves around damaged pitch shifted guitar warble, junk yard percussion marches through thick clouds of ominous drones, detuned acoustic guitars shimmer beneath heavily reverbed scrapes and squeaks and wheezing harmonica melodies. A totally mesmerizing, dizzying and damaged trawl through some surreal junk yard filled with broken musical instruments and ghost musicians, jamming in the middle of the night to an audience of beat up stuffed animals and rusted out appliances. So cool!
Packaged in a super spiffy crayon colored owl, coloring book collage cover.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!! We got a bunch, but it's already sold out and out of print at the label so once these sell out we won't be able to get more.
For a while, San Francisco seemed like some sort of black metal mecca, record after record and shows galore, all sorts of grim and kvlt hordes, Leviathan, Draugar, Crebain, Horn Of Dagoth, Elk, Necrite and more. And while some of those bands are still active, the recordings have seemed to dry up, more a trickle than a torrent. We know there is a Crebain record in the works, there's the forthcoming Mastery 2cd on tUMULt, a rumored Leviathan, but there are lots of new bands too, Botanist, Kerasphorus, and these guys, or rather this guy, Palace Of Worms, and finally a new slab of fucked up freaked out blackness from SF to obsess over, and believe us, this is well worth obsessing over.
Anyone into any of the above mentioned bands will dig PoW for sure, a dizzying blend of troo black metal buzz, and experimental post rock, which is evident from the first few seconds of the record, beginning with haunting majestic synths, then a brittle lo-fi blast of metal, that sounds like it was played on a mandolin, or pitched up, before the song proper kicks in with a wall of frenzied super saturated black buzz, croaked vokills, and buried in the mix blast beats, switching gears multiple times throughout the song, chugging doomic sprawl, to gnarled Deathspell style blackprog, with plenty of tangly guitar lines and lurching tempo changes, clean guitar, very reminiscent of another aQ BM fave Woe, the same sort of melodic sensibility fused into a seriously harrowing chunk of grim black aggression.
The rest of the record follow suit, dipping occasionally into ultra raw, old school black metal pound, weird almost industrial shoegazey ambience (sounding a bit like Nadja or Jesu), classic midtempo Burzumy blackness, awesomely creepy Eastern tinged black ambience, almost Katatonia moody sounding melodic blackness, but always returning to that furious heaviness, all lightning speed riffage, hellish vox, dizzying complex rhythms, soaring synths, but all infused with that strange, and subtle pop element that turns grim and black into something much more interesting, and makes Palace Of Worms another band to add to SF's black pantheon.
It's been a little while since we've heard from the boys in Pelican, due in no small part to a seemingly endless world tour. They show up in the shop so much, we sometimes think they must have relocated to SF. And this is not exactly a 'new' record, in fact, it's a different version of a song that has already surfaced once a while back on a now out of print 10", "Pink Mammoth", Pelican's 'hit', or about as close as a heavy metallic instrumental post rock band will ever come to a hit, but it's a killer song, and here it gets redone a little with help from Pelican pals These Arms Are Snakes.
It's hard to tell just how different it is without doing a side by side comparison, but on first listen it does sound a bit more washed out and droney, the sound a tad thicker, and more guitar-y, which is obviously because of the various extra players. But it hardly matters, if you haven't heard this song before, you must, and if you have, you probably already dig it and definitely won't mind hearing a slightly different version. Soaring, epic, heavy without actually being metal, the guitars crunchy but clean, the drums busy but restrained, and then there's the hook, that pops up a few minutes in, and seals the deal. There seem to be plenty of extra guitars, getting all tangled up into warm swirls of layered harmonies, and every time that hook resurfaces it's fucking magic!
The flip side finds These Arms Are Snakes redoing one of their songs with the various members of Pelican along for the ride. Loping and mathy, chiming guitar harmonics over a crumbling distorted main riff, the vocals going from weary indie drawl to snarling growly wail, all over a churning motorik rhythm. The vocal harmonies and stripped down rhythmic lope, lock into these dark grooves that totally remind us of late great San Diego trio Three Mile Pilot. Cool stuff for sure.
The vinyl packaging, as with all Hydra Head stuff, is over the top. A blue on blue printed 10" gatefold, incredibly thick, with a third layer of reflective clear ink over the top, and the text in white on top of that. Pressed on thick black vinyl. And probably limited too. The cd packaging ain't so shabby either, blue and pink and clear inks on a brown cardstock, screen printed fold over origami style sleeve, also most likely very limited...
Radio stations are a dying breed. In fact, real commercial radio stations are basically dead already, at least if you're into weird underground sounds. And it seems like record stores, newspapers, magazines, movie theaters, are quickly following radio into an overflowing cultural graveyard. But we can help, by supporting all the things you love, buying records from your local record store (or us!), seeing movies in your local arthouse theater, renting movies from the cool video store in your town instead of Netflix, subscribing to the magazines you love instead of reading them online, ditto for newspapers, and of course radio. Which continues to thrive, and live on, just in a different guise, college radio is of course alive and kicking, KUSF, WFMU, KFJC, we could go on and on, internet radio too, and of course, PIRATE RADIO. San Francisco has a rich history of pirate radio, our very own Allan even used to have show on pirate radio. which brings us to this here calendar, published by the fine folks at Pirate Cat Radio, who need your support. Listen if you can, on the web (piratecatradio.com) or on the air at 87.9 FM, visit their cafe in the Mission here in SF and eat and drink while a DJ spins, but most of all, donate, or buy one of these calendars. EVERYONE needs a calendar, and yeah $20 seems a bit steep, but you're not just buying a calendar, you're supporting this amazing radio station, who were recently fined $10,000 by the FCC, in a seemingly endless battle for the airwaves, or at least the right to broadcast freely on those airwaves.
You probably have your own pirate radio station in your town, do a little digging, or just set your dial for Pirate Cat Radio and show them some love. Plus, who couldn't use a calendar jam packed with tattooed and pierced ladies and gents, hamming it up, getting all dolled up, and mugging for the camera, plus a schedule so you can tune in and see what all the fuss is about!
The return of Lithuanian black metallers Poccolus! Well, not so much a return, as these guys split up a while back, but we're super psyched to hear more from these guys. Their Supernal label full length was a huge hit with the metalheads around here, gloriously thrashy keyboard drenched, post rock flecked Pagan blackness, originally released in 1996, but reissued a couple years ago. The tracks on Ragana date even further back than that, 1993 and 1994, with a couple live tracks tacked on as a bonus, originally released as a super limited cassette in 1997.
Here, Poccolus sound even more raw, and strangely more melodic. The guitars offering up classic metal sounding harmonies, locked in with the drums, pounding way down in the mix. Shades of Iron Maiden, and at least one of the tracks musically is a dead ringer for Slough Feg, that is until it slips into grim blackness, the bellowy reverb drenched croon, switching to harsh hellish shriek, but even then, the music continues to lope along all mournful and minor key, with plenty of keyboards, although here they're buried under the buzz and lo fidelity hiss. The opening track is so melancholy and catchy it's almost not even black metal. More like some gloomy gothy slightly blackened hard rock, but whatever it is, it's pretty excellent.
In fact, as we dig deeper, all the tracks here are barely black metal, although they're buzzy and heavy enough to keep metalheads' attention, the sound is much more raw and old school and classic sounding, the vocals are the blackest element, but even those shrieks and howls just as often revert to clean-ish croons. And it sound like this was mastered from a cassette, so it's all a little warped and warbly, giving it a haunting woozy off kilter vibe, which only adds to the band's unique sound. One track does actually get super grim and blasty, but that's after about 6 minutes of super minimal rumbling drones. The record closes with another strange only sort of black metal jam, lurching, mid tempo, the guitars warbly and minor key, the keyboard drifting like a haze in the background, the melodies getting more and more grand and epic, the band whipping their lo-fi stumble and buzz into something truly majestic sounding.
The live tracks are way more raw and fierce, lo-fi, but still plenty blown out and brutal, but even then, the weird melodicism of the proper tracks still creeps into the bands grim buzz. The Pagan element is also more present on these later tracks, the overall sound sitting somewhere right between the more polished Pagan crush of the full length, and the warped lo-fi classic metal of the demo tracks included here.
One of our favorite far out noise records, from Israel! Back in stock, but probably not for long...
Noise is always a tricky proposition. Some folks just want that harsh, brutal, paint peeling, speaker shredding white noise aural assault, while others (like us) like their noise with a little bit of structure, and texture and -gasp- maybe even some melody and dynamics. Our favorite noise records tend to be those that do something special or original with noise. There's plenty of Merzbow we could do without, but a handful of his discs are truly innovative blasts of gorgeously crafted corrosive sound. Gate's Golden is another example of a 'noise' record that manages to be as pretty and mysterious as it is harsh. And there are a bunch of noise(y) discs that completely kick our asses, records from Hijokaidan, Hototogisu, Hanatarash, Gerogerigegege, Incapacitants, Nerve Net Noise and more, sure we love us some full bore NOISE!!, but typically, of that stuff, the discs that gets the most play, are the ones that aren't just a straight wall of noise.�
We recently reviewed a killer disc of remixes, various artists reinterpreting and recontextualizing tracks from�Kurdish Melodies On Zorna by Zadik Zecharia, a pretty solid AQ fave. The Zorna is�a traditional Kurdish instrument like a longer more narrow trumpet or Scottish bagpipe, and Zecharia got work magic with his, weaving dense tapestries of joyful sound. The highlight of the remix record was Israeli noise unit Poochlatz's mix, turning Zecharia's playful Zorna into an instrument of doom and gloom! It definitely had us hankering for more.�
So�here it is, the latest release from Poochlatz, a single nearly twenty minute track, and it's pretty caustic. Harsh and bleak and distorted and blown out and indeed very very noisy. But there's a lot going on, within the noise and beneath the surface. The whole track exists in a black cloud of squealing feedback, moaning slabs of downtuned guitar, jagged slabs of glitched out electronics, everything muddy and murky and crumbling, but beneath this wall of abject brutality, hover strange barely audible majestic melodies, what sounds like snippets of songs buried way way down,�howled blackened vocals, distant demonic roars, streaks of sound all tangled up with smears of disembodied percussion, some almost black metal riffing pulled apart into weird blurry buzzes. On first listen, it's like sticking your head in a hornet's nest, but once your head is firmly lodged in there, the buzzing and constant stinging begins to feel soothing, almost tranquil, you head begins to swell, your ears swollen shut, all sound reduced to thick slabs of whir and shriek, so intense and strangely alien. Think Whitehouse versus Skullflower versus Wolf Eyes versus Prurient with some strange shoegazery pop ambient referee trying desperately to keep the fight fair and failing miserably. A beautifully brutal slab of dreamy (nightmarish?) noise. Recorded live too!
The return of Pussygutt, a male/female duo from Idaho, who traffic in slow brooding black ambience and ultra doom, and whose last two records have been huge favorites around here, which makes sense as we really can't get enough of sidelong tracks, and sprawling expansive stretches of slow rumbling drones, and minimal slabs of blackened doomic crawl, and gathering Strengths does NOTHING to disappoint, offering up a single two part track, spread out over two sides, beginning with what sounds like oboes or some sort of woodwind (it's in fact a clarinet), long layered tones, emitting endless overtones, laid atop a barely there bit of low end rumble, strange melodies emerging from the constantly shifting layers, eventually joined by mysterious strings, chiming bells, super cinematic and soundtracky, and yet another instance of 'why don't these guys score movies', the music sublime and emotional, not what you'd expect necessarily, slowly building in intensity, until finally, the hammer falls, and a black cloud of rumbling doom descends, hardly overwhelming, but instead wrapping around those keening strings, creating a haunting otherworldly bit of black doom chamber music.
The flipside starts off a bit folkier, shimmering drones drift over simple hand drums, the melodies simple and melancholy, a muted firelit psychfolk, smoldering and dreamlike, eventually building to something much more epic and intense, never exploding into a frenzy of doom, or exploding at all, instead, just hovering, and ratcheting up the tension, again, totally cinematic and dramatic, like some timeless ritual being performed by cloaked figures gathered before a fire, while in the background cities crumble and the sky turns to ash.
Intense, and intensely beautiful. LIMITED TO 550. Each one hand numbered, and housed in super striking, silkscreened heavy sleeves.
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
A killer slab of ultra minimal, low end soundscapes, from this LA noisemaker. Tangled shadowy shapes twist and slither, stretch and contort, a constantly shifting lowercase world of speaker destroying rumble and strangely sibilant buzz. This is thick and crunch and heavy and will probably cause damage to your speakers, but it's all muter and muffled, dragged down into the dark, so instead of being an all out noise assault, it's a beautiful and serene crawl through some black sonic underworld, ambient, but subtly harsh, dreamlike, but ominous and mysteriously fucked up. The sound can be cavernous one second, machinelike the next. Imagine the still warm corpse of Wolf Eyes, laid out on the slab, sliced wide open, all manner of microscopes and imaging devices trained on the various, still pulsing inner workings of the beast, well, the sound being picked up by the most sensitive of microphones, placed delicately within the carcass, are picking up the very sounds captured here.
Packaged in gorgeous chipboard sleeves, one side with a pasted on image, the front adorned with a simple symbol in metallic silver ink. Each one different. Really striking. Pressed on super thick vinyl, with a full color printed insert. LIMITED TO 330 COPIES!
Steve Reid is a free jazz legend, his resume, musical and otherwise, is mindblowing, he played in Sun Ra's Arkestra, was a Motown session drummer, was in James Brown's band and played at the Apollo, he lived in Africa, was jailed for opposing the Vietnam War, was a Black Panther, lived in a loft with Meryl Streep and her brother, put on shows and performances there, and played with Fela Kuti, Miles Davis, Ornette Coleman, Lester Bowie, about a million others, including more recently Four Tet's Kieran Hebden, which resulted in three amazing albums, all big time aQ faves.
Odyssey Of The Oblong Square is one of Reid's first records, released originally over 30 years ago, was extremely limited even at the time, and is some serious left field, out-funk free jazz genius. Reid was featured recently in Soul Jazz's Freedom Rhythm & Sound: Revolutionary Jazz & The Civil Rights Movement 1963-82 collection, and this record was definitely a musical cornerstone of the rapidly developing free jazz underground in the seventies. Listening to this now, it still sounds as powerful and radical and emotional as it must have nearly 4 decades ago. Wild horns, dense skittery rhythms, sprawling clouds of constantly shifting tempos and timbres, super melodic, but also wild and chaotic, and most importantly FUNKY. The bass is the standout, which is saying something when all the players are so incredible, but it's like a living thing, throbbing and undulating, flurries of rapid fire notes, long languorous tones, even one long stretch where the bass just seems to buzz and hum, transforming the sound into something much more dark and intense, a solid anchor to allow the drums and horns to explore and expand. The two longest tracks here are epic, the band so tight, but simultaneously so loose and expressive, the final track "Ginsamseng" at one point finds the horns playing super loooong tones, layered and shifting, almost sounding like free jazz composed by Phill Niblock. Wow. So intense, and definitely spiritual and utterly transcendent, more than music, this is musical expression, the soul made sound, and that sound lives on, and continues to inspire. Way recommended.
The reissue features the original super striking yellow and black Masonic album artwork, as well as new liner notes, detailing Reid's life and musical exploits. Another fantastic reissue from Universal Sound / Soul Jazz.
Er, when it Reigns it pours... as you should remember, last list we reviewed the new full-length cd from one of our favorite UK post rock acts, Reigns. We're waiting for a restock of those now, but in the meantime we've got *another* new Reigns release, a limited edition 2-song 7" single. Two new tracks of their lovely, so lovely and evocative instrumental music. Shimmering and mesmeric. That would be reason enough to pick this up, but, there's more: this comes packaged with a twelve-page booklet full of text in a tiny tiny font, detailing more of the adventures of Reigns Operative B, a diary of a field recording investigation into the English countryside. Of course things get a bit fantastical and weird, and in the end it's a bit like something by Thomas Ligotti. This is totally what we think makes Reigns extra-special, that added dash of imagination and mystery, presented in a confusional, supposedly scientific yet tongue-in-cheek manner. Neat!
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Finally, after a handful of shoddy reissues, bootleg compilations, and a never ending quest to track down every bit of recorded brilliance from this unsung pop genius, comes this amazing and comprehensive collection from the greatest pop singer song writer you've probably never heard of.
Some folks might be familiar with Rhodes from his time in psych pop combo The Merry-Go-Round, but it's on these 4 solo records, that Rhodes truly blossomed into something of a pop music marvel, playing almost all of the instruments himself, drums, bass, piano, guitar, writing, recording, singing, and creating some of the most timeless pop music you'll ever hear. Often called 'the one man Beatles' (in fact there's a new documentary about Rhodes with that title) due in no small part to his voice, a dead ringer for Paul McCartney's, as well as his songwriting, which definitely owes much to the Beatles and the Wings (McCartney again obviously), in fact, sometimes it's incredible how much some of these songs sound like they could have been Wings tracks, but unlike the Wings' tendency toward bombast and overkill, these songs remain sublime and simply brilliant. Besides the McCartney comparisons, there's also the Kinks, the Bee Gees, among others, you might have even heard Rhodes on the soundtrack to The Royal Tenenbaums, and he did have some moderate success, with at least one album and one single charting, but for the most part hovered just below the radar, which is criminal once you hear these songs, 4 albums, every song a practically perfect pop gem, from brooding heartfelt ballads, lush soaring chamber pop, to jangly power pop, his vocals gorgeous, the harmonies angelic, the arrangements incredible.
All four records are fantastic, but his self titled debut, from 1970, ranks up there as one of THEE absolute greatest pop records of all time. Every song could have been a hit, just listen to the sound samples below, the first 5 tracks from that record, impossibly catchy, and dreamy, and lush and so goddamn good. Especially "Long Time No See", with it's strangely morose minor key main melody, fuzzed out psych guitar, strange mix, and super dynamic arrangement, really dark, but still so catchy. As for modern musicians who owe a debt to Rhodes, we'd wager Elliott Smith was a huge fan, and if he wasn't he sure would have been, and Ted Leo is another, mostly the voices, and the knack for crafting hooks.
And while most singer songwriter music from the 70's sounds dated, ALL of these tracks sound as fresh and exciting as ever. If you've never heard Rhodes, you're in for a treat, this collection is one of those rare records, that had practically everybody here in a tizzy, and thus gets played nonstop.
Total pop perfection. Absolutely recommended and totally essential.
It's been a while, but it's time to haul out all those extra doom 'o's we've been saving for an occasion just like this. The return of ultra doomlords Rigor Sardonicous, they of the monstrous glacial downtuned crawl, the 'evil' cymbal (more on that in a second), the growled demonic vox, the lugubrious slow motion trudge, all that stuff we love, and all the stuff that can usually only be described by a whole handful of extra 'o's in doooooooooom.
But the opening track threw us for a bit of a loop. All weirdly folky, with chanted vocals, and fluttering flutes, some haunting almost Renn Faire court music, which quickly gives way to clean mournful minor key clean guitar, could this be the same Rigor Sardonicous? All doubts are wiped away moments later when the whole sound shifts down about a hundred octaves, the crumbling super distorted guitar spreads out like a black fog, the drums pounding, the cymbals still way up in the mix (beginning to think it's their trademark), and then the vocals. WOAH. Impossibly gurgly rumbles, like a frog croaking from the bottom of a tarpit, perfectly complimenting the band's murky plod. Weirdly the band does speed it up, but everything is so muddy and blurred that it almost makes no difference. You can hear what sounds like a little girl way off in the distance, as if she's locked in the dungeon of some great black beast. This is some awesomely creepy, heavy, and fucked up dooooooooooomy shit for sure.
If it's even possible, this is the most extreme Rigor record yet. The guitars more dense, heavier, even more downtuned, the vocals absolutely inhuman, it does almost sound like some super slow dooooom record, slowed down even more. And when the band do 'rock', they still out-doom most of their slow motion contemporaries.
Nothing else to say really. Been digging the most recent Moss, the Corrupted reissue? Still loving those Monarch records, the recent Trees disc? Fancy yourself a doomlord? Well strap on your armor, your headlamp, some industrial strength ear protection, and crawl headfirst into this black tarpit of sound, Rigor Sardonicous take even the heaviest and slowest sounds somewhere even slower and lower and so much doooooooooooooooooooooooomier�
We first came across the mysterious black metal entity Sadness Saturn a while back with their awesome split cassette with Utarm. Picking up where they (or maybe he?) left off, Sadness Saturn returns with She, a three song tape that manages to be both raging and strangely meditative. Soundwise, it's a bit like a slightly less bizarre Velvet Cacoon, and it will also make sense to reference experimental black metallers Servile Sect, with whom the Sadness Saturn mainman is also involved. On side 1, "Childhood And The Journey To Satan" plods with a steady drum pound framing some queasy sounding melodies as tortured vocals scream out under a thick blanket of fuzz. The melancholy sounds of guitars and keyboards creep out like a mist of beautiful negativity, accompanied by plain spoken female vocals that actually make this sound a bit like a black metal Cold Cave! The song "Like Ghosts In The Freezing Night" is particularly effective as the calm female voice speaks out above the super intense (yet drumless) black metal atmosphere lurking below the surface. The appropriately named "Dreamer" brings She to its beautiful conclusion, a loping and majestic piece of black metal ambience that is almost uplifting, sort of like if Klaus Schultz had been digging some Ulver. Sound good? You bet.
This handsomely packaged cassette is professionally presented to us by the awesome Japanese label Frozen Veins, and with only 100 copies out there, you are gonna want to act fast!
We won't go into too much detail with these as we only got a tiny handful of each. Latest batch of ultra limited lathe cuts from New Zealand label CMR. Each one packaged in a super striking, simple cardstock jacket, most with printed inner sleeves, Limited to 60 copies, of which we got the remaining stock. Once these are gone, they are gone forever.
Sci Hi is another NZ outfit we had never heard of, but we are really digging this. Exclusively upper register exploration, a trilling squeaking keening world of video game sounds and simulated bird calls, dense clouds of high end flutter, reverb and delay wrapped around bursts of beeps and tiny squiggles of sound. Distorted and convoluted, tangled and confusional, but still kinda nice to listen to. This lathe cut 7" comes with a full length cd-r containing 10 tracks, another 40+ minute excursion into Sci Hi's strange high end soundworld.
We first heard the Scrotum Poles on one of those Messthetics collections, and obviously we were intrigued by the name, though weirdly enough, their sound didn't live up the puerile promise (threat?) of their band name, instead the 'Poles trafficked in some seriously hooky punkish pop, way more pop than punk, similar to say the Television Personalities or even the Go-Betweens at times. This long in the works reissue compiles a load of unreleased home and studio recordings from these Scottish punks, and they're pretty fantastic, catchy, hooky, stumbly, the sound ultra lo-fi, murky and muddy, but the dodgy recording suits the songs, which range from solo acoustic rave ups to pounding punkish jams, pure power pop to sloppy super rocking indie jangle, and several shades in between. After only a handful of listens we've been finding ourselves with lot of these tracks firmly lodged in our heads, which pretty much says it all.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Packed with photos and lyrics and liner notes, and housed in a thick fold out sleeve.
Dark Entries made their debut as a label several months ago with the awesome reissue of the Eleven Pond LP and with that single release we knew we were witnessing the birth of a an awesome reissue label, one with its heart set on finding obscure synth-pop and darkwave and and shining the spotlight on records that never got the love, attention or distribution they deserved the first time around.
Second Decay were a German electronic-pop group who formed in the late 1980's dedicated to the sound of analog synthisizers, the album's back cover proudly remarks 'This album was produced without MIDI. It is dedicated to our beloved synthesizers.' And there is no doubt these guys had deep love for the sounds of synthesizers as they used them to craft very infectious, dark new wave with full on pop chops. While there have been tons of reissues and attention paid to the amazing music that was made in Germany in the 70's it's really cool to see someone digging up some of the gold in a post-Kraftwerk Germany as Second Decay have a sound that brings Neue Deutsche Welle to mind (e.g. Grauzone, Liaisons Dangereuses, etc.) and the more dark tinged blasts of electro-pop that folks like Depeche Mode and The Human League were making on their early records, or even early 80's Cabaret Voilatire, and of course you can tell they were WAY influenced by the mighty Kraftwerk. We also hear a cool similarity to the recently reissued Patrick Cowley & Jorge Socarras record Catholic, which kind of makes perfect sense as the man behind Dark Entries was instrumental in saving and preserving the cache of Cowley tapes from which that record was culled.
With new bands like Cold Cave and Xeno & Oaklander grabbing our attention lately with their awesome updated version of that classic vintage synthwave sound, it's pretty rad and perfect timing to hear a lost classic from folks who were making that sound almost twenty years ago. Limited to just 500 copies all screen printed and with an amazing remastered sound thanks to the work of the legendary George Horn at Fantasy Studios. This will make you want to wear all black and dance all night. Minimal wave/gothpop at its best!
We've dug Germany's Secrets Of The Moon for ages now, but somehow haven't ever reviewed any of their records. Privilegium will right that wrong, and will hopefully have everybody going back and digging up all their other records, cuz these guys slay. Even more now that they've added dreamboat female bass player LSK from Antaeus, oh and the drummer also plays in Antaeus, so you can bet there's a pretty serious French BM vibe going on here, which can only be a good thing. Majestic, sometimes almost elegant in the delivery, but of course, grim and evil at the same time. And like Antaeus, and much of the French scene, Secrets Of The Moon give off an almost industrial vibe at times. The drums are super heavy with a militaristic feeling, the guitars squiggle and screech out all kinds of sour, evil sounding riffs, and the vocals are a steady tortured rasp. Structurally, things are complex and at times a bit proggy, a blackened tangled web of metallic grandeur. There's all kinds of windy atmosphere also, and the interesting choice of cover art - an, um, black apple - gives Privilegium a cool negated religious feeling. What's not to love?
Beautiful packaging on this one, with the aforementioned apple presented on a super glossy digipack with a giant matte bite munched out. Tasty.
Every Silentist review always requires a quick recap of the band's back story. Or at least the story of how we were introduced to the band. We were told they were a duo, a classical piano player, and a grindcore drummer (when in fact the same guy handles both drums and piano!!), and thus it was some sort of classical grind hybrid, and while perhaps there are elements of both in the music of Silentist, it's way weirder and harder to describe.
The sound here is similar to the last record, the A side begins with pounding low end piano, forceful and almost violent sounding, beneath it, super mathy and complex drumming, lots of rumbling bass buzz, the result is a sort of classical metal cabaret if that makes any sense, the howled vocals adding a strange punkish element to the weirdly complicated sort-of-groove.
The B side opens with swirly clouds of piano a la Lubomyr Melnyk, over rubbery rumbling bass and muted crunchy percussion, the vocals this time are heavily effected and crooned, and again, the cabaret vibe is heavy, albeit more evil and demonic. The rums explode and get super heavy, the piano becomes more frenzied, the bass thick and distorted almost like a metal guitar, all the elements tangled up and clashing wildly.
Plus at the end of the A side, there's a super brief track, a 26 second long burst of super lo-fi power violence, just insane drumming and shouted vocals, like Drop Dead or Man Is The Bastard but stripped WAY down.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
The label describes Silk Flowers' music as eerie and experimental pop, which while a bit reductive, is somewhat accurate. Simple electronic rhythms drift through fields of reverb, alongside warm whirring synths, while over the top, deep baritone vocals dramatically croon, very new wave and gothic, it's weird how all of these 'cold wave' sort of bands are just coming out of the woodwork, although we're not complaining, we dig this woozy washed out dour depressive synth driven gloom rock. And Silk Flowers are definitely among the gloomiest, slipping from goth pop, to creepy warbly crawl, to swirling psychedelic cold wave, all the sounds warm and wreathed in delay and echo, the melodies minor key and melancholy, the guitars atonal and fragmented, the perfect foil for the thick washes of synth buzz, the bass unfurling a slow motion Crispy Ambulance / Joy Division sort of lugubrious throb, a gorgeously hazy gothic synth pop, that dabbles into heavier spacey synth psych, as well as muted almost cabaret sounding goth pop, the vocals sometimes dangerously close to over-the-top, but even then they sound pretty perfect with the rest of the music.
Fans of all the gothy, gloomy, synthy goodness that we've been digging so much lately around here, should consider this heartily recommended.
Music for airports, music for sleeping, music for film...it's about time someone made music for reading! For his brand new novel Empty The Sun, writer Joseph Mattson called upon the talents of Ben Chasney (Six Organs Of Admittance) to create a musical accompaniment to his novel. What a fantastic idea, especially consideringChasney has shown over the years an ability to create mood and atmosphere with a subtlety and undeniable authenticity that rings with such undeniable truth.
Centered around Chasney's mesmerizing guitar playing as well as wonderful accompaniment by Steve Ruecker on pedal steel, rattlers and bowls, Empty The Sun really is the sound we would want playing as we lose ourselves in a good book. Similar in mood and disposition to the great soundtrack to Mister Lonely that J. Spaceman & Sun City Girls created last year, this is one of those records that flows with a pastoral bliss that could, and we find ourselves wishing WOULD, go on forever and ever. Mostly instrumental, there are a few tracks with really nice subdued vocals including some of the most warm and intoxicating vocals we've heard from Elisa Ambrogio (Magik Markers).
The music of Six Organs Of Admittance really does speak to the soul, so evocative and creative and original, yet still warm and familiar, a rare beast that is as much a fan favorite as an artist's artist, so it's no surprise that Mattson was compelled to bring Six Organs into his world of words, just as film makers like Cam Archer have turned to Six Organs for music in his films, and just about every painter or visual artist we know has copies of Six Organs records in their studio. The sounds Chasney creates seem to be the perfect accompaniment for creation and exploration. And what also makes Chasney's music so amazing is the way it evokes a feeling of comfort, and a gloriously soporific dazem even while you're just sitting on a bus watching your surroundings blur by...
We haven't had a chance to dive into the actual book yet but with a quick skim we're anxious to ring in the new year laying on the couch with Six Organs playing as we dive into what looks to be a compelling novel.
Gorgeously packaged as well, both the cd and lp, each with a slightly different sized novel, to fit the format...
Finally! The return of Eikenskaden, whose mastermind (and only member as far as we know) was also responsible for the baffling brilliance that was Mystic Forest. Long time readers of the aQ list will no doubt know how much we love Stefan Kozak, and both Mystic Forest and Eikenskaden, so much so that Andee even released Eikenskaden's amazing 665.999 on tUMULt.
And we're happy to report, that besides being just as cool and weird as we remember, along with a strange name change, Eikenskaden is now known as The Skaden, the sound has gotten even MORE bizarre and all overt the map, which is definitely a very good thing.
Right from the outset, the intro to the first track "Pain and sexual Overdose Delusion" (yes there's still a definite BDSM vibe, in the song titles, subject matter, even artwork) Kozak confounds by opening with what sounds like a black metal theme to a James Bond movie we'd kill to see, with it's frantic jangle clean guitar, moaning horns (sounds like horns at least), and super moody melody, but soon, the song kicks in full bore and we're in more familiar Eikenskaden style soaring epic melodic black metal territory. But things get WAY weirder pretty quickly, as the song shifts gears and transforms into a sort of string laden sea shanty, like some strange musical, dramatic and playful, but still growly and buzzy and sinister, a truly weird combo. The second track, is a brooding Katatonia like slab of dour doomic black metal, with lots of slow jangly guitars, spaced out stretches of dramatic post rock, complete with whispered female vox and soaring guitar melodies. And the record just continues to confound, the strange loping almost jig-like fiddle on "A Peaceful Moment", along with the haunting slow build Godspeed like string quartet gone black metal second half of the same song, the wild progged out frenzy of "Grand Final" with frantic speed picked distorted riffing, jangly clean guitar, and tangled flutes laid over growled black metal vox, like some sort of Burzum / Tull mashup, that eventually morphs into some super hypnotic blackened noise rock, the flute along for the whole ride, and finally, the final track, the title and lyrics all in Japanese, which at the outset appears to be the most truly black metal track on the record, but as you might expect, the track seesaws from black buzz, to lurching dramatic cabaret, to haunting shimmery string laden skitter, all the while a female recites the lyrics in Japanese way down in the mix, and those horns return, cloaking the track in a serious noir vibe, before it lurches back into some blasting blackness. Some serious what-the-fuck for sure, but we love it. Did we mention EVERY song begins with the sound of wind blowing? So good.
If you already dig Eikenskaden and Mystic Forest, this is obviously essential, otherwise, if you're looking for something black metal, but still super melodic and WAY WAY twisted, you probably couldn't hope for anything better, or weirder than this!
Another new one from Swedish noisemakers Skull Defekts, who like much of the new breed of cd-r underground outfits, have gone from unknown to prolific in the blink of an eye. This latest comes courtesy of the Cut Hands label, and is crazy limited, only a hundred copies�
And while past Defekts records have been strongly rooted in rhythm, this two tracker is much more about texture and mood, timbre and ambience, with any rhythm merely a muted pulse, a submerged throb, or a bit of dizzying skipped looping. The opening track is 21 minutes of low end murk, soft shimmering drift, smeared pixilated glitch, moaning bass tones, a distant swirl of disembodied voices, croaks and creaks, blurred into another buzzy layer, the track building in intensity, the tones growing thicker and more corrosive, streaks of feedback draped over sonorous tones, all wrapped in a whirring cloud of soft insectoid buzz.
The second track, also 21 minutes, is much more chaotic and confusional, voices swirl dizzily, chunks of glitchy electronics suspended in a roiling sea of constant low end buzz, smears of malfunctioning effects, sine wave skree and crumbling distortion, all looped into some haunting post industrial collage, eventually smoothing out into a long stretch of layered rumble and whir, but still shot through with jagged shards of percussive clatter and sizzling electronic grind. Sort of Pan Sonic meets Wolf Eyes which is most definitely a good thing.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Packaged in cool oversized, textured paper, three color silkscreened gatefold sleeves, the disc attached to a nub on one of the panels, a printed black and white insert, each disc hand painted.
The Skull Defekts are another one of those bands that seem to have gone from barely existing, with only a cd-r or an lp or two floating around, to a seriously productive group spitting out a release or two every few months. And with SD, unlike a lot of bands, we CAN NOT get enough. Easy to understand why. Their records all sound so completely different, some are glitchy freak outs, others are droney and contemplative, some are heavy and dark, others shimmer and drift, but all of them somehow manage to sound fairly distinctive and unique, with some invisible Skull Defektive thread running through them.
This particular slab of Defektive sound is all synths, thick and pulsing, layers upon layers of grinding throbbing buzzing synthesizer, laced with distant streaks of slightly higher pitched synths, adding a bit of subtle color, a gorgeous glacial Niblock drone synth symphony, the tones beating against each other, subtly altering the tempo and rhythm and timbre, a whole side of dark minimal buzzy crawl, sounds amazing on both 33 or 45.
The flip side begins with more synths, almost like a continuation of the first side, but with a strange industrial jackhammer beat, that eventually dissipates leaving the synths to squirm and slither.. The second track on side 2, is like a higher end mix of side 1, with the various layers beginning to crumble and distort, and glitch out a bit, almost like the Skull Defekts as recorded by William Basinski, all very buzzy and intense, sounding a bit like the gateway to the other dimension in the movie Phantasm gone haywire... So cool.
Packaged in a gorgeous black on black wood cut style sleeve.
We first discovered the doomlords known as Slomatics via another doomy combo, now defunct UK trio Like A Kind Of Matador, who released their only record on Andee's tUMULt label, and Slomatics definitely hit the spot, slow, crushing bruisers, downtuned and spaced out, heavy as fuck, and nothing has changed since then. On this limited split, they offer us 3 more slabs of lumbering ultracrush, a sound that falls somewhere between Harvey Milk, Like A Kind Of Matador and Electric Wizard. Churning riffage, howling vocals buried in the mix, big booming drums, all very druggy and hypnotic. The two shorter songs here get downright rocking, at least by Slomatics standards, slipping into a head banging 16rpm groove, that sounds a little like ZZ Top on thorazine, and a LOT like a less melodic, way meaner Torche. Definitely need more from these guys and SOON.
Slomatics team up with an outfit called Selaah, who couldn't be more different, solo guitar, looped and cyclical, a bit like a lo-fi Riley or Reich piece played on distorted electric guitar. Super mantra like, and circular, the sound does eventually build to a Sunroof!-like ur-drone finale, before suddenly shifting into a cool shimmering shifty layered upper register dronescape, before gradually growing prettier and prettier, and simultaneously more and more faint. Cool stuff. And definitely a nice way to balance the extreme low end heaviness of the first three tracks.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Hand numbered...
We definitely love food, and eating, from shitty take out, to fancy pants high end dining. But we've never really found a cooking show we dug enough to watch regularly. One that spoke to us, regular dudes (and ladies) who like music, like to cook, but don't always want to spend hours making food, but do once in a while want to try something crazy.
And while we're not sure Solid Dudes Kitchen speaks EXACTLY to us, it comes pretty damn close. It's funny, there's music, animation, and some killer food. Not to mention two likable dudes manning the kitchen.
One guy cooks, the other watches and provides smart ass commentary. Which is probably a lot like lots of our kitchens. Plenty of swearing, jokes about balls, butts, farts, and other dude stuff. Both guys are tattooed and cool, used to play in rock bands, the key being, they're pretty funny, and seem like dudes you'd totally be into hanging out with and making dinner and drinking. And they do seem like out kind of dudes. For Superbowl Sunday, they make the least DUDE food possible, a beet salad, but moments later, they make pot brownies, the instructions delivered in a buzzing snarling metal / grindcore song. The next episode features the guitarist from the Dillinger Escape Plan, their pal, back from tour, and they're cooking him some comfort food, while said pal, straps on a guitar and rocks out in a computer generated hellish landscape, where he comments on each stage of the cooking, but wordlessly, just shredding wildly, subtitled of course, so you know what he's 'saying'. And that's another thing that makes Solid Dudes Kitchen so rad, some seriously high production values, the editing is amazing, the credits are different each time, super fancy, tons of animation, and variations of that stuff pop up throughout each episode.
And if you weren't sold already, wait til you get to the episode where they make a bacon burger, but not just ANY bacon burger, a bacon burger in which EVERY element is some variation of pork, called the pork motherfucker. There's bacon, but there's also self brined ribs, there's bacon fat mayo (!), there's also pickled onions, braised pork belly, pancetta and ground pork and breadcrumb patties on toasted buns, with cheese. Mmmmmmmm.
The episodes are short, so they're fun to watch, even if you don't want cook anything, although why wouldn't you? And after watching all these, we can't figure out why the heck these guys aren't Food Network superstars. Maybe it's all the metal and swearing and ass jokes...
Sorc'Henn's last disc, Harmonium Pieces & Dead Reveries, which was released on Faunsabbatha, the more 'metal' sub label of Ruralfaune, wasn't actually a metal record, more a dark dronescape, whirring expanses of Lustmordian Wolf Eyes style post industrial buzzing black shimmer.
This latest Sorc'henn disc, released on Crucial Bliss (another sub-label, this time of Crucial Blast) is even more removed from anything metal. And in many ways anything dark. At least the 21 minute opener, which plays out like an Argento soundtrack composed by Oval, all shimmering layers, and skipping cds, looped ambience, that glimmer and glistens, a bit of Philip Jeck, a little Tim Hecker, all fuzzy and crackly melodies locked into haunting loops, while over the top, a child's voice whispers, and in the background bits of bird song. Truly creepy, but simultaneously quite lovely, totally mesmerizing, would have been happy if this track was stretched out to fill the whole disc. Odds are you'll find yourself listening to it over and over, luxuriating in its haunting mystery, eyes closed, picturing some old crumbling estate, surrounded by dark forests, a child peeking from the heavy curtains in an upstairs window.
After that, the sound gets even more fuzzed out and crackly, a warm washed out hiss, speckled with bits of crackle and pop, a slowly unfurling minimal melody way off in the distance, the sound of thundering low end drifting by like black clouds, warm whirring organs, bits of electronic glitch, deep throbbing reverberating buzz, all leading up to the 27 minute long final track, a totally demented black musickal ritual, deep rumbles, growled Darth Vader like invokations, bits of industrial clatter, squalls of hiss, whirling streaks of effects, detuned guitars, woozy melodies, thick waves of crumbling buzz, slivers of feedback, creaking and groaning machinelike ambience, distorted chimes, disembodied vocals howling and moaning, a truly harrowing black and bleak soundscape, finishing off with a brief snippet of an old timey French piano ballad, adding even more mystery to the song's already eerie and mystical vibe.
Like all the Crucial Bliss releases, packaged in a cool 3 panel full color fold over sleeve.
We went a little nuts for the debut release from Anduin a while back, the project of Souvenir's Young America keyboardist Jonathan Lee, taking SYA's Western tinged post rock doom, and stretching it out into something much more subtle and ambient. But SYA is back to remind us just why we were so into Lee and his crew in the first place, with two brand new tracks of sweeping epic, spacious and cinematic post rock, rivaling and perhaps surpassing any of their more well known contemporaries.
The guitars chime and ring out, the drums propulsive and subtly mathy, lots of deserty ambience, moody melodic swoon, crunchy almost metal guitars here and there, haunting blissed out stretches of soft strummy drift, slippery slide guitar and pulsing electronics. There are some haunting processed vocals, distant and heavily effected, tribal rhythms, lots of space, little bits of glitch here and there, slightly doomy, with a distinct twang, gorgeous and dark, but always mysterious and hauntingly dreamy. Can't wait for the next full length.
The flipside features a new (to us at least) group called City Of Ships, who prove to be a pretty good match for SYA, starting their side with some washed out ambience, glimmering guitar harmonies, shimmery cymbal washes, all before the band kick in and get all mathy with tangled squiggly guitar leads and hard hitting complicated drumming. And unlike SYA, City Of Ships are NOT instrumental, the vocals a raspy croon that get more and more wild eventually veering into almost emo territory, the sound a mix of June Of 44 and a mellower Neurosis. Long stretches of mellowy meandering peppered with jagged bursts of crunch and pound, the tracks building to seriously epic climaxes with grinding metallic guitars, angular and sharp, with howled vocals and wild chaotic drums. Good stuff.
Packaged in a super swank fold over 2 color hand screened gold colored sleeve, each one hand numbered, with a photocopied insert, and LIMITED TO ONLY 300 COPIES!!!
Holy shit! Record collector nerds and weird music obsessives might as well prepare to give up their first born or take out another mortgage on the ol' homestead, cuz this series of ultra limited 8" SQUARE lathe cuts is gonna break the bank, but it's so so so worth it. This is the first in a series that looks like it will include a who's who of noise rock / free rock / avant noise / free folk luminaries, including SO many all time AQ faves it makes our heads spin. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The first batch of these babies just showed up, three titles, each a custom hand cut, Peter King lathe cut, 8", and SQUARE!!! Packaged in gorgeous square and triangular die cut sleeves, super fancy textured paper, with a paste on front cover and a printed insert, each insert hand numbered, each release limited to 150 copies. Phew.
For those new to the lathe cut, it's a hand cut record, on polycarbonate not vinyl, they are more fragile than normal vinyl, and after repeated plays the sound quality can degrade a bit, but in our experience, in most cases it just makes them sound cooler. Peter King is THE MAN when it comes to super limited small run lathe cut releases, and pretty much every cool band you can think of has gone to him for some super rare or limited release or another.
So anyway, these are clear, they are 8"s across, shaped like a square and are insanely limited, and thus, pretty dang expensive! This is the third in the series and features Neil Campbell of AQ faves Vibracathedral Orchestra, along with his sonic partner in crime, the curiously monickered Sticky Foster, and the din these two stir up is not all that far removed from the VCO mothership. Side A is a glitchy soundscape, with garbled vocals, weird percussion, processed voices, thick whorls of murk and fuzz and hiss, bits of steel string buzz all above a dense tangle of chimes and tinkling percussion. The B side is a huge shimmering ur-drone, a fluttering wall of keening reeds and soaring feedback, all smeared into one glorious sky-reaching tumult, very reminiscent of VCO or Sunroof! So nice. ----* ----* Selected New Arrivals : ----*
It says right there on the sleeve: "100% Sludge". They had us at 100% sludge. Ummm, anyway, two of Finland's sludge rock heavyweights team up, each taking a side of this here 12", and each, surprisingly, doing something new and unique with their bit of sludge. Not that we wouldn't have loved another slab of slow motion dirgery, but we're even more psyched to see what weird shapes, some of this sludgedoomdrone can get twisted into.
Up first is Loinen, whose lp we totally flipped over a while back. They of the crushing doom with Scott Walker style vocals. Yep! You remember now? Well, here they try another something, also completely different, their side begins with a super distorted bass riff, spread way out, allowing for lots and lots of space, and in those spaces, there are strange chanted choral vocals, female, repeating the same pattern over and over, inexorably tangled up with the plodding riff. It's all very mysterious and hypnotic and continues on for nearly three quarters of the side, at which point the vocals finally come in, a strangled alien croon, alternately growling and sort of moaning, and it's not until nearly the end of the side when the drums finally kick in, and for the first time it begins to resemble the aforementioned 100% sludge. A lurching doom trudge with now croaking vocals all wrapped around that relentless distorted bass line. Finally, right at the very end, the track explodes in a frenzy of freaked out chaos, drums everywhere, feedback squealing and shrieking, the track dissolving in a blast of blown out brutality. Weird and quite cool.
So how do fellow countrymen, and masters of their own particular brand of sludginess, Stumm, respond? With yet another strange take on sludge, there's, at least for this lp side, is downright pretty. Thick swaths of washed out guitar rumble and soaring streaks of feedback all tangled and up like some gorgeous alien melody, not harsh at all really, more just strange sounding, and really quite beautiful, the first time we've heard feedback so skillfully sculpted, underneath, drums are simple and spare, it's more about atmosphere and mood it seems, a thick heavy dreamy drift. Right in the middle there's a brief burst where the guitars get more jagged and angular, and some howling shrieking vocals swoop in, but before you know it, they've swooped right back out, and the track is again drifting darkly, a strangely soft sludge shimmer. So great.
LIMITED TO 265 COPIES!!! These are the only copies we can get. Once they are gone, they are gone for good. Packaged like the Loinen 12", in a similar eye melting black and white high-school-binder tweeker pen and ink cover, with crazy art by Loinen member G.G., a tripped out world of strange figures and weird text and upside down crosses, and squiggles and creatures and who knows what else...
It's strange what a huge influence Bay Area black metallers Von ended up being on pretty much everybody. Not really all that surprising really, they did after all totally destroy. Filthy and grimy and so heavy and primal and raw. It seems like every black metal band has at one time or another covered Von, there was even a full length tribute, and of course, there have been about a million bands who did everything in their power to channel the spirit and ferocity of Von, one of the most successful being Swine, the Von worshipping side project of a guy called Swine appropriately enough, frontman for Hateful Abandon, whose most recent record, Famine (Or Into The Bellies Of Worms), a collection of blackened gothic gloom, we highlighted a while back.
On Marked By The Baron, it's Satanic Blood Angel time, ALL the time, blasting drums supplied by a furious frenzied drum machine, the guitars thick and gritty, buzzy and intense, the vocals drenched in reverb and effects, grunting and growling, as much as howling and shrieking. The sound manages to be weirdly moody and dramatic too, with moaning guitar melodies drifting over the churning black filth below, giving most of the tracks a weirdly wistful vibe, considering how fast and furious the rest of the music is. Rapid fire, frenzied and relentless, pounding and punky, but so atmospheric and with such a vile vibe, and that aforementioned moody melancholy, culminating in the final track, that dips into some super emotional classic sounding doom, even slipping into some mournful clean guitar, and after a few minutes of silence, returning with a bit of washed out dreamy drone, weird.
But beyond those little bits of strangeness, this is some gloriously heavy, harsh, beautifully depressive, raw blasting blackness.
Latest batch of corroded sonic mystery from this former Bay Area outfit, now headquartered somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.
Recorded live on KFJC, this set is a head spinning blown out collage of processed sounds, fractured percussion, treated noise, warped feedback, a roiling, pulsing, swirling blur of muted rhythms, in-the-red sheets of sound, twisted and melting melodies, all framed by a strange narrator, his voice processed and transformed into something totally alien, a nonstop stream of political and paranoid invective, warnings, threats, advice and all manner of all woven and tangled in the ever shifting fields of abstract whir and skree. Warped tapes wrap around mumbled chants, everything hissy and hazy and washed out, bits of dialogue from films (?), field recordings, plenty of tape hiss, and degraded crumbling distortion, occasional stretches of spare almost ambience, but even those brief respites are laced with haunting sonic filigree, creaks and groans, clatter and clanks, whispers and rumbles, occasional bursts of tribal drumming pepper the streaks of high end and the stuttering low register whir, throbbing, pulsing, hypnotic and heavy in its own way. This is definitely noise, but more textural and sculpted, than just white out ear shredding pummel, plenty rhythmic, with loads of low end creep, and howling chaotic crunch, all the disparate sounds woven into a super freaky, otherworldly alien transmission from some other plane.
And like all the releases on Custodian, Color Zoo Containers, every release is stunning, most painstakingly hand assembled, these cds have super striking transparent inserts, with all sorts of symbols and strange text, that continues onto the sticker sealing it shut, the discs are printed so the disc image mirrors and blends into the cover image, and of course, these are SUPER LIMITED, only 97 COPIES, each one hand numbered!!!!
