ULTRA LIMITED, HAND SILKSCREENED lp from local post-drone-rock outift Tarentel. We've had the sonic good fortune of listening to Tarentel develop over the years from a Tortoise like post-rock ensemble to a truly risk taking experimental group, who wield a deft hand with catchy melodies and clever, complex song writing, but never shy away from taking big chances, experimenting with sound and sounds, leaning lately much more toward the abstract soundscape end of the spectrum, which of course we can't get enough of. From the opening track, a downright dreamy expanse of gentle piano, warm whooshing woodwinds and delicate acoustic guitars to the much darker and abrasive second track, a super distorted rumbling dronescape, swirling and churning around a shuffling jazzy rhythm and some creaking machine like melodies. The remaining seven tracks are a mix of the two, stretched out, blissed out smears of twinkling synths, and fluttery minimal percussion, all occasionally disrupted by big fuzzy spurts of distorted rumble and sunspot like flashes of digital glitchery. So gorgeous. And again, VERY LIMITED. Beautiful hand screened sleeves, strictly limited to 500 copies, not sure how many we'll be able to get!
Another fine issue of this monthly must-read metal mag from the UK... this issue comes bagged with the usual free cd sampler, its got tracks by Gorgoroth, Katatonia, Count Raven, Saviours, Swallow The Sun, Griftegard, Sacred Steel, and others... including, uh, a band called Milking The Goatmachine. And, also this issue comes with an Immortal poster. Then, of course, the magazine itself is full of good readin', about such bands as Nile, Hypocrisy, Shrinebuilder, Pelican, Katatonia, Dark Funeral, Belphegor, Rammstein, Gorgoroth, and freakin' Manilla Road!! Among others. Plus reviews and news and whatnot as per usual.
At the risk of alienating some of the other amazing records we've been loving and listening to non-stop, we might just have to proclaim this disc our new favorite. Cuz, man, do we miss the good ol' math rock days. Or post rock days, whatever you want to call them. That brief period, when there were instrumental (or mostly instrumental) bands everywhere, each offering up super complex tangled chunks of calculus-rhythmed indie jangle. Guitars intertwined into gorgeous harmonies and splintering into jagged melodic shards. Drums battering out impossibly intricate beats, the bass slithering around and within, supporting and propelling, but always laced with killer pop hooks and amazing minor key melodies. Bands like�Polvo, Pitchblende, Table, Breadwinner, Dazzling Killmen, Bitch Magnet, Rodan, Crain, June Of 44, they just don't make bands like that anymore... or do they?
Tic Code, from Portland Oregon sound like they just got sucked up from 1995 and transplanted in 2007, with all their mathy chops intact. Every song here is dense and catchy and weird and rocking. The opener is all Don Caballero ultra complex spazz out. The guitars super dizzying and slippery, over a relentlessly chugging groove, that at one point slips into an almost jig, and then it's back into a hyper rhythmic math jam. The second track is more moody and propulsive, more post than math, the guitars lilting and ringing out, the drums loping lazily, super summer afternoon...
The rest of the record is all over the math map, leaning heavily on the heavy, more chaotic side of things, the drummer destroying, the guitars tangled up wildly around the drums, every song a gorgeous avalanche of sound...
Some�of our other favorites are�the weird melancholy almost Goblin-esque�"The Second Stanza Of The Tony Danza Tap Dance Extravaganza" with it's epic sweeping chords and haunting melodies, and the Yes-on-steroids of "Swedish Fish", with more killer dual guitar dueling culminating in an explosive freaked out free for all sonic squall... fuck it, they're all amazing.�This band is just so great, and sound so modern and old school at the same time.
Screw this whole post rock metal hybrid movement everyone is so hot for, we say: bring back the MATH!!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
You would most definitely be forgiven for not expecting big things from a band called Todd. And you sure as shit would probably wouldn't expect something this fierce and heavy and fucked up. But once you realize these guys are on Riot Season, and that they count as members (or did at one time) guys from long time aQ faves Shit And Shine, then it all begins to make a bit more sense. Right down to the taking-the-piss monicker.
And Todd most definitely have plenty in common with their way more tweaked and druggy countrymen S+S, but where S+S do their multiple drummered post Buttholes freak out thing, Todd are a bit more riffy and raw, still rhythmic and heavy and blown out and in the red, but more pounding and relentless, maybe more akin to Brainbombs and Rusted Shut and Twin Stumps and White Mice and the Mayyors, you get the drift, howled marble mouthed vox, riffs crumbling with distortion, so much so that half the time they just sound like a wall of fuzz, the bass a wash of bowel rattling rumble, the drums pounding and frantic, the band swing from unhinged Scratch Acid / Jesus Lizard noise rock, to seasick post rock groove, to lurching sludge-y doom, to full on filthy space rock trip outs, to repetitive, looped sounding dirge-y drug rock, there's even some warped twang flecked almost slowcore sounding drift, but even then, the vocals are unhinged, and the amps sound like they're gradually turning to some sort of black goo, and the band eventually stumble back into a filthy field of sonic broken glass and ear shredding pound and howl.
Needless to say, if you dig Shit And Shine, Brainbombs, No Balls, Twin Stumps, Butthole Surfers, Rusted Shut, Oxbow, Hey Colossus, the Anals, Billy Bao, any of that sort of crusty, metallic, noise drenched filth, then these guys will definitely hit the spot.
Another killer, super limited cd-r from the ALWAYS kick ass Small Doses label. This one a split between Torso, who we've dug for a while, and Gack who are new to us.
Torso, who we last heard from on a split with fellow dronesters Unicorn, offer up six tracks of deep dark raw drone/noise music. Beginning with some super minimal shimmer, streaked with low end groans and shards of feedback, Torso wander through fields of power electronics, spaced out glitch, thick synthscapes, complete with super distorted demonic vocals and all sorts of industrial buzz and grind, to crumbling malfunctioning electronic dirges, to dense melodic drones culminating in a nearly 10 minute blast of sci-fi outer space abstract glitched out FX drenched dronoise.
Gack respond with something much more minimal and muted, but no less caustic and ominous, LOTS of low end, the sound smeared and blurred and crumbling, tons shimmer and drift, disembodied voices, creaks, and machinelike grunts and murmurs, jagged shards of industrial clatter, deep rumbling ambience, Gack's tracks here sound more like the foley work for some fucked up outer space sci fi horror movie, which is not at all a bad thing.
Fans of Wolf Eyes and other modern bleak post industrialism as well as folks into the current crop of abstract noise drenched drone cd-r-tists should definitely check this out.
LIMITED TO 103 COPIES. Packaged in a plain black and white sleeve, printed on heavy cardstock.
If Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg were a cult, a shadowy forest horde of trolls and cavemen, like we had always imagined (hoped?), we would be right there beneath the heavy canopy, eyes wide in the arboreal darkness, bowing before Thundarr and Mordraaneth, trudging through the woods all glassy eyed, chanting in unison, letting Trollmann's subsonic vibrations lull us into a strange doomed trance, filthy and unkempt, clad in loin cloths, faces painted with black mud, spears in hands, first-borns sacrificed, we would gladly give up our daily lives, to serve their trollish dominion. But instead, Trollmann are just a human UK doom duo, keyboards and bass, and if our wild obsession alluded to in the above ramblings didn't clue you in, we LOVE these guys, and for now, will have to make do with raving maniacally about how awesome they are and getting our hands on every possible shred of recorded music they've produced. At least until they actually do become a cult.
To be honest, we were always sort of convinced that Trollmann was some bedroom recorded side project. Some metal guy just sort of experimenting and exploring sounds and soundscapes. The purported facts were just too good to be true, a caveman/troll duo, one member named Thundarr, responsible for "Rumblings of doom" and "Prophecies of times to come", the other member called Mordraaneth, he responsible for "Cosmic keys to gates unknown". The band members always pictured on the record sleeves in drawings, bearded, carrying clubs, seated on huge toadstools. Album titles like Arcane Runes Adorn The Ice-Veiled Monoliths Of The Ancient Cavern Of The Stars and Dark Clouds Blacken The Sky On The Eve Of The Thousandth Sacrifice. It all seems sort of absurd, until you actually hear the music, then it all suddenly makes some sort of impossible sense. It's like a doom metal Land Of The Lost. We all headed down to the club to see some doom band play, but got sucked into some other dimension, and ended up prostrate before Thundarr and Mordraaneth, as they proceeded to create a music, both beautiful and otherworldly, heavy and dreamlike, spreading over us like a black cloud.
So imagine our surprise when we discovered, there was a LIVE recording of Trollmann. Performing on this plane, in this time, to be witnessed by mere mortals. How could that be possible? And where could such a momentous performance take place? Well, here it is. Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg's very first live Aktion, a low end doom drone ritual performed where else but... IN A PUB!!! That's right, the Tut 'N Shive. The good ol' pub down on the corner.
Even just listening, you can practically hear the pub slowly transforming into some vine draped cave, dank and dark, lit from within, some unearthly glow, while two shadowy figures lurk on a small stage-like outcropping of rock. And proceed to fill the room, with viscous black beauty. The only real distraction from this sonic transformation is the between song reaction. 20 or 30 punters, pints in hand, cheering, clapping and hooting, laughing and talking before the next huge wave of black bile comes washing over them. It's not so much distracting as surreal. To imagine this music actually being performed, in a pub, in front of a crowd. It's actually pretty amazing, if not a little unreal.
Three looooooooooooong tracks. The first, begins with a strange throbbing bass, pulsing beneath a glimmering, shimmery keyboard drone, the bass slowly transforming into a huge lurching bass riff, repeated over and over, a totally mesmerizing slow motion doom groove, with huge monstrous guttural vocals all wrapped in thick sheets of amplifier buzz and cavernous reverb. Most definitely the heaviest Trollmann yet, but as it progresses, the sound becomes more fuzzy and the notes less distinct... eventually fading into black.
The second begins with a thick swirl of rumbling low end, glowing and growling, shifting glacially, the overtones beating against each other, a thick dense black cloud of sound, slowly modulating and subtly changing shape. While beneath the roiling blackness, the keyboard offers up a drifting melancholy shimmer, simple mournful melodies that hover and slowly fade, Trollmann at their most dreamlike and ambient. But before long, this droning black shimmer begins to build, slowly swelling into a super majestic, cinematic dirge, massive soaring low end melodies, howled anguished vocals, like Moss playing Godspeed, but then slowed down and somehow rendered impossibly fuzzy and blissy, while remaining intense and threatening.
The final ritual, sounds a bit like Total or Sunroof!, but only if their instrumental arsenal consisted of nothing but bass guitars and HUGE Stonehenge like speaker cabinets, a near static wall of throbbing low end sound wrapped like thick black drifts around a soft shimmery, distant melody, a melancholia drifting well beneath the rumble and whir, eventually becoming more and more tangled, the track becoming so blown out and blurry, so grainy and soft focus it almost sounds like some sort of Pop Ambient Doom.
As disappointed as we are, that Trollmann do in fact exist in the mortal plane, and do practice their strange sonic alchemy in local pubs, the music still compels us, mesmerizes us, possesses us, it blackens our ears and our souls, and thus we are at the ready, to gather up an army, to slip free of this world, to strip off our clothes, to paint our faces and march bravely into the black forest, to serve the mighty Trollmann...
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Of all the current crop of weirdo garage poppers and minimal cold wavers, the one band who we WISH would shower us with a million releases is the one band that DOESN'T. So when there's a new Tyvek record, you can bet we're all over it. After the recent reissue of their killer debut 7" Mary Ellen Claims, which we played to death, and the Siltbreeze record that's been on nonstop rotation since we first got it in, comes this new record, a gorgeously packaged, short collection of songs, not all instrumental as the title implies, but like the other Tyvek jams, stripped down and catchy, a little stumbly and raw, urgent and hooky, a little new wave-y, a little punky, and way retro poppy, these songs rule, a couple of them almost sound unfinished, sans vocals, but it hardly matters, they're still killer slices of punky retro pop goodness. Most of the songs sound like they could have been yanked right off the Siltbreeze record, and then there's the sprawling final track, a long sprawling, hypnotic slab of warped and warbly minimal new wave pop, with strange murky bits of percussion, spidery guitars, everything muddy and washed out and druggy, almost wish they would have stuck this on on the other side and let it fill the whole thing up. but they couldn't cuz the flipside is silkscreened, a cool blue image on a clear slab of wax, next to a thick silkscreened sleeve, super nice, and probably super limited as well...
The latest in Noiseville's Outer Bounds Of Sound series (past installments have come from Wicked King Wicker, Burnt Hills, Kleistwahr) comes from Ultrabunny, aka the trio that was borne from the demise of legendary noiserock freaks the Bunnybrains.
Ultrabunny are heavy and minimal, repetitive and super rocking, a bit like a krautrock Harry Pussy, after a slow build, the band lock into a super repetetive single riff groove, solid and mesmerizing, the sort of sound you wouldn't mind filling up the entire side, soon the vocals come in, a feral caterwaul, the band lurching and pummeling, a sort of looped sounding drug rock, that pounds away, those cracks in your skull slowly spiderwebbing, your grey matter dribbling from your ears.
All the tracks here were improvised and recorded live, most are a single riff, maybe two if you're lucky, the vocals yelp and howl, sometimes moan, on one track they just sort of hold a single note, adding another layer of drone to the proceedings, it might be a guitar too, but either way, the track just churns and pounds, the various elements subtly shifting and tangling, creating a sound that seems slightly warped, as if some greater power was holding his finger down on the band, as if they were a record, altering the speed, making everything seems woozy and melty and tripped out and WAY psychedelic.
The B-side is a lot heavier and more distorted, wild and on the verge of collapse, channeling some of that classic Japanese psych noise, but still filtered through a cracked lo-fi dirt rock vibe.
Killer noise drenched spaced out psychedelic hypnorock, which tells you all you need to know, us, we're digging this big time, especially the B-side.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!!
This is quite possibly the most insane outsider-weirdo-grind-metal-what-the-fuck record we have ever heard. Imagine a super lo-fi grindcore, cobbled together from blasting lightning fast drum machines, shredding super tech lead guitars, super processed, almost mechanical riffs, and Melt Banana-like high pitched yelping vocals, all tossed in a blender and spat out at a million miles an hour. Only sometimes all you can hear are the vocals, or the drums disappear underneath an avalanche of guitars, or everything is so amped up it becomes a buzzy blur, topped with high pitched squeaks and yowls. Totally nuts. Imagine Arboga Teenage Riot jamming with Brutal Truth. Or two lps, one a Melt Banana, the other a Deerhoof, both being played simultaneously at 90 rpm, then chopped up and slowed back down to about 60 rpm. So completely dementedly amazing. 46 tracks, most between 30 seconds and 1 minute, no titles, just numbers, 33601 to 33640, except for the last few tracks numbered 1365Y-13659. Wonder if that means that before this lp, the band had already recorded 33,600 songs. We'd believe it! Fans of all the above mention bands and folks who just love the weirdest shit imaginable, this is definitely for you.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES, we only got 8... Pressed on clear red vinyl. Includes a printed insert, with a DVD of live performances. It's PAL though, so for those of you without the ability to play PAL discs, there's also a free video download of all the same footage.
Universal Indians are a long lost noise rock behemoth, from way back in the nineties, featuring Mr. John Olson of the Wolf Eyes on the drums, these guys whipped up a serious blast of blown out super distorted garagey psychedelic noise rock. The opening track is heavy and thick, pulverizingly aggressive, drums totally in the red, guitars crumbling and white hot, the whole recording doing much damage to the speakers, vocals that are sort of sung/spoken, the whole thing sounds very Brainbombs actually, which is a VERY good thing. Come track two though, and the production drops about a hundred notches and suddenly we're in old school noise rock, tin can and twine blow out territory, which is still good, just different, and a surprise after the ultra hot opener. But the rest of the record proceeds along with some serious Dead C worship, mumbled vocals, angular guitars, barely audible drums, recorded in an airplane hangar or a cave somewhere, with some damaged Dylan-y strum and warble mixed in, everything wreathed in lo-fi hiss and tape recorded warble. Gloriously ramshackle... Side two is a single sidelong epic, a sparse, outrock jam, simple strummed guitars, spacious stumbling drums, almost sounds like some long lost old Sebadoh practice tape, albeit run through with some extra noisy ambience and fucked up weirdness. Cool stuff, almost like some sort of super poppy Wolf Eyes... a stumbling, damaged, noise drenched spaced out psych pop...
As much as we love Mississippi Records, and we DO love them, we're beginning to wonder why the Numero Group doesn't engender the same slavish devotion. If anything, they're like Mississippi with more money, fancier releases, maybe that's the problem, they're not punk enough, whatever it is, plenty of folks DO understand, and do worship at the altar of Numero Group, cuz it's no mystery as to what just might be the best reissue label going. And if the last 50+ releases didn't convince you, and this one STILL doesn't, we give up.
Light is a gorgeous and massive hardcover book / double lp combo, the book features photos by photographer Michael L. Abramson, who between the years 1975 to 1977 visited a handful of legendary blues bars on Chicago's South Side, not to capture the groups performing, but instead the folks in the crowd, and at the bar, and in the parking lot, and the results are amazing, 100+ photos available for the first time, of folks all dolled up and out on the town, drinking, dancing, socializing, the clothes are amazing, the hair is amazing, a fascinating snapshot of another side of Chicago's blues music scene, the side NOT on stage. The book is massive 12" x 12", with essays and a section of ephemera, and if that weren't enough, the book comes with a double lp featuring funky Chicago blues, just the sort of music the folks in these photos were grooving to live or playing on the jukebox. House in a super striking gatefold sleeve, also included is a little snapshot / catalog, a jukebox 7", printed inner sleeves, liner notes, photos of the 7" labels, ALL that housed in a super thick, boxlike slipcover/ Incredible. Visually, sonically, meticulously researched, perfectly assembled and presented, not sure where Numero Group can go next, but we're dying to find out.
Thanks to all the folks who came out for Record Store Day last Saturday. It was a blast, lots of music, familiar faces, not so familiar faces, snacks and beer, and most importantly, tons of hanging out and listening to great music, not to mention a handful of records pressed up specifically for the big day. Lucky for those of you without a local record store, we managed to get extra copies of some of the Record Store Day releases, one of which is this super limited lp from Thrill Jockey, featuring a bunch of bands we love, as well as a cool old school zine, featuring all sorts of folks talking records, and record stores, and waxing poetic on how important record stores have been in all of our lives.
But let's talk about the record itself first. First up, an exclusive track from aQ faves Mountains, more gloriously sun dappled pop ambience, all prismatic and warm, drifty and dreamy and divine. Then a brand new Tortoise track, a sneak peek at the new record, an extended jam that is most definitely surprising, all new wave-y with buzzy synths and skittery beats, a seriously fusiony electro vibe, total late night future funk, that gets super heavy in the second half, very post/kraut rocky like a heavier Stereolab! Cool.
Flipside starts out with Double Dagger, who we had never heard but who definitely kick ass, super distorted, howly, drum heavy, bass heavy post punk, arty, angular, crunchy, almost a bit metal, full length coming out soon (or just out) that we will definitely check into. Then another track from another aQ fave, NY's White Hills, called "Eye To Eye" from an out of print cd-r, and it's just what you'd expect, druggy, tripped out, psychedelic space rock, with plenty of wild guitar freakouts, kick ass drumming and looooong asssss stretches of space-y jamming. Not to mention a second half that gets all wah wah classic rock! Then finally, a new Trans Am jam, featuring the Fucking Champs' Tim Soete on back up vocals and lead (!) guitars, groovy, metallic, post rocky, classic rocky, with some awesomely cheesy deep vocals, call and response of course, ripping leads, the whole thing a serious slab of total car chase old school classic rock jammery.
As if that weren't enough, the packaging is fantastic, gorgeous, ultra thick sleeves, and inside, a mini manifesto, for record store day, and a zine featuring all sorts of folks reminiscing about their favorite records, or first records, or favorite record stores, lots of record store owners, band folks: the guy from Double Dagger, Mike Watt, Julia Cafritz from Pussy Galore, Ron House from Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments (also a record store owner), Nathan Means from Trans Am, Stephen from the Pastels, as well as record store folk from Pier Platters, Dusty Groove, Other Music, Reckless, Permanent as well as our very own Andee (who is both a record store owner and former Thrill Jockey recording artist in his old band A Minor Forest)!!
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. Most of which sold on Record Store Day. We have a bunch, but odds are these will most likely be the only copies we ever have.
The first Steppa's Delight dubstep comp on Soul Jazz totally knocked our socks off. We're so desperate for new dubstep and grime all the time, and we have such limited access to limited 12"s and white label dubplates, that we anxiously await the release of comps, hoping they'll compile some of the best jams, and usually offer up a bunch of new tracks as well.
Since the last Steppa's Delight comp though, a funny thing happened, dubstep continued to mutate and transform and is now something totally different than it was 18 months ago. The core sounds and structure remains the same, THAT beat, and THAT groove, the deep wobbly bass, but the sounds aren't so dark, or sinister, instead, the sound of dubstep has gotten a bit dancier, looking back to jungle and even house, incorporating more melody, more vocals, the sound almost more electro, with buzzy synths wrapped around that rumbling wobble. That said, there's still some darkness lurking in the grooves, and as much as we dig almost everything here, we can't help but lean toward those darker jams, Kutz's "Hardbody" is buzzy and bleak and ominous, "Purple City" by Joker & Ginz starts out all skittery and dancey, but then explodes with some of the fiercest most distorted bass on the comp.
A bunch of the tracks are super stripped down and skeletal, reminding us of some of the Skull Disco 12"s, all barebones and minimal, and some of the tracks are super atmospheric and ethereal. Killer stuff for sure, but be warned, if you're looking for stuff like Kode9 or Burial, you won't find much of that here, but if you're looking for big stuttery beats, thick throbbing bass synth wobble and can't get enough of that dubstep 'step, then this should definitely hold you over until the next comp...
As we've mentioned in the past, we're a little wary of the noise. We love us some Merzbow now and again, some Hijokaidan of course, maybe some Masonna, New Blockaders sure� but pure noise, harsh noise, is an acquired taste we just haven't acquired yet.
But while Technicolor Hell is by definition a 'noise comp', it's a lot more than that. The sounds are varied and rife with fucked up rhythms, bizarre textures and a world of grinding grating roaring whirring sounds that are somehow both hard AND easy on the ears.
It makes sense that this wouldn't be your run of the mill noise record, as it comes by way of a Mr. Dave Smolen, whose last record we reviewed and dug heavily a while back (still got a few in stock), and who was also responsible for the mind blowing genius that was Flittermice Of Eld, a single track, abstract not-quite-black-metal-not-quite-noise tribute / homage to the Darkthrone song ""As Flittermice as Satan's Spys", drawn from just a handful of notes from said song. What the fuck?!? But so awesome.
So Mr. Smolen's on here, and it's his label, and it's one of those comps where we pretty much don't recognize a single artist, but the names have us convinced before we even hear them that we'd have to love 'em: Cars Will Burn, Drums Like Machine Guns, Tweeter, Mincemeat Or Tenspeed, Sharks With Wings�
Yeah okay already, but what the hell does it sound like, you're thinking, well, obviously the simplest description would be, well, NOISY. But like we mentioned before, that's just the tip of the ruptured eardrum.
Mincemeat Or Tenspeed offer up their own sort of metal, but it's pulled apart and shattered into a million jagged pieces, the resulting skree sounds more like a crumbling wall of blown out distortion, wrapped in sheets of brittle feedback, but part way through, the track morphs into some creepy buzzing Goblin-esque synthscape. Smolen's track has Flittermice in the title, but if there's any Darkthrone in there we sure can't hear it. Instead it's a black sonic sky filled with streaks of ear piercing feedback and fireworks of grinding high end. Sharks With Wings is more traditional noise, channeling Masonna, a garbled vocal transmission caked in filthy FX and blown to bloody bits. Cars Will Burn weave a gorgeous little soundscape of downtuned grind, sine wave glitch, skittery static, all assembled into a strangely rhythmic jam. We had high hopes for Drums Like Machine Guns, c'mon, with a name like that? They don't disappoint, but they do surprise with a kind of lo-fi Atari Teenage Riot thing, pounding techno beats in a field of distortion and buzz, vocals hyper distorted and buried in the mix, almost like a synth squealing and shrieking above the din. Pretty dang cool. In fact this whole comp is pretty bad ass. Surprisingly (or not) we seem to be getting more and more noise in our diet lately, and quite frankly we're digging it big time. I guess it's about time we reconsidered our general position on noise music�
Packaged in an oversized, eye popping color booklet, packed with liner notes, track info, color photos, diagrams and designs, a printed insert with the cd affixed to the last page. And probably pretty dang limited�
This comp is sort of an advertisement, a promotional item, which would normally turn us right off, but this disc killer, and it just so happens to be promoting a line of hand crafted 'caveman' effects, created by none other than Nelson from Man Is The Bastard, Sleestak and Geronimo. Wondering where those fucked up sounds were coming from? The damaged electronics on the Geronimo record? Well, most likely it was a Trogotronic device helping to create that racket. They look beautiful and sound even better. Check it out:
http://www.thumbprintpress.com/trogotronic.htm
So this here comp features a who's who of noise artists who apparently endorse Trogotronic. But you know what? Even if you had no clue what the hell Trogotronic was, this comp would still stomp your ass. Check out the lineup:
Geronimo, Unicorn, Sickness, Drunk On Blood, Mike Shiflet, Torso, Bastard Noise and more and more. The sleeve even lets you know which Trogotronic device was used in each specific track. We can't tell you how close we've come to blowing our paychecks on some of these noisemakers. But for now, we're happy to make do with this disc. First off, an unreleased Geronimo track, worth it right there. An awesomely creepy electronic krautrocky crawl, all crumbling and distorted, low end crunch beneath, squealing high end siren like skree. Sounds like an outtake from their full length, which it probably is, and which of course means it's awesome! Drunk On Blood, another Man Is The Bastard side project, offers up a symphony of electronic jackhammering, pounding and pulsing, almost musically, percussive and relentless, and weirdly listenable. The Sickness track is a heaving wall of analog fury, crumbling and crunchy, the Bastard Noise track is downright pretty, a sea of squelches and a distant beastlike howling, Torso unfurl some seriously creeped out hissy dronemusic, Unicorn offer up a weird symphony of shrieks and stumbling percussive clatter, Astrogenic Hallucinating spits out some fucked up, horror movie analog video game music, we could go on and on and on.
All the tracks here are pretty amazing, some textural and drone-y, others blown out and white hot, still others, rhythmic and abstract, at the very least, you'll probably listen to this like crazy and do some serious damage to your speakers, worst case though, you'll end up like us, freaking out and NEEDING some of these noisemakers for yourself, then you can do some REAL damage!
Beautifully packaged in a fold over, silkscreened sleeve.
Sure some of you music freaks managed to snag one of those crazy Warp boxsets, celebrating the label's 20th anniversary, and what a twenty years it's been, kicking our asses with amazing records from Boards Of Canada, Squarepusher, Autechre, Aphex Twin, Chris Clark, Chris Morris, Disjecta, Broadcast, Grizzly Bear, Flying Lotus, Maximo Park, Born Ruffians, Prefuse 73, Battles, we could go on, needless to say, few labels boast that sort of track record. So this box set was pretty thrilling, albeit a bit unaffordable for most of us. Which is where the cd versions come in. Three releases, one featuring Warp bands covering tracks buy OTHER Warp bands, another release featuring one disc of songs chosen by fans, another by Warp themselves, a sort of greatest hits, both of those we'll review soon, and this one, probably the one most folks were most excited about, featuring rare and previously unreleased tracks by Boards Of Canada, Seefeel, Broadcast, Flying Lotus, Plaid, Autechre, Clark and more! And it's just as good as we had hoped.
Broadcast do a Nico cover, all buzzy and moody and spacey, the first new Boards Of Canada music in 3+ years (since Trans Canada), and of course it's washed out and dreamy and divine, a killer old old Autechre track, the Plaid song is amazing and had us pulling out our old Plaid records, The Clark song is short, but oh so sweet, weirdly skeletal and glitchy and otherworldly, Flying Lotus go all abstract and ambient, and the Seefeel is dark brooding, warm and whirring pop ambient bliss, so good. Totally reminds us of why Warp were so important, and continue to be, and this comp is incredible, a perfect mix of future funk and old school electronica, dubbed out glitchy skitter, and lush electro dream pop. You definitely need this, and probably those other Warp20 collections as well, more about those on the next list...
The launch of yet another cd-r label, this one, cleverly titled Seedy R!, is a sub label of the already kick ass PseudoArcana label run by Antony Milton. This disc is supposedly the result of a van trip up the Eastern coast of Australia, in one tiny van, packed to the rafters with Milton as well as the dronepsychrock band 6Majik9, and of course musical instruments, fast food containers, dirty clothes, sleeping bags, lots of pot, and most importantly, a tape recorder!
The result is an abstract lo-fi tribal jam, a stripped down Wicker Man on wheels, a Sunburned No Neck road trip, the air thick with smoke, as well as dense swirls of keening snakecharmer like melody, detuned guitar scrabble, tin can percussion, fuzzy kazooscapes, long dreamy drones, but instead of any sort of effects, the entire recording session is swathed in that immediately recognizable 'driving-down-the-road-with-the-windows-wide-open' sound, a natural delaychorusreverbdistortion, that adds a fuzzy hiss and a whipping whir to these skeletal psych jams. Pretty dang cool.
Packaged in a brown paper sleeve, with a hand stamped 'R' on one side, and a map of said van journey on the other.
The strangely monickered Yves/Son/Ace is in fact a solo project from one of the members of gothic post punk new wavers Factums, who we dig big time, and Parade Of Thought / Can't Sleep totally pushes all the same buttons, and if anything is just more abstract and out there, taking the same elements employed to create the gloom pop of Factums but here pulls them apart, recontextualizes them, tangles them all up, worrying less about songs, and more about texture and mood, resulting in a super weird bit of gothy synthy drift.
Long whirring drones, overlap creepy minor key melodies, primitive drum machines bleep and bloop, vocals awash in delay and reverb hover ghostlike amidst the proceedings, the various elements sometimes seem to coalesce into proper songs, but just as soon splinter into spectral fragments, imagine your favorite cold wave band composing the soundtrack for a Victorian haunted house, or for some super abstract arthouse horror film, and this might be what it would sound like.
Super abstract and druggy, these song fragments seem to crumble to pieces, those pieces drifting and joining up with other pieces to make a new brief 'song', before the whole process repeats itself, horns bleat, rhythms stutter, synths whir and wheeze, vocals croon and yelp, effects swirl and swoop, what's not to love!?
Super cool packaging, clear vinyl, housed alongside a black on purple silkscreened sleeve, and like the other Night People records, probably pretty dang limited... ----* ----* **SALE **SALE* *SALE** : ----*
